“You know you don’t have to be here, right?” Sneasler said as they wove a path through the Entralink’s mirror to Lostlorn Forest. “We’re just heading to the den and moving stuff. All you being here does is increase the chances you get lost. Or compelled.”

“I want to understand.” Emmet argued, keeping an eye on the figures that flitted to and fro through the trees ahead of them-- even though, as Sneasler had said, he was the only one among them at risk of getting lost. “I will never know the full context. But spending a small amount of time here will help bridge that.”

Somewhere in the near distance, there was a teasing hiss of “Huuuuuumaaaaan!” and the sound of overlarge wings sweeping past. The only attention Sneasler paid it was a brief roll of her eyes.

To Emmet, she shrugged, “I mean, fair’s fair. You brought us home with you, so the least I can do is let you come with us. Just follow the rules and we’ll be alright.”

Under his breath, Emmet laughed, “That is usually a part of my script.”

“Yeah, yeah. Welcome to the Entralink-- it’s our job to be opposite and weird.” Sneasler snarked back, though not without a new undercurrent of amusement.

A delighted shriek sounded from deeper in the woods, and for a moment, he couldn’t tell whether it was child or bat. He felt relatively sure what Sneasler’s answer would be, but just to be certain, asked, “You’re truly not worried about that?”

She scoffed and waved a massively-clawed hand, “Gligar’s an idiot, sure, but he’d die before he hurt the kid.”

That… hadn’t been Emmet’s concern, actually, but it helped to hear it stated so plainly. Instead of delving into the miscommunication, though, he moved onto something else, “How long have you been a unit?”

Sneasler spent a second studying him-- paying absolutely no attention to the path they were traveling, which was worrisome-- then sighed and tilted her head back, “We’ve had to put up with Gligar for a few years. My kit… I found him in Novarum’s den after it was abandoned. No idea what it wanted with a human hatchling.”

Novarum… that made sense. On more than one occasion, their parents had named it as the fairy they asked for help, and, more recently, pinned their actions on its game. So it had taken its prize back to the Entralink and then… what? Why ask for something-- for someone-- and then leave them behind directly after the fact?

“Where did Novarum go?” He asked, unable to let this lead die when, soon enough, the language barrier would keep him from a concise answer.

“Dunno.” Sneasler flicked her head to the side, feather rippling with the motion of it, “Zacian saw it fly in from the human realm, but nothing after that. Possible we missed something, though, since everyone was kind of up in arms about Reshiram and Zekrom around that time.”

That was… odd. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, they showed up outta nowhere and made the non-Pokemon freak out. I got dragged into it because of course, and when I went to ask Novarum's advice,” She waved a paw in the general direction of the giggling coming from ahead of them. Her nose twitched, and Emmet knew just enough to recognize that it was thought rather than a reaction to a scent. “Why are human hatchlings so defenseless, anyway? That one didn’t do anything but sleep for entire months.”

What else could a newborn do at that point? Taught that there was no caretaker to cry out for prior to Sneasler’s interference, it seemed to Emmet that the only thing left was to sleep.

“Human ‘hatchlings’ are called babies.” He said, trying not to let his outrage build anew, “They are defenseless because it is expected that their parents will care for and protect them.”

“Huh. Seems risky to me, but whatever works for you guys.”

There was nothing Emmet could say to that. Compared to Pokemon, which hatched fully self-sufficient, it would certainly appear that way.

Eyes on the ground, he kept pace with her.

“You… want to talk about it?” Sneasler asked, begrudging.

“No.” Yes, he did, but not here, and not with Sneasler-- especially when she was so made keenly uncomfortable at the prospect. She raised a valid point, though: in their home realm, a newborn wouldn’t have survived abandonment for much longer than a day, two at most. That knowledge did not help in the slightest. “All I will say is this. Thank you for looking after him.”

Gritting her sharp teeth, she swung her head to the side in something akin to a shrug. “I’m here to help the humans, anyway. That one needed it more than the Courts.”

Eager though he was to get away from the topic-- and promising though the prospect of hearing more about the Courts was-- he didn’t get the chance to inquire any further. Sneasler led them into a turn and, by the time Emmet processed that he was looking at a sheer rock wall, she’d already hoisted him up over a shoulder and begun to scale it.

He made a horribly undignified noise and grasped two handfuls of lavender fur. If she minded, she didn’t voice it, and her ascent continued seamlessly. When she finally deigned to set him down, it was on a high shelf, enough to just barely overlook the massive old growth they’d been walking through. Further into the Entralink, the trees towered even higher than their current elevation. Emmet didn’t know whether or not it was feasible here, but it looked almost like some of those trees in the distance might overtake the mountain they were standing on. He shuddered and moved on, hastily turning to follow Sneasler into a cavern.

