Obvious exits:
North <N> leads to Old Macdonald's Farm.
South <S> leads to Overgrown Lands - Route 11: Off the Route.
West <W> leads to Field and Streams - Route 11: Orchards.
East <E> leads to Footbridge - Route 12: Junction.

Navarone arrives from Field and Streams - Route 11: Orchards.
Navarone has arrived.

The sky is grey and cloudy, and nothing casts a shadow. It's hot, humid, and still. In the forest, the deep green leaves of the trees are unstirred. While at the coast, the sea broods in the heat today under the dark and foreboding clouds.

Funny how the weather can often reflect what's in the heart. Through some coincidence, or perhaps some inexplicable, unforseen force of nature, the good weather this month has been seeing has plummeted into a hot, sticky fog of grey gloom, and has been such for the past couple days. Predators curse this windless weather with all their hearts; the hunted praise it. For one young predator, however, the depressing atmosphere is far from the source of his glum disposition, though it certainly is a bit of icing on the cake. Walking dangerously close to the human's road is Peppy the Growlithe, head high, pace rigid and slow. He carries no stealth about him, no remote attempt to hunt, and yet he still looking all 'round, searching for something with his eyes instead of with his ears or nose. The tight frown on his face suggests that he's not been very lucky finding what he's looking for, but the disappointed glint in his eyes shows that's not all that's wrong with him.

Perhaps this may be likened to the restless storm that brews in Navarone's heart; this overcast day with its dark clouds and grey skies. It's a wonder why it hasn't begun to pour like mad, but perhaps a fire-type shouldn't be wondering about that kind of thing. Instead of wondering, Navarone is wandering; his steps without purpose, his destination without reason. And yet, he finds himself coming back here, back to where it all began-- the fire, the well-meaning hunting lesson gone awry. Maybe it must be simply due to Navarone's attitude, entertaining the fact that maybe, just maybe, Peppy will be able to forgive him. But for what he has done? And what he knows will happen next? He shakes his head, the headfur swinging in the non-existent breeze. He moves up and away from the barn, rising to all fours and trudging along the human path, unwittingly unaware of Peppy's direct vicinity behind him, far enough to be ignored by selective vision, near enough so that a hunting eye could pick him up with ease. Crossing the road isn't the only occasion where you must look left, right, and left again, so it seems.

The sky is grey and cloudy, and nothing casts a shadow. It's hot, humid, and still.

A hunting eye Peppy does not have, but it's enough. Peppy blinks up at the sky as he walks, scanning the clouds, looking for an end to the darkness. There's none in sight. This weekend is going to be a rainy one. Peppy sighs to himself as he brings his head back down, the frown on his face dropping even further. It's a mere second or two later that those green eyes of his spot the first actual living creature he's seen outside of the barn all day. Ironically, it's the last one he -wants- to see. The Growlithe comes to an abrupt halt as his mind registers the name and face of the pokemon coming his way, and a sucking feeling pulls on the inside of his chest. His wide eyes dart left, dart right, even dart down, as his mind argues with his body whether to stay or go. It's all in vain; there's no good hiding spot for some distance, and it's likely that by the time he could creep into one anyway, the Vulpix will have spotted him. Chances are, the Growlithe thinks to himself, deliberately looking to one side to avoid peering at the Vulpix, he already has. And so, Peppy does the only thing that comes to mind. He turns away from the human's road, plops down on his rear, and stares straight ahead, as if pretending he never saw Navarone. As if sitting down and peering ahead blankly is something he does every day.

Granted, the Growlithe might be out of sight, and Navarone might not be on the lookout for vengeful parents, not at the moment, even though he's in the proximity of the Assisi barn and Peppy's usual hunting grounds. Talk about flirting with death. Oddly enough, he doesn't see Peppy-- whoosh! A sudden gust of wind suddenly descends from the clouds, and it stirs the fur on his back, working into the still unhealed wound that Briska made not so long ago. And along with that, scent. Sniff. Easily enough, Navarone catches the Growlithe father's scent behind him, and he warily turns around, his steps slow, calculated. A single eye glares ahead at the puppy pokemon, stark and unrelenting. It takes one, two minutes, perhaps even mere seconds, but the silence is unnerving, the wait like an eternity. At last, Navarone speaks up. <Well, Peppy? Aren't you gonna try and maim me or something? Make up for what I did to poor little Briska?>, he shouts over the calm plains. The fur on his neck bristles, and he shivers slightly at the tingling sensation it brings to his wound.

