Contents:
Peppy
Streetwind

It is 7:23 AM on Friday October 10. The sun has just risen. The moon's phase is waxing gibbous, but it has set. At the coast, the tide is low and rising.

The world is dark and foggy. Everything is half-hidden, nothing clearly seen. It's chilly and the air feels damp. No wind blows. In the forest, the dark shapes of nearby trees loom at you suddenly out of the deep grey fog as you approach them. While at the coast, the dark sea is sluggish and grey as fog lays on its surface like a thick wet blanket.

The newly risen sun does little to illuminate the land. It's stuffy, misty, and worst of all, cold this bright and early morning, and the majority of the creatures across the island are still nestled into their dens with loved ones, trying to sleep this dreadful morning away. And rightfully so; it's difficult to see, difficult to breathe, difficult to feel anything but that sticky, wet feeling of fur clinging to skin. This land is not without its occasional glimpses of conscious life, however; Peppy the Growlithe, ever on the lookout for an easier meal, is up nice and early, the bird catching the worm (rodent, whatever). He doesn't hold that brisk, optimistic cheer he normally holds; no, if anything, he looks even sleepier than usual as he struggles his way up to the slippery, muddy hill. Looks like somebody couldn't sleep. He has wandered farther from the barn than usual on this grey morning. Knowing Peppy, he's probably lost.

A faint sheen touches the clouds in the sapphire night sky to the east.

Navarone has been jumping hurdles all day. First of all, he had to haul Streetwind out of the safety of the den formerly known as the Orange Base. That in itself, was a bit of a task, since Streetwind always knew that he would come back to check on her, as she huddled inside. After some pestering and gentle prodding, he finally got her to follow, but only if he leads-- exactly what Navarone intended to do, anyway. And then when they get to Vermillion, yet another obstacle. Even with his constant pleading, the little firefox eventually gives up and decides to do things the way Streetwind wants, for once. So instead of taking the shortcuts in and around Vermillion, they're off trudging through the deep, untamed forests around the scenic port town, clawing at branches and shrubbery that get in their way. It'd help if they have a machete or two, but apparently a well-aimed Flamethrower works just as well. Still, it is slow progress; the forest in unfamiliar to both foxes, and guiding Streetwind, who keeps getting frightened at every single chirp and cry and rustle in the forest, proves to be more than just another trial.
At one point or another, they do eventually crawl out of the forest, hopping onto the short side of one of the many hills in this part of the country. Turning back, he motions Streetwind to follow, as he sniffs about the ground, trying to follow a scent or two. Maybe it'll lead him to food, or shelter, but either way, it must be a good thing. Right?

Streetwind and Peppy have one thing in common: they're both lost. Though not necessarily in the same sense. Streetwind doesn't need to worry about directions much, as long as she keeps following Navarone. Which she does, at times even so close that she bumps into him now and then. But, Streetwind is lost in a different sense of the word - she feels lost. Totally helpless, confused and lost. She didn't want to go away from Orange Base. That den had sturdy walls in all six directions; it was dry, warm and safe. It was a space the Ninetales could grasp. A narrow, confined space to some, but to her, a safe space.

Ungh. It's another one of those mornings, that can only turn into one of those days, which eventually evolves into one of those nights. The days where there's no silver lining in the endless darkened, grey cloud sky in the sky are the worst, despite how often poor Peppy may complain about the snow or the rain or the fog, and right now he's feeling that gloomy shadow lurking over his head. With no inhibitors stopping him from grunting and growling as he makes his way up the way, way too large hill, his paws slipping and sliding out from beneath him (it's a wonder he manages to keep a grip!), the Growlithe eventually topples the mountain. Panting and gasping for what little air the atmosphere will give him, Peppy whirls around, peers down the hill, and finds himself dismayed by the fact that even though the fog he can see the base of the mound. He spins around, though he eyes go directly to the ground, and he lowers to the mud to take a whiff. No creatures out this morning, no wind, no scent. Peppy comes up short.

