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waywardstation · 1 year

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Heart Full, Bowl Empty

Chapter 6 - Late Night Thoughts

Ingo returns to his noble and her kits. Akari considers reaching out for answers. Irida has an important discussion with Gaeric.

FINALLY chapter 6 is here!! I apologize for it taking so long, life has been busy! But it is here, and on Pokémon Legends Arceus' first anniversary!! Happy first anniversary PLA! What a wonderful game that has given me so much joy, a fun community to be a part of, and amazing friends!

Huge thanks to @monsoon-of-art and @ingo-ingoing-ingone for beta reading this, the help and contributions are very much appreciated!!

OR read here on AO3!

Enjoy!

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Keeping his head down so the brim of his hat would keep the recently-started snowfall out of his eyes, Ingo carefully trudged his way up Mount Coronet, holding his insulating coat closed around himself.

The sun had since slipped under the horizon, leaving the highlands in a frigid, muted darkness. He had to be careful traversing the terrain with his limited vision.

Proceed with speed, but not haste.

As Ingo made his way up the familiar path, his thoughts drifted to what the Pearl Clan was possibly serving for dinner. Tonight it was Lian and Calaba’s turn to bring in gathered supplies, so he was guessing a sootfoot-rich apricorn soup was on the menu. Deeper roots were the most typical spoils of their gathering efforts, due to Ursaluna’s knack for digging.

He always hoped dinner would go well for the Pearl Clan on nights he didn’t attend. Irida didn’t entirely approve of him skipping every other night, knowing he was doing it just to conserve their food supplies. But she had eventually settled on this compromise after Ingo had insisted his duties as warden required him to stay with Lady Sneasler, to ensure the safety of her newborn kits.

“Lady Sneasler’s litter is rather large, with nine kits to keep track of,” He had explained. “And she requires assistance in protecting them at night, until they develop enough to fend for themselves.”

And she couldn’t deny him of his obligations to his noble, even more so now with what was starting to occur in the highlands.

Though, that was not to say Ingo didn’t miss the dinners; the only thing that brought him solace was knowing that even if it was only by one meal, skipping nights at the mess hall was lessening the clan’s consumption. His efforts would not save much in the moment, but over time, Ingo knew it would add up. He was aware he still made a dent in their stock.

Despite it being all the way back when he was only an injured stranger to the clan, Ingo still remembered how Calaba would not-so-quietly mutter to Irida outside of her medicinal tent, about how he was such a bothersome extra mouth for the clan to feed. How he must have been from one of the Ginkgo merchant ships or the developing fieldlands village, seeing as how the clan’s two daily meals didn’t quite sate him in comparison to the aforementioned groups’ usual three.

But Ingo was not doing this because of Calaba’s old comments (and he knew her opinions of him had long since changed anyways, even if she didn’t outwardly voice it), he was doing it to help the clan. If he had his way, he would have chosen to attend only on the two nights a week he was assigned to gather. But, with Palina already doing that (albeit against Irida’s wishes), he considered himself lucky he was allowed to skip any days at all.

Ingo knew Palina’s reasons were more out of hurt than a desire to help; the clan’s scathing comments questioning her eligibility as warden had only recently stopped, with Lord Arcanine’s seat having finally been filled barely two months back. Having caught wind of some of the comments himself, he at least understood her desire to keep her distance, deny Irida’s pleas to join them for dinners more often, and give the Pearl Clan Leader no choice but to allow her to continue in her seclusion.

But Palina had the advantage of being stationed out in the coastlands, as far from the barren wastelands as one could get in Hisui. Judging by how many berries, mushrooms, and meats she always brought back to the clan, Ingo was aware of how abundant the food was down along the shoreline, even going into the winter months.

He was also aware, like Irida, that Basculegion’s warden from the Diamond Clan was likely helping her with gathering materials and fishing, both for herself and for the settlement. Iscan was an exemplary fisherman, and the amount of basculin, remoraid, finneon, and octillery that were often brought back spoke more to his skills than Palina’s.

These were the reasons why Irida ultimately let Palina continue staying out in the coastlands, Ingo suspected. The Pearl Clan leader knew that she would be fine with Iscan, and that his help usually ensured the biggest dinners for the clan, providing an abundance of much needed, protein-packed seafood.

Ingo swallowed as his mouth reflexively watered, recalling the tasty white-striped basculin that Palina would often bring back. In his opinion, the finned Pokémon of the coastlands - mild and perfectly saturated with healthy fat - were much more appetizing than their rubbery, bland icelands counterparts. At least, the ones Gaeric always returned with always seemed so scrawny in comparison. And he had never tasted a highlands basculin for reference, not quite able to go through with the hunting process by himself.

Ingo wondered if at some point, his inability to go through with hunting Pokémon himself would become a serious detriment. Tracking for the Pearl Clan’s hunting parties was one thing, easy to do when Gaeric and the others would take over and finish things after he had helped. But when he was by himself and responsible for every part of the process, he found he could not bring himself to do it.

However, with his new job at the training grounds, he wouldn’t have to. His income was small, but it allowed him the option to purchase meat from Choy’s general store rather than face the ultimatum of hunting Pokémon, or letting Lady Sneasler’s kits go hungry.

Reaching the particular landmark of a split tree jutting out of the ground at an angle, Ingo looked around briefly but observantly. Making sure he was not being watched, he took several steps forward into the nearby shallow stream, before backtracking over his steps to turn right and push through some thin underbrush. He dragged his feet all the while, making his tracks appear more like an unappetizing belly-crawler, such as a paras, or a hard-shelled roller like voltorb, rather than a human’s shoe prints.

Something was out here tonight that should not be here, and Ingo would not have it following him. Something that had crept in from the icelands.

He had already waded through shallow spots of rivers and crossed over his own path a few times once he had noticed quiet whispering that was always the same distance away from him, no matter how far up the mountain he went.

Something was trying to track him.

Attempts to spot it were avoided (and if by some chance he did see it, he knew it would not appear as itself - the fact he had not seen it yet was a good sign. That meant it had not locked onto his location, instead only aware he was something of interest somewhere on the mountain), but Ingo could sense it out there, somewhere. With the way the mountainside was eerily void of any surrounding sounds from the wild Pokémon, and how the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, prickly and uncomfortable, the suspense was too heavy to be anything else.

Ingo supposed his larger size compared to the wild psyduck and zubat, or his softer flesh contrasting the hardened armor of bronzor and nosepass, already made him a big enough target - there were only so many species up here suitable as prey. The bundle of cake lure base in his coat pocket must not have helped either.

But he could easily hold his own with his Pokémon. It was where he was going that made it so important that he ensured he was not being followed. And he’d rather it not be aware of his tracks on this mountain at night at all, or else it would only make the following nights harder.

Faint jingling that was reminiscent of a chingling or chimecho was discerned far off in the distance, but it still tipped Ingo off - the sound was familiar, but the tone and frequency were completely bizarre.

It did not know the communication patterns.

Ingo suspected the predator had taken to wearing the skin of one of these calming Pokémon to appear pacifying, hiding its wispy fur and keen claws.

