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September 21st, 2008 (11:09 PM). Edited December 18th, 2008 by bobandbill.
This was the one-shot I had written for a Tragedy one-shot contest on Serebii a while back. First story I ever wrote that wasn't a comedy in fact, come to think of it. Decided to go and add more to it and spruce it up some more, and ending up changing the ending a bit as well. Stuff like exams and all came up in-between as usual as well, but it's done now. Hopefully it's better then what it was before. Set in a more 'primitive' Pokemon world as well...
Special thanks to Sky Fyre, who was an awesome Beta Reader for this story. Also to the judges of the contest.
“Wake up, Hidma!”
Yawning, I rose to my feet slowly, taking the time to recover from my slumber and the comfort of the warm cavern floor to meet the chilly morning air. I wasn’t particularly keen at waking up for the moment, but I reasoned with my protesting black body that I might as well get it over and done with.
“Coming,” I grumbled to Midva, my childhood friend, whom was currently urging me to get a move on and leave my night-time sanctuary of sleep. Why she was the one to have evolved before me was something that I still was a bit sore about - at this rate, I would end up being the last of my year to fully mature - it had been a long two years, and I was still willing my body to hurry up and make the move.
“Oh, still a…” Midva began.
“Yes, I know; a small, helpless Houndour. Lay it on me - I’m not even a match for a Magikarp,” I retorted with a hint of mirth, getting a laugh out of her.
“Yes, I guess you are a bit vulnerable, aren’t you Hidma?” she teased, all in good humour, although I still could not help feeling a little bit annoyed at the whole situation.
“So, what do you want to do today?” Midva asked excitedly - clearly some of her enthusiasm had not left her upon her maturing. If anything, she sometimes seemed like the same old - or rather, young - playful Houndour that she had been until only a few days ago. Her yellow eyes still shined with the same innocent happiness as it had before. Yet here was no denying her new form was… well, more elegant.
“Well, actually… I feel like going for a walk by myself,” I answered, with a trivial desire for some peace and quiet from the usual rabble that our pack made. We were a lively community of Houndour and Houndoom, and often the friendly, yet loud, chatter made by our pack was a bit too much to bear for me.
“Oh, okay…” she acknowledged, her voice sounding slightly regretful at this news with a twinge of regret in her gold yellow eyes. “See you around!” she called, suddenly accepting this, as she bounded away towards the hills.
“Bye!” I called back, but she was already out of earshot. With a snort of amusement, I trotted over to the sleeping figure of my mother. I patiently nudged here until she awoke, moaning a little before she sleepily regarded me.
“Good morning, son,” she muttered, getting to her feet. Even my own mother’s sleek, tall frame towered over poor little me. Some state of affairs that was.
“Where’s Dad?’ I asked, deciding to spare my mother the constant ‘whinging’ that I made about still being a Houndour, so she called it. My Dad was the same, although somewhat more understanding about my dilemma.
“Oh, he’s out helping Itosas get rid of an Outcast from one of the northern clans who’s lurking around the boundaries,” she said simply.
“Hopefully he won’t be too long then,” I said, thinking of my dad out there along with Itosas, our clan’s leader, scaring off the Outcast. “And that the Outcast doesn’t give us much trouble. Why does he even dare to approach our territory?”
“Enough, son,” my mother suddenly chided, surprisingly. “Do you think that it’s by choice that he’s an Outcast?”
“Ok, sorry, sorry…” I quickly agreed, anxious to avoid another lecture.
“You should know that there are some of us who are unlucky to be so different ,” my mother continued unrelentingly. “And the same for blue Houndour and Houndoom as well.”
“Yes, Mum,” I moaned,not looking forward to another speech on the matter. Outcasts – branded with the mark of one by an elder in severe circumstances – were given an unanimous ban from clans, usually for those who had committed terrible crimes. Blue Houndour – in my mind a mythical concept designed to scare young Houndour - were regarded as Omens by the clans living in this area, Omens being signs of oncoming doom. Although not all clans held this notion, ours was particularly superstitious. My mother was one who believed that everyone had something good about them, but how could an Outcast possibly be blameless for their actions? “Well, I’m off to the lake,” I said to my mother, and before she could give me a sermon on the innumerable dangers the outdoors undoubtedly held, I trotted out of the cave towards the valley, and the lake.