While Navarone may turn around every moment to check on Streetwind, it's more of an aesthetic action than anything else. It may just be comforting to the Ninetales, probably, and maybe that's what keeps him doing it. If he's supposed to make her feel safe, then he should. Though right now, he's not moving at all, just sniffing the air. Like Peppy, he also comes up short, in a different sense. Almost no scent is carried in the air, nearly all of it soaked up in the thick fog. That doesn't help at all, but through what little memory that Navarone has, he might be able to find that cache he left around here. Turning around, he looks at Streetwind again, as he has done countless times today.
<Streetwind, I want you to stay here, okay? I've got some food buried around here-- I won't be gone long. And I'll keep you in sight. Just stay where you are, no one's going to hurt you.> With those words, he slowly pulls away from her, but whether or not the Ninetales will continue to cling on desparately to the Vulpix, only she knows. In the meantime, Navarone stares at the quickening daylight, descending on the lands. The frown on his face shows that he is not pleased. Not at all.

The sun rises, painting the eastern clouds with a pink and pale gold glow.

When he stops, Streetwind steps up to Navarone's side, and lowers her head to gently touch her nose to his flank. She's done it before, and often so. It's likely that she's checking on whether that Vulpix in front of her still is real. It is her biggest fear: to discover that yet again, she wasn't able to distinguish reality from dreams, and that she followed an illusion a full day's walk through the wilderness. It nearly drives her insane. She hardly said a single word all the time; only when Navarone asks or speaks to her, then she answers. She knows he doesn't want to hear her whining and her complaints.

Peppy, too, notices the increasing light as far as his green eyes can see, but unlike Navarone, he finds himself filled with a warm sort of comfort, a lessening sense of desolation and depression. Maybe this dreary morning will finally pick up! Maybe it'll get warmer, and brighter, and sunnier! Maybe he'll find a Rattata beginning to be hunted, and maybe he'll take the kids out and have a great day! There's that warm optimism Peppy's known for. The Growlithe's tired eyes pick up slightly, and he turns and plops his rump down into the mud, watching the hills more and more green, shedding their dark and grey veils. Unfortunately, this quiet, casual sense of complacence doesn't lost very long at all, as Peppy's ears pick up a noise. It's not a particularly loud noise, especially since it's muffled by the fog surrounding him. With a frown, Peppy dismisses the sound as his imagination or something, though when he turns back to the looming sunrise in the direction he came from, he looks increasingly more uneasy.

The Vulpix isn't exactly thrilled at the idea of leaving Streetwind behind either, but it's only for a short while, and her scent tends to interfere with his own senses. He nods quietly to Streetwind, without a word said, and yet, understanding that look in Streetwind's eyes. Turning back around, he darts off, quick as the wind, a little orange-flame coloured blur across the green hills. One might be able to spot the fox in the growing daylight, but the fox does little to notice any other sentient being that may be out on this day-- his primary objective is to get his stash, and dart back to Streetwind for a quick breakfast before moving on. Before long, he manages to reach the other side of the route, inside the forest on the opposite side. He skids to a halt, turning his head around to check on Streetwind. Good, she's still there. With that pause, he sniffs around the muddy floor of the forest, doing his best to locate his next me-- ahh, there it is! With the deftness of a mole, he paws at the ground, digging hard and fast to get his prize. In that span of time, however, there might be other forces at work. Forces that may be closer than the two firefoxes think.

Sometimes, people see a dark, foggy surrounding as something eerie, something creepy. Something that sends chills down one's spine. A normal person or pokemon might feel nervous or mildly scared when left alone in such a place. Streetwind, however, is not a normal pokemon - she's an already scared half to death Ninetales with a paranoid disorder. The only thing working in her favor is the growing daylight, but that's about as effective in consoling her as a snowball in hell. Navarone is nearly invisible over where he is. Every so often, a bank of fog floats by and totally conceals the small fox for a few seconds, after which he reappears like a ghost. Already, Streetwind isn't so sure anymore that the Vulpix she touched only a minute ago really was there. If foxes (and fire-types) had any sweat glands, the Ninetales would be soaked in cold sweat by now. Her eyes are wide and unsteady, and there's a feeling within her... a creeping feeling... a tickling and tingling that runs through all muscles, like a touch that is not really there. A feeling that wants to make her flail wildly with all appendages, to run, to scream... it's probably too late to hold it down, but Streetwind tries. She hasn't moved an inch from where Navarone told her to stay.