His mind drifted back to the observational sketches he had seen earlier in Akari’s Pokédex, of the stantler she had studied. While it was just a sketch recreating the injury, the gashes had indeed seemed wide.

…But certainly not wide enough to come from a wyrdeer’s thick, blunt horns. They fit something more like claws.

It had been bothering him ever since he saw it. While he earnestly wondered if it was the work of Lady Sneasler and her kits, Ingo felt his noble might think her kits were still too inexperienced to take on a stantler. And she had started confining her hunts closer to her den high up on the mountainside, to make it easier for her kits. Stantler did indeed reside higher up on the mountain, and his Lady had brought one back to the den more than once, but more often than not, the antlered Pokémon spent their time grazing out of reach at the base of Mount Coronet.

He was beginning to suspect Akari had witnessed the aftermath of a failed ambush from one of these predators that was now trying to track him. He hadn’t been sure enough of it at the time (Akari’s sketches were very good, but still not as exact as a primary account), but even if he did feel confident in it, he wasn’t sure if he would have wanted to share that with Akari.

He knew she would connect the dots with that. Maybe it wouldn’t be immediate, but with how suspicious she already was, it would only be a matter of time.

Again, Ingo wondered why Irida was so insistent that no one outside the clan know anything about what was going on. Akari said she wanted to help. And if anyone could help, surely it would be her-

The eerie jingling in the distance was closer. It was catching up, whether it knew it or not.

Making his way further into the underbrush, Ingo reached out and pushed away the overhanging fronds of snow-nettle that clung around the approaching ridge. The sharp scent the plant released when damp did a good job of hiding the scents of other Pokémon (and himself) from curious predators. And with frequent snowfall saturating it, the aroma was cutting enough for Ingo’s nose; he could only imagine how overpowering it would be for a more sensitive muzzle.

Pulling himself up over a ridge obscured by the canopy of overgrowth, Ingo brushed himself off and gazed into the cavernous opening that stretched before him. He took a moment to catch his breath, moving to lean against the cave wall and rest there briefly, sheltered from the snowfall.

That was, until a sudden bout of intense, low growling interrupted the stretch of silence and reverberated from the dark mouth of the cave.

A clear warning for the lingering, potentially curious intruder to stay away and keep moving on, lest they prefer to be sliced to ribbons.

Of course. One of the drawbacks of pushing through saturated snow-nettle. His noble could not identify his scent through the sharp veil, but she could hear his movements, and could tell he was something large remaining in the opening of the cavern. Though to some degree, Ingo felt a sense of relief that she concluded him to be a predator rather than prey for her kits - otherwise, she might have preemptively snatched him up in her hooked claws without warning.

“Lady Sneasler?” Ingo called out to the warm darkness in response, peering the best he could into the dim cavern as he sloughed off the snowfall that had accumulated on his frame. “It is just me. I apologize, I know I am a bit ahead of my usual scheduled arrival. It is too risky to go foraging tonight, so I departed straight here.”

Silence muzzled the growling, before an apologetic yowl of greeting resounded from the back of the cavern. Several smaller, sleepy chirps followed soon after - barely audible, but excited now that it was deemed safe to be vocal.

“Ah!” Ingo lit up, relieved to hear no sign of stress from his noble or her kits. He made his way into the cave, a hand tracing the wall as the tunnel angled downward into her warm den, so he could get his bearings until his eyes adjusted. “I will be right in, my Lady.”

The walls tapered from a wide opening into a tighter squeeze the further he went in - a cinch for Lady Sneasler and her little kits to maneuver through with their flexible bodies and limber bones, but a deterrent to more bulky, less lithe predators.

And while this extra barrier of protection and insulation discouraged these large and dangerous Pokémon, it also made for quite a snug fit for people, her own warden included. Ingo tucked his hat under his arm, sucked in his chest, and carefully pushed himself sideways through the narrow cavern tunnel, ducking as the rocky ceiling dipped down. A good few feet of tight squeezing rewarded Ingo with a chance to take a deeper breath again as the rock walls opened back up around him into a warm, dark cavity.

“My Lady, I take it you returned back to your station with the kits in time, last night?” Ingo brushed the dirt, dust, and any remaining snow off of himself, talking into the darkness as he situated his hat back upon his head. The tight opening of the cave only allowed a sliver of weak moonlight into the cavity, barely useful for vision.

“Snnnr,” a growl of affirmation followed, though it sounded incredibly remorseful as well. Ingo could see the soft glint of light reflecting off of Lady Sneasler’s sharp claws in the back of the cave as she clicked them together apologetically.

“It is alright, you acted accordingly to ensure the safety of your young. I am proud of your decision-making! Your kits are safe because you were with them. And… likewise, Miss Akari was taken care of with me.” Ingo reassured his noble of her actions as he made his way further into the den. The scuffle of his shoes against rocks and hardened earth in the darkness ceased, the rough ground giving way to the copious layers of soft nesting materials that enveloped the entire floor of the den.

Ingo blinked as he slowly began to make out the inside of the cavern. The shapes of his minimal supplies were seen piled against the wall, a few extra clothes and blankets he had brought up for himself, for colder nights - thankfully, tonight was not one of them. Next to the supplies, he could discern the obscure forms of Lady Sneasler and a few of her mewling kits in the unlit cavity, but he was still careful when moving; he did not want to discover the location of a sleepy sneaslet snuggled under the nesting material by accidentally stepping on them.

However, the choir of excited chirping thankfully made the kits’ locations known as their smaller forms shifted away from their mother. Making their way through the layers of bedding, they shuffled over to the warden’s shoes and collected around him.

They sounded hungry, as he suspected they would be.

Thank Sinnoh he had stopped by the general store earlier, and didn’t assume the mountain would be safe to forage on tonight.

It hadn’t been, for several nights now. Ingo suspected most nights onwards would be the same.

“…You didn’t happen to take the kits out and practice hunting stantler today, did you?” Ingo questioned hesitantly, stepping around the mass of sneaslets with great care as tiny claws hooked onto his pant legs and attempted to cling.

The stantler’s gashes Akari had sketched were prevalent in his mind, but he also worried over the additional observation she had made regarding tufts of fur stuck in the antlers. He was concerned he’d have to check on the sneaslets or Lady Sneasler herself for scrapes or puncture wounds.

A confused but disagreeable snarl answered Ingo’s question and relieved him. No, they’re way too young for that.

“I thought so… in that case, have the kits eaten enough? I have brought extra provisions for them.” Ingo reached into the pocket of his coat for the pouch, before pulling out chunks of the plain cake lure base he had bought. “Assuming that… certain events repeated themselves once again, and that a final round of evening hunting wasn’t an option. I am sure they are growing tired of it, but I could only secure more cake lure base tonight. Though I can assure you, I will provide them with meat soon.”

The kits mewled excitedly at the mention (and scent) of another meal, clearly not as ‘tired of it’ as Ingo assumed. They crowded tighter around his legs, pawing at his pants as he held the food out.

Meanwhile, Lady Sneasler seemed incredibly distraught at her warden’s question, sniffing as she clicked the blades of her paw together apprehensively. Her behavior, along with the kits’ enthusiasm, gave Ingo the answer he had been hoping he wouldn’t get.