The walk was reasonably short - a modest pace took me to the large pool of shimmering water well under half an hour - part of the reason that our pack had taken residence by the caves that offered protection from the wind – with a large reservoir of water nearby to take advantage of. Large intimidating mountains loomed behind the caves, the passage there dark and tough, but as a result we didn’t have to worry about other rival packs coming from there to challenge the ownership of our territory. And best of all, plenty of food. Only two days back a Stantler had been taken down, with Midva having the honour of being part of the leading group in the hunt, in celebration of her evolution. How I had longed for the honour to partake at the front of the chase, but that would only happen once I actually became a Houndoom.
Oh, quit moaning, you know perfectly well that you’ll evolve when you’re ready, my mother’s voice echoed in my head - a phrase that she would take to repeating whenever I so much as sighed, let alone spoke of the wait that I had to endure.
She’s probably right, but still…
I walked on, trying to shake off the thought, noting the smoke rising from over the mountains in the distance. It seemed that the nearby town was preparing an early bonfire. I shivered in distaste of the Humans there. They were sinister beings, forcing other Pokemon to grow fat and supply their fur or milk to them, which they wore upon themselves, and all the thanks the Pokemon got was a quick death and the privilege to appease the Human’s unending appetite. We both despised each other out of both fear and hatred - although why people would fear us was beyond me - they were the ones with the sharp sticks. However, as long as we steered clear of them, and them of us, we had nothing to worry about.
Already the reservoir of glorious deep blue loomed ahead of me as the descent to it became all too apparent, with the hill leading to it covered in tall, proud grass. It gave a pale yellow hue to the mound, leading to the onslaught of green plants and bushes alike that populated the water’s edge, taking full advantage of the occasional overflow of water that occurred whenever a large storm arrived. To my right, a rustle of grass gave away a Rattata that had realised too late that I was close enough to give chase - fortunately for it, I was not hungry enough and certainly too lazy to give chase - the Stantler the pack had brought down would give us enough meat for a few more days yet. I was too absorbed in the beauty of my surroundings, content enough to relax and enjoy every speck of glorious detail and let the small rodent escape unscathed.
Finally it was too much for me - with a bark of delight, I raced myself to the lake’s shore, paying little heed to the steepness of the descent nor the dangers that the leader of our horde - Itosas - constantly made about rushing, which we all ignored and put down to adults being over-protective and hesitant. Once I reached the water’s edge, I indulged in the cool liquid’s refreshment greedily; although I was carefully making sure that I didn’t fall in and extinguish the flames within me.
In-between gulps, I took glances at the water’s reflection, just checking to see if I hadn’t evolved yet. I wondered what I would look like when I evolved - unlike most other Houndours, I was a deeper black, and a slightly different tinge of orange that we all shared for an underbelly. Apparently, I had been burnt in a fire somehow by my great-uncle Kiren at birth, altering my colour slightly by the time I had recovered. Thankfully us Houndour and Houndoom alike share a sort of immunity to fire.
Satisfied with the drink and without a hint of danger around to take note of, I settled down to a comfortable patch of grass nearby, and gave a yawn.
I might as well catch up on some lost sleep. I convinced myself reassuringly. All too soon, the pleasure of rest ensnared me as I drifted into the wonderland of dreams.
When I awoke, I was surprised to see that the sun had already shifted to the other side of the sky - had I really slept for so long? I struggled to my feet none too easily - I must have slept in an uncomfortable position. Strangely, I had a weird and wonderful dream of Midva - she and I had been running through the plains…
I shook myself, somewhat confused as to what the dream could have meant, and stumbled over to get myself a drink - maybe that would shake off the side effects. As I bent my head to the water, I got a fright - no longer could I see myself in the reflection.
Is that… could that be…
I whooped with delight and very nearly fell in the water this time, but I couldn’t care less. The reflection of my snout was enough to tell me that I had finally evolved - I was now one of the adults, one of the leaders - I was now a Houndoom. I ran around in circles, then decided to make a beeline to the set of caves that sheltered our pack - I couldn’t wait to show off to the others, particularly the leader, Itosas (although he would probably grunt in disinterest), to my mother and father, and especially to Midva.