The sun ascends in a bright blue sky filled with fluffy fair weather clouds and a few wisps of cirrus.

Okay. Keeping himself nice and calm, Peppy continues to watch the sunrise, idly reminding himself that it was just his imagination, or a sound in the wind, and that there's no other unknown creature anywhere in the vicinity. After all, he'd hear more of it, right? Or smell it, or see it? Besides, no other pokemon are out this early in the morning! There's virtually no - what was that? Peppy jumps into a taller stance, head high, chest out, back straight, fur standing on end. Again! Again! A... splotchy and scratchy sound, nearly continuous, with a raspy sort of undertone, and... and... gah! It's hideous, even from this distance! With every single word Peppy thinks in his mind, his eyes grow slightly and slightly wider, and as his mind races around trying to figure out what creature could make that sound (each mental image a worse result than the last), he draws closer and closer to a dang heart attack. What does he do? Run? Check it out? Stay put? Dig himself into the mud and hope he isn't noticed? <Who's out there?!> he calls, his voice changing pitches twice throughout the shaky, nervous call. A loud "Grrrrowlithe!" of shock follows right after, implying that Peppy himself didn't expect him to make that noise. What an idiot.

The Vulpix continues to dig continuously into the ground, not caring whether or not anyone notices a firefox up this early, at the crack of dawn. All he cares about is getting back to Streetwind as fast as possible, with a meal in tow. After some furious digging, he finally reaches his quarry-- a slightly damp Pidgey, but still perfectly edible for the vulpine stomach. Reaching his whole upper body in, he grabs the bird pokemon by the feathers, his rump stuck in the air, tails idly swishing from side to side. As he tries to pull it out, however, he struggles with the load; pushing as hard as he can on the loose dirt doesn't help much. But it's something else entirely that tosses the entire fox into the hole he has dug. The loud shout of the Growlithe causes him to yip quite loudly, jumping into the air a bit and landing face first into Pidgey fluff and feathers, his legs and tails all comical in the way they stick out of the ground.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

So, Navarone and Peppy have finally noticed each other, if not recognized. But Streetwind is left out of the acknowledgement of existence, much like her mind is out of reality right now. It takes an indefinite amount of time to pass the span between Navarone's disappearance and Peppy's two loud calls. It almost feels like eternity, but at the same time, it couldn't be any shorter than the Ninetales experiences it. All the while with the strange, rasping sounds coming from the direction of that ghostly apparition in front of her. And now, a horrible, abnormal voice is looking for her, and growling and howling. All around herself, she can suddenly see muscle-packed shades rising from the foliage, bearing fangs and claws. Likewise, Navarone's startled yip is no longer identified as a sound made by someone she knows. It produces entirely different shadows - lankier, and meaner. They fill the gaps between the larger, growling shades, but they don't advance towards her yet. They seem to stare at each other, first. Maybe deciding who gets the first bite. By now, Streetwind should be moving. She should be running, screaming for help, do everything possible to save her life. But she cannot. The same feeling that almost made her jump around madly before now keeps her from even taking a single breath.

And then the sounds stop. Peppy practically has a stroke right then and there. It was a Katerwaul doing something mean (probably torturing some helpless infant pokemon), and Peppy's sound made it stop, grin, and turn invisible, and the Growlithe is going to be pounced any second now. Like right... now! Peppy flinches and whimpers, head going low, body tensing. ... Nothing happens. Now? ... Nothing. The dog furrows his eyebrows. Maybe it wasn't a Katerwaul? There's no sound of paws coming up the hill... no sound of anything else, since Peppy with all his gasping for breath from his fright missed hearing about Navarone's escape. Curiousity killed the dog, apparently, for Peppy, his courage building up (maybe it was a Rattata? Maybe it was a friend?), ascends to all four paws and walks over to the edge of the flat land on top of the hill, peering over the side. He quickly spots the area where Navarone was digging from, and, moving careful but rather swiftly (he almost falls and busts his chin twice, but somehow manages to keep his balance), he descends the hill, coming to a stop right next to the buried Pidgey. The question marks fly from his head in swarms. <... Is somebody out here?> he calls once again, maybe if only because he wants to know if *he* can have the Pidgey. Easy hunt!

