Z
Zeki
Guest
I wrote this a while back, and just thought I'd put it up. See if anyone liked it. Feel freel to criticize, compliment, whatever. I don't mind any of it. ^_^
Anyway, I can't remember why I wrote this piece... I guess I just wanted to do something with Zangoose in it. They always seemed to strike me as pack animals, cunning beasts. But you know, everyone has their own opinion. Have fun reading.
~Zeki-Sama
Chapter One
The sun slowly set upon the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything its light touched. Trees swayed gently in the wind, which brought with it the scent of night. The odour of everything dark, and moist. But all this beauty was lost to the ruby-red eyes of a Zangoose. The creature crouched upon a stump, at the edge of Bane woods. It was a large, robust specimen, sinuous muscles rippling under the snow white fur. The long, blade-like claws, lavender in hue, dug into the soft wood of the rotting stump. The savage ruby eyes watched the horizon blankly, the creature was thinking. With creatures like this, you would expect them to be male… but this was a Female. Her name was Storm Dancer, leader of the Southclaw Zangoose Tribe. There was a rustle in the long grass, and another Zangoose, a much smaller one, approached his Tribe Leader. He was Claw Runner, second in command. Storm Dancer’s ears twitched at his approach. Seeming casual, her eyes slid to Claw Runner. The Male bowed respectfully. Knowing what he had to tell, Claw Runner gulped.
“Tribe Leader Storm Dancer, I bear news for thee. Thy Mother, Blade Flower… she is dead.” The Male Pokemon said, in his deep hoarse tones. The Zangoose was afraid of his Tribe Leader’s reaction. She was not named Storm Dancer for nothing. A sharp snap rang out. The big female’s claws had sliced part of the stump clean off. The ruby eyes blazed as the mighty Zangoose leader Storm Dancer turned to face him.
”My Mother is dead? How? What news of my Sire? Speak!” She barked at the luckless Claw Runner. The male lowered his head.
“Great one, it was the sickness, it took her too. She was too weak to fight it. Thy Sire still fights it, but grows weaker each passing Moon.” He said, fear cracking his voice. The big female shuddered.
“Leave me now.” She growled. Claw Runner was only to happy to oblige. Turning swiftly, he darted into the woods, twigs snapping against his fur, and leaving his Leader to mourn. A howl pierced the air, more painful than a blade upon raw nerves. Claw Runner kept running, padded feet pounding the damp earth like pistons, sending twigs and specks of dirt flying. Skidding, he stopped in a clearing. Several Zangoose crowded around, to see what news he brought. But most of Storm Dancer’s Tribe did not need his news to know that their Leader was not taking the death of her mother well. Claw Runner hung his head, and approached the eldest Zangoose in the clearing, Blue Fen. The old female was grizzled and silver, with cracked, faded claws. A big old male Zangoose lay by her, his sinuous muscles lying to waste under matted grey fur. Beads of sweat dripped off the male’s forehead. Blue Fen shook her grizzled muzzle sadly.
“Storm Dancer’s sire… Myth Smoke … he hath not but a Moon until the gates of the Under-Realm open for him.” She said, knowing Claw Runner’s question before he asked. Blue Fen was the Elder, and the Seer. The rest of the Zangoose gathered around the Seer.
“Listen Tribe of Storm Dancer, for thy lives art in danger. The sickness, its wrath is greater than Storm Dancer herself. To save thy lives, we must ask thine Tribe Leader to seek aid.” She croaked feebly. Claw Runner looked at the Seer quizzically.
“Seek aid? Art thou feeble in thine mind Seer? The Mighty Storm Dancer will ask for naught, even aid.” He barked roughly, foreseeing the Tribe Leader’s reaction to such a request. Blue Fen waved her cracked claws in dismissal.
“She will have to. If she doth not, we will all die. The worst news is yet to come! Our aid will have to come from humans!” She wailed brokenly. A deathly hush fell over the Tribe. Through the silence, there was the resounding snap and crack of twigs being crushed by heavy paws. The Tribe Leader approached her eyes redder than blood itself. The snow white fur was matted, twigs and earth ground into it in places. The long deadly claws were stained with the sap of the trees that the big Female had ravaged in her grief. Eyes ablaze, she stalked to Blue Fen the Seer on her four paws.
“My Sire… how long doth he have?” Storm Dancer asked, her voice broken, cracked, and tortured by her howling despair. The Seer shook, a shiver which ran throughout the Southclaw Tribe.
“Storm Dancer, Mighty One, Protector of the Southclaws! Thy Sire grows weak, more so by each passing moment. He hast but one Moon to walk this realm, until the Lord of the Under-Realm claims his soul.” Blue Fen said softly, hoping she would not incur the anger of the Tribe Leader. Storm Dancer hung her head. When she looked at Blue Fen again, her eyes were not lit by hot anger, or hate, they were filled with the gloom of despair. Her maw quivered. The big Zangoose did not want her Sire Myth Smoke to die… he had raised his daughter to be a fighter like him, and Storm Dancer did not want him to die like this.
“What must we do to prevent his departure to the Under-Realm?” She asked, sighing. A collective gasp rose from the Zangoose. None had seen their Tribe Leader like this. She was always strong, brave, never one to succumb, never one to let emotion rule her mind! Storm Dancer was going to ask for aid, they all saw it in her eyes. The ruby eyes held stored despair, and the willingness to do anything for her dying Sire. Claw Runner nodded to his Leader.
