Fight and Flight

Fight and Flight Part of Arc 1: Snowflake Tears ← Mission 2 Mission 6 → Release Date Jul 22th, 2012 - Part 1 Nov 4th, 2012 - Final Part Author(s) Medical-Hitmonchan Illustrator(s) Medical-Hitmonchan ChocoChimbu Links All 15 parts

A healthy fear and wariness of one’s own surroundings was something taught to every young Taillow. Small and relatively weak, speed was the one advantage the tiny birds had against their foes, from the egg-stealing Ekans to the sharp-clawed Sneasel, the latter being especially dangerous due to their speed and tendency to know icy attacks, a weakness against most flyers.

A pair of Taillow parents, having lost a clutch of eggs to a hungry Sneasel before, were especially cautious with their children, teaching their chicks the importance of advanced flying skills. One of their daughters, Chirpy (or Cyclone, as she liked to be called), took these lessons especially to heart. Being the first to learn how to fly, it didn’t take long for her siblings to follow her speedy example.

One sunny afternoon, as unthreatening as any afternoon, Cyclone was practice-flying with her sister, Songy (their other siblings being Tweety and Singy... they had faint memories of another brother, Screamy, but he was mysteriously gone one day, said to have fallen out of the nest). The Taillow sisters decided that practice should take place above the treeline so they could get maximum air and be the safest from danger.

“Watch this, Chirpy!” Songy said as she did a loop-de-loop in the air.

“I told you, call me Cyclone!” the other Taillow shouted, spinning rapidly as she gained altitude. “Get a load of my signature Twister!”

“Well, check out my Aerial Ace!” Songy challenged as she cut through the air back and forth.

“Lame, I’ve got Aerial Ace too!”

“Mine’s faster!”

“Oh yeah? Race you to that pine!”

“Ah, the trees? Wait, Chirpy...”

“Come on! And don’t call me Chirpy!”

Cyclone took off towards the tall evergreen, Songy feeling she had no choice but to follow. The sisters were soon neck and neck, eventually Songy just barely taking the lead. At the last moment, the young birds swiftly and expertly gripped onto a bare branch, their race destination.

“Shoot!” Cyclone said, “You beat me! I woulda won if you...”

Out of nowhere, a blur of black fur and pink feathers shot out, and Songy was nowhere to be seen. Cyclone was dumbfounded until she heard the sound that no Taillow wanted to hear: the distress call. A loud, desperate screaming could be heard far below the treeline, as well as claws swiftly scraping against wood. A Sneasel.

Without wasting another moment, Cyclone shot down below the treeline. Navigating the confusing mess of leaves and branches proved to be a challenge, the Taillow nearly finding herself tangled in ivy vines and other natural obstacles. Once she saw the Sneasel leaping through the trees, Cyclone concentrated hard, trying to focus so she could use Agility. Her sister’s distress calls could still be heard, it was not too late.

In the blink of an eye, Cyclone finally built enough speed to slam into the predator. Though much smaller than the Sneasel, she was able to knock it down and, to her relief, Songy fell from its jaws. The Sneasel quickly regained its footing, eyes wide in surprise. It looked back, its eyes narrowing as it realized its attacker was another Taillow.

“Go away! Leave her alone!” Cyclone yelled. She shot into the Sneasel again, bouncing back like a boomerang. The move seemed to work for the creature cried out and fell backwards, crashing into the branches below.

“Hasta la vista, jerkface! Hey, Songy, where ya at?”

Cyclone flew around until she spotted a small, blue ball of feathers huddled and trembling in the cavity of a nearby tree. She glided to her sister and poked her with the tip of her wing.

“Hey, get up. It’s safe now. I saved you!”

Songy lifted her head, her eyes large and dull.

“Um... are you hurt?” Cyclone asked.

Songy just slowly shook her head back and forth as she lifted her wings, slowly flapping them up and down.

“Well it looks like you can at least fly. Boy, you shoulda seen how fast and cool I was! Of course, you couldn’t see how awesome I looked, seeing how you were in that thing’s mouth and all.”

“Stop,” Songy said, her tone quiet and meek. “I just want to go home.”

Cyclone averted her eyes uneasily. She then turned around, looking back to make sure Songy would be following, and the two sisters silently made their way back to the family nest.

“You did what?!” Cyclone and Songy’s parents squawked in unison.

“I totally saved Songy’s tail feathers from some slimey ol’ Sneasel! She would have been dead meat if not for me!”

Songy, huddled between their parents, just remained silent, her head facing down.

“I told you countless times, always use your speed to escape danger!” father Taillow said.

“And I told you, that ice rat came from nowhere! What, you want Songy to be dead right now?”

Songy whimpered and buried her head under her wing. Their mother began preening her.

The father just sighed. His reckless daughter was right, in a way. “Look. I am glad that you were able to fight that creature off. But please, never endanger yourself again. Be more aware of your surroundings and this never would have happened in the first place.”

“Bull! We can’t predict everything!”

“This is why you need to learn to be more cautious, always be on the lookout!” To prove a point, father Taillow harshly pecked Cyclone on the top of her head.

“So, this is the thanks I get?”

“Please, keep your voices down” mother Taillow interrupted. She continued gently preening Songy. Cyclone scoffed. How could her sister, her best training partner, turn into this sad sack? How could her own parents not recognize how heroic and awesome she was?

Well, she would just have to get better, faster, and stronger.

