Contents:
Navarone
Obvious exits:
North <N> leads to Overgrown Lands - Route 11: Off the Route.

Briska has connected.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape. In the forest, the shade under the deep green leaves of the trees is welcome relief from the hot glare of the sun. While at the coast, the sea sparkles in the brilliant sunlight, the waves rolling merrily against the shore.

Lazy Sunday is always followed by a Hectic Monday. The roses are blooming nicely this season, thanks to the wet weather mixed with plenty of sunshine, but no Growlithe in the Assisi Farm has any time to stop and smell then - the ones that aren't busy running around and exploring and trying to escape from the dungeon they call home are the ones who are watching over the others. Having finished the day's hunting, Peppy is particularly active today, joining in with the puppies in their games, even if more often than not they are more content to just climb all over him and try to bite on his ears, just to prove that they can. Peppy is currently taking a breather from this hustle and bustle, shooing the pups off for a while to go play puppy games with themselves. Leaning over the mostly-eaten Rattata he fetched earlier, he pants to himself, <How do they keep it up?> The old man's gettin' tired fast these days.

By all means, a beautiful sunny day. Now this is what summer is supposed to be like, not wet and muddy. So it's rather obvious that this is a day to be enjoyed, and it has, by one Vulpix, at least. Barn doors creak open as Navarone squeezes through them, tails swishing behind him with a almost lustrous shine as it catches the sunlight. A collective little sigh of relief escapes his lips as he enters the relative cool of the shaded barn, briskly walking towards Aurora and Peppy and their pups. Broad grin on his face, he watches the pups all tumbling and tussling in a chaotic whirlwind of tri-coloured fur, tints and shades of orange, white and black swirling round and round, bouncing like... well, hyperactive pups. He paces past the colourful scene, his brisk pace slowing to a trot as he nears Peppy, overhearing him. Turning his head round to gaze at the pups, he chuckles slightly. <Maybe they draw energy from each other. But you know with pups. Infinite reserves of energy and all that.>, he says, not bothering to introduce himself.

<Look out!> <Hah, gotcha!> "Row! Li! Groooow!" <No fair!> <Nyaaa!> "Li li!" All these exuberant sounds burst from the pups as they dash about, tugging on ears and tails and, when they can come close enough, legs and muzzles. Briska is among the flurry of youthful activity, his sights set on little Dusk, ready to give her tail the greatest tug she's ever felt! Sure, Dakota might be bashing into his side with her nose, but nothing can deter young Briska! ...Except Dusk herself, who makes a quick dash around a pile of musty draw, causing Briska to pause mid-step and blink a few times. He then contents himself with bapping Dakota with his paw, and she reciprocates by nipping at his nearest ear. Karen has apparently found Dusk behind the straw pile, judging from their yips, yaps, (mostly along the lines of <Take that!> and <Hah!>) and the rustles of straw. Briska, is, as usual, the least verbal of his siblings.

Maybe Peppy heard the Vulpix approach, or never noticed him leave in the first place, or maybe he's just not usually his easily spookable self today. Whatever the case, Navarone's voice hardly causes Peppy to bat an eye, and the Growlithe leans over to take a small chunk out of some body organ. Lifting his head, the dog looks over at Navarone out of the corner of his eye, chewing slowly and carefully. He waits to swallow before he speaks. <I wouldn't be surprised. Hey, play nice, Dakota!> Whirling his body around to face the pups, he takes a step in their direction, eyes locked onto his most hyper daughter. It fades pretty quickly; she'll probably ignore him as she usually does, and Peppy won't get mad because she wasn't *not* playing nice in the first place. Even if Dakota doesn't bother looking at him, let alone replying, Peppy will sit back on his haunches, content. <They've been at it all day,> he tells Navarone, leaning in the firefox's direction but not looking at him.