The Vulpix continues to breathe raspy, quick breaths, his one eye blank with terror and fright. Fright for himself, fright for the companion he left behind. With his mouth agape, he just pants, deliberately, air forcing itself in and out of his lungs at a rapid rate. This isn't happening. If that voice is really who he thinks it is, it might mean the end of him. But he's far more worried about Streetwind's condition rather than the Growlithe father. It is such that he pauses, takes a slight step forward, and peeks out behind his little bush.

Oh, so far, nothing has happened to Streetwind. Not yet. The shadows are snarling at each other, the large, muscular ones forming one 'faction' and the lanky, mean ones forming a second one. Their growls and sneers sound threatening and malicious. While doing so, they're also closing the circle around the Ninetales; obviously, no matter who gets her in the end, they don't want the prey to escape! And while they're coming closer, they grow in size exponentially. Already, they're half as tall as the trees on the other side of the road. Their presence drains away all light; with every second, it is getting darker and more difficult to make out details. Then, suddenly, a commotion on one side of the ring - the shadows part, making way for their leader! An enormous horror, yet as fast and nimble as a fox... And it's coming for her! Luckily, the moment that the shadows avert their eyes, the invisible restraints that kept her from moving disappear, and Streetwind jumps to all fours. She still has nowhere to go, but she can at least panically try to dodge the coming assault. If only her legs wouldn't be trying to move in four different directions at once.

Huh. Doesn't look like anybody's out there. Guess the Pid - ching! His eyes lock on a very familiar sight, and the absolute rush of blankness overcomes him. Peppy can only stare dumbly on, mouth slightly agape, breathing and otherwise motionless, even as Navarone turns tails and runs. Maybe five seconds pass before Peppy blinks. Two more seconds until his tail swishes. Peppy not knowing what to do is a common occurance - "daily" doesn't describe it, more like two or three times daily - but rarely does that state of mental emptiness last for more than a couple seconds. And really, as far as mocking Peppy for his dumb ways, can you blame him? His mouth silently forms the word 'Nav' before he leans into his back paws, a frown growing on his furry face. And he watches the area where Navarone ran, frowns a little deeper... and takes off after him. That can't be good.

Halfway across the hillside, and still, Streetwind seems like she were miles away. The Vulpix can't help but imagine what she must be feeling. Lost, frightened, alone. All that she feared suddenly coming true. Navarone's legs propel him like a quick orange dart, but in his mind, he's not nearly fast enough. For all that his eyes have seen, both he and the Ninetales are in great danger. Peppy is, no doubt, not happy to see him, after all that he's done-- it will be far worse than if he saw who was with him. By all means, he doesn't want a confrontation, but it was inevitable, nonetheless. Just not now.

But wait, it's getting worse! Not only the one demon is after her and won't give up, she can see a second one approaching! And all around her, the fanged shadows are laughing, taunting, and calling her name to mock her. Just like that monster is. It wants her to calm down, to stop, to let it come closer... Does it honestly believe she'll fall for those lies? The Ninetales doesn't know how she'll get herself out of this one, but giving up? She can't do that... she needs to live on... she doesn't know the reason, but it's a mighty force that keeps repeating the words: Live! Live! Live! The voice might even sound remotely familiar, but Streetwind can't concentrate on it. If she does, if she draws her attention away from the imminent anger even for a split second, she'll get caught, and then she'll die. Brutally. There are a thousand ways to tear up a Ninetales, and they all flash by her inner eye, like a promise of what's coming next. To the outside, it is easily apparent by now that Streetwind is completely out of it. Her eyes are widened to a point where normal sight wouldn't be possible any longer, and she moves like her muscles were springs. And now there's only one thing left for her to do - she jumps forward suddenly, fangs bared, to attack the horror. But her attacks have no effect on it! In reality, Streetwind's aim is simply off, due to the different forms that make up Navarone in Streetwind's illusion and the real world; but the snapping sound she produces tells a tale of what she was trying to do.

