The thing about Skiddos is that, unlike a Rapidash or a Mudsdale, they don’t run. Nor do they trot, or even gallop. No, they bound.
And they bound fast. There’s a reason they’re the mount of choice for people who need to get around quickly off-road. A Cyclizar can hit higher speeds on level ground, but nothing beats a Skiddo on rough terrain, except for its own evolved form.
The trick to riding them then, is to not go flying off.
Easier said than done. I appreciated that Clover had faith in me, in the work we’d done over the past few weeks, but that didn’t make riding her as she topped her speed any simpler or more straightforward.
I knew from what Philip had told me that well-trained Skiddos capped out at around sixty-five kilometers per hour, give or take, in optimal conditions. Combine that with the frenetic up-and-down motion created by her bounding, and it was all I could do to cling to her back and horns. And that was before we factored in moves.
As soon as we were clear of the treeline, I heard a shout from Philip. “We’ve got an excuse to go all out old girl, let’s not waste it. Clover, use the grass to keep up.”
For a second, nothing changed, but then Pauline began accelerating. A trail of grass erupted behind her, as she Trailblazed through the undeveloped plain. As Clover hit the line of verdant growth, she dug her hooves in, and instead of continuing to bound across the landscape, she slid. Grassy Glide didn’t provide consistent speed increases like Trailblaze, but as long as she had an unbroken trail of grass, Clover could keep the move up almost indefinitely, off of the first expenditure of energy.
It was a testament to Pauline’s absurd capabilities that, even after using a priority move, Clover still couldn’t catch up to her. And the older Grass-type just wouldn’t stop. Successive Trailblazes saw her and Philip moving faster and faster, until all I could make out of them was a smear on the landscape.
Not that I could make out much of said landscape as we flew through it. Just the occasional hill, or surprised Pokémon, caught in my vision for a searing moment.
Most of my focus was on desperately clinging to my mount’s saddle and horns, and distinctly not imagining what would happen if I lost my grip.
After what felt like an eternity, we began noticeably decelerating. My watch told me that it hadn’t even been fifteen minutes, but I wasn’t discounting the possibility that at the speed we’d been going, we’d had been messing with relativity in some way.
As real-time resumed, I felt a thrill run through me. My first mission. The thought finally had a chance to sink in. Philip hadn’t told me much about what was going on, or anything, really, but that didn’t stop my growing excitement. It was time to see what being a ranger was all about.
I could see our destination, out in the distance now. It was a large ranch, brimming with bleating Wooloo. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I might have been seeing several farmhands and Herdier off in the distance, trying to reassure the alarmed Sheep Pokémon. Judging by the noises coming from the ranch, they weren’t having much success.
As we slowed down, Philip and Pauline fell back, pulling up alongside Clover and I. “Now I’m sure you don’t need me telling you this again, but just a reminder, it’s policy that junior rangers not participate in missions, other than as an observer.”
I certainly hadn’t wanted him to tell me that again. I could feel my excitement bleeding away, as his words stuck me like a Tepig. “Right. I remember,” I reassured him, not at all mulishly.
Any further conversation was forestalled, by a loud voice, calling from the compound. “Philip, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Get in here!”
The owner of the voice was a broad-shouldered woman, standing atop what looked like some sort of guard tower. The structure was built behind the fence line enclosing the ranch, and must have been at least six meters tall. Now that I looked closer, I could see similar buildings all along the fence surrounding the ranch.
Every single one had what seemed like lookouts in them, people or Pokémon or both, scouting the landscape with keen eyes.
The woman in the tower nearest us pressed some sort of button, causing a gate in the fence line to creak open. She descended a ladder in the rear of the structure, leaving a surprisingly fierce-looking Pachirisu watching in her stead.
Pauline and Clover stepped through the gate, and Philip dismounted to meet the woman. I hurried to follow, tapping Clover behind the ear, to let her know my intentions. She sedately knelt down, so I could get off her back safely, and I made sure to hug her head and offer a quick ‘thank you’ before hurrying over to join the ongoing conversation.
I hadn’t missed much, other than greetings, it seemed. The woman released Philip from the back-crushing hug she had him in, and turned her attention to me. “So who’s the squirt?” She asked, squinting down at me.
I could feel my face-twisting, but before I could say anything, the older ranger interjected. “Maya, this is Fe, our new junior ranger. Fe, this is Maya. She owns the very aptly-named Woolooville Farms.”
I looked over the ranch-owner again, reappraising her now that I knew her position. The woman was broad, and tall, and tanned in the way that comes from working everyday under the beating sun. Her skin was criss-crossed with pockmarks and scars, the kind that made her look more like a soldier than a farmer.
“Nice to meet you,” I finally landed on, deciding to err on the side of politeness.