“Thou know what thou must do. Thou must ask for the aid of the Human Kind.” He said, bowing. Hot anger flared within the Tribe Leader, which was skilfully concealed from the rest of the Tribe. She, Storm Dancer, ask for help? The idea, it was silly, nay, ludicrous! Sighing, and repressing her anger, the big female looked around her Tribe. Each face was etched with worry. Worry for their leader, and her sire, worry for their tribe, and worry of the Sickness. Storm Dancer hauled herself upright, standing upon her hind legs in the traditional battle pose.
“Then, aid is what we will seek.”
Chapter Two
The moon hung high in the night sky, an illuminating orb, casting its pale ethereal light wherever it could touch. Stars twinkled smugly, heavenly bodies seeming to know something you didn’t. The wind this night was moist, and carried with it the scent of the Earth, rippling the tops of trees, and flattening grass. This night, the only things that moved were a tribe of Zangoose, lead by their fearless, and frightening leader, Storm Dancer. The big female stood at the edge of her territory, her ruby eyes like coals in the dark of the still summer night. Her artic-hued fur rippled in the wind, creating an eerie effect on the Tribe Leader. Behind the big femme there was around ten other Zangoose, including her stricken Sire. Motioning with a long, sharp claw, the female moved forward, leaving her own territory behind. The Tribe of Southclaws moved swiftly, and silently, to keep up with their Leader. Swiftness was of the essence, as was silence. The lives of the Tribe depended on both. The grass that they moved into was tall, it concealed them well. Blue Fen, the Seer, was at the pack of the pack, her breathing hard, her chest working like a bellows. The old one was not used to moving like this. She was old, and soft. Claw Runner slowed, so that he was soon level with the Seer Zangoose. His red eyes watched Blue Fen distastefully.
“Thou art slow Seer. Thy good living has made thee soft; thou do not have what it takes to make the journey.” The male said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“Thou art slowing us down.” Blue Fen looked at Claw Runner, surprised. She knew this was to come, but so soon? Looking down, she smiled furtively.
“Aye, this I know. Soon, I will be taken by the Sickness, aye, and die. Tell Storm Dancer that I have gone, soon to the Under-Realm.” She said, stopping. The younger male kept moving, not looking back for Blue Fen. Speeding up, he made his was to his Tribe Leader, who headed the group of Zangoose. The big female was still grieving for the loss of Blade Flower, it was obvious. Every step she took, her claws sunk into the earth partially, driven down by the force of the step. The smaller male bowed his head to his Leader, who merely nodded, an acknowledgement to continue.
“Tribe Leader Storm Dancer, thy Seer is gone. Blue Fen wishes me to tell thee that she will soon be taken by the Sickness, and die. The Seer did not want to slow us down.” He said, keeping his head bowed respectfully. Storm Dancer’s eyes blazed with the loss of another Zangoose, this time her Seer. The hulking female did not halt in her furious pace though.
“We keep moving. At this pace, we should reach the Human place sometime tomorrow.” The Tribe Leader said, her voice no more than a guttural growl. Then, two things happened at once. The clashing boom of thunder, and the cry of a Zangoose rang out. Storm Dancer looked up first. Dark, oily clouds billowed across the sky, obscuring the moon. The wind was now stronger; it keened past the Zangoose’s sharp ears. The scent it carried now was not the comforting smell of leaves and damp earth, it was menacing, of water and electricity. A storm was approaching. It had followed in the wake of the one named Storm Dancer. Lowering her blood coloured eyes, Storm Dancer noticed that her Tribe had stopped, and were gathering around another. Striding purposely forward, she butted some Zangoose out of her way. A young male Zangoose, a hulking specimen named Blood Wake, had fallen. Next to him, Myth Smoke, the Tribe Leader’s Sire. Storm Dancer growled at the younger one. Blood Wake got up painfully, bowing his head to Storm Dancer.
“Mighty One, I could not carry thy Sire for much longer. He has become more ill.” He said, averting his eyes from hers. Storm Dancer trembled, her rage and despair bubbling to the surface. But Blood Wake was lucky; his Tribe Leader was able to control the fire running in her veins. Looking from the hefty male to her Sire, Storm Dancer’s face contorted with fear. The sick male lay on the ground, his breathing shallow and laboured. Globules of sweat poured from his body, and he appeared to be running a fever. The big femme Leader carefully touched the brow of her Sire. Motioning with a single lavender claw, she beckoned forth a competent looking young female. She was extremely undersize for a wild Zangoose, and her eyes held not the savagery and cunning of one born of the Tribe. She touched her head to her claws in a way of extreme respect for the Tribe Leader.
“Far Day, come see to my Sire. I want thy opinion.” She growled, turning. Fara, the young female, went to Myth Smoke, gently prodding him, and other things. Storm Dancer reflected upon Fara. The Tribe had come across her deep in Bane Woods, left for dead by a trainer. The Tribe had wanted to kill her, and let her bones gradually become one with the earth again. But Storm Dancer had spared the young thing, something her Tribe had never understood. And something that Storm Dancer had never told her Tribe why. Storm Dancer scowled slightly. She had wanted to change Fara’s name, but she was used to it. So the bulky femme had to extend on the name she was given.
“Far Day? Thy thoughts?” She asked, her back still facing the young female. Fara crinkled her nose at her acquired name, but said nothing of it.
