Poppy opened her eyes for the first time in what felt like hours and squinted against the sunlight.
How are you doing?
“Still not used to hearing your voice in my head,” Poppy muttered as she stretched. “Other than that, I’m a little frustrated.”
Sorry, this is the only way I can communicate without that avatar. As for your frustration… Hm. Don’t be too discouraged. I was expecting this to be challenging, since it’s the first time I ever tried it. Tell you what, why don’t we take a break and continue our journey west?
Poppy stood and wandered out from under the overhang. The mountains were too steep for her to see very far—while “claustrophobic” would have been a strong word, Poppy would have preferred a more open setting. It was easier to read the landscape that way.
“I’m getting curious as to where exactly you’re leading me. You’ve been very tight-lipped about it.”
I don’t want to ruin the surprise, Poppy. I know you’ll like it, just bear with me for a little longer. Tell you what, if we keep going the rest of the day, we should be able to make it there before sundown. How about we do that?
“Alright. I’ve been getting tired of all this practice we’ve been doing, anyway.” She turned her head. “Lavender, are you good to—”
There was nothing but empty space and ghost-white lichen between Poppy and the rocks. She scoffed at herself before proceeding.
The terraces along the mountainside were wide and lush with vegetation that seemed to mimic early successional forest habitat. Brambly blackberries and gooseberries sprawled over a carpet of thyme and geranium, and demure little peach and pear trees thrived wherever they found a solid foothold between the rocks and shrubs. Further inspection revealed a number of narrow footpaths that wound through the landscape like rhizomes, in some places overgrown.
Poppy felt a twinge of nostalgia. She noticed movement near the bottom of the valley and squinted. Was it the valley’s caretakers?
Here it is! Ann announced. Go on down and say hi! No need to be shy!
As Poppy made her way down, she began to recognize the specks below. Their coloration—white, green, and red—seemed ornamental to her somehow, an impression which may have been helped by their whimsical patterns of flight. The way they darted about the air reminded her of schools of fish.
From time to time, the shaymin would turn their heads to look at Poppy, but it was not until she was near the bottom of the valley that a small group broke off and approached her.
“Hello?” the one toward the front said, maintaining a cautious distance. “You don’t seem like the wild type… Can you understand me?”
Poppy blinked. “Um, yes, I can.” She paused awkwardly for a moment, realizing that by now she had seen two—maybe even three, depending on whether or not Ann counted—so-called legendary pokemon species in the same month.
The shaymin who had addressed Poppy opened his eyes wide. “Wow, cool! I’ll have to tell the others—just give me a sec!”
He flew away, leaving one of the other shaymin to scratch her head. Her voice was clear and confident, with a subtle lilt. “Silly boy—he didn’t even remember to introduce himself.” She bowed her head toward Poppy. “My name is Holly, and I hope you are doing well. Is there anything you need?”
“No, I should mostly be alright…” She checked her pouch. “Maybe a little water, though.”
Holly nodded. “We’ll show you the stream nearby—you’ll be able to drink your fill there. Anyway, what brings you here? We don’t get many visitors.”
Poppy was unsure how to answer the question. “I’ve just been… Wandering around, mostly. Trying to… figure out my life, I guess.”
Holly chuckled. “Trying to figure out your life? What is that supposed to mean?”
Before Poppy could come up with a response, the rest of the shaymin—perhaps a dozen, all told—surrounded her like bees that had discovered a new flower. “What kind of pokemon are you?” one asked. “I mean, she has to be grass,” another said. “But I don’t know the species. How’d you find us? Was it an accident?”
Holly addressed the other shaymin. “Slow down a little, guys… Let’s not overwhelm her.” She turned toward Poppy. “First thing’s first, stranger—why don’t you tell us your name?”
“It’s Poppy, and I’m pleased to meet you all. I saw the, um, gardens? I’m very impressed with what you’ve all done with the place, and I commend you for it.”
