Onaga regains her bearings much faster than I would have thought. And frankly, thank go– Maybe I should start using the right name… Would it be Mew?

  “Everyone okay?” The ranger asks, flicking her flashlight on and panning it around to point at Weaver.

  “Visions slowly coming back,” The cat responds, waving at her eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I say, nodding as Onaga points the light at me.

  Weaver chirps, pointing at Onaga when the light moves back to her. “I’ve got some ringing, but not much else,” The woman answers the implied question, shaking her head slightly. “It– That machine was what was causing everything, right?”

  Weaver and I both nod. Things are clearing up. Although… Hold on.

  I balloon my miasma cloud out to its maximum distance, reeling it in a second later. I shudder. Even the last scraps are delicious.

  There’s a lot of confusion and uncertainty mixed in now, though, and another shriek from the way out has the three of us turning that way.

  “That was a zubat,” Onaga says, frowning. “There weren’t that many when we came in, so it should be fine…” She trails off looking back into the room with the strange machine in it. “…We should get that out of here before high tide.”

  She’s not worried about being attacked? I– Well, she’s the expert I suppose.

  Onaga covers her face again when she walks into the chamber containing the, for some reason, bright red movie prop-looking machine. To be fair to her, it reeks of exhaust in here. As she bends to start dragging the thing, I am, admittedly, a bit surprised when it doesn’t budge, her boots slipping on the moist rock.

  “Seasons grace, how heavy is it?!” She growls, spreading her feet and hauling again. The thing shifts minutely. “Well now,” She says, thoroughly annoyed as she lets go of the machine's base, “This might need to wait until backup gets here.”

  “I can probably help,” I speak up, catching the woman’s attention. I envelop the definitely-not-suggestive device in a psychic zone and lift. The thing wobbles a little before slipping out of the power.

  Onaga sighs, then chuckles, “That’s probably the best-known weakness of telekinesis. Whatever that machine is, it has a lot of steel in it.”

  Neat. At least I learned that now and not when trying to pick something else up. I’ll need to see if it’s a mass thing or not.

  “There isn’t much point in just waiting in here,” Onaga says, looking at Weaver and me. “I’m going to get some fresh air, then start looking around in here again.”

  Sounds like a good idea. And as the ranger starts making her way out, we follow.

  Honestly, this cave is interesting, but it’s also very, very wet. I flinch when the first zubat dives at us as we reach the first—or third, depending—large chamber. Onaga was right, however, they aren’t attacking, just chittering questions over and over.

  “Why’s the colony split?”, “Where is everyone?”, “Why are you here?”, “What are you?”, “How are you hiding like that?”, and on and on. I choose to ignore them.

  All the colorful sea slugs move out of the way as we make our way through the cave, although a few of them need to be corralled by the others. The ones with black patterns still look out of it.

  Onaga’s looking around as we make our way out, but Weaver… She’s still blank-faced and silent. When she told me what had happened a few weeks ago, it didn’t sound pleasant. This, though… I’m guessing it affected me differently than everyone else.

  I’m not sure how to take that. I seemed to be immune to whatever was going on. Or maybe I was eating too fast, who knows? But seeing everyone frozen like that… And everything I can taste right now. Confusion, uncertainty, panic… But then there are positive ones starting to emerge, elation and hope.

  Of course, part of the problem I’m having is that part of me really wants all that fear again. Everything delicious that machine was making. But I also have self-control and enough empathy to never consider turning something like that back on.

  The sun’s barely started to show at ground level as we exit the cave, Onaga stretching as she steps out of the inch of water near its entrance and onto dry land. “You two can relax for now,” She says, “There will be questions later, though.”

  I’m not going to argue, deciding instead to settle on the sand, looking out over the ocean. “I haven’t been here before,” I say into the silence. “I don’t like how it happened, either.”

  “It is a very popul-ERK!” Weaver begins in a flat tone, exclaiming as Onaga picks her up into a hug.

  “We’re out, safe, and no one got hurt. You don’t need to be so cold,” She tells the weasel-cat, smiling at her own wording.

  Weaver is still for a moment before her expression shifts slightly, pulling closer to Onaga, “It’s not a problem…”

  Setting Weaver down, the red-clad woman looks between us before turning back to the damp cave, “I’m going to check on the pokemon, now that we have the time. Let me know when our backup gets here.” Having given us instructions, she walks off.