“Yes Storm Dancer, he is getting worse. Leave us here; you can cover the distance tonight. You must bring them here.” She said, facing her Tribe Leader. The Leader shook visibly. He must not die!
“Thy thought is a good one Fara. Stay here with my Sire. All of thee make sure he lives until morning. I bid thee goodnight.” Storm Dancer said, moving forward. Fara ran a short distance to be with her Saviour.
“Good luck Storm… come back to us.” She said, smiling at the hulking female. Silently, she dropped back, looking to the sky. Fara shivered. It was going to rain in a minute. Barking, she gave an order to move Myth Smoke under cover.
Storm Dancer stopped for a moment, and raised herself onto her hind legs. Turning her muzzle to the sky, she let rip a howl that chilled the Tribe to their core. A single drop of rain fell on the upright femme, a sign of what to come.
Chapter Three
The rain pelted down, soaking the moist earth, running off in rivulets. Thunder crashed ominously in the dark billowing clouds, with the accompaniment of the electric crackle of lightning. Trees swayed almost unnaturally in the driving wind, leaves and small twigs being blown away by the gust. One creature braved the storm’s wrath. The Zangoose’s white fur shone out in the gloom, as she ran forward, her breath coming in ragged sobs as her paws pounded the wet earth. Purple claws raked the dirt as Storm Dancer fought the storm, continually running towards her destination. Her red and white fur was plastered to her sinewy body, but her eyes glowed with an odd light. Each step was forced, each pace painful, but Storm Dancer was braving the storm! The femme’s sharp blood-hued eyes spotted the building ahead. She had done it! The building was a Pokemon Centre; luck was on the Tribe Leader’s side. But time was not. Coming within a few paces of the centre, she raised her face to the skies in turmoil. Her howl was triumphant.
“I faced thy wrath, aye, and I lived! Thou cannot slay me!” She screamed at the skies. A crack of thunder rang out as if in reply to the Zangoose’s cry. Storm Dancer smirked, and turned to the glass sliding doors of the building. Her maddened red eyes looked at the figures inside. A tall female, dressed in odd white clothing, with pink hair. Another female, younger and blonde sat in a seat, next to a handsome male. The pokemon Blissey appeared to be talking to them. Storm Dancer snorted. She would contend with the pokemon, not these humans. Carefully, she placed her blade sharp claws upon the glass. A slight click at the lavender-hued things touched, but no movement. Storm Dancer’s hackles rose instantly. Nothing would keep her from saving her Sire now, nothing! Not this silly glass door, nothing! Clenching her paw, the mighty female pokemon swung at the door. The glass shattered beneath the blow, spraying inwards. All four figures in the centre looked up disbelieving. They would not have believed their eyes. A big wild Zangoose, standing amidst the shattered remains of the plate glass door. Storm Dancer’s eyes shone with the ethereal light of madness. The eldest one, she put her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to speak.
<How dare you, you…!> She said, being silenced halfway through by a look from the crazed Storm Dancer. The young blonde haired femme clung the male next to her, her sapphire orbs wide with fright. The young man next her wasn’t frightened, merely surprised. He seemed to be enjoying the reaction that Storm Dancer had produced in the girl. The large pink pokemon, the Blissey, approached the irate Zangoose Leader.
“What do you mean by breaking the door? What do you want?” She asked, the tones high-pitched and irritated. The Zangoose looked grim, as she thought of her mission.
“I have come for help. My Sire lies dying, I need thou to come to him.” She said, after a small while. The Blissey’s eyes opened wide. She most obviously did not expect this from the Zangoose. She looked from Storm Dancer, to the one she served, the eldest pink-haired one.
“Well, Nurse Joy is the healer. I merely help. You may call me Bliss.” She said, nodding decisively. The Tribe Leader nodded.
“I am known as Storm Dancer, Tribe Leader of the Southclaw Tribe.” She uttered, her voice broken. Bliss nodded; turning to the one she called Nurse Joy. Taking the woman, she led her to a machine. The wild Zangoose was left alone with the other two. The young female pressed closer to the male. Then, a small disgruntled head appeared from between them, glaring at them through cerulean eyes. A small Zangoose squeezed out from between the two. The creature was small, most obviously very young. The Zangoose peered at Storm Dancer with the odd blue eyes. She was a Shining Zangoose, the most rare and revered of all Zangoose. It made the fire within the Tribe Leader’s blood grow hot to see such a Zangoose with a trainer. The young Shining Zangoose approached the big savage female, curiosity stamped on her delicate features. Storm Dancer turned her head to her, the insane eyes softening.
“Greetings, Shining One.” She said, inclining her head slightly to the young one. The small female giggled.
“Hehe, you speak funny. What’s your name? I’m Stormwake.” The small one said. She wasn’t long out of babyhood this one. Storm Dancer nodded, and turned the rest of her body to Stormwake.
“That is a good name. I am Storm Dancer. Pray tell young Stormwake, who gave thee thy name?” She asked, keeping her voice sweet for the baby. Stormwake giggled again.
“Silly, my Mamma of course.” Baby Stormwake answered, dancing on the spot. Storm Dancer smiled at the active young Zangoose.
“And who is thy Mother?” She inquired, still smiling, despite her predicament. Stormwake pointed one of her crimson claws at the blonde female. Storm Dancer frowned, and then turned to Bliss who was returning with Nurse Joy. The tall femme had a satchel by her side, hanging loosely. The pink and white pokemon nodded at the Savage Zangoose.
