A squadron of soldiers trudged into a guarded alcove after a fruitless hunt. They spent the past twelve hours looking for Ohara and had now passed the baton to the night shift. Demoralized troops buried themselves into sleeping bags to put the day out of its misery. There were eighteen fewer men than when the squadron last woke. Cyborg scorpions, gryphons, komodos, and unicorns brought a grisly end to those unsuspecting souls. No one informed them how perilous the Shebaton Caverns would be.

  Not even Rutger.

  Rudy was tucked deep into his nondescript sleeping bag. He was the Lycanroc who informed the Typhlosion of Ohara’s escape. Despite the melatonin, he couldn’t sleep. He rolled onto his right side, then left, then on his back every few minutes. The guilt, compounded with the sweltering, stale air made sleep elusive. The smelly sweat dampening the bag of sand he used as a pillow entrenched him in further discomfort.

  “Oh God… why’d I do this?!” He whimpered under his breath. That phone call burned through his mind, along with a stew of other thoughts. He hated Ohara, like most of Revaria, but it was not worth the nightmare that was Shebaton Caverns. It was general knowledge this place was inhospitable, but no one was prepared for the bloodbath that awaited them. Soldier after soldier picked off by voracious and territorial monsters. It was bad enough their equipment barely worked against those metallic skins, and It was bad enough none of them knew this area…

  It was worse most of them weren’t even trained to be soldiers.

  Droves of Pokemon signed up to join the manhunt. Rutger’s passionate speeches, Chitter posts decrying Ohara as a profiteering murderer, monetary incentives… Righteous fury ignited the citizenry. Everyone wanted that Weavile eliminated, never to snuff out another life with pneumonavirus. Because of the urgency and unfettered zeal of the mission, Rutger allotted no time for training. The moment Ohara’s location was triangulated, he ordered the green recruits into action. Stuffed into helicopters and rushed to this hellhole.

  Some were already members of the military and knew what to do. The other ninety-percent came from menial jobs. Zero combat experience. It also didn’t help that the recent war with Devaal, a neighboring planet, gutted much of Revaria’s military and their technological resources.

  Rudy was a supervisor at Greg Growlithe’s Grilled Nirvana. He knew how to lead waiters on a busy Friday night, not lead troops through the pits of hell. Mentioning he had leadership experience to that Grumpig was a terrible decision.

  Coming here at all was a terrible decision.

  He wanted out. He was happier at his job. Happier serving customers. Happier playing with his nephews and nieces on the weekend. The 500,000-dollar reward was not worth the sacrifice.

  Suddenly, distant dialogue. He perked his ears.

  “Yeah… okay, so… I see… I’ll go trap him.”

  Rudy’s heart skipped a beat. Was that about him? Probably. Rutger was not pleased with him during their conversation. He bolted out of his sleeping bag.

  “Hey!” A sharp bark.

  Don’t look back. Don’t stop. Limbs shook and threatened to give out as the melatonin began kicking in. Blood and pulsating horror pounded through his veins. He knew what was intended. Others woke up to the clamor, some groggy, some peeved at the ruckus.

  An Umbreon blindsided him with brutal alacrity. The force of the tackle smashed Rudy’s head into the ground. Left cheekbone fractured. Immediately knocked out. “Got ‘im, sir!” The black eeveelution stood tall and puffed out his chest.

  Seconds later, one of the many trapping devices intended for Ohara claimed Rudy. The ball clicked open as it struck him, followed by a bright, white flash. The fallen canine was absorbed. The sphere wobbled weakly, as its victim was out cold. Another ‘click’ concluded the oscillations. The blue light around the circumference faded.

  Locked. Catch secured.

  Rudy’s family and friends never saw him again.

  -

  Reuben sliced and scorched his way through dense vegetation. Shebaton Caverns was still a few days’ trek, but he knew the army wouldn’t find Ohara by then. They couldn’t find grass in a meadow. Rutger’s ability to lead stopped at his fiery orations. He could move you to tears, but couldn’t move an army to catch an arthritic Weavile. The Incineroar didn’t have faith in his leadership even before Ohara was exposed; the desperate recruitment posters and commercials only put him off more. No training or experience required? Pitiful.

  He’d do better without them.

  Sure, the steep reward would be nice, but what could replace his precious Lily? What could he earn that would justify her untimely passing? The best he could do was raw bloodshed. Strangle that worthless weasel and slam his fists into his face. Make it hurt. Make him regret being born. A capital offense, as Rutger wanted Ohara alive, but what did he care? As long as Ohara was dead, it didn’t matter what happened. Not even his wife’s pleas couldn’t deter him. He marched onward with unceasing steps.