The warden’s heart ached for his noble. She was trying so hard to be a good mother.

She was a good mother.

She was doing her best, just like every other beast out there was trying to do for their young, but the current circumstances were out of her control. And with the kits being at an age where daily meals had to be small but numerous, it was hard - even with Ingo’s assistance. They were wild, just like his noble; Ingo could not simply tuck them away in Poké balls like the rest of his Pokémon, in a stasis that suppressed needs such as hunger and thirst.

It had been a terribly inopportune time for her to have kits, especially with a litter as large as nine, and the reasons why were growing with time. But how could anyone have known it would get this difficult?

“I… know it’s becoming harder to hunt up here.” Ingo tried to reassure his noble as he handed cake lure to the kits one at a time. Well, as best he could, anyways; the second he held out a chunk, multiple sets of tiny claws started competitively swiping to snatch it, and Ingo had to be careful not to get his bare skin nicked; he currently had no pecha berries on him. “But we will make do.”

A disheartened, animalistic huff and quiet shifting of nesting material was Lady Sneasler’s only delayed response to Ingo’s words, silently watching her kits eat from her warden’s hands.

The sneaslets’ eagerness to scarf down the food as he kept handing out more relieved some of the grief that gripped Ingo, previously pestering him for not being able to afford enough meat for them all. Perhaps he could have, if he had gotten the full day’s pay today. But no matter, he would probably have enough with one additional day of saving. He did not make enough money at the training grounds to just purchase ten sizable cuts of meat on a whim… not unless he sacrificed buying lunch at The Wallflower during the following shift.

Ingo looked forward to the night he could put together a nice hearty stew for himself, rather than make due with cake lure base. But with meager pay and nine wild sneaslets to feed, Ingo suspected that night would not come for a while.

Once every kit had gotten their fill of cake lure, now sated as they situated themselves within the nest and licked at the sweet sticky rice that stuck to their claws, Ingo carefully stepped around them and made his way to his noble. Rooting through his pockets, he handed another handful of cake lure base to her.

It was not meat, but it would do.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. It is not your fault, my Lady; the zoroark should not be traveling this far inland.” Ingo offered words of support along with the gift.

Was it not enough that they were already stealing from the clan’s traps? Catching anything in those was already enough of a feat, with rarely any extra provisions available that were enticing enough to be used as bait. Resorting to placing non-baited traps on the sides of hills, based on hopes that Pokémon would accidentally stumble into them instead, had not proven successful either.

“Snnnr,” A discouraged huff rumbled in the thick-furred Pokémon’s chest, but after a moment, she sat up from her slumped position, and with her claws, cleanly skewered the offering in Ingo’s waiting fingers.

Hands now free, Ingo rubbed at his sore neck as he backed up and watched her eat, her sturdy teeth slicing through the rice dough easily, but slowly with small bites.

He told her this was not her fault, and he knew this realistically was not his fault either, but something still nagged at him. Even though he had absolutely no control over Hisui’s ecosystems and how they adapted to certain changes, he was Lady Sneasler’s warden. Her caretaker. He was appointed to a very important position by the Pearl Clan, a group of people he owed so much to, and was expected to do a good job dedicating himself to providing for her. And now by extension, her kits.

Lady Sneasler was doing her best.

And likewise, he was doing his best.

With a sigh, Ingo preemptively cracked his aching back to loosen it before he moved to sit down in the soft, insulating nesting materials. Dropping into the layers with bone-deep tiredness from the events of the last two days, Ingo rested against the cavern wall. The warmth of the soft fur, feathers, and foliage immediately welcomed him as he made himself comfortable, thawing any lingering cold that had managed to burrow its way through his protective layers.

This would be his last stop for the night, sleeping here in the nest amongst Lady Sneasler and her kits until the sun rose. And he was glad to finally rest - everything ached.

Satisfied with his position, Ingo retrieved the last bit of cake lure base from his pocket for himself, and took a bite. Perfect for absorbing the flavor of whatever it was mixed with, the rice itself was disappointingly bland and tasteless, the only faint flavor being provided by the barely-sweet syrup that held it together.

Normally, a handful of cake lure base would not satiate him at all, but tonight it was easier - breakfast and lunch with Akari today had given him the boost he needed to make up for it. And while it was not hot apricorn soup, or steaming savory soba, it would do. He may not be eating in a warm hall with the Pearl Clan, or enjoying his time with close friends at the Wallflower, but he was still with beloved company in an insulated den, and that was just as good of a situation to him.

“...My Lady, might I suggest foraging further down the mountain?” Ingo verbalized his thoughts on the situation following a moment of comfortable silence, wiping rice from his mouth. “I have noticed the magikarp traveling down south, to warmer waters by the Fabled Spring. I am not aware of the zoroark traveling down that far, or pursuing magikarp at all while hunting - it should be safe for the kits. Though, the alpha golem blocking the tracks down to the spring may pose an issue…”

Lady Sneasler clacked her claws together with a soft clinking sound. She knew just as well as Ingo did that magikarp were bony, cartilaginous creatures - the pathetic amount of meat they carried under their crunchy hides was tough and stringy. The highlands population would practically need to be over-hunted in order to yield enough meat for a single meal - likely the reason why the zoroark left them alone. And her growing kits needed good meat. They were developing into the age where beans and berries alone would no longer sustain them and their omnivorous diets.

It was no longer enough as is, and both Ingo and Lady Sneasler knew it.

Lady Sneasler would not give up so easily though. Not after trying so hard to have kits. So many despondent nights, and heartfelt but worried reassurances from her warden, before she finally produced a healthy litter which she deeply loved. After all that, she would not just watch them get weak, and sick, and…

But what else could she do? The zoroark, bleeding out of the icelands and sneaking their way into the edges of the highlands, encroaching on her territory and hunting her meat, were leaving little other option.

They were mothers too, Lady Sneasler assumed, also having to feed their young. Why else would they be desperate enough to intrude on a noble’s territory? And hunt in such a cowardly fashion, stalking from the shadows and disguising themselves as disarming prey Pokémon in the middle of the night?

But of course, Pokémon who had already succumbed to cold and starvation once would be more desperate than anyone to prevent it from happening again, both to themselves and their kits.

This invasive method of hunting was damaging Lady Sneasler’s own hunting routine, as well as the routine of every other predator Pokémon this high up on the mountain. It was simultaneously thinning the population in the area, and teaching what prey Pokémon were left to hide away. And on the cusp of winter no less, which was already driving many of the more floral Pokémon of the area into a sluggish, withered state. They now carried even less nutrients in them than before winter.

And if prey Pokémon were being over-hunted, the top of the food chain would start reconsidering weaker predator Pokémon as prey before long.

Lady Sneasler’s eyes lingered on her beloved kits, still focused on licking the sticky rice from their fur.

And to think, she once thought having a den this high up on the mountain, close to the Icelands, would be a safer choice for her young.

She might be a noble, a blessed Pokémon that other beasts avoided challenging out of regard for this, but this same protection did not extend to her kits. Not from the native Pokémon in the area, and certainly not from the invasive, desperate phantoms inching further in.