It took longer for me to get there than I had expected - once or twice I had stumbled, not used to my new shape and height. But I was impatient to reach my family’s cave, and to show them how I had come of age.
“Mum! Dad!” I called in pure happiness, eager to see their faces of equal delight and pride.
“What is it?” my mother asked from deep within the cave. “I haven’t time for your antics right now.”
“But it’s happened!” I cried, and the patter of my mother’s paws on the rocky floor was confirmation that she had caught the gist of what I was saying. Within a moment, she and I caught sight of each other simultaneously, and she gave a gasp of surprise.
“See! Don’t I look great?” I asked, proudly.
It was then that I realised that her face was aghast, as if she had seen a ghost.
“What is it?” I queried, confused. Then I guessed, “It’s ok… you know that I wouldn’t be a Houndour forever… it’s about time that I grew up!” However, she shook her head, casting further doubt in my mind.
Then my dad entered the cave, and I turned to him in renewed joy. “Look - I’ve finally evolved!”
My father’s eyes widened in disbelief, and then he shook his head sadly.
“Son… you’re… blue…”
“No I’m not…” I began, taking a glance at my new form, only to see with horror that he was right. I was blue all over - somehow I had mistaken the blue colour for black in my sheer delight of being a Houndoom. Instead of being a deep black - as black as the night - I was a horrible shade of dark blue. Already my delirium abandoned me as it was quickly replaced by a sense of fear.
“Quick,” my dad muttered, hurriedly glancing around fearfully. “Maybe we can cover it up again-”
“We’ve got to hide him-”
Then, another Houndoom came in, one of mum’s friends. I caught her eye as she looked at me, smiling.
“Oh, so your son… OMEN!” she suddenly shrieked, noticing my blue colour.
“But I can’t be an Omen… no, this can’t be happening!” I cried, pacing back and forth, heart pulsing in a frantic panic. Omens weren’t even real – there was no such thing as blue Houndoom or Houndour! I realised the terrible implications of it all – but this was impossible! I couldn’t be blue! More coming in, need to get out-
-and the next thing I knew, I felt someone bite me in the back of my neck - right in a pressure point. I slumped to the ground, instantly losing consciousness as I embraced the relief of sleep.
I awoke yet again in the middle of the pack’s meeting place - sheepishly I rose to my feet, embarrassed to have fallen asleep there. However, the glares of those around me hastily brought me back to my senses and with them a reminder of why I was here. All of the elders, as well as a large number of other Houndoom and Houndour alike of the clan surrounded me - many seemingly angry, others confused. Looking around anxiously, I spotted my mother and father amongst the crowd, mournfully looking at me. I looked back in confusion – what had happened to me? And why had they bite marks on their body, and neck? And why was I bitten as well – someone had bitten me! The small yet sharp pain still lingered around my neck.
Then a lone Houndoom stepped forward, towering above me. I whimpered and cowered down before Itosas, who stared down at me disapprovingly. A few drops of blood could still be seen around his mouth, his teeth stained a light red - surely he couldn’t have bitten me?
“Why do you dare show your face around here, Omen?” he requested in a voice that chilled the already cool air around him, slicing the silence with his words.
“I… but I can’t be…” I feebly replied, before I was cut off.
“Silence! Leave now, or you will be attacked, Omen! I warn you, I will not put the rest of this clan’s safety at risk because of you!”
“But I wasn’t blue before!” I cried in protest, summoning courage. “Surely if I was the Omen, I would have been blue then!”
Itosas merely glared at me with such an intensity of anger that I fell silent.
“Oh, you know it very well!” he accused. “Your family,” he spat, glancing at my parents, who bent their heads in shame under his gaze, “have admitted to covering up your identity.”
But that’s impossible, I thought, shocked beyond belief.
“They will be punished for their dishonesty,” Itosas stated simply, as my parents whimpered.
“Now, begone! You are hereby banished from this clan, and never to return under punishment of death,” he ordered, as if I had chosen to be blue, and thus a sign of severe ill fortune. With a shock, I realise that he indeed believed so.