Stay quiet. Ignore him. Maybe he'll go away. Just ignore him. Hey, is that a fly? It... eh, it went away. What wa... right, ignore him. Ignore him. Peppy has to mentally force himself to not move until he's one hundred percent positive that the Vulpix is far, far out of range of smell, sound, or sight, but unfortunately, his innate impatience mixed with an impounding sense of curiosity cause him to involuntarily rotate his neck ever so slowly in the Vulpix's direction, until he can just barely see out of the corner of his eye... and then, right as Peppy spots Navarone, the Vulpix starts yelling at it. Peppy, with a sudden growl, leaps to all fours. Sticking his muzzle high into the sky, he howls right on back, just as louder if not louder, <Can't you see I'm busy right now? Go mi...> And then, with a sudden drop in pitch, <Mi... mind...> Whatever happened to "Ignore him"? Silently cursing to himself about his inability to not acknowledge Navarone's existence on this earth, Peppy looks over at the other pokemon and immediately turns away without so much as a frown, grin, or anything. How peculiar this pup is today.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

The Vulpix doesn't even hesitate. He yells back in response, <What? Don't feel like killing me right about now, is that it?> He hops even closer to the Growlithe, his throat sore after all that shouting. <Least you could do for your son is to tear me a new one, don'tcha think? That's what I deserve, don't I?> For some inexplicable reason, the Vulpix has a one track mind that obviously assumes that Peppy has become something of a vengeful beast-- an image that would suit the likes of Navarone far more, surely. His steps slow as he nears the pup, close enough to count the stripes on his back. He doesn't turn to stare at the expression on the pup's face, if there even is one; all he waits for is the puppy pokemon in front of him to spring on him and go haywire, berserk. Tails swish irritably in the dank, humid air, impatience brewing in him. <Well!?>

Navarone will be pleased (or perhaps, in some strange kind of way, disappointed) to know what Peppy does not froth at the mouth and leap upon the Vulpix and show him what tearing him a new one really feels like. Instead, he only sits there on his rump, turning his head away from Navarone, giving the Vulpix only a periodic flicker of the eyes as he approaches. At the fox's last comment, Peppy inhales through his mouth, turning his head ever so slightly... then simply sighing and dropping back into his stance without a word. Peppy doesn't look like he wants to speak to Navarone right now - that, or he's waiting for the other fire type to say the right thing. The Growlithe's tail swishes back and forth at a slower rate than the Vulpix's, but it does, at least, wag - though whether that's because he's glad, excited with anger, or nervous is unclear. We can, at least, knock of one of these conclusions.

The kitsune gazes expectantly at the Growlithe, as if words were all he needed to get the pup's anger and desire for revenge jump-started and revving. Instead, it seems to make him even more submissive, the subtle sighs and the turning of the head tell him everything. Probably coming to the conclusion that, perhaps, Peppy may not be entirely ticked off at him about hurting his son-- no. He's the kid's father, surely he must want something out of the Vulpix. An apology, a reason for why he, without the least hesitation, bit into his son's side, wounding him severely, perhaps even an explanation of why he left the barn in such a hurry. By the minute, the Vulpix grows more weary, as if standing there took all of his energy. It sure feels like it. His voice comes again, slightly softer this time. <At least say something...>

Peppy sighs again, though this time without his usual deep inhale first. His head droops down a little further as Navarone makes his request, and he doesn't look like he's going to reply to this any sooner than he would to Navarone's other comments. That's why it might come as a surprise to Navarone when, without warning, Peppy whiplashes his head up, and peers over at him, his deep green eyes dark and cold. <Navarone,> he woofs to him, struggling to keep his voice strong. <My son is hurt as we speak.> He makes a slight head gesture in the general direction of the farm, though he keeps his eyes locked on the Vulpix. <And I think I'd rather concentrate on making sure he makes it through this okay before I feel like killing you.> Up to all four paws he goes, and without looking at Navarone, he slowly marches over to the human's road, looking far to the east and west as he does. If the Vulpix speaks, he'll listen, but not look at him unless he says something too personal for him to ignore.