Eyes never straying away from the Growlithe, Navarone nods quite sagely at Peppy's advice, turning as he does to face the sight of the pups playing once more. It's funny how bubbly they all seem, tugging on ears and tails and playfighting without a care in the world, without the least inhibition. They obviously must have lived up to their 'peppy' heritage. <They got more life in them than they know what to do with. Let them play around, never hurts.> Obviously the Vulpix has no idea what it means to be a dad. <Though it'd be great if they put that energy to good use, like learning how to hunt.> He stifles a chuckle. <If they could stop for a minute and pay attention.>, he comments, watching Dakota scamper around like she was the wind, whimsical and free. He sets himself down on his haunches, his tails behind him, swishing silently in the still air of the barn, eyeing the pups lazily.

Dakota does turn to look at her dad, but, as predicted, ignores him - though that is mostly Briska's fault, as he nudges her in attempt to bowl her over and pin her to the ground. <Nuh-uh!> she yaps smugly, dancing briskly away from her slower brother. <Nuh-uh!> mimicks Briska in the exact same tone, jaws gaping and tongue lolling. He lowers himself into a pouncing position, apparently not aware that pouncing isn't very effective when one's prey is staring right at you. Briska is in turn interrupted as Karen and Dusk come rushing into the visibility of the group, Karen close on the runt's heels. Though it might not be noticed, Flame shows a good deal of interest as Navarone mentions hunting; enough interest to turn and face his father and his father's friend from his spot in his corner. Briska now turns his attention to Karen, rushing at her and shoving her to the ground while she's distracted by Dusk. <Ooof!> Karen yaps as she's pinned by her goofily smiling, tail-wagging brother. Still, with a few nips and whaps with her paws, Briska has backed off and the games begin anew.

Peppy nods kind of blankly to most of Navarone's words, though one things causes him to furrow his eyes in thought. Peppy looks at the Vulpix out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then turns his entire head to look at him. His mouth curls up into a rather mischievous grin, and a devious tint sparkles in his eyes. Peppy has an idea. Look out, world. <Yes, you're right. Say, um, I forgot to tell the kids something. Just wait right here, don't move. Even a little bit, just stay. Oh, and, uh... uh, look the other way.> He whips his head around to stare at the wall, mind struggling to come up with something fast. <There's a crack in the wall over there, but, uh...> One can see the lightbulb blink into reality over his head. <Uh, do you think it's big enough for a puppy to crawl though? Don't want them getting any ideas. Just keep looking at it while you decide, I'll be right back! Keep watching the crack! ... Just in case one tries to escape while I'm not looking!> Peppy apparently thinks he's doing an awfully good job of pulling off whatever the heck he's planning on, and, without waiting for a reply from Navarone, he jumps off of his paws, half-trotting half-walking towards the group of puppies, looking over his shoulder the whole while. If Navarone is not quietly looking at the crack, he'll get a glare and a <Watch the hole!>

The Vulpix continues staring at the puppies, but his eyes seem drawn away from them, a blank stare as he wistfully daydreams. Something in his head is working, yes; a slow, sunken memory is being raised from the inner depths of his psyche. In his mind's eye, fire and ash broil about, and he idly fancies that he spots a Ninetales, but it's not the one that nearly burnt down this barn. No, this is different. And crying. A soft, incessant whine or whimper, calling. Pleading. He starts, shaking himself to his senses when the puppy pokemon next to him addresses him quite simply, and then does what he says. Turning to look at the crack in the wall, he eyes it puzzledly, and then turns back to Peppy, and then manages to spout <But Peppy--> before the father of five energetic pups tells him to go watch it again. One could almost see all the little question marks popping all around his head, his eyes shrinking to little dots, his mouth twisted into a confused little grin.

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

Not many of the puppies care much what their parents and company are doing at the moment. Dusk is busy trying to keep her tail out of range of the rapidly jaw-snapping Briska, while Karen and Dakota have now paired off for a game of 'see who can hit the other with their paws the most'. It's hard to keep score, but apparently the two gals don't care to do so; judging by their <Nya!>s and their <Ha ha!>s, each thinks that they're the one winning. It is little Dusk who notices their father's approach, but she soon busies herself with dodging Briska's jaws, and not always successfully. Playfighting is one of the few things Briska does (moderately) well.