A number of the shaymin smiled. “Aw, shucks,” Holly said. “You’re gonna make me blush. We just have a knack for livening things up, is all.”
“Well, all the same… Anyway, um, how long have you all been living here?”
Holly laughed. “Who knows? You might as well ask me how old the planet is. None of us can say for sure.”
Poppy was taken aback. “Oh… But you can fly, can’t you all? You don’t move around at all?”
“Ah, well, we venture out from time to time, if that’s what you mean, but this has been our home for generations. We have everything we need here.”
“I see.”
Ask them if they’ll let you stay for a while! urged Ann.
“Um,” Poppy began, “I’ve been traveling for a couple weeks, and I don’t really have a proper home… Would it bother y—”
Holly gave a shushing gesture. “Say no more, Poppy! It’s been a long time since we’ve had a chance to practice our hospitality. You can stay with us for as long as you want!” She turned to the rest of the shaymin. “I mean, tell me if you guys have any objections, but otherwise let’s go ahead.”
The other shaymin assented.
“Excellent. Why don’t I show you around a little, then, starting with the stream?”
Poppy was taken aback momentarily by Holly’s openness. “Um, alright then. That sounds good. Lead the way.”
Poppy may as well have been trying to catch a speck of dust; no matter how she lashed her vines, Holly would twist her body and flit out of the way, summoning speed as though controlling the wind itself.
Poppy paused for a moment and thought. She was tiring herself out more than Holly at this rate, but she didn’t know what else to do. Projectiles hadn’t fared her any better so far. She tried to recall if she knew anything good for flying-types—
Then the wind changed, carrying the scent of violets to her nose, and at once she envisioned the glade in which she and Lavender used to train. Oyster-shaped mushrooms fed on the sprawling roots of a fallen oak; moths and butterflies fluttered between scattered wildflowers; grasshoppers and katydids hid in the tall mugwort at the fringes, dappled by shade. Come on, Poppy, Lavender had once chided. If I can learn swift, I’m sure you can, too. Just give it a little more practice! Then Lavender had bumped shoulders with her, but in a gentle way that felt more like an affectionate pat than a shove. Her mane, warm from the summer sun, had brushed against Poppy’s neck. The scents of dandelions and violets and vetch blended with Lavender’s, forming something soft and richly sweet…
“Something on your mind?”
Poppy looked back up at Holly, who was hovering stock-still in the air as though suspended by strings. “Sorry,” she said. “I realize the middle of a sparring match isn’t the best time to get contemplative. Still, I’ve got an idea—something that might work.”
“Ooh, that sounds exciting. Feel free to give it a try.” She winked.
“Heh.”
Poppy tried a few more times to strike Holly with her vines, and then once she felt ready, she opened her mouth and launched a stream of glowing stars toward her target. She noted the surprise on Holly’s face with some satisfaction; the shaymin slipped past the first few projectiles in the group, but a stray star caught her a moment later.
“Ah!” Holly corkscrewed theatrically toward the ground. She landed on her back and stretched a paw feebly toward the sky. “I have been defeated,” she proclaimed, then let herself go limp.
Poppy walked toward Holly, smiling. “I see. The proud legacy of Poppy the Explorer shall be passed down through the generations, and legends will tell of the day she slew the great and powerful Holly.”
Holly chuckled. “You really were an explorer, you said. You don’t talk about it much, though.”
“No. I’ve never been much good at telling stories. And there are some memories I would rather not bring up.”
“Mm hm. And I’m guessing that has to do with why you don’t explore anymore.”
“And you would be right.” Poppy looked around at the wide buildings nearby, places where the shaymin took shelter from storms and spent cold nights. Even if those buildings lacked foundations, the way the rocks in the walls fit together like puzzle pieces suggested an impressive level of craftsmanship, and Poppy knew firsthand that they were as warm as anything with a dozen shaymin packed inside. “But really, why would I want to go back now? This place is far better than that dumb city ever was.”