  A thought crosses my mind after a few moments of rest, thinking back on what just happened, “Why didn’t Marshal… Or really, anybody else find this first?”

  Weaver shrugs, “This isn’t anyone’s territory.”

  That simple, hmm? Except… “I remember the rangers talking about Marshal killing three people near this beach.”

  Weaver gives me a look, one that’s asking if I’m stupid, “Smokey, they grabbed one of her pups. She would have chased them into Sinnoh if they made it that far. Anyway, the whole stretch of forest near here is all Prime’s, and she makes a point of not messing with humans,” She says, waving to the east of us.

  Fair enough. I suppose there’s a reason people call Marshal the ‘river’ alpha. …Wait a moment, “Is Prime an alpha? I’ve been assuming,” I ask. I’ve never actually met the queen vespiquen.

  “Not the current Prime, no,” Weaver shakes her head, “She’s just been very successful at keeping her hives unified.”

  Interesting. I let that conversation die as I go back to looking out over the waves.

  …

  “I wish I could take a nap,” I say, making Weaver cackle. “I’m serious. You don’t know what it’s like to never sleep. There’s no break or new start, just a slow return to… normal.”

  “You really okay?” The feathered feline asks, her tone no longer flat.

  “Yeah,” I say, “Meditation fills the gap well enough most of the time, but I still want to sleep occasionally.”

  “I could try to knock you out?”

  I’m almost certain that won’t work, but I don’t mention how tempting it sounds.

  “Given your current relaxed state,” the voice of Dodrio caws from up the hill on one end of the beach, “Are we to take it that you were successful?”

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Most of the pokemon in here seem… agitated, but otherwise healthy. Most. I’m worried about the ones that still aren’t moving very much.

  Crouching, I aim my light and peer into one of the pools in the central chamber of the tidal cave. Several false faces turn to me, the actual sensory organs waving through the water or breaching the surface to get a better picture.

  Shellos are beautiful creatures. Colorful, chaotically patterned, a bit slow outside of water but truly graceful when submerged. Most have patterns resembling eyes on the front of their bodies, but their true eyes are inside the main cerata.

  All except for one that I can see in this pool look healthy enough, but they aren’t the ones I’m looking for. Even the unhealthy one I can see only looks that way due to missing one of their horns.

  I move on to the next pool. This one has a nosepass half-submerged inside, and they seem content to stay there. I give them a closer look, regardless. I don’t see any cracks or bubbles, but they do shudder slightly to follow my flashlight. A bright blue shellos slowly slithers their way over the compass pokemon.

  Next pool.

  This one’s what I’ve been looking for. I can immediately see three shellos with dark streaks in their patterns, surrounded by more agitated, healthy-looking pokemon. My first thought is poison or venom, as most pokemon toxins leave dark patterns around the exposure site. But this is too… contained. Too in line with the pokemons’ underlying patterns.

  It’s not just color variance, the rest of the shellos are gathering around the three with black streaks, nuzzling them and entangling their cerata. Two glide out from the group toward me, leaving the water to prod at me.

  “I’m not sure I can do anything,” I tell them. “I barely know what happened in the first place.”

  The two pokemon gurgle, slithering in a circle around me before returning to the pool. Following them with my light, I see the rest circling the three dark-striped shellos. That’s not a behavior I’ve seen in them before…

  “Wea weavile,” A familiar voice says, prompting me to look up at the sharp-claw pokemon.

  “Backup’s here?”

  She nods, so I stand and take note of which pool I’m looking at before following her out of the cave. A little over twenty minutes to arrive. Everyone had probably just been waking up when I used the beacon.

  The sun still hasn’t risen yet, but the sky is brightening. Scanning down the sand, I see Karlos and Emil only just dismounting. Gabite’s right behind Karlos, although there’s a curious lack of Piplup. Dodrio’s on the beach as well, apparently one or more of him decided to rejoin the group now that things are safer.

  I watch both men take me in, then how bright Misdreavus is glowing, “What's the situation?” Karlos asks, jogging over.

  “Checked a tower based on a report from the SOT,” I begin. “Something was wrong with the control board, and I was bringing it back for replacement.”

  “I hadn’t heard about a potential outage.”

  “Francois followed protocol, as the system was still showing a return,” I explain. Karlos winces, probably dreading having to be the stern boss later. “In any event, while I was on my way back I decided to check out the quest called in with the outage report, as it was on the way. My partners reacted to something, and on questioning, Weaver confirmed an emergency.”