Her kits were growing stronger, faster, and smarter every day, but they were still much too young to defend themselves in an environment that was growing hungrier. She had to be quick to return to them at night or during bad weather, and slow to let them hunt independently. They were still learning to hunt after all, and that limited their options already. On top of winter approaching, and now this new problem-

But little was better than nothing.

So… magikarp it would be.

Ingo finished his dinner of cake lure just as a tiny mewl was heard, and even tinier claws carefully gripped the edge of his coat, a stunted feathered ear poking up over his side.

“Ah, Powder! Hello, little lady,” Ingo greeted the tiny sneasel. Powder (affectionately nicknamed by Akari) was the runt of the litter and the youngest out of Lady Sneasler’s kits, having been very late to hatching. Ingo let her climb up onto him and sniff around curiously into the fabric of his coat, where the scent of cake lure still lingered.

“I have no more food, I’m afraid.” Ingo let her know her search was for naught, shifting his position to accommodate her better in his lap. He presented his hands to her to prove they were empty, but she only took it as an offer to enthusiastically lick the sticky rice from his fingers. “Likewise, if I granted you seconds, I’d have to be fair and grant more to all of your siblings as well.”

The thought of possibly not providing enough dampened Ingo’s spirits slightly, but he had to remember they were at the age where they would always want more regardless.

“Snea!” Powder pouted as she sat back on his lap, giving up searching about, but her disposition quickly changed as Ingo gently pet her, ears going back as he scratched at the sweet spot behind them.

“You’re never satisfied, are you?” Ingo huffed a laugh as the tiny kit leaned into his hand. The smallest one always seemed to be the most insatiable with anything, whether it be food or attention. But as the runt who was often left behind by her siblings in many aspects, Ingo was inclined to give her the extra attention.

…He remembered that (Emmet) often relented the (same)(way) with the small yellow (joltik), letting the runts (cling) to (his) white (coat) and hide, and sneak extra (batteries) to them. Ingo would tell (Emmet) he was spoiling the (tiny)(joltik), but the runts’ love for the (attention) was (irrefutable).

…

He remembered that the other often relented with the small yellow ones, letting the runts hide with the white, and sneak extras to them. Ingo would tell him it spoiled them, but the runts’ love for it was…

…Ingo was inclined to do the same.

Noticing that their baby sister was getting pets from the big man who helped take care of them, all of Powder’s siblings halted the licking of their rice-covered paws, and scrambled over to the larger warden.

Ingo sat up as eight more small bodies crawled onto his lap, chirping demands for pets of their own. They impatiently tried to shove their siblings out of the way, while simultaneously pushing their own tiny heads into his hands.

The petty antics and the quarreling taking place on his lap caused Ingo to laugh, and he lifted poor Powder out of the sudden squabble so her larger siblings wouldn’t accidentally hurt her in their rough-housing. She gripped onto his sleeves with her tiny claws, thankful for the save, and Ingo supported her body by holding her up against his chest.

Lady Sneasler chuffed at the sight of her warden and her kits together.

It was clear; he loved them just as she loved them.

“They will be taken care of, my Lady,” Ingo turned to his noble as Powder latched onto his shoulder, retreating under the wide flap of his coat’s tattered collar. “Tomorrow, I will ask Tangrowth if she would like to accompany you, should you and your kits venture down the mountain to hunt. I am sure she would be pleased to offer her assistance; you know how much she loves the kits. With a capable grass-type like her escorting you, that alpha golem will keep to their own tracks. And, I suspect she would enjoy soaking up the last of the sun’s warmer rays, before winter settles… and please keep in mind that I am always open to assisting with the search of a possible new den further down the mountain, even if it is temporary.”

Lady Sneasler’s features brightened some in the darkness, an expression akin to a small smile driving out some of the stress she wore as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Snea!” She exclaimed as she moved closer to him, having risen from her spot in the back of the den for the first time since he had entered.

Ingo knew what was coming, but with nine kits piled on him, he couldn't do much to escape it. Instead, he scrunched his shoulders, and braced for impact.

A set of gnarled claws tipped Ingo’s cap back as a rough, sandpaper tongue licked the side of his face; an act of affection and gratitude to the noble, but a ticklish sensation to the warden.

“Lady Snealser!” Ingo snorted out a laugh, scrunching his neck further against his shoulder as his noble continued to express her appreciation. Moving to lick his scruffy hair, each comb through it with her prickled tongue left tufts of it to jut up at awkward angles. “Alright, Alright! You’re welcome!”

Seeing Lady Sneasler expressing affection, and their caretaker making various sounds they recognized as happiness, the other sneaslets stopped squabbling. Instead, they collectively started trying to lick Ingo’s face as well, eager to copy their mother. Even Powder joined in, peaking over the side of his coat collar to enthusiastically lick his cheek.

Ingo slumped back into the nesting material, using his hands to gently defend his face from the onslaught of rough tongues and tiny muzzles, but he was laughing, feeling loved as they showered him in well-deserved affection.

Outside the cozy den, the lighter snowfall still rushed down, and a solitary white specter prowled about through the mountainous underbrush, having shed its illusionary skin of a chimecho. Its sharp nose attempted to find a new trail to follow, searching for an easy meal to snatch up after failing to stay on the scent of the lone human it had detected traversing up the mountain.

————

The rain came down, pattering against the sloped roof of Akari’s unit and sliding down the awning to splash against the saturated ground and collect in puddles.

Akari listened to the muffled sounds against the roof as she stared up at the ceiling of her dark room from under her covers, Ember pressed up against her side under the blankets to provide warmth.

If it was raining in Jubilife, it was most likely snowing in the highlands, and maybe even the icelands too.

Ingo was surely in one of those places, she figured - she only knew he hadn’t gone to the Pearl Clan’s mess hall tonight.

She hoped the snowfall wasn’t coming down too hard for him, wherever he was.

The insulating blankets rose and fell as Ember heaved a tired sigh from under them. Akari copied her soon after with a sigh of her own, hand moving under the covers to pet her warm companion reassuringly.

For the second night in a row, Akari was finding it hard to get to sleep.

Hypotheticals disturbed her, and kept her brain running through scenarios and situations - this time on what could possibly be wrong.

Akari replayed what she knew in her head, revisiting all of the questions she had thought about over the previous twenty-four hours, and updating them with new information she had learned over the course of the day.

Volo had said that the icelands seemed to be suspiciously empty of berries and the like. She had noticed that herself, when searching for breakfast. But why?

And his more direct hints that the Pearl Clan had been struggling with food lately lined up sickeningly well with the morning’s subtle observation that Ingo had been… distracted, for at least a week. She had subconsciously noticed it, and Rei had inadvertently commented on it unprompted.

It also lined up with a lot of other things that had happened over the last two days, upsettingly so.

Like why Irida hadn’t wanted her at dinner last night, and why Ingo hadn’t initially invited her either. And why he had mentioned they were so against the thought of wasting food.

Why the Pearl Clan was prepping their fields for farming on the cusp of winter, and maybe even why they had all of those traps set out.

Why the clan’s kids were trading away their beloved toys and trinkets in exchange for less valuable food.

Why Ingo had tried to hide how hungry he was instead of simply just admitting it, and why he had been gathering with Lady Sneasler yesterday, even though she hadn’t remembered him or the other wardens doing anything like that before.