  -

  No soldiers in sight, Malcolm raced to escape Shebaton Caverns. Terrence and Nikki occupied the little free space there was in his bag. The foxes could run, but would tire out well before leaving the cave. The pills he took hours ago alleviated his knee pain enough to enable swift feet; they’d last just enough longer to get them out of the cavern. As long as he was quick and no one made loud sounds, they should be safe. Terrence and Nikki were filled with questions, but knew to stay silent. Such a volatile situation required utmost caution.

  Through this tunnel…

  Over that stream…

  A wide berth around that pit…

  Under that obsidian outcrop…

  Feet aching, pain creeping back into his knee, just a little further...

  Sunlight!

  The exit became visible after rounding what remained of a massive, obsidian pillar. Terrence peered out from the bag and gawked at the scenery. Columns soared upward into a black expanse, Eroded, oblique edifices adorned with faded pictographs revealed tales of long ago. A Gothic cathedral with broken windows told of a forgotten civilization and forgotten faith. Obsidian statues of Pokemon in royal raiments gazed with authority upon subjects now gone. Terrence’s imagination ignited; he wanted to leap out and explore every square inch of this place. Too bad this was not the time.

  Malcolm didn’t plan on stopping anyways. The dearth of military presence was good, but he couldn’t let his guard down. All it would take was one vigilant sniper and…

  His blood ran cold and he replaced that thought with others more comforting.

  “Almost there.” He said. “Outside’s a forest where we can hide and rest, and there’ll be food and water too. You’re probably starving.”

  Terrence and Nikki wouldn’t have realized that unless the Weavile said something. Running from a threat you didn’t understand in an unfamiliar, terrifying world tended to downplay hunger.

  The mention of forest made Terrence want to bolt away find his parents. The familiar pine-studded landscape would greet him. Lake Dorson would lie beyond. Mom and dad would tearfully scoop him and Nikki into their arms. Overwraught displays of affection normally made him gag, but today he’d let it slide.

  The foxes squinted from the light once they left the cavern. It wasn’t blindingly bright, but being inside for so long always made the onset of sunlight overbearing. Terrence’s pupils narrowed as they slowly became accustomed to the light. The trees took shape…

  The hopeful gleam in his eyes faded. His expectant smile fell into agape horror.

  This was not Lake Dorson.

  These were not pines… girthy, pear-shaped baobabs loomed over them as a vanguard of giants. Thick roots protruded in arches tall enough for cars to fit under. Contorted branches jutted at odd angles and intertwined with branches from other trees. Clusters of green and purple grapes the size of tennis balls dangled from their tips and various twigs. Some were scattered along the ground. Some were partially eaten, causing a sweet aroma to soak the air and tantalize their senses. A hint of honey, cinnamon, apple, and... was that peppermint? The foxes salivated. Despite the precarious situation, the growing ache in their stomachs demanded food.

  Malcolm found a damp rut under the roots of a tree a quarter-mile from the cave. He let the foxes out and they stretched their legs. The respite allowed for brief introductions and, with those dispensed with, he gave them a simple instruction. “Wait in here. I’ll get food and water… if you hear strange noises, stay calm and don’t show yourselves. I won’t be long.”

  As promised, he returned shortly with three of those large grapes and a vial of water. Gerald taught his children to pray and thank God for their food before eating, but they abandoned all decorum and sank their teeth into the fruit. Juice splattered everywhere, spattering their muzzles in cool, green liquid. The flavors… it was like dessert. This was something mom would’ve only let them eat after finishing their vegetables.

  Malcolm sat against a wall, not eating despite his hunger. Right leg bent inward, left leg flexed occasionally to fight the stiffness. While it seemed no one knew they were here, they kept their voices just audible enough to understand each other.

  “Terrence, Nikki,” Malcolm nodded. “… I’m sure you have lots of questions but, I need to ask one first. How…” He hesitated and clenched his eyes briefly as though bracing for imminent injury. “How did you get here?”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Terrence returned a blank stare. “Uhh… it, uh…” He looked down, stumped. How could he explain the inexplicable? “It was… I don’t know…”

  “It’s alright,” Malcolm raised a halting hand. “Let’s try this. Did you get here all of a sudden, like you were minding your own business and then… a portal appeared and you fell into it?”

  Both children nodded. Eyes widened. The Weavile turned his face away with closed eyes.

  “… I see.”

  Nikki’s ears drooped. “Aw you okay?”

  Malcolm met her gaze, the slight frown vanishing from his face as quickly as it came. “...Yeah. Don’t worry.”

  Terrence didn’t believe him; mom and dad talked like that when they tried to hide something. He understood they didn’t want him to worry, but that only heightened his suspicion. However, there were more pressing questions.

  “So...” Terrence took a tentative step toward him. “Uh… there any way we can get back home?”