It was already lit, though not conventionally. Certain stones embedded into the rough walls glowed, brightest along the outline of a small human hand. As they passed, Sneasler bopped one herself, and it slowly lit up, highlighting where she’d made contact with it. Interesting. Emmet had seen something like it before, in Chargestone Cave, but the act of striking stone to cause it to light up was new. There was a curious part of him that wanted to touch, to see if there was a trick to it, or if it really was that simple, but he thought it wise to keep his hands to himself.

The tunnel split off into different paths, and Sneasler unhesitatingly chose one over the other, which would have been much more impressive if it hadn’t been for the trail of lights leading the way. It brought them to a circular room, for lack of a better term, with two more offshoots. Light and sound came from one, betraying where the child and Gligar had gone, but Sneasler ignored that for now, picking up a woven basket sitting along the perimeter and upending it over a higher, flat rock. Various bits and bobs spilled out, and while she nudged several away from the edge, her main concern seemed to be the basket itself as she peered in to make sure nothing was hanging up.

Shortly after pulling her head back out, she glanced to Emmet and gestured mildly to the most obvious path. “Go make sure they’re not goofing off, yeah? Anything they wanna keep’s gotta fit in one of the baskets-- it shouldn’t be hard, but Gligar’s gonna have to pick and choose between some rocks.”

With that, she shouldered the basket and headed down the second pathway, leaving him to do as he would. Given the options, Emmet decided not to risk getting lost and do as she’d suggested.

The room he entered into was clearly used for storage, rough shelves hewn into the walls, though most were absent whatever had once rested upon them. A couple of crates stood on either of the room’s sides, already cracked open and-- presumably-- relieved of anything worth keeping. Its two occupants were instead focused on a pile of loose stones, the colors and sizes widely variable; the child was cradling something in his hands while Gligar used its pincers to sort the shapes out. Sneasler’s prediction had rung perfectly true.

When Emmet stepped in, his brother hastily-- and unsubtly-- shoved whatever he held into the sash that kept his top fastened, where it created a noticeable lump. Emmet was kind enough not to comment on that fact.

Instead, what he said was, “I am unsure how many rocks you will be able to pack before your cargo becomes immovable.”

“We’ve already loaded the interesting ones.” His sibling said as appeasement, “Now it’s mostly just spheres. Gligar just can’t decide if he wants to bring the bigger ones, or let them grow while we’re gone.”

“They’ll only grow a little, though. I don’t know if it’s worth it.” The bat hummed, head rocking from one side to the other as he tried to work the problem through.

At first, Emmet had thought he must have heard wrong, but then Gligar doubled down and he decided he couldn’t ignore that declaration. “Do rocks… generally grow in size here?”

The child blinked up at him and, after a second, seemed to realize something. He stuck both hands into the pile of stones and pulled out two round, pink specimens before standing up to show Emmet.

“Not rocks, spheres.” He said, handing the pair to his sibling, “They’re used for trading, and the bigger they get, the more valuable they are. If you bury them in the ground, they grow very slowly, so you can use the little ones to trade with in small amounts, or put them away until they’re worth more.”

Rather than the heft of a mineral, the stones felt almost like glass-- albeit a very thick glass that wouldn’t crack without a substantial amount of effort. Both had a nacreous sheen to them, though the color of the larger sphere was more distinct while the smaller was still somewhat transparent. Did that then imply that they ‘grew’ by somehow acquiring more layers, therefore becoming more and more opaque? How?

“It’s interesting, right?” Said his brother, interpreting his expression the best he could, “These ones used to be the same size! The only difference is how much time they had in the ground before being dug up!”

Something in Emmet twinged, and he folded his fingers over the larger stone, marking the second as his focus. “So this one will grow too, if it’s put back where it belongs.”

“That’s right!”

“Does it only work in the Entralink?”

The boy cocked his head and then looked to Gligar, who turned its pincers up noncommittally. “I don’t know. Do you want to try burying them in the human world? Gligar probably wouldn’t mind letting you have them if you wanted to test it.”

“Just goin’ in the dirt anyway. Doesn’t matter what dirt.” Said Gligar as confirmation, going back to pushing spheres this way and that.

“I see. Thank you.” Emmet said, and tucked the both into a pocket, already in the mind of the barren pot on his balcony, long since devoid of the herbs it once held.

His spiel on spheres since concluded, the child turned away to attend to their task.

While his brother methodically added things to a basket as tall as he was, ignoring the smaller one that he’d since shut, Emmet watched Gligar use his pincers to create a furrow in the ground. It was fascinating to watch him maneuver his pincers in such a blatantly destructive way and then delicately scoop the spheres up to deposit them, one by one, into the row. When he deemed it good enough, he pushed the disturbed debris over the rocks and gave his tail a thump.

The process was disturbed when its ears swiveled toward the entrance and its species’ instinctive grin pulled into something closer to a grimace.