“We go now.”
Chapter Four
Rain poured from the heavens, thundering down on the grassy plain. The wind howled and keened, singing its own eerie melody at Storm Dancer’s defiance. Thunder boomed and roared, while lightning hissed and crackled in the turbulent skies. The tribe of nine Zangoose shivered in their meagre shelter, the hollow and lee side of a large oak tree. Without Storm Dancer, their leader, or even Blue Fen their Elder and Seer, the Tribe had done basically nothing. They would not listen to the direction of Fara. The scrawny young Zangoose had found the hollow, which she immediately moved Myth Smoke into. The femme quaked from fear and cold, an almost deadly mixture. Her short purple claws quivered, as she touched the brow of her Leader’s Sire. Almost immediately, she withdrew her touch. The old male was burning up, a bead of sweat dripping onto the ground from his forehead. Fara looked at the other Tribe Members. They looked a pitiful bunch, convinced that they were superior to the smaller female Zangoose. Their fur was straggled and soaked, sticking to their lithe bodies. The one named Blood Wake and his companion, Night Claw, watched her. Night Claw’s red eyes burned with a furious hatred for Fara. He spat on the ground near his claws.
“Tcah! Look at that female Blood Wake. She thinks herself to be better than us.” She growled, pawing the mud beneath his purple blades. Blood Wake looked at Night Wake questioningly. He did not hold the contempt for Fara that his partner did. He lowered his blood-hued eyes.
“Nay, Night Claw, leave her be. Storm Dancer left her in charge of her Sire.” He muttered. Night Claw scowled at Blood Wake.
“Thou would support that weakling? And Storm Dancer is feeble in her brain if she thinks that we shalt obey Far Day!” He barked. Blood Wake looked frightened, and surprised.
“Thou shalt not speak of our Tribe Leader in such a manner! She is what protects us from other Zangoose Tribes! She made the Southclaws the most feared!” Blood Wake barked back at Night Wake. Fara looked up from her charge. Claw Runner and several other Zangoose looked at the feuding pair. Everyone, including Fara, ran to them. Blood Wake and Night Claw stood up on their hind legs, facing each other. Fara stood up, but she did not match the height of the two. Claw Runner, the Tribe Leader’s right claw, did not match her pose. He sat back and awaited the arrival of a spar eagerly. Fara held her claws out.
“What is going on here? Blood Wake? Night Claw?” She asked, her voice slightly squeaky with fear. Night Wake shot a glare at the younger female.
“Who asked thee to intervene weakling!” He roared, punctuating the last word with a blow to Fara’s face. The young female fell, her scream silenced. Her crumpled body lay on the ground, the rain beating down on her form. Blood Wake roared, baring his fangs.
“Thou art a coward! Come, try and hit me! Thou will find I’m no defenceless female!” The angered Zangoose screeched, stepping in front of Fara’s fallen form. There was the loud boom of thunder overhead, and a crack of lightning. In the flash of the electric bolt, a figure appeared, and let loose a roar akin to the roar of thunder itself. Storm Dancer had arrived! The enraged Zangoose threw herself at Night Claw, head butting him, and tearing at him. The bloodlust in her eyes suddenly dimmed. Fara! Letting go of the luckless Night Claw, the Tribe Leader went to Fara’s side. Nurse Joy and her Blissey had appeared, in odd-looking water repellent coats. Claw Runner nodded, and led them to Myth Smoke, leaving Storm Dancer with Fara. The big tough femme gently propped up the injured one, worry suffusing with anger upon her coarse face.
“Far Day, Far Day.” She said softly, gently shaking the young one. Fara’s head lolled forward as Storm Dancer did so.
“Fara! Night Claw, thou shalt pay for Fara!” She screamed, her voice cutting through the air like a knife through butter. A short claw reached up to touch the maddened Zangoose Leader. Fara’s cerise eyes opened slightly.
“Storm… don’t… not… for… me…”
She whispered, still dazed from the blow. The words seemed to be an effort. The last thing Fara heard before blacking out was Storm Dancer’s voice whispering to her.
“Be brave Far Day… be brave my daughter.”
Concluding Chapter
Fara’ eyes gently flickered open, peering around. Two pokemon loomed over her. One was the gigantic form of her Tribe Leader. The other was none other than Myth Smoke. Both of them smiled, an unusual and eerie sight.
“Welcome back to the world Granddaughter.” Myth Smoke said gruffly. Fara blinked her eyes in surprise. What had he called her?
Storm Dancer chuckled a little at the young Zangoose.
“Ah, Far Day, I have news for thee. Since I have come back, I have decided to take thee as my daughter. Thou hast shown such courage and wisdom, thou hast made me proud.” She said, touching her purple claws to her forehead. The smaller snow-hued female looked up.
“Look Fara, the sky is once again clear, and I am alive. Why do thee not come up, and I shall present thee to thy Tribe?” Myth Smoke asked, in his gruff tones. The big silver Zangoose helped the younger, smaller Zangoose up, and both pokemon trundled forward. Storm Dancer had darted before them, and had already reached her Tribe. The blood-hued eyes, no longer lit with their former insane light, watched Fara and Myth Smoke lovingly. Standing up, she held her long, blade-like claws to Fara.