Our host didn’t offer the same courtesy, snorting through her nose. “Sure kid. A pleasure.” She turned to Philip. “Hope you’re not planning on askin’ us to babysit.”
“No need to be rude Maya. A few years from now, and Fe here might be the one responding to your calls.”
The words were said gently, but the woman actually looked a bit chagrined. “Shit, yeah. Sorry kid,” she addressed me, “things have been pretty tense here the last couple of days.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I thought we could handle things, but after what happened today, Jeanie convinced me that we’re out of our league. Told me to call you guys up.”
“Well we’re glad to help. Why don’t you go over what’s been happening.”
The woman sighed, and then gestured for us to follow her. “C’mon, better I show ya.”
-
The woman led us around the fenceline, skirting the skittish herd, and bringing us around to the rear of the ranch. Back here, the point of concern became obvious. A guard tower had been knocked down, and several holes peppered the fence around the collapsed structure, some large enough that a person or Pokémon could jump through. A small pile of boulders and rocks had been pulled away from the wreckage and pushed up against one side of the fence, presumably the source of the damage, now removed so several farm hands and their partners could work to affect emergency repairs..
“It started ‘bout a week ago, with our sentries seein’ some movement, comin’ in from out east,” Maya pointed somewhere into the distance, a little north of the direction we’d come from. “Wasn’t anythin’ too odd at first, just some shapes in the night and some worried Wooloo, but that didn’t last long,” the woman’s expression darkened. “After a couple of days, we started really seeing ‘em. Pack of Rockruff and Lycanroc, pokin’ and prodin’ around the fences, lookin’ for weaknesses. At first they only showed up at night, but yesterday, they were here all day, starin’ from the treeline, and a couple of hours ago, they tried this shit.”
Maya pointed at the fenceline, and the damage evidently caused by the pack. “Mahile got a bit scraped up when the tower came down, but he sounded the alarm, and we scared ‘em off. They knocked out a couple of our ‘mons though, and Jeanie thinks it’s just a matter of time ‘fore the try again,” the woman sighed, “and that brings us to now. Been a few years since we’ve had a wolfpack show up around these parts. Somethin’ must have made ‘em bold. Or desperate.”
“We’re they aggressive towards your folks and their Pokémon in particular? Or did they just want to get by you?” Philip asked.
The ranch owner shrugged. “Pretty sure they wanted the Wooloo. They fought us when we got in the way, but they weren’t goin’ after us especially, far as I can tell.”
“Hmm,” Philip looked thoughtful. “Lycanroc come in a few different forms, did any of them look odd to you?”
“Not that I saw, but maybe one of the others noticed something? If you’ve got time, we can poll everyone.”
“Probably a good idea,” the older ranger confirmed. “It would be good knowledge to have going in.”
So we spent the next hour interviewing the various residents of the ranch, getting accounts of the attack. Most of the sentries told the same story we’d heard from Maya, but a couple of them had gotten a glimpse of a tall figure, watching the action from the treeline. The distance kept them from getting a good view of the mysterious watcher, but they all agreed that it was red in color, and probably bigger than the other Lycanroc involved in the attack.
According to Philip, it was indicative of a Midnight Form Lycanroc evolving.
He elaborated on what that meant for us as we departed from the ranch for the treeline.
“We’ve got a couple of known packs of Lycanroc that hang around this area, but technically, the ranch and its surroundings aren’t in any of their owned territory. Lycanroc are dangerous if you intrude on their space, but since most of the time people don’t have a reason to wander around out here, they’re not usually a problem.”
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The ranger sighed. “We do occasionally get flare-ups though, so they don’t always have the best reputation. Some of the ranches around here would freak out from even seeing a tiny Rockruff, let alone a full pack sniffing around. Maya and hers are hardy folk,” he turned to me, and I got the feeling he was making sure I was paying attention. “Now, keep an open mind going in, we can’t know for sure what’s going on until we find the pack, but in my experience, there are only a few things that would make Lycanroc act up like this,” the older ranger held up a single finger. “First, a pack got too large and had to split off, and is now struggling to establish their own territory.” His next finger went up, “Second, something has decimated their prey population, forcing them to range,” he raised a third finger, “and third, and this is the one we’re hoping for, a Rockruff experienced severe duress in the night and evolved into their midnight form.”
I knew a bit about Lycanroc and their pre-evolved form. They made for decent pets and good partners, loyal and brave. Supposedly, their evolutions could either be calm and cautious, or aggressive and adversarial. People took care about when they let their Rockruffs evolve depending on their needs, whether that be for a companion or a competitor. “So if a Midnight Form Lycanroc evolved naturally, it’ll have taken over the pack, and driven them to aggression?” I reasoned.
Philip gave me a nod. “Exactly. And that’s the best case for us, because it has an easy solution. Humble the upstart, and they should be amenable to negotiations. The other causes are trickier…”
“What do we do if they’re out of food or territory?” I asked, trying to get a feel for the plan.