“To the side.” It hissed, and it took Emmet a second to recognize that it was speaking to him.

Uncertain what was going on, he dutifully stepped back against the room’s perimeter as it took its claws to the nearest wall, this time, and scaled it, using its tail to dig into the ceiling and wide wings to obscure the mouth of the tunnel.

Several seconds after the fact, a new voice called, “Lady Sneasler?”

A sudden hush fell over the cave, and, after a second, Sneasler’s footfalls sounded. “Kai.”

“You’re alright,” The woman said back, audibly relieved, “You’ve been so distant lately we were beginning to worry.”

“Huh,” Sneasler said, testy, “I wonder why. Think I might have my hands full right now, since your people refuse to help us out?”

There was a tense silence, followed by a barely-abashed, “You know very well that I can’t intervene; it’s not within our purview.”

“Yeah? And remind me who makes that call.” She all but growled in retaliation.

“Enough.” Said the stranger, firm, “That’s not what I came here to discuss. As one of our blessed Pokemon, your duty is to the Pearl Court, and you haven’t been upholding it.”

Sneasler made a frustrated, throaty sound, but it wasn’t quite a growl, “My duty is to protect humans. I’m doing that. What else do you want from me?”

A silence fell, and Emmet could only assume that something inaudible passed between the two. Whatever it was, the woman pressed on in a different direction, “The dragon’s terrorizing of our Court has worsened. It nearly had Lori charmed before Palina could intervene. We cannot allow this to stand.”

“What are you expecting me to do, slap it around? I can get some poison in, but you know how much that would accomplish.”

The woman breathed a heavy sigh, “No, of course I don’t expect you to confront it head on; I just want you to realize how removed you’ve become from the situation, how much information you’re missing. I know you’ve decided that the child is your responsibility, but you need to recognize that he’ll also be at risk if you continue to neglect your duty.”

“I know, I know. I’m working on it.” Sneasler groused and, in their little hideaway, her kit winced. When Emmet glanced his way, though, he just shook his head and raised a finger to his lips.

They listened in tense silence as the pair slowly got around to concluding their stilted back and forth. Several minutes after the human footsteps receded, Sneasler finally moved, likely ensuring that the woman had actually left.

In the meantime, his brother sidled up next to him and whispered, “That was Kai. It’s not her name, just what she’s called-- that’s what you do if someone outright asks, you give them something else to call you.”

“I see.” He said back, equally hushed, “How does she know Sneasler?”

“Kai leads the Pearl Court, and Sneasler’s one of the blessed Pokemon who are supposed to help them.” His eyes flicked to the entryway, below Gligar’s head. “She didn’t technically lie before, but it was close, and that could get her in really big trouble.”

That… made sense with Emmet’s comparatively limited knowledge of the fae. While it didn’t mean he condoned their parents’ decision, it was one of the very few things he was hard pressed to fault them for: if they’d fully gone back on a deal with a powerful fairy, things could have ended far, far worse for everyone involved.

“Sneasler didn’t lie. She is working to protect a human. It is Kai’s problem if she took that to mean the Pearl Court.” He said instead, and while his brother didn’t relax by much, his posture eased the slightest bit.

“You three better not be slacking off in here,” Sneasler griped, pushing Gligar to the side to see for herself and eliciting an indignant squeak of, “Hey! Hey! That’s rude!”

“We’re almost done.” The child said, making sure to raise his voice above his guardians’ petty squabbling. Worrying at his bottom lip, he glanced to Emmet, and then back to Sneasler, “Maybe… we should split up and go right after? I know you have to talk to some Pokemon, but I’m worried about how long it’s been in the human world.”

Sneasler curled her feather around a claw, considering it. “Not a bad idea. I wasn’t expecting that one to come with.” She said, inclining her head to Emmet, “And there’s no need to push the dragon-human’s buttons. Might give me some extra time to cover our tracks, too.”

She glanced to Gligar, who’d vacated his spot in the entryway to finish sorting his rocks out, adding the last of them to the basket. “What do you think, can you handle two humans for the walk through the forest?”

“’Walk’?” It scoffed, and proudly spread its wings, highlighting Sneasler’s folly-- to which she grumbled shallowly.

“You’re impossible.” She told him, “It’s a yes or no question.”

“I keep the human safe every day!”

“Yeah? Me too, you’re not special.”

“Um,” Said the human in question, “I feel like I don’t need protecting every day...”

“The question was not one of protection. It was of safety.” Emmet reminded him, somewhat unhelpfully. Personally, he felt safety encompassed personal wellbeing, and in that regard, his brother definitely required assistance.

Even though he hadn’t stated his full opinion, what he had said earned him a sharp turn of the head and mildly betrayed look. Unable to keep the smile entirely tamped down, he held his hands up in surrender.