“Please, I mean no harm…” I began tenderly, pleadingly, but I had overstepped the line by lingering too long.
“ENOUGH!” he roared, and shot flames out of his mouth at me. With fright, I bounded a few paces away and looked at him fearfully - did he want to kill me? Suddenly, the remaining of my pack gave a gasp of shock, as both they and I noticed the bright mark that had appeared on my left paw.
The mark of an Outcast.
No, Itosas wasn’t going to kill me. Instead he already did something far worse - he had branded me an Outcast.
‘Now, leave,” he whispered, softly yet firmly, and with a heavy heart I knew I had no choice. I sadly gazed around, and caught the eye of my mother. Her eyes gleamed at me from her hunched, bruised figure, silently urging me to leave before I incurred further wrath from the clan. Then I saw Midva, looking at me with confusion and shock. She silently whimpered, knowing that there was nothing either of us could do.
With the stabbing stares of all the other Houndoom and Houndour, I slowly left the clan, trudging towards the empty mountains with a heavy heart.
Days passed as I made my weary way through the narrow passageway to the other side of the mountains, although I realistically had nowhere to go - both friend and foe alike avoided me, but the lack of food was not what hurt me. Rather, it was the lack of even a solitary fiend of the Houndoom line to even ask a question of. The Outcast mark burned brightly, and was a clear warning sign for all that I was not to be approached, all because of my pack’s belief that I was the terrible Omen - Omens being Houndours or Houndooms that brought ill luck, and were identifiable by the blue colour of their fur - just like me.. Not all packs had adapted this conviction; the southern clans for instance did not share that belief.
But now I had no chance to join any other tribe which did not share that view - the mark of Outcast applied to all clans.
Why me? I thought to myself, over and over again as I attacked the unanswerable. I’m not an Omen! I was never blue! Never! How could I turn blue? Was it something I did? Punishment from the Legends, for a crime I have not committed? In between that, my mind constantly turned towards my parents – how were they faring? Were they dead? And how was Midva? Despite my sadness, I found myself dreaming of her, running with me through the plains. That was when I was able to sleep, that is, but I relished those dreams, clinging onto them until I woke again to the lifeless ragged mountains around me, and I was reminded of my reality.
It was all too clear that there was no way to make the mark disappear - it had etched itself into my fur, and no amount of water, licking or gnawing at it made it leave. My howls of despair echoed from the intimidating walls of the ancient mountains. I no longer wished to go on - but it was not in my heart to end it all, despite my bones already threatening to show themselves as I grew thinner and thinner. I understood the other Outcast somewhat more now who had lingered by our hunting grounds – the life of an unwilling hermit was a cruel one.
Eventually one day, and rather suddenly, the towering mountains surrounding the path I had taken disappeared, replaced by a sharp yet grassy hill, with a clump of buildings at the base of the knoll. I had ended up near the town of people we took to avoiding – in my self-absorption I had not realised that the path would have taken me directly there. The buildings of the Humans dotted the landscape - the town had grown.
With a start I looked around anxiously, and then relaxed as I noticed that I was in a field of Mareep, with the occasional Flaaffy. On closer inspection, I didn’t particularly blame the Humans for their acts against Pokemon - these creatures seemed incapable of anything but eating grass. They looked at me sheepishly before turning their attention back to their pasture. I ignored them in turn, and observed the town.
A faint sound reached me from the centre of the town - my keen eyes and ears showed me that the people were celebrating to music - a rare experience for me - only once had I heard such sounds, which was said to reflect the Human’s mood. Judging by their actions and the music, they were happy, and safe.
Suddenly I was angry. Why should these things, which exploited others, hunted in excess and had recently burned down the forest, be happy, having the easy life, when I had been made an Outcast? What had I done to deserve this? In rage I gave a howl and cast flames at the Mareep, causing a reaction and making many flee back towards the town, several singed by my blaze. Satisfied that I had expressed myself in actions, I turned and left, so not to give the Humans an excuse to turn their attention to me.