  Malcolm nodded. “Yes, and I’ll help you. You came here through a portal. It disappeared when you used it, but I can make another one that’ll take you back home. We’ll… have to go far and be quick…”

  “Can’t we take, like, a plane though, or-or something?” Terrence asked, but the Weavile shook his head before he even finished his question. A blunt response subverted his expectations in the worst way.

  “This isn’t Earth.” Malcolm furrowed his brow. Terrence’s expression went blank. “That portal took you to a different planet. This is Revaria.”

  Terrence’s ears perked. “B-but! I thought-”

  “-our portals were closed? They are. The one you went through was a secret; you were never supposed to fall through it.” Malcolm grimaced. His voice stayed level, but a subtle staccato gave it an unpleasant sharpness. “… No one was supposed to find it.”

  “It was an accident! W-we didn’t-” Terrence’s heart raced and he shuddered. He was choked by suffocating isolation. His eyes moistened.

  Malcolm held up a quieting finger. “I know you didn’t mean to use it, but… what’s done is done. Only way you’re getting home is by another portal and, since they’re closed, I’ll have to make it for you.”

  Terrence’s frazzled mind couldn’t make sense of anything. Malcolm’s answers raised more questions; that he was wanted by a bunch of mysterious people did not assuage his trepidation… What would happen if they caught him? Hopeless dread tightened its grip around his neck. He trembled, lowering his head as he sobbed.

  He was immediately hugged.

  “We’ll be okay, Tewwy.” Nikki’s tail wagged. “Don’t cwy.”

  Malcolm briefly watched the brother and sister before letting out a quiet sigh. “… Yes. We’ll be okay. For now, we should sleep. I estimate…” He paused in thought, “five more hours until night. That’d be the best time to leave; they’ll be less likely to catch us.”

  Fleeing at night? Why the drastic move? “Malcolm?” Terrence asked, brushing away the last of his tears.

  “Yes.”

  “Uh… who’s, uh… chasing you, and why? I mean, you don’t seem like a bad guy.”

  Malcolm looked away for a moment, face turned into a slight frown. There were things Terrence and Nikki didn’t need to know; they had enough to be afraid of. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

  “But why do we have to wait for night to run away? What’s going on?” The fox was forceful. He had a right to know what was happening.

  Malcolm doubled down with equal force. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Terrence scowled. “But-”

  “Enough.” Malcolm furrowed his brow, shutting him up. “We’re not discussing it, am I clear?”

  Terrence’s frown dissipated and he gazed downward. “… Yes.”

  The three went and gathered fallen twigs and branches to cover their little burrow. Sleeping while on the lam was a gamble, yet couldn’t be avoided. Malcolm prayed the fa?ade would be enough. Terrence and Nikki prayed too. The Weavile laid the final two branches over the hole as he stepped backward into the enclosed darkness. Light was visible, but in slivers just millimeters wide.

  Malcolm positioned his bag so it would double as a pillow. Not easy with all those trapping devices forming awkward bulges, but comfortable enough. He was soon fast asleep.

  The air became stifled with deafening silence. Save for Malcolm’s breathing and their beating hearts, there was nothing but shadowed reticence. Even outside, not a creature could be detected. The wall of branches shut out most sound.

  Nikki curled up beside Malcolm’s bag and tried to make herself cozy. Terrence stood paralyzed on his haunches. Eyes glued to the cover. Ears perked for voices. He dared not move and give away their position. The slightest rustle of a leaf and-

  c-----e-----f-----

  Terrence gasped and stepped toward Nikki. “Hey, stop-”

  She was whimpering. Her back faced him and after Terrence strained to make out her silhouette, saw she was shaking too.

  “Busy… buzzy l-little bees…” A moan hardly above a whisper. She failed to move to the next lyric before burying her face in the bag and crying. Seconds later, there was a gentle paw on her back. She turned and eyed her brother in her periphery.

  “… buzzing all around my knees…” He whispered back, causing a light smile to appear on her muzzle. She rested her head against the bag again and fell asleep as Terrence finished the song.

  -

  Campground authorities hung posters and fliers all around Lake Dorson. Images of Terrence and Nikki taken a week before the trip populated the area. They were splashing water in each other’s faces in their inflatable pool. Police put posters up too and searched the grounds inch by inch.

  Nothing.

  The only clue was the mysterious blue light that illuminated a piece of the sky. No one knew what it was, but suspicions it was a portal grew stronger each hour that went by without the foxes’ presence. No one could link the blue light to the foxes, but the coincidence was bizarre enough that a connection was reasonable.

  Gerald and Michelle searched on their own, away from the police and camp authorities. They knew their children’s scents better than anyone. By morning, the scent of pike was gone, making the search easier. Their odor led to a stream and pawprints identical to those of Terrence and Nikki.

