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patch.
October 28th, 2009, 04:02 PM
Prologue
The Escape
I stumbled and fell, landing awkwardly in the mud. But I didn’t care, pushing myself with incredible speed back to my feet and carrying on along the marsh-like ground, the rain landing on my shaven head and the Murkrow on my shoulder. Normally I would have shoed it away, but at the moment, I enjoyed its company.

I jumped over a flashing circle in the ground – test landmine – and then over the barbed wire. I kept running, until I came to Harcreak Woods. Finally, I was free.

But the taste of freedom was useless for the moment; I sighed as I realised that they would be after me. A hollow tree caught my attention as my thoughts wondered, and I clambered inside the large branch, scooping down only to pick up two berries. The tree was bulky yet bare save for a few bushes of leaves spread out on the barren branches, but once squeezing myself through the hole, the Murkrow still on my shoulder, I found it was a lot more spacious inside than it had been on the outside. I took my regulation torch from my pocket and flicked it on, then set it on the floor to let it fill up the entire hole.

I could tell that there had been Pokémon here, possibly for hibernation - small piles of abandoned berries were against the wall, but I couldn’t smell anything, and we had been trained specifically to be able to smell them out.

The Murkrow had now left my shoulder and was observing the torch with amazement, every once in a while daring itself to look directly into the light only to fall backwards, dazed. After the sixth of seventh time of doing this – I was in hysterics by then – it finally decided to give up and instead turned its attention towards me.

Its ‘hat’ was sharp, so I could tell it was male, recalling what I’d learned about the differences between some male and female Pokémon. His eyes were semi-circular as normal, but the eyes were a piercing murky blue – I felt goose bumps appearing on my arm just having those eyes stare back at my own. Cautiously I held out my hand, putting forward one of the two berries – I could now tell they were both Oran – and offering it to the bird. He accepted quickly, obviously hungry, and pierced the berry laid out on my palm with his beak before beginning to eat viciously.

I took a bite out of my own berry, and was finding the moment quite enjoyable. Then there was the gunshot.

The bullet punctured through the tree above us, and the gruff voice came, in no where near a whisper: “That damned kid has gotta be around here somewhere.”

Brushing the wood splinters out of my hair, I stifled a cough and stood up, beckoning the Murkrow who followed obediently. I squeezed back out of the hole silently, confident that I wouldn’t be seen – the voice had been muffled, meaning he had been behind the opening – and smiled as I found I was correct; I hadn’t been spotted.

The faint glow of the Guardsman’s lantern trickled through the night air, moving wildly as he swung it around, I presumed. Treading softly and feel the Murkrow land on my shoulder once more – thankfully without a sound! – I began to move, keeping in the cover of the trees. Once I was sure I was far enough not to be heard, I began to run again.

Freedom never tasted better.