And he's off! Puff puff puff! Peppy races across the landscape! ... Jogs across the landscape... Slips in the mud, crashes, struggles back up, trots across the landscape! ... Unlike Navarone, fueled by fear and the like, Peppy is tired from a night of bad sleep and a long walk from the barn, and it's not long before the Growlithe has to all but give up and just kind of start walking slightly, panting all the while. Not exactly "an angry Growlithe on Navarone's tail", a little more like "a tired and exhausted Growlithe waaaay back there". Surprisingly, Peppy actually uses his head; instead of getting lost, he follows those pawprints in the mud, and when the trail leads over a grassy segment, his nose does all the work. It'll be a short while before he approaches Navarone and Streetwind, giving the two pretty much more than enough time to do whatever the Vulpix plans on doing. All the while, Peppy asks himself... why the heck is he going to say when he catches up to Navarone, anyway?

Indeed, what. But Navarone hasn't time to ponder on these sort of things-- he's far too busy trying to dodge Streetwind's near-blind and random attacks at him. The way her teeth snap and click just inches away from him tells him all he needs to know. She's really lost it, and in her reality, he's a threat. One that must be eliminated. Navarone can only watch helplessly as the Ninetales battles for her life, from shadows that don't even exist, from a foe that isn't even an enemy. Danger is nowhere, and yet, it's all around her.

Navarone can shout and scream for Streetwind all day and all night if he wants to, but to no avail. Everything he says is perverted and falsified as it works its way through her mind towards her awareness. His pleading cries for her turn into mocking calls to taunt her; his attempts to calm her down become traps that the shadows want to lure her into. Well, at least she stops attacking, if only for the reason that to her, all her attempts prove futile against the invulnerable, immortal enemy. Instead, she begins to whine, maybe without even realizing it. It's a thoroughly unnatural sound, nothing that a sane fox could produce, and it carries no meaning other than absolute, blank panic.

Gah! Peppy is downright exhausted by the time he's able to make it to the bottom of that hill. How is Navarone moving so fast? Why? And why is Peppy following him in the first place? This doesn't make any sense, and yet Peppy still continues to half-jog-half-stumble across the grass. Cries about 'waking up' and 'not having time' are shouted into the air by the Vulpix before him, but (thankfully) not the name of the Ninetales in front of him, whom Peppy can't make out; he recognizes that there is *somebody* beyond Navarone, but he's tired, colorblind, and above all ignorant. <Nav!> Puff, puff, puff. Peppy still has to bark semi-loudly as he slows his pace, approaching Navarone at a gentle speed (though there's still some good twenty, thirty yards between them). <Nav, is that you?> Should Navarone look at him, he'll see that the dog is entirely covered with mud from where he tripped while in pursuit of the Vulpix. None too professional.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

And the Vulpix does little but jump and hop from side to side, in and effort to aid Streetwind. He can't help but do anything else. The Ninetales is too fast, too large, too heavy-- all fields in which he is severely lacking. He could try to pin her down, but she'd push him off like he was nothing. And all this dodging doesn't do much but to extend her drop into insanity even further. There's nothing he can do. And then a final attempt is made, but not towards Streetwind, no.

And all of a sudden, the demon turns away from her. And so do all the shadows. Every single one turns his back towards her, as if they lost all interest in her. As if she wasn't there. Streetwind begins to wonder - did she win? But she can hardly finish the thought, as a sudden movement janks her around, as if gravity was repeatedly changing its source. At the same time, she feels a couple of soft impacts, and everything becomes dark. Not a single thing can be seen anymore. After another indefinite period of time, the Ninetales wonders again. What happened? Why can't she see? At least the second question is easy enough to answer: Because her eyes are closed. For whatever reason that may be. After opening them, she finds that she is lying on her side. She doesn't know where, though. She sees... something. She clearly sees it. Yet she doesn't know what it is. Everything has only one color, a fluctuating grey - there are no contrasts at all. She blinks a few times, but the picture doesn't change. She closes her eyes again, but the picture doesn't change. And what are these sounds? Almost as if... someone was crying?