  “That was when you triggered your beacon?”

  “It was. In all honesty, I’ll leave most of what happened for my written report and probable interview.”

  Karlos suck air through his teeth, “That bad?”

  “It’s looking a lot like what happened at the academy,” I reply, waving Emil over. “Only this time, we have what was causing it. If damaged. It’s in the back of the cave.”

  Karlos considers before sighing and stepping into the shallow water with me, “Any idea what it does?”

  “Barely, just that it wasn’t working on Weaver or Misdreavus and it has a petrol generator in it,” I say. “And it’s heavy, likely a lot of steel. I could barely shift it.”

  “Let’s take a look, then,” Karlos sighs, gesturing for me to lead on.

  Back through the cave, again. At least the zubat have calmed down slightly. I’m also seeing rocks that weren’t here a moment ago. As it should be.

  In moments, we’re at the machine, though my coworkers do take a second to inspect the remains of the false wall I broke down. “So,” Emil says, “This was very planned. You didn’t feel like being gentle?”

  “It wouldn’t have taken that long,” Karlos joins, pointing. “Probably thirty seconds at most.”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes, neither of them has looked into the chamber yet. “Bigger things, gentlemen,” I say, flicking my light in the direction of the strange machine.

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  “Mò xernous élit, that’s quite the high-tech blender,” Emil says, approaching the device before wrinkling his nose, “I can still smell it. Certainly petrol-powered.”

  Karlos steps up, gripping the machine and pulling. He has the same luck I did. “Moon and Princes, how did anyone get this in here?” He asks, exasperated.

  “A good boat and a dolly cart?” Emil returns.

  “Or maybe a pallet jack,” Karlos sighs, standing straight again. “Not sure how we’re going to get it back to the city, with how rough the ground is.”

  There’s silence as we all share looks before Emil and I both shift to Karlos.

  “What?” The burly man asks.

  “Well…” Emil hesitates, “You know Bertha better than we.”

  Karlos opens his mouth to respond, considers, then closes it. After a moment, he begins again, “…That’s a good idea. Still, think we can move it out of here?”

  “I’m fairly certain two of us could handle it, with some trouble,” I say. “The three of us should be able to move it easily enough. Over a short distance.”

  Both men chuckle. “Yes, I don’t see us making it back to town with it,” Karlos says.

  Carrying the thing out isn’t fun. The rock floor is just slippery enough to cause problems with something so heavy, and by the time we’re out the last incline onto the beach has us all groaning. More out of frustration than difficulty.

  “Okay, I’m ready to have anything else to do,” Karlos grunts as we place the machine on the sand. “You said you pulled the board on a tower?”

  “West-south-west one-zero,” I reply. “I couldn’t figure out the problem.”

  “Did it have a Silph or Altru board?” He asks, looking around before heading for the dodrio I’d been riding.

  “Silph,” I say, walking after him. “looks like an older model.”

  As Karlos pulls the piece of electronics out of my saddle bag, he whistles, “One of the three-hundreds, these don’t fail often. Let me guess, no power to transmit, right?”

  Gabite chooses that moment to disengage from the other pokemon, sniffing the board in Karlos’ hands. He grunts, chucking his chin, “Gab gabite.”

  Karlos nods sagely at his partner.

  “Is it that common?” I ask.

  “You don’t do a lot of tower maintenance,” My boss shrugs, “The three-hundreds are reliable. Having said that, it’s the most common issue with them. You have to take them apart to see, but there’s probably a short inside one of the calibration dials.” He sighs, “Today’s going to be busy, it seems.”

  ***

  “You know,” I comment to Weaver, “I don’t think I realized how easy you were as a partner.” Six years and she’s never once made this kind of trouble.

  The three of us go back to watching the indignant penguin pokemon as he continues to try to pick a fight with Chansey. The pink pokemon ignores Piplup, only swatting him away when he gets too close to the intake doors.

  I’ve probably been too hard on both myself and Misdreavus, at least the ghost isn’t acting out like this. Maybe I do need to change my perspective of them, Weaver was my only partner before Espeon and Misdreavus, and Espeon acts a lot more like Weaver than the ghost.

  The ghost has mostly been polite, if detached. Not an increasing nuisance.

  Well, better let Emil know I found Piplup, “Fran, route me to Emil please,” I say into my brand-new radio.

  “Ranger Locke responding to Ranger Onaga. Confirm?” Comes the reply after several seconds.