It was probably even why Lian had seemed so stiff when she asked him about the wardens gathering. And now that she thought back on it, had Calaba brushed off that conversation as well?

And Ingo’s constant reassurance refuting this and affirming that everything was alright only made her more apprehensive about the whole thing; he always did that, regardless of whether things were really alright or not. To a point, it had now become more indicative that something was wrong than anything.

The only assurance she had that he was truly alright - or that this hadn’t been going on under her radar for too long - was confirming that he hadn’t lost any noticeable weight when she had hugged him earlier.

But that didn’t mean he would stay alright forever. Or anyone else, for that matter. Something was wrong. That much felt obvious to her now.

Just… what was it? Why was it happening?

Akari shifted under the covers, agitated as her thoughts circled back to Volo. He was the one who had openly said something about the Pearl Clan struggling with food. He seemed to be the only one who was being truthful with her about all of this, and the only one who could possibly give her the answers she was looking for.

She wanted to get dressed and go out looking for Volo at one of the Ginkgo Guild camps so that they could resume their morning conversation, but she didn’t know if he would appreciate sudden, late-night drop-ins like that.

Ingo never seemed to mind them, and he always welcomed her company with a reassuring genuineness, but she had to remind herself that not everyone was like Ingo. Not even close friends like Volo.

Plus, the rain was coming down a little too hard for her liking anyways; with a quick glance out one of her windows, Akari could see the cascading raindrops rushing down against the clouded dark glass. She knew Lord Wyrdeer would faithfully come if she summoned him, but she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate her doing so in this weather.

With a sigh, Akari threw the covers off of herself and stood up out of bed. It spurred a drowsy Ember into attentively peeking out from under the blankets, and the cold chill of the room immediately embraced her in a rather unpleasant manner, but Akari couldn’t help it. She felt like she had to move, opting to pace just to try and dissipate some of the building nervous energy. She let herself fall into the cycle of treading about her room by her bed, the cold wooden floorboards creaking gently beneath her feet, arms crossed close and hands tucked away into her pits for warmth.

Ok, think… she may not be able to go talk to Volo, but she could try and work through things the way he would.

So, what would Volo possibly say if she was with him right now, sharing what she had observed? Her conversation with the merchant had effectively ended with him asking if she knew anything; he would probably try and connect anything she knew with one of his prior hypotheses.

…And one of those hypotheses was that everything that was happening was ‘another trial from the almighty Sinnoh’, as he put it.

Akari kept pacing, eyes on the floorboards. At the time, she had discarded the thought after some initial contemplation, not finding much sense in it - this was uncharacteristic of all the trials she had endured before, and it seemed especially punishing to a group of people who hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

Volo had also asked her if she had received any information about what was going on from her ‘perplexing device’, her Arc Phone.

Again, she had also disregarded this thought at the time, perhaps even faster than the first one.

Ever since she had quelled the last frenzied noble and reported her success to Lord Kamado several weeks back, the device had fallen disturbingly silent. She had expected it to tell her what to do next like it always did, a new set of instructions filling her screen.

But nothing had happened. And weeks later, the rift was still hanging over Mount Coronet, a gash in the sky now often obscured by the rolling winter clouds.

And the device was still as silent as the day she had quelled Lord Avalugg.

It no longer talked to her.

In her repetitive pacing down these beaten mental roads, Akari’s apparent dead end revealed a secretive and small, but hopeful side path.

It was not talking to her - They were not talking to her. But she knew that somehow, sometimes, They listened. What if she talked to Them?

More floorboards creaked as Akari made her way across her dark room, back to her bedside. Crouching over her belongings, she fumbled through her satchel in the darkness until she felt the cold, smooth screen of the strange device.

The teenager held her breath for reasons not quite known to her as she slipped the Arc Phone out of her satchel, standing back up. The screen dimly lit up the dark room, the artificial light bright against her eyes as she turned the device on. Akari herself couldn’t directly send messages through it - she had looked for a way to do so several times - but They had sent messages through it to her before. And They had guided her when she needed it, and sent information at just the right moments, seemingly aware of what she was doing.

They knew what was going on, surely.

“...Hello?” Akari half-whispered into the silence.

Soft rustling was heard as Ember once again perked up under the blankets at her voice, but aside from that, there was no direct, audible answer. And why would there be? The Arc Phone didn’t work like that, and Akari knew it.

“I, um… look, if you’re listening, or watching, it’s been a while since I’ve heard anything… about what I’m supposed to do.”

The teenager reached up to bite on her thumbnail out of habit, the silence feeling heavy and awkward. It was difficult directly speaking to someone that didn’t respond back, even when she expected They were listening.

“It’s been several weeks now, close to a month since I’ve quelled Lord Avalugg. That was the last frenzied noble, wasn’t it?”

The floorboards creaked quietly as Akari shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“...Did I do something wrong? I’ve continued doing research, but nothing’s happened. What am I supposed to do next? Or was that all I had to do?”

Is this all there is? Am I done? Am I stuck here? Will you not send me back home?

Ember huffed as she laid her head back down, snuggling under the blankets.

The device was unresponsive, its dim screen still unresponsive as ever in the darkness. Akari’s features tightened.

“I… ok, something’s going on, I’m sure you know about it. With the Pearl Clan. My friend, um, Volo… he says that something is happening in the icelands, and that things aren’t growing. That food is running low. He says he doesn’t know why though, and that the Pearl Clan won’t say anything about it. But… I’m starting to wonder if the Pearl Clan even knows why either? I don’t know. It just sounds bad. Worse than people will admit to me. Do you know why this is happening?”

The rain pattered down against the roof gently yet incessantly.

“Do I… is this something for me to fix? Is this what I’m supposed to do next? Am I supposed to figure out what’s happening in the icelands, and fix it?”

The screen remained dim. The device stayed silent, heavy in her hands.

“How do I help them?”

Akari stood there in the dark, waiting for something to happen. For the device to light up with a new message, telling her what to do now that she’d fallen silent, hoping it had just been patiently waiting for her to finish.

But as the minutes went by, and she began to shiver from the cold temperature in the room, the unresponsive Arc Phone tightened in her fingers. It was becoming obvious that no message would ever come. The dim screen darkened as the Arc Phone powered back down, inactive.

Of course.

Akari’s frown tightened as she swallowed, and sighed through her nose, defeated. She leaned back down next to her bed and tucked the Arc Phone back into her satchel, before tugging the blankets back with heavy hands. Ember shuffled to the side from under the stacked layers to accommodate Akari as she wiggled back under them, and settled into her warm bed.

“I don’t know, Ember,” The disappointment thickly coated Akari’s throat, saturating her words as she felt her heated companion snuggle back up against her side. “I don’t know what’s going on. But something’s really wrong.”

She didn’t know what the exact problem was that was causing such a shortage, or why it was happening - why it was so hard to find good berries, why it was only affecting the icelands, or why the Pearl Clan was not saying anything about it - but something was definitely wrong, and no one would admit it to her. Not even Ingo.

If Ingo was downplaying a problem, she figured it was because he was trying to protect something. This was not the first time he had done this, and it was always done to protect something, almost always at his expense, no matter how large or small the problem was.