“Thy journey has only just begun Far Day.”
This end is merely the beginning.
Anyway, I can't remember why I wrote this piece... I guess I just wanted to do something with Zangoose in it. They always seemed to strike me as pack animals, cunning beasts. But you know, everyone has their own opinion. Have fun reading.
~Zeki-Sama
*
Chapter One
The sun slowly set upon the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything its light touched. Trees swayed gently in the wind, which brought with it the scent of night. The odour of everything dark, and moist. But all this beauty was lost to the ruby-red eyes of a Zangoose. The creature crouched upon a stump, at the edge of Bane woods. It was a large, robust specimen, sinuous muscles rippling under the snow white fur. The long, blade-like claws, lavender in hue, dug into the soft wood of the rotting stump. The savage ruby eyes watched the horizon blankly, the creature was thinking. With creatures like this, you would expect them to be male… but this was a Female. Her name was Storm Dancer, leader of the Southclaw Zangoose Tribe. There was a rustle in the long grass, and another Zangoose, a much smaller one, approached his Tribe Leader. He was Claw Runner, second in command. Storm Dancer’s ears twitched at his approach. Seeming casual, her eyes slid to Claw Runner. The Male bowed respectfully. Knowing what he had to tell, Claw Runner gulped.
“Tribe Leader Storm Dancer, I bear news for thee. Thy Mother, Blade Flower… she is dead.” The Male Pokemon said, in his deep hoarse tones. The Zangoose was afraid of his Tribe Leader’s reaction. She was not named Storm Dancer for nothing. A sharp snap rang out. The big female’s claws had sliced part of the stump clean off. The ruby eyes blazed as the mighty Zangoose leader Storm Dancer turned to face him.
”My Mother is dead? How? What news of my Sire? Speak!” She barked at the luckless Claw Runner. The male lowered his head.
“Great one, it was the sickness, it took her too. She was too weak to fight it. Thy Sire still fights it, but grows weaker each passing Moon.” He said, fear cracking his voice. The big female shuddered.
“Leave me now.” She growled. Claw Runner was only to happy to oblige. Turning swiftly, he darted into the woods, twigs snapping against his fur, and leaving his Leader to mourn. A howl pierced the air, more painful than a blade upon raw nerves. Claw Runner kept running, padded feet pounding the damp earth like pistons, sending twigs and specks of dirt flying. Skidding, he stopped in a clearing. Several Zangoose crowded around, to see what news he brought. But most of Storm Dancer’s Tribe did not need his news to know that their Leader was not taking the death of her mother well. Claw Runner hung his head, and approached the eldest Zangoose in the clearing, Blue Fen. The old female was grizzled and silver, with cracked, faded claws. A big old male Zangoose lay by her, his sinuous muscles lying to waste under matted grey fur. Beads of sweat dripped off the male’s forehead. Blue Fen shook her grizzled muzzle sadly.
“Storm Dancer’s sire… Myth Smoke … he hath not but a Moon until the gates of the Under-Realm open for him.” She said, knowing Claw Runner’s question before he asked. Blue Fen was the Elder, and the Seer. The rest of the Zangoose gathered around the Seer.
“Listen Tribe of Storm Dancer, for thy lives art in danger. The sickness, its wrath is greater than Storm Dancer herself. To save thy lives, we must ask thine Tribe Leader to seek aid.” She croaked feebly. Claw Runner looked at the Seer quizzically.
“Seek aid? Art thou feeble in thine mind Seer? The Mighty Storm Dancer will ask for naught, even aid.” He barked roughly, foreseeing the Tribe Leader’s reaction to such a request. Blue Fen waved her cracked claws in dismissal.
“She will have to. If she doth not, we will all die. The worst news is yet to come! Our aid will have to come from humans!” She wailed brokenly. A deathly hush fell over the Tribe. Through the silence, there was the resounding snap and crack of twigs being crushed by heavy paws. The Tribe Leader approached her eyes redder than blood itself. The snow white fur was matted, twigs and earth ground into it in places. The long deadly claws were stained with the sap of the trees that the big Female had ravaged in her grief. Eyes ablaze, she stalked to Blue Fen the Seer on her four paws.
“My Sire… how long doth he have?” Storm Dancer asked, her voice broken, cracked, and tortured by her howling despair. The Seer shook, a shiver which ran throughout the Southclaw Tribe.
“Storm Dancer, Mighty One, Protector of the Southclaws! Thy Sire grows weak, more so by each passing moment. He hast but one Moon to walk this realm, until the Lord of the Under-Realm claims his soul.” Blue Fen said softly, hoping she would not incur the anger of the Tribe Leader. Storm Dancer hung her head. When she looked at Blue Fen again, her eyes were not lit by hot anger, or hate, they were filled with the gloom of despair. Her maw quivered. The big Zangoose did not want her Sire Myth Smoke to die… he had raised his daughter to be a fighter like him, and Storm Dancer did not want him to die like this.
“What must we do to prevent his departure to the Under-Realm?” She asked, sighing. A collective gasp rose from the Zangoose. None had seen their Tribe Leader like this. She was always strong, brave, never one to succumb, never one to let emotion rule her mind! Storm Dancer was going to ask for aid, they all saw it in her eyes. The ruby eyes held stored despair, and the willingness to do anything for her dying Sire. Claw Runner nodded to his Leader.