His brother puffed a cheek up irritably and turned back to his guardians, patting at Sneasler’s leg to get her back on track. For all that the Pokemon held the actual power, here, there was no mistaking who gave them direction, and that was an interesting thought-- that, even in a situation where everyone could make themselves perfectly understood, Pokemon still respected the guidance of a cherished human. It wasn’t a traditional trainer-and-Pokemon relationship-- his brother didn’t issue any commands-- but any concern he raised, they considered in spite of his relative inexperience.

“Right,” She said, and turned her critical eye over the basket they’d been preparing, “I’ll take the one that’s full of rocks. Second basket’ll be easier for Gligar to handle, and you’ve got your kid-sized one. Gligar, if you need to ditch some weight, the bedding on top can go, but I think you’ll be fine.”

“We can handle it!” The boy insisted, hands balled into excited fists.

Wry red eyes traveled to the arguably-elder human, and Sneasler reached over to smush her ward’s hat down affectionately. “You know what, kit? For once, you’re not the one I’m worried about.”

Emmet decided that, for the sake of their future cohabitation, he would let that go. If his brother’s concern held true, it wouldn’t be worth the time it would take to argue.

By the time they headed out of the cave, the glowing stones had gone dormant again. Emmet watched with no small amount of amusement as his brother bounded ahead to slap a hand against each one, giving them the chance to warm up and shed a decent amount of light once he and Gligar passed through. There was little wondering why the bat was hanging so far back when his boy was up ahead: his cargo was, in fact, weighing him down to some extent. It wasn’t enough to alter the altitude he moved at, but it certainly reduced his speed, forcing him to spend the commute with Emmet.

Emmet, for his part, found an obstacle of his own the moment they stepped foot outside of the cave system: they were still on a cliff.

Motion off to the side side caught his attention, and once his brother had firmly settled the child-appropriate basket he carried, he moved to start descending the rock face. There was little doubt Emmet’s disbelief shone through in his expression, because, when the boy glanced up, his scrunched in a teasing sort of glee.

“Sorry, I almost forgot.” He said, and then let go to fold his arms over the edge, continuing to taunt him. With a lazy rock of his head, he looked to his partner Pokemon, “Can you help him down, Gligar? I’ll watch the basket.”

Gligar clicked its pincers, which wasn’t the most comforting gesture when, just a moment later, they found their way hooked under Emmet’s arms. “It’s fine! No one will take it, or Sneasler would maim them.”

The boy made a soft, dissenting noise, but all Emmet could make out was “No she wouldn’t, not over that.” before the bat took off.

Gligar were, as their species’ name suggested, gliders, so the descent was a slow one, complicated by the amount of horizontal ground being covered. To keep from getting too far into the woods, Gligar moved in a shallow spiral, landing them maybe twenty feet away from their starting point above. Midway through his climb, the child peeked down at them, but didn’t let go of his hand-holds this time; unbothered, he went back to his methodical decline, sparing only a cursory look as Gligar scampered up the cliff with an almost frightening speed, scattering bits of stone in its wake. It worked out so they reached the bottom at roughly the same time, Gligar’s cargo touching the ground half a minute before the child pushed away from the cliff.

Simultaneously impressed and appalled, Emmet looked from the proud face beaming at him to the landing they’d stood upon minutes prior. Eventually, he decided, “We will need to find you a new outlet. Or safety gear.”

“Huh?” His brother asked, and Emmet declined any further comment, laying a hand on his shoulder to urge him into leading them. As he tended to, the boy’s attention lingered on the point of contact for a moment, but he gave no indication that it was unwelcome and, instead, transferred it to his own hand, then pulled ahead to act as their guide.

They walked in a relative silence: Gligar’s ears perked for any sign something might intercept their mission to the human world, Emmet watching the scenery around them as if to remember the path, and the child with his eyes facing forward, unerringly moving them on. It was several minutes deep into the undergrowth that Emmet found himself distracted from his self-imposed task by the shifting grip on his hand.

Wordlessly and without pausing, his brother slipped something smooth into his palm. He caught a glint of light reflecting off of it through the impossibly-tall trees, but the incidental glance wasn’t enough to tell him what it was in and of itself. It was warm, but only just so, brought to temperature by an external force rather than inherently being warm. The mild, painless prickle along its surface made more sense when Emmet moved to transfer it to his other hand and found the gleam of a thunder stone.

The child’s eyes were on him when he looked back down, though he still faced forward, watching Emmet from his peripheral vision. “Eelektrik can use that to evolve, right? Do… do you want it?”

It wasn’t lost on Emmet that, this time around, the boy had refrained from making it sound like reparation; in and of itself, that was also something of a gift.

“I think so.” He said, and held his hand out again.

His brother didn’t hesitate to take it.

Three presents in a row, and that one had to be Emmet’s favorite.