From then on, nearly every day, Cyclone would try and urge Songy to come out and speed train with her. “Um, not today. I’ll just... stick close to the nest. Train around here.”

“You’ll never get stronger staying at home all day! Come on, Tweety and Singy are too slow and boring, don’t be like them!”

Their morning conversations always ended with Songy remaining silent and Cyclone huffing in exasperation, and then taking off. Their parents had given up trying to scold her or get her to listen to their advice. If she wanted to be a daredevil and end up as a Sneasel snack, so be it. There was only so much they could do to ensure her survival.

Cyclone spent her days trying to perfect her moves, sometimes using a dead branch or even a low hanging cloud for target practice. Once, she saw a Caterpie crawling along the forest floor. Cyclone gained altitude and then dive-bombed into the poor bug, its guts exploding upon impact. Wasting a potential meal was never a wise thing, but the spectacle was worth it. She hated how her other family members were missing out on all this fun. The rare times Cyclone encountered a Sneasel, she found that the boomerang slam, U-Turn, always did the trick in making them back off. They were almost too easy to defend against.

One spring morning, the Taillow family found themselves huddled together in a tight cluster, a sure sign it was cold out. Cyclone roused from sleep and spotted her father perched at the edge of the tree hole their nest resided in. She hopped up to join his side and was astonished at the sight before them; Creeping Forest was almost completely white, with odd white flakes falling from the sky.

“What is...” Cyclone stammered.

“It’s snow.”

“I’ve never felt this cold in my life.”

“You’ve only been alive for a few months. It stopped snowing shortly before your eggs were laid. This is not right.”

The pair was then joined by the mother of the family. She turned to her mate. “This coldness will give our foes an advantage. Are the kids ready to migrate?”

“Wha... migrate? Why!” Cyclone cried out.

Father Taillow’s beak almost turned into a smile. “So, is my headstrong daughter actually scared?”

“No! I’m not scared of some cold, white crap! And I am not going to make it force me to leave!”

The parent Taillow said nothing back, being accustomed to Cyclone’s stubborn arrogance. The pair just hopped back to the nest, rousing the rest of their adolescent children up.

“Tweety, Singy, Songy! Rise and shine, my darlings!”

“Ugh, why is it so cold?” asked Tweety, the lone male offspring.

It didn’t take long for the parents to explain what winter was, and how it shouldn’t be happening at this time of year. They also explained that, to ensure their survival, they would have to migrate north to Sonata Forest for an indeterminate amount of time.

“So we’re all just giving up?” Cyclone squawked.

“Chirpy, get real...” Singy sighed.

“Quit calling me Chirpy!”

Feathers puffed in frustration (and cold), Cyclone lunged at Singy talons-first. Their father was quick to intervene, tackling Cyclone onto her back. The shock of the cold, as well as her father fighting back, stunned the young Taillow.

“Wow,” Cyclone said breathlessly. “Dad... I didn’t know you had that in you!”

The father just gave a sharp peck to Cyclone’s head and stepped back, glaring. He suddenly realized that he and his mate may have dropped the wrong hatchling from the nest.

“Chirpy. This is not the time. Especially not now. We cannot stay in Creeping Forest. The Caterpie, Wurmple, and berries we depend on for survival are sure to be killed off by now. And as your mother mentioned, our most feared enemy, the Sneasel, thrive in this cold climate. If you remain here, you will be alone. You will die.”

“I will not die,” Cyclone answered back.

Her father just raised his head and puffed out his chest. He looked to his mate and nodded.

“I see other flocks leaving,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The parent Taillow flew from the tree hole, soon followed by Tweety and Singy. Songy half-heartedly leapt to the edge of the nest exit.

“Hey, Songy! Let’s train together! Sure, this snow stuff sucks, but it’ll be a fun challenge!”

Songy turned around to face her sister. For a brief moment, Cyclone noticed how dull Songy’s once vibrant plumage looked, how she held her head low and shoulders high, how her large, dark eyes shimmered.

“I’m sorry, Cyclone,” Songy said. She then hopped from the tree hole and flew off to catch up with her family.

Without a second thought, Cyclone took off after her sister. “Hey, get back!” she cried out, voice echoing through the chilling forest. Despite her weak state, Songy effortlessly glided through the maze of trees and branches. It appeared their previous training had paid off after all.

“Songy! Hey! If you leave me, you’ll be weak like the rest of them! Like all Taillow! We don’t have to flee, we can fight!”

Songy just flapped her wings harder, convinced her noisy sister would attract a whole slew of unwanted attention. In the distance she saw not only her family but other Taillow, the birds instinctively forming a flock in preparation for the sudden migration.

The distance between Cyclone and Songy grew and grew. Shouting and breathing in frigid air began to take its toll on the young bird, so Cyclone glided to an old oak tree to rest, the snow cloaked branch stinging her feet. She panted rapidly and puffed out her feathers. Songy was no longer in sight.

That cowardly traitor. Songy was no different from the rest of those defeatists. Why should some coldness and white junk force them all to give up their home and move away? It was a challenge. Cyclone’s father said that if she stayed in Creeping Forest she would die. She’d prove him wrong. She’d prove them all wrong. Somehow.

Something suddenly slammed into Cyclone, sending her tumbling off her perch. She landed clumsily in the snowy ground, her fatigue and surprise making her forget to open her wings. She frantically looked up and spotted her assailant, a Liepard hanging from the tree branch, scrambling to hold on with its claws.