  “Confirmed. I’ve located your partner harassing the staff at the pokemon clinic at Eight-eight Mill Drive. Returning to base with the pokemon. Confirm?”

  I don’t miss the thoroughly tired groan before, “Confirmed.”

  “Weaver?” I prompt.

  My partner wastes no time in locking her eyes on Piplup, the smaller pokemon immediately sensing danger. Unfortunately for him, Weaver is the faster of the two by a very, very wide margin. Thankfully, Piplup isn’t foolish enough to try fighting one of his natural predators inside a clinic.

  So he bolts for the lobby door.

  His daring escape ends when a black and red blur rolls over him. Weaver’s claws being wrapped delicately around the flightless bird.

  “Misser dreave misser mis,” Misdreavus says, deadpan. Weaver cackles in response.

  We make our way back out to the street, studiously ignoring the scientists watching our every move. I’d hoped they wouldn’t follow us today.

  “Um, Ranger Holt has arrived from the union. She wants to talk to you about the events earlier,” My radio squawks.

  Mmm, I suppose she’s been put in charge of this whole thing, then. At least it will probably get Rowan and Ohkido to stop trailing after us for a bit.

  “Let her know I’ll be there shortly.”

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Watching Onaga get questioned has been a very boring experience, in all honesty. And the complete lack of nerves from her or suspicion from the other ranger removed any kind of tension.

  “And you say you’re waiting on civilian help to move the device?” The purple-haired ranger asks, rubbing her temples.

  “We are,” Onaga confirms. “If I’m not mistaken, Karlos is there with the woman right now.”

  Holt goes back to looking at Weaver’s notepad. She taps the desk a few times before speaking, “You described it as a similar but distinct effect from the one during the school incident? Could you clarify that?” She asks Weaver, handing her the pad.

  “Maybe…” Weaver mutters, tapping a pen against her chin. She carefully writes out a few words, handing the paper back to Holt.

  “Less angry?” The woman asks, reading. “Was that all?”

  Weaver shakes her head, glancing at me before gesturing for her notepad again. “You said something about the emotions in the air being weird?” She prompts, fully looking at me.

  “Yeah, I… There was a lot of… Give me a second,” I say trying to sort it out. “It was fear, horror, pain, and terror. By quantity.” I do my best not to shudder, “They tasted way too good, better than they should have.”

  Weaver blinks at me, then presumably writes that down before passing it back to the older ranger.

  The woman hums while reading, “You say there’s a distinction between these three?” She asks me, handing Onaga the note.

  “I can taste one, at least,” I reply, aborting a shrug into a nod.

  Holt goes back to rubbing her temples, “Okay, that’s all I needed for now. I need to make a call, and I’d appreciate it if you remained on-site for the moment.” The woman gestures for the door, “You can go now.”

  Onaga nods, standing and leading us out of Karlos’ office. Once she closes the door, she immediately picks Espeon up from where he’s been waiting just outside. She’s quiet, thinking.

  “Not the best day,” Weaver says.

  I can’t help chuckling. “Doesn’t seem that way, no,” I reply. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we could do to relax?”

  Weaver shrugs, “Books or TV? I think Karlos has some board games stashed around here somewhere, and Ryu has cards, but I get the feeling we aren’t done with this whole thing yet.”

  I was getting that impression as well. I’ve been trying to think of anything from the Pokemon games that’s similar to what happened earlier, but nothing stands out.

  “Are any of you…” Onaga trails off as she looks at me. Then she shakes her head, a bit of frustration reaching me, “Are you hungry? We only have so long before Holt will have orders.”

  There’s a pulse of affirmation, and Weaver shrugs. I join her. I’m not all that hungry right now.

  Onaga simply nods, making her way to the kitchenette. Weaver and I share a look, shrugging before following her. It’s something to pass the time with I suppose.

  There’s an ornery bird already making a mess of some berries on the countertop. He scoffs when he sees Weaver, puffing himself up and turning away. He can pretend all he wants, he’s not feeling all that proud right now.

  Onaga just sets a slice of raw meat on a plate for Espeon, the cat digging in with gusto. Grabbing a knife, she starts paring one of the many, many colorful fruits this world has, “So, ‘tasted better than normal’?” She asks, glancing at me.

  I truly can’t help the sighing, watching the knife pause in its motions as I do. The woman narrows her eyes, but keeps them on her task, “You don’t like that?”