Mistake, mistake. As soon as Navarone's voice loses it's edge, does the puppy pokemon in front of him spring on it. Up goes his guard again, his stance defensive. Navarone's opal eye meets the Growlithe's pair of emeralds, staring at the pup even more sinisterly, if not just as intense as Peppy's own. He sits on his haunches, silently listening to the pup's words as he speaks them. As he moves away, the Vulpix continues sitting in the same position, watching as the pup leaves. <You might not get another chance, you know. Perhaps this may be the last time we meet, at least until I come back to meet you willingly. Because, while you may not know it, you're tied down here, with your family. You have to look out for them, watch them, protect them from pokemon like me. Whilst I can go roaming to the farthest reaches of this island.> His voice goes off on a spiteful tangent. <Or would you rather have me try to take his life again?>

Peppy resists a few tugging urges that tell him to spin around and face Navarone, and one particularly aggressive one that wants him to take Navarone up on his word. Peppy should be wondering why Navarone is so intent on goading him into avenging poor Briska, but thinking has never been one of Peppy's strongest traits. The Vulpix's last sentence, now, -that- gets Peppy to spin right around, and the narrow-eyed glare the Growlithe sends the Vulpix could paralyze a Rhyhorn dead in its tracks. Tensing himself up to keep under control, Peppy speaks in a very cautious, overly collective tone, <If you're not here to help me find a human for my son, then move along.> Though he's not in a rabid frenzy yet, the strain Navarone's taking on Peppy is pretty evident; if pushing buttons is what the other fire type is trying to do, he's doing a lovely job of it. Behind him, Peppy's tail stiffs, the bushy bunch of fluff no longer wagging with its usual agitated cheer.

Indeed, the Vulpix is taken aback by the Growlithe sudden murderous glare. Navarone pulls back a little, eyebrows furrowing as the pup addresses him. Then he laughs. <Find a human? Then for god's sake Pepp-- go to a city! More of them than you could ever want, and probably more Pokeballs than you can count flying towards you!> Navarone laughs out loud, his barks somewhat manic in quality. <But seriously, why are y-- Ahh. You seek their assistance. Well. You shouldn't be too eager, they can be a tricky bunch. You never know what they might ask of you in return. Your freedom, perhaps? For you to join them in their battles, fistfights and tournaments?> And while he doesn't exactly brim forth with menace, Navarone's words do contain some malice, along with a hint of truth. <But you want the best for your son, do you not?>

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

The sky is grey and cloudy, and nothing casts a shadow. It's hot, humid, and still.

Thankfully, Navarone's comment doesn't instill any more sharp daggers of hate in Peppy's chest. The last thing dad needs right now is to come home bruised and bloody and -without- a potion. Turning back to the human's path, Peppy once again tries to peer into the distance for a wandering trainer, but to no avail. <I remember humans well enough,> Peppy woofs, just the slightest hint of his normal cheer in his voice. He doesn't look at Navarone, instead content on squeezing his eyes and peering as faaaaar as his sight will go into the greyness, as though it will somehow make a human appear. <I know what to expect. They don't always need something in return. However...> And he shoots Navarone a look, not of anger or of a challenge, just a plain ol' look. <You're right. Anything to heal him from what yo...> He pauses for a second, gives Navarone a kind of half-snarl, and turns back to the path. <From what happened.>

It's possibly for the best too, that Peppy calms somewhat. Navarone can feel himself cooling off as well, as opposed to the burning and flagrant rage that flared in him just a moment earlier. Unlike the pup though, he doesn't exactly share the same intentions as the pup, to find a human, that is. And it puzzles him somewhat that he must look, of all places, in the middle of a route, rather than waiting near the side of a city entrance and asking the first one that comes along. Perhaps Peppy just wants to find that someone, that good Samaritan that might just bend in to the pup's sob story about his son getting wounded by his betraying best friend. Indeed, Peppy's slip of the tongue causes him to snarl as well, fangs showing, glinting despite the gloomy surroundings. <Best of luck, then. Whoever this human you wish to find is, I hope that you'll both meet, and that your son gets well soon.> His words sound hesitant, almost forced. Mechanical. <Though I suppose you have no need for goodwill from a traitor.> He turns around, stomping off once more in a idle, stifled rage.