Screech! Peppy slides to a stop in the mud, the extra slipping nearly causing him to tumble right over his front paws and into the mud. Through some weird miracle, he manages to keep himself upright as he falls back onto his rump, straightening his back and regarding Navarone. The threatening and none-too-friendly Vulpix before him causes Peppy's weak half-smile to drop into a confused, almost surprised, frown. Yeah, it's Nav all right. Looks the same, smells the same, probably sounds the same, too. <Uh.> So begin the awkward moments. <Hi, Navarone,> he woofs, his voice full of mock cheer, his ears pressed against his scalp. If Navarone hesitates for even two seconds before replying, Peppy will ask who's behind him and go to look; if Navarone speaks softly, then Peppy will just sheddup and look at him; if Navarone speaks loudly, Peppy will probably squeeze his eyes shut, turn his head to the side, and wait until the Vulpix has finished. Oo, way to be tough, Pep!

<Don't. Even. MOVE.> For once, the Vulpix has taken control of his predator attributes, and his current aggressiveness shows in the way his ivories glint in the dawn's light, the way his ears perk forward at the pup, the fashion in which his tails whiplash from side to side. He's doing his best to be intimidating, and by the looks of it, he's doing a pretty good job. For a Vulpix. He doesn't stop snarling at Peppy, not until he speaks up. Then he just growls. Loudly. Like a rabid dog, he tenses all of his muscles, the skin on the top of his muzzle all wrinkly and disfigured, eyes narrowed and fraught with anger and threats of pain. He doesn't even need to say anything-- his body language is clear as crystal. This continues for quite some time, at least, until he flicks his head back and takes a look at Streetwind. He turns back to Peppy. Good, she's calm, she's lying down on the floor, like she's unconsci--

Time is drifting. There is no change at all. But the longer this condition lasts, the more Streetwind gets the notion that something is wrong in this picture. The room she is in is absolutely presenceless. Only her own presence is there. And it's far too powerful for this place. She shouldn't be here. How did she get here anyway? What the heck is this place? Where does the crying come from, and why is it so familiar? And... what happened before she came here? For some reason, that thought worries her the most. What was... before... there was a before? Streetwind would have shaken her head to clear it, but she can't move. Still, it works: of course there was a before! There is always a before! And suddenly, fear stings her again. This place is dangerous. She shouldn't be here, and if she stays here... she'll be rendered into something much like the room she's in. A fluctuating grey, without presence, without existence. She needs to get out, /now/! But there is nothing in this room akin to an exit. No point to anchor herself on. She can't even move! Someone... help...

Whoa. If Peppy was humble before, he's downright horrified now. His eyes go wide, his head rears back, and he braces himself to hop up and dance a step or two backwards if Navarone makes any approaches to get near him. The Growlithe can only find it in himself to gawk at Navarone like he's some kind of alien, jaw open, here and there moving his mouth as though he's going to say something but nothing comes out. And in a second or two's time, Navarone looks back to the Ninetales and dashes back to her, leaving Peppy to only peer at him more. Slowly, his eyes drop down to the form on the floor... and he teeters on the edge of his fourth heart attack today. That's not who he thinks it is. It's not. Can't be. Shouldn't be. Isn't. The wave of wobbly chaos splashing around inside of him makes him wretch his head forward, letting out a sound that can only be described as a half-sneeze. Involuntarily, Peppy takes a step forward, and if that one step isn't enough to get Navarone into defensive stance, he'll take another one. Regardless of how many steps it takes, Peppy will seem more interested in the evolved type than Navarone, and after a short time, he'll ask... <Is that her?> He sounds afraid of the answer.

The Vulpix hovers over the Ninetales, oblivious to nearly everything else. Just a minute ago she was bounding about, clawing at and tackling thin air, and now, she just falls back to the ground, sobbing like a child. Once again, the Vulpix is helpless. He doesn't know what to do, or even how to do it; all he can do is just bend closer and closer to her side, trying to figure out what's wrong. The sight is soaked in-- every tear, every twitch of her limbs, the flatness of her ears against her scalp. And there's nothing he can do.