  “Feeding on suffering? Not really,” I say, knowing the details won’t get across.

  “You don’t understand what you reject!” Piplup cries, catching everyone’s attention for a moment.

  “…Yeah, anyway. You haven’t told her that,” Weaver pointedly comments.

  I think our tones say enough, though, as Onaga redirects the subject, “Maybe one of these will help.” She tosses a slice of whatever fruit she was cutting, letting me catch it telekinetically.

  It’s red with yellow streaks, kind of like an inverse peach. I can already tell it’s sweet by just the smell alone. Taking the gesture for what it is, I pop the bite-sized cut into my mouth. It almost literally melts and is as sweet as expected, though there’s a bitter aftertaste.

  I don’t miss the taste of accomplishment, or the slight smile Onaga gives me, very carefully eating around the rind of her own slice.

  “You never explained how you eat stuff without teeth,” Weaver says, doing the same thing I did and eating her piece whole. Then she gags and pulls the rind out of her mouth.

  “Because I don’t know,” I shrug, “I don’t even know where the food goes.” Even if I have suspicions about what happens to things inside me. “Normally I’d say it has to go somewhere, but I don’t think conservation of energy applies anymore.”

  “I’ve never heard of that, no,” Weaver says, leaning her head onto the backs of her hands, “What’s it mean?”

  “Basically that you can’t get anything from nothing,” I explain, calling on twenty-year-old memories of physics, “Something… You can’t create or destroy energy, and everything is energy. All you can do is change it.”

  “Knowing all that stuff doesn’t make you special,” The penguin in the room huffs.

  “No, probably not,” I easily admit. “Especially since I’m sure a lot of it is wrong now.” For some reason, that makes the bird go quiet.

  Weaver raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, what you just said doesn’t sound right.”

  “I probably would have disagreed a few weeks ago,” I shrug, looking up at the tastes of confusion and intrigue. Ready to reply–

  Onaga’s shaking her head, rubbing between her eyes the way she doesn’t seem to realize she always does when Espeon keeps poking her telepathically. I’m not sure which of the two those tastes came from, but my bet is a bit of both.

  “Espeon, I know you’re interested in whatever they’re talking about,” The ranger says, taking her hand off her head, “But please try not to flood me like that.”

  Espeon winces, bowing his head as I taste the vaguest hint of something. I’ve been assuming that means messages between them.

  Onaga’s shoulders drop slightly as she rolls her eyes, but she says nothing out loud.

  “H– How?” Espeon asks. It’s the first time he’s said anything in a while. I focus on him, not certain what he means. “I– How did y– you know– or, think you knew that?”

  That… “Um… the last time I had to think about this was decades ago,” I tell him. “It had something to do with closed systems and Einstein? But you wouldn’t know that name…” I shrug, “I’m not a physicist. This is all half-remembered from high school.”

  “Closed s– system?”

  I shrug again, not entirely sure what to tell the cat, “I remember more math and shop than science.”

  He accepts that, sending thanks regardless.

  It’s quiet for a bit until Holt pokes her head in. Looking around, she nods as she enters, “Miss Onaga,” She greets, standing straight. “It has been decided that you are to escort the recovered machine to Union Headquarters. And to relay your report of events, both from the academy and Nabiki, in person.”

  Onaga’s eyebrows go up, though she doesn’t show much more of her surprise as she stands at attention, “Understood, ma’am. How are we moving it?”

  “We’ll be having the civilian aid load it onto a train that will stop in Pueltown, and a cargo bus from there to HQ. You’re to ensure security along the way.”

  “Today, ma’am?” Onaga asks, less surprised and more calculating now.

  “Correct,” Holt says, nodding once. “I’ll be informing your head of it shortly. Please be ready for a possible overnight stay in fifteen.” The older ranger loosens a bit, nodding again, “On a personal note, I appreciate how decisive your actions today were. You’ve made this situation much less of a headache than it could have been.”

  Once Holt leaves, entering the operator room, Onaga breathes out slowly for a moment. “Three partners on a train…” She mutters. “I’ll need to pack a bag and decide if I’ll be sleeping at…” She trails off, realization striking her. “Oma and Opa!”

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Interesting, we’ve received precious few phone calls since moving, and most are later in the day, asking if we’d like this or that.

  It’s not even noon.

  Picking up the talking part of the device, I’m required to hold it at an angle to properly manage an auditory facsimile. “Aisling residence, Liam speaking,” I ‘say.’