“Thou know what thou must do. Thou must ask for the aid of the Human Kind.” He said, bowing. Hot anger flared within the Tribe Leader, which was skilfully concealed from the rest of the Tribe. She, Storm Dancer, ask for help? The idea, it was silly, nay, ludicrous! Sighing, and repressing her anger, the big female looked around her Tribe. Each face was etched with worry. Worry for their leader, and her sire, worry for their tribe, and worry of the Sickness. Storm Dancer hauled herself upright, standing upon her hind legs in the traditional battle pose.
“Then, aid is what we will seek.”
Chapter Two
The moon hung high in the night sky, an illuminating orb, casting its pale ethereal light wherever it could touch. Stars twinkled smugly, heavenly bodies seeming to know something you didn’t. The wind this night was moist, and carried with it the scent of the Earth, rippling the tops of trees, and flattening grass. This night, the only things that moved were a tribe of Zangoose, lead by their fearless, and frightening leader, Storm Dancer. The big female stood at the edge of her territory, her ruby eyes like coals in the dark of the still summer night. Her artic-hued fur rippled in the wind, creating an eerie effect on the Tribe Leader. Behind the big femme there was around ten other Zangoose, including her stricken Sire. Motioning with a long, sharp claw, the female moved forward, leaving her own territory behind. The Tribe of Southclaws moved swiftly, and silently, to keep up with their Leader. Swiftness was of the essence, as was silence. The lives of the Tribe depended on both. The grass that they moved into was tall, it concealed them well. Blue Fen, the Seer, was at the pack of the pack, her breathing hard, her chest working like a bellows. The old one was not used to moving like this. She was old, and soft. Claw Runner slowed, so that he was soon level with the Seer Zangoose. His red eyes watched Blue Fen distastefully.
“Thou art slow Seer. Thy good living has made thee soft; thou do not have what it takes to make the journey.” The male said, his voice dripping sarcasm.
“Thou art slowing us down.” Blue Fen looked at Claw Runner, surprised. She knew this was to come, but so soon? Looking down, she smiled furtively.
“Aye, this I know. Soon, I will be taken by the Sickness, aye, and die. Tell Storm Dancer that I have gone, soon to the Under-Realm.” She said, stopping. The younger male kept moving, not looking back for Blue Fen. Speeding up, he made his was to his Tribe Leader, who headed the group of Zangoose. The big female was still grieving for the loss of Blade Flower, it was obvious. Every step she took, her claws sunk into the earth partially, driven down by the force of the step. The smaller male bowed his head to his Leader, who merely nodded, an acknowledgement to continue.
“Tribe Leader Storm Dancer, thy Seer is gone. Blue Fen wishes me to tell thee that she will soon be taken by the Sickness, and die. The Seer did not want to slow us down.” He said, keeping his head bowed respectfully. Storm Dancer’s eyes blazed with the loss of another Zangoose, this time her Seer. The hulking female did not halt in her furious pace though.
“We keep moving. At this pace, we should reach the Human place sometime tomorrow.” The Tribe Leader said, her voice no more than a guttural growl. Then, two things happened at once. The clashing boom of thunder, and the cry of a Zangoose rang out. Storm Dancer looked up first. Dark, oily clouds billowed across the sky, obscuring the moon. The wind was now stronger; it keened past the Zangoose’s sharp ears. The scent it carried now was not the comforting smell of leaves and damp earth, it was menacing, of water and electricity. A storm was approaching. It had followed in the wake of the one named Storm Dancer. Lowering her blood coloured eyes, Storm Dancer noticed that her Tribe had stopped, and were gathering around another. Striding purposely forward, she butted some Zangoose out of her way. A young male Zangoose, a hulking specimen named Blood Wake, had fallen. Next to him, Myth Smoke, the Tribe Leader’s Sire. Storm Dancer growled at the younger one. Blood Wake got up painfully, bowing his head to Storm Dancer.
“Mighty One, I could not carry thy Sire for much longer. He has become more ill.” He said, averting his eyes from hers. Storm Dancer trembled, her rage and despair bubbling to the surface. But Blood Wake was lucky; his Tribe Leader was able to control the fire running in her veins. Looking from the hefty male to her Sire, Storm Dancer’s face contorted with fear. The sick male lay on the ground, his breathing shallow and laboured. Globules of sweat poured from his body, and he appeared to be running a fever. The big femme Leader carefully touched the brow of her Sire. Motioning with a single lavender claw, she beckoned forth a competent looking young female. She was extremely undersize for a wild Zangoose, and her eyes held not the savagery and cunning of one born of the Tribe. She touched her head to her claws in a way of extreme respect for the Tribe Leader.
“Far Day, come see to my Sire. I want thy opinion.” She growled, turning. Fara, the young female, went to Myth Smoke, gently prodding him, and other things. Storm Dancer reflected upon Fara. The Tribe had come across her deep in Bane Woods, left for dead by a trainer. The Tribe had wanted to kill her, and let her bones gradually become one with the earth again. But Storm Dancer had spared the young thing, something her Tribe had never understood. And something that Storm Dancer had never told her Tribe why. Storm Dancer scowled slightly. She had wanted to change Fara’s name, but she was used to it. So the bulky femme had to extend on the name she was given.
“Far Day? Thy thoughts?” She asked, her back still facing the young female. Fara crinkled her nose at her acquired name, but said nothing of it.