Whenever one of Lady Sneasler’s kits accidentally nicked any bare skin of his, he would always do his best to bear through and hide the numbing effects the venom inflicted on the effected nerves (usually the hands, which led to a useless grip many times…very hard to hide that). He always tried to protect the sneaslets from unfavorable opinions that the Jubilife villagers, who were still warming up to Pokémon, might form about them.

Whenever he would get sick, he wouldn’t tell her because he knew she would come around to help him if she found out. And he wanted to protect her from getting sick as well, instead hoping he’d recover at least most of the way before she started looking for him - Hisuian illnesses were not merciful on their modern-day immune systems.

Whenever the deep pain from that scathing back injury of his would flare up, he wouldn’t say anything about it to anyone until someone (usually herself) would inevitably notice his discomfort and send him to Pesselle or Calaba, in order to protect his own… dignity, she supposed?

Akari blinked as she realized she had been staring rather intently at one of the Pokeshi dolls she had carved, sitting on her window ledge. As an attempt at carving Professor Laventon’s rowlet, the unassuming, non-judgemental eyes stared back at her.

Akari sighed as she realized how worked up she had made herself. She turned onto her side and slid her arms around Ember to embrace them like a warm, oversized teddy bear. The side of her face sunk into her soft pillow as she burrowed further under her covers, staring at the rainfall through the window by the door from the back of the room.

…So who or what was Ingo trying to protect this time?

————

“Hey… Gaeric?” Irida asked with audible trepidation as she stacked a wooden plate, one of several from tonight’s clan dinner. With the meal finished and everyone having gone back to their warm homes (even the meal prep team, Irida urging them to go home and rest as soon as they finished cleaning, and to let her at least pack everything away), it was just the Pearl Clan leader and her former mentor in the kitchen. Cleaning didn’t take long anymore; there was never much left on the plates and bowls to scrub away.

“Yeah?” From across the kitchen, Gaeric was packing away various herbs and spices onto shelves and into cupboards. His back was to her, but he was listening attentively.

He had been waiting for her to speak up since dinner had ended. In fact, he would have asked her himself if she was alright, if she had gone on much longer without saying anything - he could see how stressed she was tonight, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it from her clan.

“Do you think I should be handling things differently?”

“With...?” Gaeric resumed packing away the supplies. He knew very well what this was about; it was all his mind had been focused on lately. But he wanted to give Irida a chance to get her thoughts out first. He knew her well enough to know she needed to talk before she could listen, and she had a lot to talk about.

Becoming the leader of the Pearl clan had delegated a leader persona of sorts to her that never wanted to show uncertainty or weakness. And to him, part of the blame for its creation fell on the more traditional, strict elders of the community.

Gaeric still thought the expectations they all set on poor Irida at such a formative age had been much too demanding after the passing of their beloved Pearl Clan leader. The community may have lost an irreplaceable authority figure, but Irida had lost a mother, her last parent.

Irida was young. She was doing well for her age, he thought, but she was still learning. She didn’t know everything, even if she felt like she had to act like she did. And as her former mentor, Gaeric acknowledged this young, uncertain part of her that still had a lot of questions, just as much as he acknowledged her position as the respectable Pearl Clan leader.

“With, just…”

The words always came slow at first, and Gaeric knew this was a hard topic for Irida to be direct with.

“...Everything, I guess. I don’t know-”

Almost there.

“-Should I have opened the fields back up? Was I too hasty?” The words, previously stopped up, flowed freely now. “Because now we have to plant and manage crops in those fields, and that’s going to take a lot of work away from our foraging - work that might not even pay off! And even if anything somehow does grow - what if the zoroark steal those too? Is it not enough already that… that they follow our hunting parties and take from our traps?”

Gaeric closed the full cupboards, avoiding laying his gaze on the stressed clan leader. She continued to stack the clean bowls together in an effort to keep herself busy as she kept talking.

Let her keep talking, she’s not done yet. Don’t stop the flow.

“The traps obviously need guarding. But I already feel like I had them set out too many, I can’t ask people to start guarding them now too! That’s too risky, for several reasons!” Irida’s voice wavered a moment with emotion as she set the stacked bowls aside. “And… if the traps need guarding, then the crop fields will too, and we’re only a group of just under forty people, half of them children or elders! With so many already assigned to hunting, we either patrol the traps, or we grow crops… we can’t do both! And our wardens are already doing so much with their gathering, but it feels like it’s still not enough! I mean, look at what happened last night with Ingo and Akari! We didn’t have enough-!”

Her voice cracked, and Gaeric could already tell her eyes were getting misty without even looking at her. Stop the flow.

“Irida,” Gaeric’s voice picked up from across the kitchen, where he had moved on to hanging cooking tools back up on the wall. “It will work out! Everything will work out.”

Irida sniffed as she turned her head to face him with blurry eyes, searching for some form of reassurance in his. He could see the tightness in her shoulders, forcing the emotion down in order to listen to him.

“We’ll plant the sand radishes,” Gaeric rationalized, hanging up a chopping cleaver. “In every row! Those grow strong and fine all year round! I picked up extra radish starts just for this, along with my swordcaps from Volo this morning. We have enough to fill the fields now! As soon as the rows are ready, we’ll get the starts in the ground. And we’ll make sure the zoroark know to keep away from them.”

He didn’t know how they’d do that last part yet, but he’d figure it out with Irida. Their answers were usually found with Ingo, and Gaeric suspected that would be the case once again with this issue. Perhaps he could help guard the fields? But the highlands warden could only do so much, and he already seemed very occupied with the recent, ill-timed arrival of his noble’s kits. He wasn’t sure how much more they could ask of him…

Irida sniffed again as she picked up the stack of bowls, taking her time with moving them to an empty cabinet. While still despondent, she seemed somewhat soothed by Gaeric’s words of assurance. At least her voice was somewhat stable again.

“That’s still almost…three weeks of waiting, at the very least.” Irida moved on to another concern, beginning to stack the scrubbed mugs. “What will we do while we wait for them to grow?”

Fortunately, radishes were one of the fastest growing vegetables available in Hisui, able to be harvested within a timeframe of three to four weeks. But what could they depend on during that month of waiting time, as winter’s hold on the region grew stronger, and their stock depleted?

“We had even less meat in the soup tonight than we did last night,” Irida went on, staring into one of the mugs, her mind somewhere else. “and our apricorn stock won’t last forever. Do you think we should ask Volo about trading for actual ingredients rather than crop starts now?”

Gaeric held in a sigh. He had already asked the merchant that very same thing this morning when meeting with him to receive his delivery of swordcaps and sand radish starts. After briefly trying - and failing - to pry for more information, Volo had told Gaeric even if the Guild allowed him to make trades like that (he had made Gaeric well aware that the Guild was rapidly de-valuing their ice with the winter months approaching), he couldn’t possibly make ends meet with the restrictions Irida had given him. He could only bring so much up here at a time by himself, if he was unable to involve other Ginkgo merchants.