  “Hi, Opa,” My granddaughter’s voice replies, somewhat startling me. “I’m going to be passing through Pueltown today for work and might need to sleep somewhere near there. I thought it might be nice to stay with you if I need to, would you and Oma mind?”

  “No! No, we wouldn’t mind,” I reply. Though I do suppress the sound around the mouthpiece of the device before calling in my natural voice, “Dear, we wouldn’t be opposed to Ryu staying the night, would we?”

  “Thanks, Opa. As much as I’m fine with a barracks or hotel I… We haven’t had a real chance to reconnect. I’ll see you tonight, whether or not I end up needing to stay. Take care.”

  The grating static behind the electronic communication clicks off.

  “No, of course I wouldn’t,” My dear Maeve says, entering our living room. Her eyes narrow, “You're already done with the call,” She observes.

  “I received the impression she was pressed for time,” I defend myself. A half-lie, as I only extrapolated afterward. And one that my love pierces through with ease.

  She playfully flicks my ear.

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  I’ve seen the trains a few times while flying around, but this is the first time I’m getting on one. They’re almost old-looking, but that’s weird timeline stuff for you. The inside of the car we’ll be in is all darker colors and has seats facing each other, some even have tables. Plush seats, too, but no private cabins.

  And no one can convince me that Bertha—the woman we’re currently watching move a crate that weighs enough even Onaga couldn’t lift it like it’s barely an inconvenience—isn’t some kind of superhero in disguise.

  Or it’s just that this world is bullshit in the weirdest ways possible. Could be either, really.

  “Y’all sure ya don’t need me to come with?” Bertha asks, placing the crate into the passenger car. “I’d be happy to help s’more.”

  “We’ll be able to handle it from here,” Onaga assures the large woman, strapping the crate in place. Not exactly out of the way, but there is room to get around it.

  “I won’t argue,” Bertha concedes, hands on hips. “I will ask ya to visit sometime, though. You look like you could eat more often.”

  I have to hold in a guffaw at that. If you compare the two, Onaga certainly looks ‘thin,’ but that’s only because the other woman looks like a particularly well-fed amazon.

  “I’ll have to see if I can find the time,” The ranger says, diplomatically. “Thank you for getting it here so quickly, we haven’t had to delay the train.”

  “Oh, think nothing of it,” The large woman waves the words off, “I’m only being neighborly, and you lot deserve all the help I can give.”

  The PA at the station crackles and both women listen for a moment before Bertha backs away, “Y’all take care now, I’m going to go make sure Karlos doesn’t need anythin’,” The woman waves, the small crowd parting before her as she leaves.

  There’s some fondness and exasperation as Onaga shakes her head after the other woman, “You know, she reminds me of Marshal a lot of the time.”

  “She has no idea, does she?” I ask, glancing at Weaver.

  “Eh, some? She does know Marshal pretty well,” She says, wobbling her head back and forth. “You should ask Marshal about Bertha sometime.”

  Two images immediately spring to mind. The first is the two of them drinking tea and talking about how the kids are doing and any new recipes they found. The second is Marshal and Bertha arm-wrestling.

  “Are they friends?” I ask, dispelling the mental images.

  “You’ve met them both,” Weaver gives me a sardonic look, “How do you think it goes between them?”

  Thank you, Weaver, what an excellent non-answer.

  “We should grab seats,” Onaga points out, gesturing to the ones nearest our cargo. “We’re blocking the way.”

  Weaver, Onaga, and Espeon all take seats. I consider floating above mine for a bit before finally settling onto it instead. It’s pretty soft.

  The ranger apologizes to a conductor when he comes around to check tickets, showing the man her badge. “We were told something like that was happening,” he nods, moving on quickly to check other tickets.

  “Have you ever been on a train?” Onaga asks, and I need to stop myself from answering. That question had been aimed at Espeon.

  The cat shakes his head, back to non-verbal again.

  “Well, it might be a bit loud at times, and the car might rattle, but I’ll be right here. Okay?” She reassures the psychic, probably sending assurance directly as well.

  “I haven’t been to Pueltown in years!” Weaver beams, “I like Vientown, but there’s something about Pueltown. You’ve been to bigger cities before, right Smokey?”

  “Do you honestly need me to answer that?” I roll my eyes.

  Discord. And obligatory 'I love comments.'

  ...I love comments, it's true.