Hunting was another failure that night - without the assistance of others, I just didn’t have the experience to bring down anything edible. Cursing myself for not risking the town’s further anger by eating one of the dim-witted creatures, I laid down under a few feeble trees nearby a field full with tall swaying grass, and fell into the clutches of sleep - again, dreaming of my cave, the lake, the day it all went wrong, and again of Midva. How beautiful she looked as she ran, as she glanced at me expectantly.
“Hidma,” she said, rising my spirits as I drifted further into the dream.
When I awoke the next morning, I thought that I was still dreaming, for there she was, laying down right in front of me.
“Hello, Hidma,” she started, with a hint of humour in her voice as she observed my surprise. Realising that this was for real, and not a delusion, I raised my head uncertainly.
“He… hello,” I replied, uneasily. What was she doing here? Why was she not back with the clan?
“I’ve come… to tell you that…” she began, seemingly uncertain on how to begin. She glanced downward. “Your parents…”
“What of them?” I quickly interjected fearfully, as my stomach stiffened. I wasn’t sure of their wellbeing, if any existed, but I had to know.
“They are alive, although… not as they were.” Relief flowed though me, as my tightened heart relaxed a little and jumped back from my throat. I guessed what Midva meant by the last bit, but the main thing was that they were alive. Thank goodness.
“They say they miss you,” Midva continued, “and that it was they who had covered up your… colour to try to save you an early death. You see…it was they that had burnt you at your birth, so they say, to cover your… colour.”
Of course! I thought, suddenly sitting upright. That explained the slightly deeper black that I had been as a Houndour - the flames must have covered up my colour, and stained me - until I had evolved, that is. Oh, why had the effect not stayed with me? Everything would have been so different…but that means…
“So I have been an Omen all along,” I said.
“No, you weren’t!” Midva shot suddenly, angrily. “And you aren’t now. You don’t believe that what you look like matters, right?” she asked, pleadingly.
“Well…” I began, before falling silent. I hadn’t even believed in the fact that one could be blue. And now I had let myself believe that I was cursed – but I must be, given what had happened now – I was an Outcast, my parents were… my mind swirled in confusion as a million and one thoughts fought for my attention.
“Also, I’m here to say… that, I won’t be going back,” continued Midva softly.
My mouth fell open with shock. I looked at her, shocked.
“First you leave the clan to tell me this, now you won’t return? Don’t be stupid!”
“But Hidma-” she retorted, more than a mere suggestion of defiance in her voice.
“Can’t you see? Even if I’m not an Omen, look at all that has happened because of me! Whatever did you come for – and why did you leave the clan?” I demanded.
Midva’s golden eyes fell for a moment to the grassyground. “Because I want to be… with you,” she answered.
Of all responses that Midva could have come up with, it was this that I had been expecting the least.
“But… don’t you…what about the clan? Or any other? You would be unable to-”
She cut in with her answer. “No, I don’t care for that. And I don’t care if you’re blue or black - you’re still the same Hidma that I’ve known,” she replied quietly. Silence ensured, save for the leaves in the wind nearby making their ghostly sounds. I pondered Midva’s statement and observed her - there was no hint of mirth in her eyes, only… longing. She truly had missed me.
“And you’re just the same Midva,” I continued, managing a weakgrin. Midva responded with a smile of her own, and with a howl of joy moved up next to me and laid her head against my body. I was amazed at this turn of events - suddenly, I was again accepted, and by Midva of all Houndooms. Was my dream coming true? I nosed her happily, gratitude flowing through me – someone still accepted me, despite what had happened! And Midva of all Houndoom! I was feeling too many things to think straight, but joy, relief and happiness soared above all others.
Startled, Midva and I looked up to see a net cast upon us, the course rope tangling us up as suddenly Humans sprang out of hiding places, making incomprehensible noises, which I took for cries of delight and triumph.
“No!” cried Midva in despair - we were trapped, and judging by the Human’s faces, they weren’t intending on giving us a cuddle and a biscuit.
“No… I am cursed…” I muttered to myself, before shaking those thoughts from my head.
No! Thinking like that won’t get us out of this! I thought, kicking myself mentally for letting the past get to me. In contempt of the Humans, I let lose a stream of fire on the net, immediately disintegrating it. I let out a bark of satisfaction, and in response the Humans growled and grabbed a collection of Pokeballs from their clothing, releasing a mob of Pokemon.