“Missed! Curse this blasted snow!” the feline hissed, tail whipping in frustration.

Cyclone pulled herself from the snow and shook herself off. She spread her wings, flicked her forked tail, and flew to a nearby shrub to hide.

Wait, hide?

Don’t be weak. Don’t let this cold crap get to you. Don’t be some worthless giver-upper like Dad, Mom, Tweety and Singy. And Songy. Stupid cat. Stupid cold. Stupid, jerk-face cat.

Hatred boiled within Cyclone. Her tiny body trembled, partly from fear, mostly from anger. A soft thump was heard, the Liepard having launched itself from the tree. Cyclone peered from her hiding place. The disturbed snow and stray blue feathers gave away where she was. So what. Let that purple, spotted idiot find her. It would regret it.

Seeing the shaking bush, the Liepard smiled to itself. This was too easy. It hunched down, wiggled its rump, and leapt. The Liepard wasn’t prepared for a screeching ball of fury and hate to come barreling out of the bush with scraping talons and a piercing beak, the latter jabbing it in the eye. The Liepard yowled and swiped its paw, missing its attacker.

“Dummy! Idiot! A...asshole!”

Cyclone continued throwing insults and fierce pecks. The Liepard turned tail and ran. Oh no, it wouldn’t get off that easy. Fueled by rage, Cyclone kept up her assault on the cat, striking it with U-turn over and over.

“Damn pest! Let me alone!” Liepard snarled as it ran.

“Make me!”

“As you wish!”

In the blink of an eye, Liepard’s long tail slashed through the air, making a shallow cut across Cyclone’s chest. The slash only made the Taillow more determined to show this predator who was boss.

She flapped her wings harder, sending flecks of blood flying in her wake. Using all of her strength, Cyclone crashed into the Liepard, sending the much larger creature slamming into an old, gnarled tree. Cyclone had built up so much speed she struck the ground and rolled painfully until she hit a snowbank.

Letting out a shuddered breath, Cyclone rose to her feet, crying out as a sharp pain shot through one of her legs. Dread hit her as she realized one of her wings hung limply at her side. She turned to face where the Liepard was. Surely, in an injured and bleeding state, she would become its next meal. Her gaze met the hunter’s. Liepard just stared at Cyclone, one eye squinted from the injury she inflicted on it. It lowered its ears and retreated, limping, until it was out of sight within the natural darkness of the forest.

Cyclone hunkered down into a resting position. Her body screamed in agony, yet she felt proud of winning this fight. Heck, she’d try and fight off the next fool who tried to mess with her. Even though she figured she would die soon, she’d go down fighting. Death didn’t scare her.

A sudden calm warmth washed over Cyclone’s body as positive thoughts flooded her brain. She was vaguely aware of the concept of good feelings to occur to one who’s life was draining away, however she felt more invigorated than ever, as if something more than blood was pumping through her veins making her feel bigger, stronger. She glanced down at her chest where the Liepard’s sharp tail struck her and, to her astonishment, instead of a cut there was a wide, V-shaped stripe. It finally occurred to Cyclone that she was evolving.

To be honest, Cyclone had no idea her kind could evolve. She knew it happened to other beings, she had seen Purrloin and Liepard, Pidgey and Pidgeotto, various caterpillars and coccoons. Her mother and father had just never mentioned evolution.

Swellow.

She knew that’s what her kind were called, somehow. The term just appeared to her mind. Feelings of bitterness and resentment came to the young bird once more. So all this time, her parents could have evolved and faired better in protecting their own young, not to mention themselves? Surely they were aware they could become Swellow. Did they just not want to try? Weak, stupid defeatists. And they’d drag her poor siblings into their life of mediocrity, constantly timid and fearful. She thought about how Songy, once full of virility, grew listless and dull. All because she was abducted by some dumb Sneasel for all of three minutes.

Worthless.

Cyclone flew to higher ground. She was astonished how smoothly she could fly now. Fewer wing flaps were needed to gain altitude and... to do anything, really. A dull ache in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t yet eaten today, and already she had used a tremendous amount of energy. Apparently, the natural healing powers of evolution were no cure for hunger. Cyclone gently glided off her perch to search of some food. While she hated having to be careful, even she could admit her recklessness had its limits.

Cyclone found that the sudden cold weather caused the small Bug types she sustained on to die, some frozen in place. If she were not starving she’d scoff at the lack of challenge. She approached a statuesque Wurmple, its pose stretched out as if reaching for a leaf. Knowing Wurmple’s spikey, pink back offered it natural protection, Cyclone pecked at its soft, pale underbelly. It took a few tries, due to its frozen state, but she finally pierced its skin to get to the gooey guts within. She shoved her face into the opening, not caring that she got its innards all over herself.

“Hey!” an angry voice squawked from above.

Cyclone removed her face from her buggy meal and saw an irritated blue, red, and white bird circling above her.

“Oh! A fellow Swellow!” Cyclone exclaimed.

“Fellow this!” said the other Swellow as it splayed its clawed feet and dove towards Cyclone, barely missing her. A warning strike.

Cyclone flew a short distance and, facing towards her attacker, shouted, “What’s the big idea, loser?”

“This is my territory, idiot!”

Before the other Swellow could attempt to assault Cyclone once more, she turned tail and flew off. Being newly evolved and barely satiated, she knew she was outmatched. Well, this was what she was up against now. It was a shame she couldn’t befriend that Swellow, ask how it became a cool survivor like her, but apparently her kind were antisocial. So be it. She would have to work extra hard to ensure she’d claim her own territory, fight off other evolved birds. This was the life of a tough Swellow.