“Yes Storm Dancer, he is getting worse. Leave us here; you can cover the distance tonight. You must bring them here.” She said, facing her Tribe Leader. The Leader shook visibly. He must not die!
“Thy thought is a good one Fara. Stay here with my Sire. All of thee make sure he lives until morning. I bid thee goodnight.” Storm Dancer said, moving forward. Fara ran a short distance to be with her Saviour.
“Good luck Storm… come back to us.” She said, smiling at the hulking female. Silently, she dropped back, looking to the sky. Fara shivered. It was going to rain in a minute. Barking, she gave an order to move Myth Smoke under cover.
Storm Dancer stopped for a moment, and raised herself onto her hind legs. Turning her muzzle to the sky, she let rip a howl that chilled the Tribe to their core. A single drop of rain fell on the upright femme, a sign of what to come.
Chapter Three
The rain pelted down, soaking the moist earth, running off in rivulets. Thunder crashed ominously in the dark billowing clouds, with the accompaniment of the electric crackle of lightning. Trees swayed almost unnaturally in the driving wind, leaves and small twigs being blown away by the gust. One creature braved the storm’s wrath. The Zangoose’s white fur shone out in the gloom, as she ran forward, her breath coming in ragged sobs as her paws pounded the wet earth. Purple claws raked the dirt as Storm Dancer fought the storm, continually running towards her destination. Her red and white fur was plastered to her sinewy body, but her eyes glowed with an odd light. Each step was forced, each pace painful, but Storm Dancer was braving the storm! The femme’s sharp blood-hued eyes spotted the building ahead. She had done it! The building was a Pokemon Centre; luck was on the Tribe Leader’s side. But time was not. Coming within a few paces of the centre, she raised her face to the skies in turmoil. Her howl was triumphant.
“I faced thy wrath, aye, and I lived! Thou cannot slay me!” She screamed at the skies. A crack of thunder rang out as if in reply to the Zangoose’s cry. Storm Dancer smirked, and turned to the glass sliding doors of the building. Her maddened red eyes looked at the figures inside. A tall female, dressed in odd white clothing, with pink hair. Another female, younger and blonde sat in a seat, next to a handsome male. The pokemon Blissey appeared to be talking to them. Storm Dancer snorted. She would contend with the pokemon, not these humans. Carefully, she placed her blade sharp claws upon the glass. A slight click at the lavender-hued things touched, but no movement. Storm Dancer’s hackles rose instantly. Nothing would keep her from saving her Sire now, nothing! Not this silly glass door, nothing! Clenching her paw, the mighty female pokemon swung at the door. The glass shattered beneath the blow, spraying inwards. All four figures in the centre looked up disbelieving. They would not have believed their eyes. A big wild Zangoose, standing amidst the shattered remains of the plate glass door. Storm Dancer’s eyes shone with the ethereal light of madness. The eldest one, she put her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to speak.
<How dare you, you…!> She said, being silenced halfway through by a look from the crazed Storm Dancer. The young blonde haired femme clung the male next to her, her sapphire orbs wide with fright. The young man next her wasn’t frightened, merely surprised. He seemed to be enjoying the reaction that Storm Dancer had produced in the girl. The large pink pokemon, the Blissey, approached the irate Zangoose Leader.
“What do you mean by breaking the door? What do you want?” She asked, the tones high-pitched and irritated. The Zangoose looked grim, as she thought of her mission.
“I have come for help. My Sire lies dying, I need thou to come to him.” She said, after a small while. The Blissey’s eyes opened wide. She most obviously did not expect this from the Zangoose. She looked from Storm Dancer, to the one she served, the eldest pink-haired one.
“Well, Nurse Joy is the healer. I merely help. You may call me Bliss.” She said, nodding decisively. The Tribe Leader nodded.
“I am known as Storm Dancer, Tribe Leader of the Southclaw Tribe.” She uttered, her voice broken. Bliss nodded; turning to the one she called Nurse Joy. Taking the woman, she led her to a machine. The wild Zangoose was left alone with the other two. The young female pressed closer to the male. Then, a small disgruntled head appeared from between them, glaring at them through cerulean eyes. A small Zangoose squeezed out from between the two. The creature was small, most obviously very young. The Zangoose peered at Storm Dancer with the odd blue eyes. She was a Shining Zangoose, the most rare and revered of all Zangoose. It made the fire within the Tribe Leader’s blood grow hot to see such a Zangoose with a trainer. The young Shining Zangoose approached the big savage female, curiosity stamped on her delicate features. Storm Dancer turned her head to her, the insane eyes softening.
“Greetings, Shining One.” She said, inclining her head slightly to the young one. The small female giggled.
“Hehe, you speak funny. What’s your name? I’m Stormwake.” The small one said. She wasn’t long out of babyhood this one. Storm Dancer nodded, and turned the rest of her body to Stormwake.
“That is a good name. I am Storm Dancer. Pray tell young Stormwake, who gave thee thy name?” She asked, keeping her voice sweet for the baby. Stormwake giggled again.
“Silly, my Mamma of course.” Baby Stormwake answered, dancing on the spot. Storm Dancer smiled at the active young Zangoose.
“And who is thy Mother?” She inquired, still smiling, despite her predicament. Stormwake pointed one of her crimson claws at the blonde female. Storm Dancer frowned, and then turned to Bliss who was returning with Nurse Joy. The tall femme had a satchel by her side, hanging loosely. The pink and white pokemon nodded at the Savage Zangoose.