Why would they be attacking us? I wondered. Then I realised - it must have been because I had attacked the stupid Mareep - relations between us and the Humans were never steady, and foolishly I must have incurred their wrath.
One of the Humans shouted something at the new arrivals, and they responded to us. A Nidorino charged at me, its horn aimed at my head. Just when it would have impaled me, I nimbly dodged and let loose with my flames, making it regret its rash manoeuvre. I then followed up and bit it by the leg, then tossed it back at the other Pokemon with new-found strength. Another Pokemon charged at me - a Pikachu - but I whipped the rodent back in the opposite direction with my tail, and gave a loud howl that made all the Humans shiver in fear. I gave a quick glance at Midva and barked with rage – the attacks on me had moved me away from her as she was encircled by a number of Pokemon. With a roar I charged in, spraying her assailants with burning embers, protecting my Midva. She barked an acknowledgement of thanks at me as the grass around us began to catch fire, and burn brightly, as she dispatched of another Pokemon, her sleek lively body simply too quick for our opponents to match.
A human advanced behind me, brandishing a large stick as he swung it behind his head. I lunged forward at him, biting deep into his leg, satisfied at the crunch of bone and the shriek of pain he gave out. I turned back, and gave a gasp.
A dark plum-coloured shape slithered silently behind Midva, an Arbok preparing to strike her from behind.
“Midva! Behind you!” I shouted out, but she turned around too late and cried out in pain as the Arbok sunk its fangs deep into her hind legs. Furious, I charged forward, shooting out angry flames at Midva’s attacker. The Arbok slid out of the way just in time, and moved forward again at Midva, fangs primed to strike her again. Yet I threw myself at the snake, bumping it off target as it hissed in frustration. Seeing my angry glare, it then withdrew, taking some consolation that it had managed to injure Midva.
“Are you ok, Midva?” I shouted, looking with concern. Midva managed a comforting smile, and then grimaced in pain as her legs fell beneath her. Midva struggling to get to her feet – she must have had been poisoned by that Arbok’s attack.
Then a shape collided with her, as she cried out in pain and collapsed to the ground. Another Pokemon charged at her, intending to inflict as much damage as possible. I moved to intercept it, only stopped by another Pokemon throwing its weight into me. Furiously, I got up and let loose, and showered all with my flames. My opponents cried in pain, then glared angrily and turned their focus on me as the hungry flames continued to consume the grass. The humans were beginning to shout in panic as the blaze grew, but I ignored them, concerned only about Midva’s safety and wellbeing. She looked at me, and I sighed in relief – her eyes told me it was not fatal. If she escaped now, it would be all right. Hopefully.
“Midva, try to get away!” I called, trying to fight off my enemies. “Quick!”
Midva started to limp away, tried to skulk away through the fire around us. One Pokemon’s head tilted in her direction and made to approach – I sprang forward and sent flames at its head. Grunting in surprise, it focused its attention on me. Others joined in. Attack after attack sent my direction. I dodged, I retaliated, I endured blow after blow as the fire grew in intensity. Humans shouted louder, more urgently – now the flames had moved even further out, engulfing all. The Pokemon realised their plight, and panicked – their focus no longer on me but on anything and everything in an attempt to escape. The fire was overwhelming them. Yet I could still see her moving gradually away. She would make it out.
Then a silhouette of a hooded figure loomed in front of her.
Oh no. Not now.
The Arbok smiled menacingly. Midva froze in the spot, fear plastered upon her body.
“Run, Midva!” I howled, but I knew she would not be able to. Frantically, I tried to get to her – tried to reach the Arbok. Pokemon surrounded me – I couldn’t get through! One struck out in terror of the flames and hit me hard – I fell but got back up. Midva tried to blast the Arbok with her flames, but it dodged. Too many flames – too much smoke. I couldn’t see them anymore. I had to reach her!
I then spotted a gap between the mess of bodies, and charged for it. One moved to close me off – I went right through him and tossed him aside recklessly.