As the weeks passed, Cyclone found herself pushed further and further from the familiar piece of forest she grew up in. Sure, it was entertaining and surprisingly easy to fight off ground-bound foes, but aerial adversaries were another story, and the young Swellow was no match for the more experienced birds she faced. Every solo practice session, every time she wanted to eat, heck, even when she just wanted to casually fly around for fun, was interrupted by a Pidgeotto, Staravia, or some other large bird squabbling about its territory.

Territory this, territory that. It was tiresome.

This new area seemed to bring some peace to the worn Swellow. An unnatural clearing formed a path that cut through the forest. Had it not been for the sudden snowfall, various Pokemon would be traversing this road going to and from the nearby Sapling Village. Cyclone knew nothing of the village, or even the towering Castle Draclugia a few miles away. All she cared was that those damn birds had finally left her alone. She finally had her own coveted territory.

Food was hard to come by, as always. The caterpillars had been cleaned out it seemed, and the berries had grown too frostbitten or simply died. One day, in search for a meal, Cyclone spotted something green hidden on the side of a tree, discovering it to be a Metapod. She pecked and scraped it its hard shell, finding no weak point.

Cyclone snorted in frustration. Remembering her training, she flew away from the Metapod, steadily gaining altitude. She grinned, looking forward to the carnage her Aerial Ace would bring forth. She dove downwards, shattering the cocoon upon impact. Instead of gelatinous innards she was met with a cloud of dust. Apparently, some of the caterpillars went into a chrysalis state upon the arrival of the cold snap, yet didn’t have the benefit of an entire spring and summer to constantly gorge on leaves.

“I can’t eat this!” Cyclone cried out. She angrily tore through the dust and tore into the Metapod’s husk. She cursed, she screamed, she slashed with her talons. She continued unleashing her wrath on tree bark, dead wood, anything in her way. If some annoying bird approached her complaining about TERRITORY now, she surely would have murdered it.

The outrage eventually subsided and Cyclone settled down near the obliterated Metapod pieces. She pecked at the dust and, while dry and unpleasant, still tasted of insect. Every once in awhile she’d have to take a break and ingest some snow to wash it down with. At least water was plentiful. After her meal, Cyclone half-heartedly began to preen her feathers. Her outburst having taken a lot out of her, she soon gave up and, noticing the soft, bluish, evening glow upon the forest, decided it was time to retire.

Cyclone sighed as she settled down into her nest of twigs and crinkly dry leaves. She was aware how scruffy and unkempt her plumage looked these days. She felt she had aged a decade despite being barely a half year old.

“I won’t give up,” Cyclone said to herself, voice cracking. She paused, momentarily surprised at how ragged she sounded. “I will beat this cold crap. I won’t die.” Cyclone tucked her head beneath a wing and quickly fell into a deep slumber.

Hours later, Cyclone awoke with a jolt. Despite having so little sleep and being conscious at an unnatural time, she felt immediately alert, heart pounding, a terrible wave of dread chilling her to the core. Her head darted back and forth. It was pitch black and completely silent.

It’s nothing. Stop it. Dammit, I hate the night.

A fierce, whistling wind suddenly blasted through the forest. In an instant, Cyclone’s (admittedly) poorly constructed nest disintegrated, sticks and twigs sent flying. Cyclone opened her wings just to be thrown back first into the side of her tree, the wind pinning her down, chilling volleys of fat snowflakes slapping into the hapless bird. She struggled in place momentarily in a blind panic.

Before she knew it, she found herself unpinned but fluttering blindly through the pitch darkness. One moment she was tangled in a dead bush, the next she was scraping along the ground, then she would be blown through the air again. It was a wonder the Swellow hadn’t broken any bones, something she would have prided herself on if she could actually think straight. As luck would have it, Cyclone found herself wedged beneath what seemed to be tree roots. At the very least, they provided some shelter from the blizzard. Cyclone shoved herself deeper under the roots, climbing along the the shallow slope of the earth until she could push herself no further. She would just have to wait this storm out, it seemed.

Did the ground just shake?

It happened for just a moment. Then again, stronger this time. It took a moment for Cyclone to realize what these rhythmic vibrations reminded her of. Foot steps. Whatever behemoth these belonged to appeared to be getting closer to where Cyclone was sheltered. Just her luck.

“Hey! Hey, Sorbet’s going in the wrong direction! Over here!” someone called out.

From beneath her hiding place Cyclone saw a red glow coming from somewhere outside. Despite her intense fear, Cyclone treaded carefully from beneath the roots, curious to see where this light was coming from. Her blood ran cold. Bathed in a hellish crimson light stood a massive beast, taller than any tree in Creeping Forest. Its grotesque, reptilian face contorted into an angry snarl and it let out a booming, earth shattering roar.

Cyclone had seen enough. She made a mad dash back beneath the roots and, once again, wedged herself in as much as she possibly could. That terrible roar still lingered on, permeating the earth, shaking the trees. Cyclone squeezed her eyes shut. Before she knew it, she burst into choked sobs as hot tears dribbled down her face, a shameful act of weakness.

Was this some kind of punishment for not leaving Creeping Forest with her family all those months ago? They were probably safe and warm in Sonata Forest while Cyclone sat freezing and terrified out of her mind in the wake of some gruesome hell-beast, bawling like a pathetic hatchling. She hated everything. She hated her family, the weather, those other birds, how every day was a constant struggle to survive, and she loathed that fearsome dragon. Most of all, she he hated how weak and helpless she had become.