“And besides, the Guild cannot supply the amount it seems you need.” Volo had added with a concerned look that seemed almost surface-level, seemingly already focused on solutions. “We’re not farmers. We’re traders, and with the harvest season coming to a close, food is not a terribly common thing that people are trading right now.”

Though, to Gaeric’s surprise, Volo had offered to set up a trading agreement for them between either the Diamond Clan, or Jubilife Village, and act as the middleman - while it still was not a lot, the Diamond Clan was the main trader of food supplies and ingredients with the Ginkgo Guild right now, and Jubilife had fields capable of yielding a multitude of crops. Surely, they could help out for the winter.

Gaeric had known what Irida would say about this - no, of course not. And even then, Volo’s prices for being involved were becoming a little too steep for his liking. It felt like it was becoming advantageous at this point.

“We’ll discuss it,” was the only answer Gaeric had given. “I cannot make a decision like this without our leader Irida’s input.”

“Of course, of course! By the next delivery then, I’d love an answer from her!” Volo had responded without missing a beat, having turned around to trudge back through the snow, towards the nearest Ginkgo encampment. “She needs to make a decision soon.These things take time to set up, you know, and I’d hate for your settlement to run out of time… you’ve been valuable customers!”

That conversation had left Gaeric with a sour taste in his mouth; his supplier had seemed to be treating their plight like a simple game of strategy. He appeared eager to offer suggestions, but not too motivated to actually help unless he got something out of it, and this had only become more apparent with each delivery he’d made.

“I already asked about that this morning with him.” Gaeric finally answered - he was not motivated to share his recount with Irida, but he knew stalling it would only hurt them in the long run. “He said, all he could do was help us establish trade with the Diamond Clan or Jubilife Village, and he would work as the middle man-“

“-No!” Irida turned away from him again, stacking the remaining bowls before putting them into the cupboard. The task of stacking was needless, as she ended up putting them away one by one - she just needed something to busy her hands with. “He knows we can’t do that! And let me guess, he asked for steeper trading prices in return? Did he say the value of ice dropped again? Gaeric, we can’t keep doing this-”

“-I know! I was thinking about it today,” Gaeric cut her off in an attempt to keep her grounded. “And I agree, I don’t think we can afford his help. But…”

The Icelands warden paused on this last word as he gave her a sharp look, emphasizing he needed her to hear him out.

“...the idea of setting up a trade agreement with the Diamond Clan is… not a bad one. Why don’t we cut out the middle man, and try to strike a deal with them ourselves? We don’t have to explain everything that's going on, we can just frame it as a gesture of growing relations, and trust. Which in a way, it is.”

“I just said we can’t do that!” Irida’s voice swelled with emotion, but frustrated sadness was more prevalent than the anger Gaeric had expected. “Cutting Volo out of it doesn’t change what we’d be doing!”

Gaeric crossed his arms, posture stiff. “Irida. The elders are not the Pearl Clan’s leader. You are. Things are changing. They need to respect your decisions, even if it means they don’t agree.”

That was easier said than done when Irida respected them so much. They helped take care of her when her mother had tried to fight off her sickness, and did their best to raise her after the sickness had won. They checked in on her when she needed it, and gave her advice that she still found useful to this day.

She had grown up with their guidance just as much as she had with Gaeric’s.

So it was hard to hear them voice their poignant disapproval over her gradual efforts to tolerate the Diamond Clan and better relations, and Gaeric knew it influenced Irida’s behavior towards Adaman’s people somewhat, acting more standoffish than she wanted to be. If the elders found out Irida was considering going to them for help, expressing vulnerability and inadvertently showing weakness to the people who constantly disrespect their Almighty Sinnoh, they would… Well, Gaeric wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to strip her of her authority, deeming her unfit to lead by disregard of their traditions and ancestors.

But this wasn’t the time to be prejudiced, or to place the elders’ complaints above properly providing for the people. Gaeric himself still held some of his own reservations about the Diamond Clan, but he could clearly see the issue at hand was much bigger than their differences.

“I hear the things they whisper between each other at our meetings, Gaeric,” Irida relented to her complacent side anyways. “This would make things worse.”

“Have Calaba go with you, then,” Gaeric advised. “They respect her.”

Irida knew Calaba would gladly go with her to discuss trading if she asked - despite being the oldest elder of the clan, she was actually the most open-minded of that group. Her developing friendship with Lady Lilligant’s warden had softened her outlook towards the Diamond Clan considerably, and while this friendship was not exactly public knowledge to the settlement, she was respected enough that her willing involvement might lessen the backlash from the elders.

Irida seemed to consider this extensively. The dark, taut look in her blue eyes lessened, the storm clouds behind them parting with a few clarifying blinks. She finally tucked the last bowl away, having gripped it in her hands for the last minute.

“Yeah. Maybe I should.”

A few more blinks. The dark clouds returned.

“But… It’ll take time to set up trading negotiations, and that’s even if they agree to them! How do we manage ourselves until then?”

She was beginning to drown again.

“Well then!” Having finished with his previous chore, Gaeric moved across the kitchen to stand next to her and help her finish up her own tasks. He started sorting through the untouched pile of utensils, categorizing them together. “This is what I think! And listen, I know how you feel about it. But, it might be a good idea if instead of putting more people on the traps, we start considering bulking up the hunting parties for bigger targets. I’ve been watching Draugr’s herd out by Avalugg’s Legacy, and a few of the older piloswine should be easy to take down. We really should-”

Irida interrupted Gaeric with a distressed heave. Even the mention of that alpha mamoswine - that living mountain that terrorized the white wastelands - was too much for her to think about on top of everything else. Gaeric’s words died as he noticed more options were only putting more stress on her. He needed to stop piling things onto her plate, and instead take a few things off of it. She needed time to digest it all.

“You are Pearl Clan’s leader,” Gaeric reiterated as he tried to ease the situation, studying her expression carefully. “And I can only make suggestions; it’s up to you whether you want to listen to them or not. But, I say we should start considering bigger options ahead of time, while we still have the energy, supplies, and people for them. Don’t you think so?”

Irida wiped at the corner of her eye, silent.

“Yeah,” she brushed it off. “It’s just… a lot. To consider, I mean. These are really important decisions. And everyone’s telling me different things.”

Gaeric placed a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into his arm, searching for comfort in the gesture. Just like she did as a child, when the new burden of leading the clan felt like too much for her.

Both of them knew very well that with the way things were going, they were not improving, and Irida would have to start making hard choices that she didn’t want to make. But if she didn’t make the hard choices now, she’d have to face even more grievous consequences later.

Irida took a shaky breath. Gaeric hated having to watch her relive a situation so similar to her mother’s.

“You’re handling things the best you can.” The Icelands warden finally answered Irida’s initial question. “The avalugg will be ending their sleep soon. Once mighty Lord Avalugg arises, the zoroark will not dare steal from our traps! And our radishes can grow in peace! But until then, we still have food stocked up. The elders and the children are still getting full meals. Everyone is still eating every day. And that is because of the choices you have made as our leader.”

Irida said nothing, but Gaeric knew she appreciated his words. Though he could tell something was still on her mind, nagging at her and telling her she wasn’t doing good enough. And he knew exactly what it was.