Philip chuckled, “you, Ms. Junior Ranger, will not be doing anything either way.”
I knew he meant it as a joke, but I felt my frustration well up all the same. I clamped down on it, suppressing it in favor of listening to the older ranger elaborate.
“I won’t be doing much either though. At least, not right away. If things are that dire, I’ll need backup. It’ll probably take three or four of us, and we’ll come out and round up the whole pack, capture them in Poké Balls, and relocate them somewhere more suitable. I’d have to review the maps, but there should be a couple of places deeper in the forest that could accommodate a Lycanroc pack, safely away from human habitations.”
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous for the pack though?” I asked. “Wilson told me that the forest gets more dangerous the deeper you go in.”
Philip nodded. “It’ll be safer for them there than here near the ranches, where a posse is liable to form.”
“A… posse? Like, a bunch of people and Pokémon trying to hunt the Lycanroc down?” The idea seemed outlandish to me, but Philip just nodded.
“It wouldn’t be their first resort. That’s us,” the older ranger punctuated his statement by pointing at himself with his thumb. “But if we’re too slow, or ineffective, they’ll take it into their own hands. The Pokémon on these ranches are their livelihood, and also their family. They don’t take threats to their safety lightly.”
“And what’ll they do with the pack if they find them?” I suspected it wasn’t the same thing we’d be doing.
The older ranger confirmed my concerns with a grimace. “Depends on the circumstances. But oftentimes, it’s not pretty. At least nowadays they come to us first. It didn’t used to be that way.
I kind of wanted to ask him to elaborate on that, but the time for conversation was over.
Even with Clover and Pauline taking it easy, we’d made it to the distant treeline in what felt like moments. From there, we started delving into the forest. We took it slow, our mounts ambling along, and Philip took the time to point out the signs we were following. A broken branch here, discarded rocks there, the occasional fleck of blood. The older ranger had what felt like an almost preternatural sense for the small, leftover bits of evidence from the packs passing.
Eventually, however, we reached a point where Philip couldn’t find any remaining signs from the Wolf Pokémon. “Honestly, we were only able to follow them this far because they were scrambling after being driven away from the ranch,” he admitted. “Once they’ve collected themselves, a pack of Rockruff and Lycanron are almost impossible for you or I to track.”
I knew he was leading me into it, but I couldn’t help but ask. “So how do we find them then?”
“We recruit some help,” the older ranger replied with a grin.
-
We came into a clearing, and Philip dismounted his Gogoat. I followed suit, getting off of Clover as the older ranger pulled a Poké Ball off his belt. He whispered something to it that I didn’t catch, and then threw it in the air.
I hadn’t met Philip’s other partners, and I wasn’t exactly sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t the frightened looking Grass-type, huddled in on themself on the forest floor.
I recognized the species, after looking closely. A Smoliv. I didn’t know a lot about them, other than that they were a farm Pokémon of some kind. I wracked my brain, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what product they were known for. Luckily, Philip didn’t leave me in the dark for long.
He knelt by the trembling grass type, and patted them affectionately on the head as they quickly sheltered in his shadow. “Hey there Joaquin. Need a bit of assistance. Can you find us some friends?”
“Smoliv,” the cry was so faint I almost couldn’t make it out, and the Pokémon began shaking their body. For a moment, I thought that they were refusing Philip’s order, but then, my nose picked up an overwhelming smell coming from the diminutive Grass-type. The scent was sweet, but cut with undertones of something earthy, and just slightly bitter. Oil, it came to me. Smoliv were known for their acerbic oil.
“Joaquin’s Sweet Scent should attract some of the locals. Hopefully, one of them will be willing to give us a bit of help.”
The older ranger’s words proved prophetic. It didn’t even take ten minutes for us to get a few interested Pokémon nosing around the clearing. Philip would look each of them over, before dismissing them, offering an Oran berry for the trouble. Some of them I recognized, like the Zigzagoon, or Caterpie nosing around. Others, I wasn’t familiar with. Something big was eyeing us from the treeline. A glare from Pauline kept it at bay, but the black and pink figure kept trying to approach from different angles.
I tore my eyes away from the creepy, empty gaze of our stalker, and focused back on Philip. “I hope that they’re not the one we’re looking for,” I indicated the huge Pokémon.
The older ranger shook his head with a grimace. “That’s Stuffy. He’s a known quantity, and he knows better than to bother us!” The last half of his sentence was a shout in the direction of the huge Pokémon, who finally ambled away after being acknowledged by Philip.