Cyclone had no idea how long she’d been shoved under that tree. She sometimes found herself napping in short bursts only to be jolted awake again. She’d then remain motionless, hazy thoughts drifting through her head until she’d fall back asleep. Her body felt like it was boiling, surely a sign of sickness. Why crawl from here ever again? It’s easier to just accept a slow death.

That’s what she thought until she felt something pulling on her tail feathers, dragging her through the mud and into the open. A scavenger, a coward come to prey on Cyclone in her drained state. She promised to herself that she’d go down fighting even if she knew she didn’t have a chance. Letting out a hoarse squawk, Cyclone flailed wildly, beating her wings and writhing in place.

“Oh my!” a voice cried out, releasing her in the process. “I didn’t know you were still alive, dearie! My apologies!”

The first thing Cyclone noticed was how blindingly bright it was. Creeping Forest was never this sunny even on the most clear days thanks to the roof of broad leaves and thick branches. As her vision adjusted, Cyclone found herself face to face with some kind of large, winged grey dragon.

“You!” Cyclone cried out, voice raspy. “Come here to finish the job after last night, eh?” It was a struggle to keep her footing due to her burning fever. She tried her best to look intimidating despite being much smaller than this beast and her feathers being caked with mud and dried tears stains.

“Er, what?”

“Poor birdy thinks you be Sherby, Jill,” a new voice said.

The grey creature, Jill, broke out in a roarous cackle. Cyclone would have felt patronized if not for her illness making things feel hazy and dreamlike.

“Bless me, I ain’t a dragon! Fortunate thing, too. Just scouring this place fer scraps, ya see.”

Cyclone looked around, finally realizing why her surroundings were so bright. The forest was a mess of fallen timber, tree stumps, and mud. For the first time she noticed that all of the snow was gone, melted away. She must have been more sick than she realized.

“What... happened?”

“Aye, it be a long story, small one. The important thing is that ice dragon, Sherby, is gone now, along with all that horrible snow. Child, you look dreadful, are you all right?”

Cyclone barely listened to the creature. She couldn’t take her eyes off the forest, her home, being in ruins. Don’t cry. It was bad enough when I was alone, don’t show weakness.

A gentle nudge in the back broke Cyclone from her thoughts and she spun around, head low and wings raised in a defensive pose. She was met with Jill holding a large, green berry in the clawed fingers on her wings, a toothy smile across her draconic face. Despite Jill’s terrifying looks, a maternal warmth seemed to radiate from her, putting Cyclone at ease.

“What is this,” Cyclone asked.

“It be a Lum berry, sweetie! It’ll perk ya right up. The talented ranchers in Tao Village grow ‘em all the time, they be a bit scarce now, though. I think ya need it.”

Jill held the berry closer to Cyclone’s face, the Swellow only retreating in response. The larger creature just dropped the Lum berry, causing it to bounce and roll to Cyclone’s feet.

“Well, I be going, young one, there’s lots o’ work ta be done. Who knows, you might come ‘cross a team needin’ a new member. Be well!”

With a flap of her massive wings, Jill leisurely raised herself off the ground, turned around, and flew off. For the first time, Cyclone saw that a huge, red bow adorned Jill’s neck. It was the first time she saw such an accessory being worn by someone and, unbeknownst to her, would not be the last.

Cyclone eyed the berry suspiciously, having never been offered such a thing, especially by a creature of a different species. She had heard about how some of the more clever predators used tricks and traps to catch their prey. And that Jill certainly looked to be a predator, with her long muzzle full of serrated teeth. Still, she didn’t seem to carry any ill will. Why would a random stranger offer a gift and expect nothing in return?

Feeling on the verge of death anyway, Cyclone felt she had nothing to lose, so she pecked at the green Lum berry, finding its skin surprisingly easy to break. She tore into chunks of berry flesh, the unusual variety of flavors from the juices somehow making the fruit all the more appetizing. As she finished it off she found herself feeling better than ever, the gravelly feeling from her throat and chest completely gone and her body at a more comfortable temperature.

Cyclone’s chipper mood quickly died when she took in her surroundings once again. So it was not a fever dream; Creeping Forest was truly obliterated, and surely this dry heat wouldn’t be good for the diverse foliage that grew here. She realized how lucky she was that she survived the ordeal, having spotted some gnarled avian bodies amongst the rubble. Feeling as vulnerable as ever on the ground, Cyclone quickly took to the skies, a little too quickly in the absence of the forest canopy.

Although the Lum berry was vitalizing, it wasn’t satiating, and Cyclone found herself hungry again. She spotted a small purple creature, a Rattata, limping along the forest floor. Cyclone had never eaten a living thing that wasn’t a bug, seeing how her species were relatively small and built more for speed than for strength. Surely the tiny mammal would put up a fight, a far cry from the usual vacant insects Cyclone preyed upon. Well, time to once again put her dive bomb technique to use.

Just before the desperate bird gained altitude to ready herself for the attack, she noticed two more beings strolling through the woods, another purple mammal with an unusually long tail that seemed to end in a hand, an Aipom, and a Pidgeotto. Why a Pidgeotto would be hanging out with another of a different kind eluded Cyclone. She glided to a broken tree to spy on the unusual pair.