Forced sympathy is better than no sympathy at all. When Navarone wishes him well, the Growlithe's reply smile comes just as forced, just as apprehensive. He doesn't verbally reply right away, though whether because he doesn't know what to say or because he doesn't think it's appropriate is uncertain. After Navarone spins around and marches off a couple feet, no doubt intending to not stop until he's far, far away from the Growlithe, Peppy lifts his head, inhales, pauses... and, surprisingly, goes through with talking this time. <... Navarone,> he woofs, his voice almost... shy. Nervous, definitely. Even if the Vulpix continues walking, Peppy will continue to speak, raising his voice if necessary, <It... you know, it... wasn't... all your fault. The, uh, the... the pounce... thing, you know, it, uh... kinda... uh...> That's about all he'll be able to get out; if Navarone replies he'll shut up, if Navarone walks away he'll shut up, if Navarone does anything else at all he'll shut up. What he's about to admit is uncertain, but one thing is clear... It's taking a lot out of him to do it. Hey, he has his pride.

The soft light dims at dusk.

Off goes Navarone, stalking into the distance with a sulk on his face. What did he expect out of the Growlithe? That he will simply forgive, just like that? As if all he had done was just nip poor Briska, just pinch him? The Vulpix shakes his head, cursing at himself for his foolishness. Then Peppy calls out his name. He stops entirely, his head not rotation towards the sight of the pup, instead just freezing in place, leaning back onto his haunches once more. And as he listens, he seethes, and just as Peppy starts to stammer, he will whirl around, glare at Peppy, narrowing his one eye at him. His pose says everything; that familiar attack stance, that bowing forward of the upper half of his body. <You're right. It's not all my fault. Same as it was with the fire that nearly killed your pups, your mate.> He takes a good spring forward, landing deftly so that the distance between Navarone's face and Peppy's are mere inches apart. <It wasn't all Streetwind's fault, you know. It was mine as well. I started fighting with her, challenging her. And as it turns out, when she tried to kill me, she turned out trying to kill everyone else there. But that's awfully familiar, isn't it, Peppy? Here you are trying to say it's not all my fault. But I suppose you can swallow this a whole lot more easily now, since I nearly killed your son, didn't I? That maybe from the start, I've been a threat to your entire family, their fragile lives. Hard to believe, isn't it? But it's true. So true. And you know it.> He pivots on his back legs, walking away. <So the next time you think of Streetwind, think of me as well. Know that the next time you meet me, I will be no better than her... even worse, probably. And for your own good, and for your family's sake as well, kill off our friendship. Paint the image of me in darkness, let your children know that their lives are at risk as well. You can't trust traitors after all.> And with that, he stalks off, not a breath or sigh or angry grunt said.

Peppy is, admittedly, caught quite off guard. With absolutely no warning, the length of ground between the two fire types has shrunk to half a foot, and Peppy starts back, jumping up a bit with a gasp. The sudden frantic attacking that Peppy expects doesn't come, and Navarone only continues to speak more, saying things that the poor dumb father couldn't have predicted in a hundred years. Is that, possibly, because part of what Navarone is saying is untrue? Peppy won't butt in at all, only continue to peer wide and blank-eyed at the Vulpix as his thoughts spill out from his mouth like rain from the sky, frozen in that surprised, almost frightened stance. And it's not until Navarone has whirled around and started walking away that Peppy can finally recover himself. And he speaks to Navarone's tails, his voice far more timid and soft than it was earlier. It's probably barely loud enough for the firefox to hear. <All right... Navarone, but next time you think of me, remember that I forgave Streetwind for a far worse act.> And, with a resigned sigh, Peppy looks down the path in the direction that leads to the city, then to the one that leads to his den, sighs once more, and slowly starts off towards Vermilion.

Saving the data is only the beginning... (Saving!)

A featureless blanket of grey cloud covers the evening sky.

His pace is steady, his footfalls soft against the beaten path. Navarone walks off once more, leading into the forest path, but not before he catches the last of Peppy's speech. He doesn't stop, but his ears do swivel a bit to catch the faint sound of his words. Shortly after he enters the boundaries of the forest, he stops, and turns his head, to stare between the cracks of the trees at the world beyond. A wind blows through the darkening plains, now a drab monotone grey, with the skies no less bright or colourful. He finds himself thinking back to what Peppy has said. Forgiveness. The kitsune shakes his head sadly. To think that after all this time, he still thinks that he might be able to reconcile, that they might be friends again. The goodness in his heart prays hopefully, but the darkness shuns it into silence. Already the darkness around him grows, dims by the moment as day inevitably draws itself into night. <Forgiveness...> he utters, before scoffing. <Once you see what I'm capable of... forgiveness will not be an option.> Again the hope in his heart rises, hoping that no one will ever become a victim of this unknown force that simmers in him. But eventually, it will. Navarone knows it. And whatever it is, he has to find the cause of it, and soon.