The older ranger shook his head. “If you ever encounter a Bewear in the woods Fe, put your arms up above your head, and wave them while backing away.” The older ranger demonstrated the motion. It looked a bit ridiculous, but if it would ward off the behemoth that had been watching us, I’d follow suit in a heartbeat. “It doesn’t hurt to tell them, gently, that you’re leaving, either. They’re the most dangerous thing you can find out here. Not the most powerful, but the way Bewear fight is… uniquely lethal.”
“How so,” I asked, morbid curiosity drawing the question from me.
“Most Pokémon you bother will be happy to hit you with moves until you’re unconscious, but won’t go further than that. Unless they're starving, they’ll leave you alone after you’re knocked out. Bewear don’t do that. Instead, they grab challengers, wrap their arms around them, and squeeze until they crush whatever they're holding. They’ll work through you or your partner's syn, and then keep going until all you're left with is a crumpled corpse.”
“Golems,” I felt my eyebrows climb into my browline. “We’re pretty close to the edge of the forest, isn’t it risky to let a Pokémon like that roam around here? And shouldn’t they be common knowledge, if they’re that dangerous?”
“There aren’t many of them. Maybe ten in the entire forest. Plus, they don’t ever leave these woods. They won’t bother you if you don’t bother them. Hell, there hasn’t been a Bewear attack in almost a decade, and telling people about them might just make idiots go seeking them out for stupid reasons.”
I could see that, unfortunately. People were drawn to strong Pokémon, often with disastrous results, if the news were to be believed.
The older ranger rubbed the back of his head. “Also, this is their forest, not ours. They’ve been here far longer than we have.”
I frowned. “Really? With a population that low? Wouldn’t they die out?” I asked.
“You’d think so, but everything out here knows not to bother a Bewear, or their pre-evolution, Stufful. Means the only thing that takes them out is old-age or an accident, and Bewears can live a long, long time.”
I nodded, absorbing the information. “Do we track them somehow?”
“Informants,” Philip nodded. “They don’t take well to being tagged, so we rely on a certain type of wild Pokémon to keep us appraised of their locations. Speaking of which, here’s one now. I was starting to wonder if we’d need another Sweet Scent, but this should work fine.”
Philip gestured up, just as soft wingbeats brought a new visitor to the clearing. The Weedle that had been eating out of Philip’s palm fled into the treeline, and the Zigzagoon that had been waiting behind them growled at the fresh arrival, before following suit. Poor Joaquin let out the saddest little squeak, and cowered beneath Philip’s bulk.
The Murkrow simply croaked back disdainfully, as they settled on a branch overlooking the congregation. A couple of braver Pokémon stuck around long enough to get their berries, before fleeing into the trees, and pretty soon it was just us and the black-feathered avian, who appraised us with a gimlet eye.
“Why don’t you come on down so we can talk, Murkrow,” Philip entreated. “I’ve got an offer for you.”
The Pokémon croaked again, but deigned to descend, alighting on Philip’s outstretched arm. It started indulging in the Oran berry the older ranger offered, but I could tell that it was keeping an ear open, listening closely to Philip’s offer, and also making ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
As the older ranger spoke to the Pokémon, I reviewed what I knew about Murkrow. Avaricious but clever, Murkrows organized themselves in large murders centered around a Honchkrow. According to Wilson, there were four murders that held territory in and around Techne, and the ranger corps kept relations with all of them, bribing them into good behavior with food and trinkets. Apparently, based on what I was seeing now, they also acted as informants, which I hadn’t been told.
“We’re looking for a pack of troublemakers in the area, and could use some help finding them,” I zoned back in as Philip continued. “I can ask the sarge to add some special treats to this month’s payment, for the trouble. What do you say?”
The Murkrow finished snapping up the berry, looked at me, and then turned back to Philip. They croaked out something that sounded like a question, and picked at their feathers a bit.
“That’s Fe, she’s our new junior ranger. We were thinking of introducing her to the head Honchkrow in a couple of weeks.”
A few more interrogative noises came from the Darkness Pokémon. “Some Lycanrock have been bothering Woolooville Ranch. We want to figure out what’s going on with them.”
The Murkrow looked thoughtful. It seemed to consider Philip’s words for a few moments, before croaking out one last question.
“Sure, we can work with that.”
The Murkrow nodded, apparently in agreement, and then took off into the air, circling a few times, before flying off.
“And there we go. We have our guide.” The older ranger looked satisfied, in spite of his empty hands and the empty sky that our ‘guide’ had just flown off into.
I stared at him, flummoxed. “But, they just left,” I finally accused.
“That particular Murkrow doesn't know where the pack is, but someone in their murder definitely does.” Philip informed me with a chuckle. “They’ve gone to get them. They’ll be back before too long.”
I nodded, a bit mollified by the explanation. “And in the meantime? What do we do?”
Philip shrugged, and settled down into a sitting position on the forest floor, cradling Joaquin with one hand and petting Pauline’s flank with the other. “Now, my young charge? Now, we wait.”