The Aipom excitedly bounded to the Rattata, who flatted itself and bared its impressive incisors in defense.

“Heya buddy, don’t be like that! I saw that you needed some help! We can bring you to Tao Village and get you all fixed up.”

The Rattata calmed a bit and twitched its whiskers inquisitively. “You... don’t want to eat me...”

“Of course not,” the Pidgeotto added in. “We’re Rescuers! We’re just doing our job, we know a lot of people need help since the Sorbet disaster!”

Sorbet, Cyclone thought. Why does that sounds so familiar... oh... didn’t I hear someone say that name last night?

The pair continued their conversation with the Rattata, the little rodent becoming more at ease as they spoke.

“You guys... you’re so nice! How can I ever repay you?”

“If you’d like,” the Aipom said, “You can join our team and help out other people when you get better.”

“Ah... I’d like that very much! Thank you!”

“Pleasure is all ours, Twitch. I’m Hand-Banana and this is Sanders. Welcome to Team Tickles!”

Cyclone almost blew her hiding spot by laughing. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. That poor rat was clearly walking into some elaborate trap, though the Aipom clearly wasn’t predatory. The two purple mammals hopped on the back of the Pidgeotto and it flew off. How shameful, this proud bird carting around living snacks.

As the days went by, Cyclone found more and more outsiders traversing the forest, some clearing the fallen timber, others finding unfortunate forest residents and either saving them or moving their now dead bodies. While she liked her solitude, Cyclone couldn’t help but observe these happenings. She didn’t get why anyone would help a stranger and gain nothing in return, much like that flyer, Jill, she met awhile ago. She had almost approached the strangers but she always stopped herself, figuring that she didn’t need their charity or company.

Cyclone had overheard the outsiders speak of Tao Village. Didn’t Jill and that Aipom mention that place before? Is that where all these visitors came from? One day, her curiosity getting the best of her, Cyclone approached a pair of outsiders, a pale green quadruped with a leaf growing from its head and an orange, flightless chick. The smaller creatures seemed puzzled as she flew down in front of them.

“Er, who are you?”

“Tell me, where is Tao Village?” Cyclone asked.

“It’s easy!” the orange chick piped up. “See this path? Just follow it and you’ll be straight there! You’ll see a huge building before you get there, that’s Castle Draclugia. You can rest there if you want, Lady Merlot has...”

“That won’t be necessary,” Cyclone interrupted. Realizing she had a young audience in her presence, Cyclone took this opportunity to fancily fly into the air, do a few aerial loops, then speed off. It was fortunate that she didn’t hear the Chikorita and Torchic remark about how rude she was.

A few hours into her journey, Cyclone came across a towering structure she had never seen before... of course, the tallest things she had ever seen were trees and the snowy hell-beast. Dark stones formed a massive building with towers reaching high into the sky, and an unnatural-looking body of water formed a ring around the structure. Was this Tao?

The flight made Cyclone rather thirsty, so she approached the edge of the water to refresh. Just then, a large, blue creature burst from the surface, drenching Cyclone and causing her to yelp and jump back.

“Ah, I long to feast my eyes upon my radiant lady love, but instead I, Samual, have come face to beak with an indigo-plumed scrub.”

“Who are you calling scrub, fish-face?”

The odd aquatic creature merely stuck its long nose in the air, eyes closed.

“My, what an uncouth pauper, though from a denizen of this godforsaken forest, I expect nothing less.”

“And I see residents of Tao are a bunch of jerks.”

Samual paused for a moment, and then chuckled, eyes still closed. “My, as ignorant as you are ugly! This is the wonderful abode of the beautiful, stupendous, delicious, elegant Lady Merlot, Castle Draclugia!”

Oh, this place, Cyclone thought.

“My dear, feral feather-duster,” Samual continued, “if you wish to reach Tao Village, just simply look for the Monochrome Tower, a spiraling spire of deep black and vibrant white. I believe that you, even your primitive avian brain, can handle such a straightforward direction.”

Before he could react, Cyclone had flown into Samual’s face, nearly knocking him from the moat, retreating just as quickly as she struck him.

“Handle that, snorkle-nose!” Cyclone mocked as she flew away, leaving a cursing Kingdra in her wake.

As Cyclone flew, she soon found fewer tree stumps and debris and more people walking about. Just as she was wondering how close she was getting to her destination, she noticed an unusually tall, narrow spire in the distance. That must have been the Monochrome Tower that annoying fish-thing spoke of. Well, at least he was somewhat useful. Ignoring everything else, Cyclone made a beeline in the direction of that tower.

She momentarily glanced at the ground beneath her and nearly dropped from the sky in shock. Giant heads emerging from the ground? First the ice dragon and now these weird monstrosities! Cyclone slowed down a bit and realized these titans were completely still, frozen in place. Surely this aerial view was doing nothing, so, mustering up her courage, she descended, curious to see these unusual creatures up close.

As Cyclone landed, she could now make out that the odd giant heads were actually nests of some kind, a variety of people walking among and sometimes in or out of them. The young Swellow felt a large amount of unease in this strange place, though none of the inhabitants bothered her. She even spotted her worst enemy, a Sneasel, mingling with a group of other beings but it barely even acknowledged her, only glancing in her direction momentarily before continuing its conversation with its friends. This place certainly held an unnerving gathering of peace and unity.

“Is this Tao Village?” Cyclone quietly asked herself.