“Midva!” I howled. I had to get to Midva. I had to-
Then I was hit once more. My body gave up, and I fainted to the shouts of humans, cries of Pokemon, and an impending wall of fire.
We are running through the lush grassy plains, running without a care in the world. I was on the left, her on the right. Running and laughing, for no real purpose and to no real destination. Just… darting over the plains. Gradually we approach a lake - in a quiet place, under the shade of broad-leafed trees. Content with the location, we lie down next to the water’s edge.
“Hidma…” she murmured happily.
“Midva…” I began…
“Mi…Midva…” I mumbled. I was awake, but I didn’t want to leave the comfort of the dreams, and…
I jerked my eyes open, and greeted the sight of ashes and bodies. What had been tall proud grassland was now blackened, scorched ground. A nearby tree stood gingerly, reduced to a bare, charred skeleton. Startled, I got up cautiously, and glanced around. Pain began to ease back into my senses - my wounds wouldn’t heal easily or quickly after that battle. Luckily the fire hadn’t killed me; being a Houndoom was something to be thankful for, but its effect on the landscape was devastatingly obvious.
No sign of any angry humans or Pokemon. Nor that Arbok. But…
“Midva!” I hollered out, as I looked around urgently. She wasn’t here, was she? Maybe she managed to escape. Maybe she was waiting for me somewhere else… then I stopped, and sniffed the air hopefully. Amid the smell of smoke and blood, it was there – a faint hint of her scent. Encouraged, I followed the trail, nose to the ground as I moved onwards, away from the site of destruction-
Then my spirits fell. I had found her.
Her lifeless body lied before me. Fang marks dotted her corpse, blood dried upon her once-beautiful body. Her gold eyes now a dull, faded gray. An elongated burnt shape also sharing battle wounds lied near her – she had gone down fighting, fighting for me.
My Midva, dead. Because of me. Because I had not been able to protect her.
With a soft howl of despair and loss, I departed away from the scene. I was an Outcast; and I was an Omen.
Short note - Hidma had been a shiny Pokemon, just so you know. Shiny Houndours are also blue, hence the story of the flames making him appear black again as a Houndour.
Hope you enjoyed that. Also credit to Saffire Persian for making the banner for me.
September 28th, 2008 (8:45 PM).
Seven days and no comments? You must be unlucky, I bet it was Hidma's fault.
Well, I really liked it. I thought it was a very interesting perspective on the concept of shiny Pokemon, which I had always before seen as just a variation in color. I liked how the events that came as a result of Hidma being an omen were directly caused by the idea of him being an omen. It certainly provided a nice look at the group psychology of Houndour/doom. I also thought it was a nice touch how you capitalized "Human." It seemed to reduce the size of the barrier between people and Pokemon.
I did spot one glaring grammatical error:
"Give" should be "gave."
I wouldn't say this is a grammar mistake, but it feels awkward:
Nitpicks aside, great job!
My chapter fics:
Kanto: The Disputed Frontier - Indefinite hiatus // Gary Stu's Unpredictable Adventure - Complete // Digimon Campaign - Complete
There's Always Tomorrow (SWC 2009) // A Matter of Stubbornness (SWC 2010) // Left by the Roadside (SWC 2011 1st place) //
Giovanni Destroys the World and Everything in It (2012) // By What Right? (SWC 2013 1st place) // Back in the Day (SWC 2014 1st place) //
Dad's Old Gym (SWC 2016 2nd place)
Family (kind of?): Strange person who calls me strange names
If the pen is mightier than the sword, the keyboard is mightier than the ICBM.
October 1st, 2008 (5:28 PM).
I'm glad you liked it then, and the concept as well. Was something that came to me and thought it would make an interesting idea for a story.
The mistakes also have been fixed. Cheers once again!
October 3rd, 2008 (5:00 AM).
Overall it was an incredibly interesting concept; bad luck only befalling him because he believed he truly was an omen, which was a tragic irony.
More so, I like how you portrayed the humans, making them seem truly horrible, it makes me feel bad for ever capturing wild Pokémon on the games now. There's a whole story behind every Pokémon that's been ripped from their homes and loved ones.
Kudos, I really liked it.