  That was where the trail ended. Pawprints led away from the stream in a different direction. They meandered with varying widths of stride and ultimately took the parents in a circle. Hours slipped by. Terrence and Nikki’s names were called. Over and over. Their voices became hoarse and throats sore. The occasional stirring lifted their hopes, only for it to be a rabbit or squirrel foraging for food.

  Nothing.

  Evening greeted Lake Dorson. More posters. More signs. More resources. None of it mattered. As the horizon cloaked the retiring sun, Michelle broke down beneath a tree without a word and sobbed. Body trembling, crumbled to the ground. Panic strangled her. Gerald held her and let her cry onto his shoulder.

  “We’ll find ‘em… we’ll find ‘em…” He whispered to assure both her and himself. His eyes drifted upward with a glisten he fought to hold back. Stars speckled with increasing luster as the last of the daylight drifted yonder. Bright… scintillating… glimmering flecks cast upon a darkened canvas. Gerald’s heart skipped a beat. If that light was a portal that stole his children…

  Then he could’ve been gazing up at them right now.

  -

  Malcolm kicked up clods of grass and dirt as he sprinted through the forest. Eyes dead-set ahead. Adrenaline pounded through him at a deafening roar.

  “Give up,” Rutger’s bellow ricocheted through the trees. “You’re surrounded!”

  The Weavile didn’t stop. A portal opened ahead; it wasn’t far.

  “Almost… there…” Malcolm panted. Arm reached forth. Closer. Closer.

  Another arm extended from the blue light. Another Weavile. A comforting voice tinged with desperation accompanied it. “Malcolm!”

  He ran faster.

  A twelve-foot tall Typhlosion dropped from the canopy with a resounding thud, blocking the portal. Malcolm froze. Rutger’s gaze bore into his. Visage creased with a vengeful scowl. Teeth and fangs bared. Smoke seeped from his mouth in sulfurous wrath. In his right hand was a trapping device. A lustrous black. No markings, save for a thin line demarcating where it would open and absorb Malcolm.

  “N-nicholas…” His heart raced as he took a timid step backwards. “Y-you… you can’t-”

  “YOU did this!” The Typhlosion roared, sending Malcolm back several more steps. The surrounding baobabs faded and gave way to an endless cemetery. Dark gray clouds and dampened knolls stretched over the horizon, as did small, ornate crosses and tombstones. They were cramped together because the interred were young and small.

  Malcolm shook his head and stepped forward. He raised a finger as though about to point, but Rutger quietly forced it down with a gesture. Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, but another gesture muted him. Rutger’s scowl morphed into a sneer as he raised his arm to release the ball. A blue ring emanated from it as it started opening. The Weavile turned and fled.

  The ball sliced through the air. Closer. Closer...

  Malcolm yelled as it struck the back of his head. A radiant blue light engulfed him. Pulled backwards. Rapidly compressed. Darkness.

  His eyes popped open.

  -

  Nikki’s eyes opened; her own nightmare screeching to an end just in time. Face drenched in sweat. Heart racing. That gryphon’s blood-entrenched teeth were inches from shredding her helpless frame. She raised her head and stretched her legs.

  “Tewwy? Malcolm?” A soft, translucent mist left her muzzle as she spoke. A draft of chilled air filled the cranny. She shivered, so she lied back down and curled up beside the bag.

  It was then she realized Malcolm was sitting up. Silent, back facing her and Terrence. One of the branches was moved, probably to allow some air. The daylight was dim, but sufficient to make out his hunched form. Nikki tip-toed around to see if he was okay. She stopped as she beheld his side-profile. Head down, face buried in his hand. He knew she was there, but didn’t stir...

  Until something touched his knee. In his periphery were two tiny, yellow paws and Nikki’s innocent little face. Her eyes peered into his with naive, but earnest concern.

  “Misser Malcolm,” she kept her voice low, “aw you sad?”

  Malcolm lowered his hand and looked at her. A brief silence elapsed before he answered. “Just had a bad dream, but I’m alright.”

  “I’m sowwy. I had bad dweam too wif da scawy bird. Hif teef were shawp and-and it twied to eat me.”

  Malcolm nodded. “Well, I won’t let that happen to you. You’ll be safe with me and… we’ll make it back to Earth. We’ll have to get moving soon, though.”

  Nikki nudged her brother with her snout. A few incoherent sounds and he rubbed his eyes.

  “We’w going, Tewwy.”

  He stood and stretched his legs, letting out a big yawn. He hoped it was convincing; he’d actually been awake the past few minutes. He was silent only because his sister and Malcolm were talking.

  … What did Malcolm mean when he said, ‘we’ll make it back to Earth’? Didn’t he live here? If he’s on the run, why not just flee to another country? Why travel to another planet?

  Was the hunt bigger than Terrence thought?