As if her surroundings couldn’t get any more bizarre, Cyclone spotted that fearful hell-beast towering above her. Memories of the dragon amidst the snowy blizzard, bathed in a red glow, roaring ferociously came back to her, along with that dreadful feeling of helplessness and fear. Cyclone crouched down, cowering.

“You do know it’sss not the real Sssorbet, right?”

Cyclone looked up and saw an Ekans slithering past her, its Voltorb companion snickering. She hopped to her feet and glared at the dragon, realizing that it truly was fake, its body transparent, water cascading from its maw like crystal clear vomit. Truly a nauseating sight, Cyclone almost felt like regurgitating in response. A dubious thought came to the Swellow and she smiled.

I won’t lose my lunch over that thing, but I will let loose something else.

Cyclone swiftly hovered above the fountain, took aim, and dropped a healthy blob of guano directly on Sorbet’s head. Proper vengeance for embarrassing her like that, surely.

“Hey!” a bubbly voiced called from below. “You can’t do that!”

“Yeah!” another piped in.

Cyclone, not wanting to be heckled by another fish today, glanced down only to smirk when she saw that she was being addressed by a pair of Magikarp swimming in the fountain that held the statue. Magikarp’s legacy of being the weakest creature ever to exist was world-famous, known even to her. The Swellow wasted no time in diving down, clutching one of the fish in her talons, raising the hapless, flopping Magikarp in the air.

“Ahh! Put me down!”

“Okay!”

Cyclone released her grip on the poor fish, sending it splashing into the fountain. She laughed, she hadn’t had this much fun since she was a young Taillow. She suddenly felt an unnerving presence, like someone staring a hole into the back of her head. She spun around, ready to challenge whoever was trying to spoil her fun, but she froze in place, slowly flapping her wings just enough to stay afloat. A huge, no, massive bird was leering at her, the sharp, blood-red plumage on its head helping in making it even more terrifying. Cyclone didn’t know why she couldn’t pull away from its intense glare. She was vaguely reminded of the Staravia back in Creeping Forest but this creature looked far more menacing.

As if the situation couldn’t get more strange, a Patrat peered from behind the large bird’s neck, obviously its passenger. Its red and yellow eyes pulsed in a quick, sickening way, causing Cyclone’s vision to blur and swirl into a vortex of confusing colors. She felt herself falling, then large talons tightly gripping her wings.

So... this is how it ends...

Cyclone was never killed, of course. She felt herself continue to be dragged and carried, yet she couldn’t tell up from down, nor could she see her captors clearly. Even her sense of hearing was obstructed, voices sounding distant and muffled. She could eventually tell she was in a dark place, inside one of those unsettling monster-shaped dwellings, no doubt. Finally she was left alone, though she still felt the presence of glaring eyes piercing her.

After what seemed like hours, Cyclone’s senses started coming back to her. Her side ached from laying down, an awkward position for a bird to be in. As her vision came into focus she saw that she was surrounded by black bars, and a pair of large red and green eyes leering at her in the dark.

“Name and place of residence,” the owner of the glowing eyes demanded gruffly.

“None of your business!”

The room suddenly shook. No, it wasn’t the room, it what whatever was holding Cyclone. A cage, one the glowy eyed being struck.

“Name and place of residence.”

“Chi... Cyclone. Creeping Forest.” Somehow an authoritarian tone almost made her blurt out her birth name. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“Your real name.”

Cyclone sighed. “Chirpy.”

If Cyclone could see in the dark she would have witnessed the figure stifling a laugh. “Miss Chirpy, today you were observed vandalizing village property and harassing one of its citizens. In these trying times, we, the Patrat Patrol, must increase security. We have zero tolerance for such a disturbance of the peace.”

“Disturb your peace?” Cyclone shouted, rattling her cage. “My little ‘disturbance’ doesn’t compare to the disaster your guys’ stupid, lumbering dragon caused to the forest! It’s an absolute mess! What the hell were you jerkfaces thinking?”

“Officer Vergil?”

The one interrogating Cyclone focused its gaze on the newcomer.

“Welcome back, Officer Scout. What did she say?”

“She said, uh, just to put the troublemaker to work. I was thinking on my way here and, with all the new people coming in, Archimedes could use some assistance with his delivery service.”

“Plus, she is a bird,” Vergil added.

“Wow, your brain is almost as brilliant as your stupid eyes,” Cyclone remarked.

“So we have ourselves a comedian too,” said Vergil. “Peep, please bring our young guest to Pidove Post.”

Finally released from her prison and brought back into the outdoors, Cyclone’s first instinct was to make a break for it. The monumental grey bird from earlier appeared by Cyclone’s side, covering her with its huge shadow.

“So,” Cyclone said. “You must be Peep. I guess we were both given embarrassing names when we hatched, huh?”

Peep just glared at her wordlessly. Somehow, his intimidating gaze alone prevented Cyclone from even opening her wings. What was with the denizens of Tao Village, anyway?

After a brief walk, the two birds arrived at a dwelling modeled after something Cyclone recognized, a Pidove. Pidove Post. Clearly, Tao was bursting with creativity. Not surprisingly, they were greeted by a serious looking Pidove.

In a low, grumbling voice, Peep explained to the Pidove, Archimedes, about the situation with Cyclone, and then left the two alone, taking to the skies. Archimedes sighed as he faced his new assistant.

“May as well get started right away, then. There are still families out there awaiting letters from their loved ones, not to mention the upcoming festival. Lower your head, please.”

“What? Why?”