“What happened last night with Ingo and the kid was just an honest accident, and it was taken care of.” Gaeric attempted to pull the thorn out of her side.

“Ugh, let’s not talk about that.” Irida sighed into Gaeric’s shoulder, another release of pent-up pressure from recalling the massively stressful event that was last night’s dinner. She lifted a heavy hand to massage her eyes. “I’m still waiting to have a proper conversation about that with him, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

Last night, Akari's sudden appearance made her realize just how conscious she had to be of possible surprises like that. They couldn’t afford to have the situation strained even more. And Irida knew just how close Akari was to the warden, but Ingo could not bring her around so carelessly anymore. Not around to see the settlement trying to make up for its struggles, and especially not around mealtimes.

And Ingo… she already felt like he was stretching himself far too thin.

And things hadn’t even gotten hard yet.

Having come to their clan at the tail end of last winter, he had no idea how difficult things could get. And Irida had to admit that Ingo was a man of selflessness to a fault; with his habit of overextending hospitality, she worried he was going to burn himself out in his efforts to help. But when she insisted he not forget himself whenever he expressed the importance of helping the clan, he always assured her he was taking care of himself too.

…Just like he did last night, at their headache of a dinner, where he obviously didn’t eat after an extensive day of hard work. Irida knew enough about Ingo to surmise that this could possibly become a pattern, and she was sure at some level, he was aware she suspected as much.

The creaking of the back door slowly opening initially went unnoticed by Irida and Gaeric, but the sudden temperature drop and flurry rushing into the room caught their attention.

Gnarled, withered fingers gripped the side of the door as it was cautiously pushed open, so as not to let too much snow inside. A moment later, Gaeric’s froslass poked her head around the corner. A crackly, yet gentle hiss of breath slipped through her human-like teeth to announce her arrival.

Irida’s glaceon and her two eevee slipped through the door a second later, the pair of brown, furry Pokémon much more eager to enter the warmer room than their evolved equivalent. Gaeric’s glalie hung behind his froslass, comfortable in the cold and content with waiting outside by the door.

“Eevee, Glaceon!” A genuine smile made its way to the corners of Irida’s mouth as she turned, kneeling down to greet her Pokémon as they rushed over to her. She pet their heads as they yipped, the three of them leaning into her warm hands.

“Were you all able to find something to eat?” Gaeric asked his froslass as she drifted through the door, letting it close behind her.

“Frss,” The icy Pokémon slowly nodded her head in affirmation, her cold breath failing to make any clouded puffs herself, but only making Gaeric’s more prevalent. She held one of her hands out to Gaeric, her fingers curled around something. When he held out his own in response, she placed a handful of pep-up plant roots into his palm.

Ah. The only part of the plant that was often considered too spicy to eat raw, even with ice-types. They worked wonders when included in medicinals, though.

“Pep-up roots! Thank you, Froslass. I’m sure Calaba will appreciate these; I’ll let her know you all found them yourselves.” Gaeric tucked the roots into one of his satchels for later. Froslass seemed appreciative of his gratitude, tucking her face into her hands in a rather bashful manner.

“Now… did you have any encounters?” The warden’s voice lowered some as he took a glance at Irida and her own Pokémon, still receiving pets.

“Frrrrssl,” froslass hummed, before turning her head back at the exit, out where Glalie was still waiting. She drifted over the floor back to the wooden door, and opened it with a creak to return to her icy companion.

Even between the small sliver of the frame and the door, Gaeric could see some of his Pokémon’s frozen coating had been harshly scraped off - claws desperate to break through and reach the vulnerable black core. Yet despite the damage, Glalie visibly perked up and presented an affirming smile when it spotted him through the crack.

Curse those hungry zoroark.

“Irida, are your Pokémon alright?” Gaeric called from the door.

A pause as Irida quickly inspected her Pokémon, checking them over and combing through their fur for any hidden injuries.

“They’re fine!”

Another pause as she realized why he was asking.

“Are yours?”

“Nothing that can’t be helped with an ice bath. Those zoroark can’t get through Glalie’s ice armor that easily!” Gaeric reassured her. It felt weird to admit he preferred it was one of his own Pokémon that was attacked, but he was relieved that it was Glalie, and not one of Irida’s more vulnerable Pokémon. It’s why the two of them always asked their Pokémon to hunt and forage together; it was safer with the zoroark prowling about, and Glalie was essentially their de facto protector.

Glalie would get lots of pets and affection from him later, as thanks for their efforts.

Irida stood up as she brushed stray fur off herself, her Pokémon still close by her legs, and looked around at the tidied kitchen in the chance they missed something.

“Well, it seems we’ve cleaned up everything. Thanks for your help Gaeric, I know you didn’t have to stick around and do this. You should go home now, and tend to Glalie.”

“You’re talking like you’re staying here. You have more work to do, or something?” A chuckle was heard in Gaeric’s voice. “You know, you can tell me if I did a bad job cleaning the dishes.”

“No, no!” Irida brushed it off with a small laugh of her own, the unexpected joke catching her off guard. “I just… I’d like to double check the storage before going back. Just making sure, you know? With the zoroark around, and everything.”

Gaeric normally would have told her it’s fine, or that she’d be checking for no reason. But after tonight’s conversation, seeing her so stressed and worried… she was doing it just for reassurance, and he knew better than to downplay that.

“Well that’s just down the hill! Here, I’ll go with you.” Gaeric opened the door wide for her as an invitation to step outside, and a flurry of cold rushed into the room. “And don’t argue, it’ll only take a few minutes.”

Irida took the stance of someone who seemed ready to indeed argue for about two seconds. But she appeared to quickly think better of it, and instead moved to blow out the few candles that still illuminated the room.

“Fine,” She blew out the last candle, leaving the empty kitchen in a cold, dark blue that matched the frigidity of the night outside. Finally, she moved to slip past him through the door, her Pokémon trailing behind. “...Thank you.”

The snowfall that drifted down instantly began to collect in her hair and accumulate on her frame in an attempt to freeze her, but Irida seemed indifferent to it as she waited for Gaeric to shut and secure the mess hall’s door behind him. The icelands around them were dark and silent, the settlement barely illuminated by what dim moonlight could find its way through the thick winter clouds.

Gaeric passed by Irida and took the lead down the hill as she followed close behind, their Pokémon sticking close by. He wondered if Irida would choose to be silent the whole way down to their storage, essentially ending their earlier conversation, and leaving him in the dark about her plans moving forward. But halfway down the hill, he heard her voice piercing the heavy winter atmosphere.

“About our conversation tonight… Thank you, Gaeric.” Irida kept her eyes on the snow before her, making her way through the heavy blanket of white as she kept behind Gaeric. “I will try and plan out a trade proposal for the Diamond Clan with Calaba tomorrow, as well as discuss moving focus off of our traps, and the possibility of forming a few hunting parties at our next meeting.”

Gaeric hummed a sound of approval. He was the one who organized the hunting parties. He knew she’d want his help discussing that with the rest of the clan.

“Just… not for Draugr,” Irida urged, her weariness audible in her voice. “I won’t have anyone going after Draugr. I don’t think we could even take him down with Ingo’s help, and… we’re just not at that point to take risks like that yet. He’s too dangerous.”