“We go now.”
Chapter Four
Rain poured from the heavens, thundering down on the grassy plain. The wind howled and keened, singing its own eerie melody at Storm Dancer’s defiance. Thunder boomed and roared, while lightning hissed and crackled in the turbulent skies. The tribe of nine Zangoose shivered in their meagre shelter, the hollow and lee side of a large oak tree. Without Storm Dancer, their leader, or even Blue Fen their Elder and Seer, the Tribe had done basically nothing. They would not listen to the direction of Fara. The scrawny young Zangoose had found the hollow, which she immediately moved Myth Smoke into. The femme quaked from fear and cold, an almost deadly mixture. Her short purple claws quivered, as she touched the brow of her Leader’s Sire. Almost immediately, she withdrew her touch. The old male was burning up, a bead of sweat dripping onto the ground from his forehead. Fara looked at the other Tribe Members. They looked a pitiful bunch, convinced that they were superior to the smaller female Zangoose. Their fur was straggled and soaked, sticking to their lithe bodies. The one named Blood Wake and his companion, Night Claw, watched her. Night Claw’s red eyes burned with a furious hatred for Fara. He spat on the ground near his claws.
“Tcah! Look at that female Blood Wake. She thinks herself to be better than us.” She growled, pawing the mud beneath his purple blades. Blood Wake looked at Night Wake questioningly. He did not hold the contempt for Fara that his partner did. He lowered his blood-hued eyes.
“Nay, Night Claw, leave her be. Storm Dancer left her in charge of her Sire.” He muttered. Night Claw scowled at Blood Wake.
“Thou would support that weakling? And Storm Dancer is feeble in her brain if she thinks that we shalt obey Far Day!” He barked. Blood Wake looked frightened, and surprised.
“Thou shalt not speak of our Tribe Leader in such a manner! She is what protects us from other Zangoose Tribes! She made the Southclaws the most feared!” Blood Wake barked back at Night Wake. Fara looked up from her charge. Claw Runner and several other Zangoose looked at the feuding pair. Everyone, including Fara, ran to them. Blood Wake and Night Claw stood up on their hind legs, facing each other. Fara stood up, but she did not match the height of the two. Claw Runner, the Tribe Leader’s right claw, did not match her pose. He sat back and awaited the arrival of a spar eagerly. Fara held her claws out.
“What is going on here? Blood Wake? Night Claw?” She asked, her voice slightly squeaky with fear. Night Wake shot a glare at the younger female.
“Who asked thee to intervene weakling!” He roared, punctuating the last word with a blow to Fara’s face. The young female fell, her scream silenced. Her crumpled body lay on the ground, the rain beating down on her form. Blood Wake roared, baring his fangs.
“Thou art a coward! Come, try and hit me! Thou will find I’m no defenceless female!” The angered Zangoose screeched, stepping in front of Fara’s fallen form. There was the loud boom of thunder overhead, and a crack of lightning. In the flash of the electric bolt, a figure appeared, and let loose a roar akin to the roar of thunder itself. Storm Dancer had arrived! The enraged Zangoose threw herself at Night Claw, head butting him, and tearing at him. The bloodlust in her eyes suddenly dimmed. Fara! Letting go of the luckless Night Claw, the Tribe Leader went to Fara’s side. Nurse Joy and her Blissey had appeared, in odd-looking water repellent coats. Claw Runner nodded, and led them to Myth Smoke, leaving Storm Dancer with Fara. The big tough femme gently propped up the injured one, worry suffusing with anger upon her coarse face.
“Far Day, Far Day.” She said softly, gently shaking the young one. Fara’s head lolled forward as Storm Dancer did so.
“Fara! Night Claw, thou shalt pay for Fara!” She screamed, her voice cutting through the air like a knife through butter. A short claw reached up to touch the maddened Zangoose Leader. Fara’s cerise eyes opened slightly.
“Storm… don’t… not… for… me…”
She whispered, still dazed from the blow. The words seemed to be an effort. The last thing Fara heard before blacking out was Storm Dancer’s voice whispering to her.
“Be brave Far Day… be brave my daughter.”
Concluding Chapter
Fara’ eyes gently flickered open, peering around. Two pokemon loomed over her. One was the gigantic form of her Tribe Leader. The other was none other than Myth Smoke. Both of them smiled, an unusual and eerie sight.
“Welcome back to the world Granddaughter.” Myth Smoke said gruffly. Fara blinked her eyes in surprise. What had he called her?
Storm Dancer chuckled a little at the young Zangoose.
“Ah, Far Day, I have news for thee. Since I have come back, I have decided to take thee as my daughter. Thou hast shown such courage and wisdom, thou hast made me proud.” She said, touching her purple claws to her forehead. The smaller snow-hued female looked up.
“Look Fara, the sky is once again clear, and I am alive. Why do thee not come up, and I shall present thee to thy Tribe?” Myth Smoke asked, in his gruff tones. The big silver Zangoose helped the younger, smaller Zangoose up, and both pokemon trundled forward. Storm Dancer had darted before them, and had already reached her Tribe. The blood-hued eyes, no longer lit with their former insane light, watched Fara and Myth Smoke lovingly. Standing up, she held her long, blade-like claws to Fara.
“Thy journey has only just begun Far Day.”
This end is merely the beginning.