Not waiting for her to obey, Archimedes gathered a leather strap in his beak and tossed it around Cyclone, then hopped behind her, pulling it.

“Hey, what are you... ah, tight!”

Ignoring her anxious wing flapping, Archimedes gave a quick yank to the strap until he felt it was sufficiently secure around Cyclone’s chest. She shook the smaller bird off only to find her center of gravity had changed, causing her to fall forward.

“What are you doing to me you obnoxious little pecker?!” Cyclone clumsily hopped to her feet only to fall back on her rumpus. This day just wouldn’t stop injuring the young Swellow’s ego.

“It’s your mail bag, Miss Chirpy. You cannot do your job without it. Now each letter, you see is addressed with a seal, making ease of...”

“What?! Stop! I didn’t... what the hell is going on?!” Cyclone flapped her wings furiously, only to hover in circles, her body tilting awkwardly.

“Calm down, the weight of the mail bag just takes a bit of getting used to. Dear lord.”

It was then that Cyclone noticed a rather oversized sack situated on her front. She settled down and sighed in exasperation. “What am I doing, anyway?”

“As I tried to explain, Miss Chirpy, these are letters. People write in them, intending for their messages to reach other people. Our jobs, as delivery birds, is to make sure that the recipient receives their letter. Seeing as how you’re probably illiterate, the letters have a wax seal, see?”

Archimedes held up a letter with his foot to Cyclone’s face. “Notice how the seal looks like a picture of a person’s face? Yet this one has numbers, or symbols, I suppose you’d see them as. These markers match a place of residence. The pictured ones go to the buildings they appear as, while the numbered ones will be going to the new tenements that have been recently built.”

Cyclone’s eyes glazed over at these instructions. More than ever she wanted to go back to Creeping Forest, despite it being in ruins.

Archimedes scoffed. “Humph! I knew you couldn’t handle it! I’ll never find the help I need, and you have to find another way to be free to go back to your home!”

“Wait,” Cyclone said. “You mean if I do this work for you, I’ll be free?”

“Of course! God, you’re infuriatingly dense! You caused trouble in this village, which is a Bad Thing. You get punished, must pay your dues through community service, and then justice will be served, and you may do as you please! Even a newly hatched chick could comprehend all of this information!”

Cyclone felt her feathers puffing out. She was getting fed up with this stuffy little Pidove’s insults.

“Hey, I can bring some stupid little letters to a bunch of dinky little nests! And, AND, I won’t mess up, not once! I’ll deliver them fast, faster than you could ever do! Just watch!”

Cyclone shot out through the door of Pidove Post, only to, once again, fall flat. She squeezed her eyes shut, flapping in vain in the dust. A gentle, feathery touch on her head somehow calmed the furious bird a bit. She stopped struggling and opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Archimedes’ yellow eyes. His expression seemed soft, almost sympathetic.

“Chirpy,” he said softly.

“It’s Cyclone,” she sighed.

“Pardon me. Miss Cyclone, I know you’ve been through a lot. I can see it in you. I want you to excel at this job, I want you to be free again. Please, Cyclone, allow me to take you under my wing.”

Just from hearing another mention her favored name, Cyclone was reminded of Songy. How was her sister doing anyway? Did she even make the migration all the way to Sonata Forest? Would Cyclone ever see her family again? A crushing loneliness suddenly weighed down on her like a heavy blanket. Cyclone’s vision became blurry and she trembled, trying to hold in her tears.

“I see you may want to be alone,” Archimedes said. “I’ll be inside when you need me. When you’re done, I will then show you around the village and instruct you how to balance with the weight of the mail bag. Tao Village is not such a bad place, things are just different from what you’re used to. You’ll be fine, Cyclone, you’re a strong bird.”

Once Archimedes was out of sight, Cyclone tread to the back of the Pidove Post, lied down and, for the second time in her adult life, sobbed heavily. God, what a failure she was. A random, stupid act getting her trapped in this strange place, with its strange rules. After she felt she couldn’t squeeze out anymore tears she just say motionless, head hung low. She noticed a huge, pink and yellow face staring at her from the distance, one of those abodes in the likeness of some mon.

“What are you looking at?” Cyclone sniffled. “Big, stupid face. Lots of stupid faces. I won’t let you things keep me down.”

As if to prove a point, Cyclone scrambled, half flying half climbing, up the side of the Pidove Post. Once she made it to the top she surveyed Tao Village with its gathering of towering, blank faces.

“I’m not letting you keep me down.” She noticed a shadow cross the roof of the post and she looked up, seeing Peep patrolling the sky. “And I won’t let you keep me down either, you with your stupid-looking head feathers! I’ll show everyone here I’m not some weak, pathetic coward like the rest of you!”

“I see you are well, Miss Cyclone?”

Startled from her sudden company, Cyclone nearly lost her footing, Archimedes grasping her bag strap in his beak to prevent her from tumbling off the side of the hut.

“Ark... uh....”

“It’s Archimedes. What do you say we have something to eat, and then I’ll show you a tour of Tao Village. Does that sound good?”

“Sounds great, but can you get this stupid thing off of me?”

Archimedes obliged, hopping behind Cyclone and loosening the strap, letting the bag fall with a slump. Cyclone breathed deeply and stretched her wings. Archimedes took the bag in his feet and glided to the doorway of the post. Taking one last look around Tao Village with its goofy structures, Cyclone smirked, and then followed her new mentor, eager to begin this different kind of training.