“I don’t know what a city is, Poppy.”
“Nor do you need to.” Now that she was close to Holly, Poppy looked her over. “Anyway, I’m guessing that attack didn’t hit too hard, did it?”
“Mm…” Holly shrugged. “Might leave a bruise, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“I see. Here, I’ll put some pressure on the spot…” Poppy placed her paw just in front of Holly’s shoulder. “It was about there, right?”
“Ah, yes, you’ve got it.” She smiled and put her own paw over Poppy’s. “Your paw is so big, Poppy, he he. I feel very taken-care-of.”
“Well, Lavender always used to do this for me whenever I…” Poppy sighed and looked up at the sky. “There I go again…”
“Hm… You know, it might make you feel a little better if you talked about the things that are bothering you. I’m all ears.”
Poppy smirked despite herself as she stroked the velvety fur of Holly’s ear. “Did you mean that literally?”
Holly narrowed her eyes. “Do you mean to mock me, ground-dweller?”
Poppy’s smirk became a proper smile. “No, I would never do that, Holly,” she said in her sweetest voice. “Your ears are lovely.”
Holly raised an eyebrow. “Mm hm. You’d better mean that, too.” She yawned. “So, for the time being… all that sparring’s got me kind of hungry, so what do you say we get some fruit?”
“That sounds good to me. You think your shoulder’s good?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” Holly put a paw to her brow as though she felt faint. “I might need you to carry me for a while, Poppy.”
Poppy rolled her eyes and took her paw off Holly, who sprang effortlessly back to her feet.
“I bet I could have got you to do it if I’d tried,” Holly teased.
“I bet you could.”
The two of them made their way across the valley floor, careful not to trample the aster and gracidea that freckled it. The damp soil squelched beneath their paws. They said hello to the other shaymin as they reached the terraces and ascended the overgrown paths, squinting against the sun.
It was no surprise, but the blackberries here were some of the best Poppy had ever tasted. Already her nose was scratched up from when she had tried to eat too fast and got careless around the thorns, but she was ready to dive back in nonetheless.
However, before Poppy could begin eating, her eyes were drawn to a rustle in the grass beside her—normally an animal wouldn’t let her get that close. She carefully lifted a branch and revealed a patch of mangy, dust-colored fur.
The squirrel looked at Poppy as though half-asleep, its eyes glassy and half-closed. Its labored breaths reminded Poppy of the time when she had tried to leave the city on a smoggy day and instead wound up sprawled on the floor of the local library while she waited for her head to stop spinning. It felt like wearing an overtightened vest, she remembered.
“You find something?” Holly followed Poppy’s gaze, then frowned. “Ah, I see. He’s not doing so well, is he?”
“Shall I euthanize it?”
“Poppy!” Holly bumped her companion with her shoulder. “I don’t know how you explorers handle things, but we valley folk don’t just kill someone once they get sick. We’re going to care for it.”
Poppy shook her head. “Sorry, just… wasn’t thinking. I never had time to consider taking care of an animal before.” She also didn’t think this particular one had much chance of survival, but she kept that to herself.
“Hm,” Holly said, her voice softening somewhat. “I suppose an explorer would be busy. But we’ve got time, Poppy. It’ll be fine. In fact, I’m pretty sure someone made a pen for the last animal we took in—it should still be around. Come on, let’s check.”
Poppy picked up the squirrel as gently as she could with her vines and followed Holly downhill. Even though she was no longer part of the guild, it felt a little like a rescue mission.
The squirrel died. Despite Holly’s insistence on taking it in, she accepted the outcome calmly. Poppy and Holly dropped the body off away from the village and resumed their usual routine—for Poppy, that meant training with Ann for as long as she could stand before indulging in the shaymins’ company. The squirrel soon became a distant memory—a pointless diversion, in retrospect. Poppy had yet to realize what its illness signified.