Looking left... looking right. At least with her eyes. Interestingly enough, the room rotates when she looks to the side, allowing her to view it in its entirety. Not that there was anything. It's absolutely the same everywhere. No exit. Nothing at all. Except that something that is /there/, just not perceivable by eyes and ears. Why isn't something changing? Why not even the slightest bit? The Ninetales feels extremely left alone, lying in this strange room, unable to move, unable to leave. And suddenly, a realization dawns - the feeling of loneliness. It has been there all the time, like an aura surrounding the something that cannot be perceived. Now that she realizes it, this feeling is of overpowering strength. It is what makes up this room. Yes, she thinks she understands... not what is going on, but at least what is present. More realization is dawning every second as she lets herself go more and more, delving into the secrets of this strange room of solitude... And then, something changes. A sensation of immense power bursts into the room. Her senses, amplified by the extreme faintness of the environment around her, are simply overloaded, the picture literally shatters into a thousand shards, a thundering roar fills her ears, and her whole body tenses up. Streetwind presses out a cry of pain, and a twitch ruptures through her form. And then she opens her eyes one more time. There are blades of grass in front of her muzzle, that much she can see through a strangely blurred vision. A sound of wind brushing through trees... there's light... and, a warm, heavy touch on her side.

Silent. Peppy is silent as he watches this scene. Memories flood back into him. Both of these two foxes before him have been his friends, earned his trust, and backstabbed him by threatening or harming his family. Revenge wasn't on Peppy's mind when he saw Navarone in the distance; he's long since acknowledged that the fox was not so much to blame for the incident with Briska. But now as he watches them, a scary thought comes into Peppy's mind.

Fair weather clouds drift through the blue sky from the west. The wind is gusty.

The Vulpix doesn't cease the flow of tears pouring through his eyes. All he can feel is that lack of worth in himself, his lack of value in his inability to even comfort or help Streetwind. It's not he hasn't felt this before. But to have been helpless at a time like this? It would have been disastrous. What is Peppy had really wanted to hurt them both? He could have. And his act of just bursting into emotion right in front of him just serves to undermine his self-esteem and confidence even further. The puppy pokemon has seen him at his weakest-- he knows his weakness now. If he ever tries to do anything, he can just aim straight for where it hurts most.

Streetwind blinks, to be able to see more clearly. Was she... crying? Her fur is all wet around her muzzle. And, who else is crying? She lifts her head to turn it, to see who is lying on her flank. Halfway during that, her eyes find Peppy. For a short moment, she keeps her gaze on him. Something about this Growlithe gives her a sting... Eventually, she dismisses it as the feeling of light shame at the fact that a random passerby saw what happened, saw her crying. Her head continues in its turn, and she eventually lays her eyes on Navarone. So, that would explain why her side is getting wet. But the Ninetales couldn't care less about that. She made him worried and sad again. It's always the same. She can't help it, it happens to her. But he gets so worried every time. That makes Streetwind feel immensely guilty. Well, since he's already lying on her side, might as well put that to use. The larger firefox curls up around the Vulpix, surrounding him with her soft fur and tails. Her nose finds its way under his cheek that way, where she lightly nudges him. <Hey... Navarone... don't be sad! You promised, remember?> Her voice sounds much less optimistic than her words, though.

Sure, Peppy sees Navarone's weakness. That may have been part of the underlying reason for him turning around and walking away; the biggest weakness in any one person isn't always necessarily related to that individual person. Navarone and Streetwind have known (or would, had Streetwind not forgot) that Peppy's weakness is and has been since the day of his puppies's birth his family. However, Peppy's weakness is also his greatest strength, because he would do anything to protect that weakness from harm. Maybe that's why he's leaving them alone, even now that Navarone's strength seemed exhausted and he's collapsed onto his partner, looking like death. Because he believes that the care for one another will make each of the two foxes resolve to not die for the other's sake.

By now, the Vulpix's cheek is soaked to the skin, his fur all matted and wet. His tears have even found their way into his mouth, and the salty taste just stings him even further. He still manages to feel Streetwind's comforting touch-- comforting in the physical sense, that is. Nothing could heal the wounds that Navarone had inflicted upon himself, a sort of twisted self-mutilation of the mind, his every thought crushed and discarded, little pieces of his soul bleeding away from him. The way Streetwind's muzzle finds his way next to his cheek could only mean one thing to the little firefox. He has failed. Failed to the point where even the one he should be comforting has to comfort him. And that is the final blow.