Peppy's mind is absolutely on fire. This is gonna be great, he thinks to himself! Great great great! Yeah! Okay, great. If it works. Then it won't be great. It'll be sad, but if it does work, it'll be great! And I want it to be great! Great great great! Approaching Briska quickly, Peppy immediately woofs a hushed (but still pretty loud) <Briska! Briska! Stop for a sec, listen!> In a very hurried, very excited manner, Peppy will attempt to shoo off the pup's littermates, but if they're curious to see what their dad has in mind he'll simply be content to ignore them. After all, once the puppies see what ingenious plan their wonderful father has cooked up, their respect for him will go through the roof! Besides, if needed, maybe even Dusk (the one who seems to understand Briska best) will help him get the point across. <Briska, do you see that Vulpix over there? The one I say is called Na-Va-Rone?> His voice is slow, but it's in a repressed way, as though if he doesn't stop himself, he'll speak so fast nobody would be able to understand him. He'll gesture to the firefox, but it doesn't matter whether Briska notes a yes or a no, Peppy will continue. <I want you to be very quiet, really quiet, sneak up on him... and pounce him! Really hard, like, as hard as you can! And do it so that he doesn't even notice!> Peppy would cackle if he wasn't afraid Navarone would hear him. Unfortunately, he didn't use the words "sky" or "rain" or "water", so just how much Briska understands isn't very certain...

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

The Vulpix is stumped. Yes. Given that it's Peppy the unpredictable pup that launched him into a state of confusion without so much as a Supersonic or a Confuse Ray, that's no surprise. His eye trails back and forth, wandering from the strange crack in the wall, not really peculiar in any way, back to the eager father and his pups. Undoubtedly, he has no idea what's going on in Peppy's mind, but it isn't long before his mind wanders to other things. And so does his eye. As it passes over the sight of the Rattata carcass on the floor, his one remaining opal locks on to it, and to the untrained eye, it would look like he was staring at it intently, and yet, he's actually doing it without focusing on the bones at all. His mind's eye wanders again, almost seamlessly back to that of his earlier reverie-- or is it a nightmare? He hears crying again, flame flickering in the air like the tongues of dragons, fierce battle cries piercing the air. All throughout, the Vulpix is just paralyzed by this inner vision, so much that if anyone wanted to knock him over, he'd fall over like a pin.

Briska turns to his dad when his name is mentioned, giving a short whine of query. He does indeed stop pursuing Dusk, but most of the action is slowing down as the kids try to catch their dad's words. <Na..varone,> he mumbles, then looks expectantly to his sisters, some of whom give him encouraging smiles, which makes Briska's tail wag furiously. But when Peppy's order comes...little Briska draws a blank, his eyes wide but empty of comprehension. <Oh..!> Dusk whispers as she manages to grasp the idea, and Karen opens her mouth to help her bro - though she has to deal with the whining Dakota first. <Shh! We'll play later! ..No, c'mon, we will, just...quieeeeet...!>

And fall over like a pin is exactly what Peppy's hoping for! <Right, right, Navarone. Uncle Navarone.> Peppy fidgits back and forth, tail flickering uneasily, changing his vision from Vulpix to Growlithe to Vulpix to Growlithe, nervous about Navarone spoiling his secret plan before he even gets to pull it off. Dusk's little spectacle manages to keep Peppy's attention for a little longer, however, and he watches her in almost an amused fashion, wondering if he should pick her to be the one who pulls off Operation Sneak Attack. He shakes his head briskly, glancing once again at Navarone to make sure the Vulpix is still regarding the crack in the wall. When Dusk gestures at him, Peppy does the same, except with a more desperate, forceful point, using a few quick jabs with his nose at the one-eyed pokemon. He gives Dusk a quick wink before looking down at Briska, nodnodnodding so much it's a wonder his bobbling head doesn't tumble right off. He's seriously agitated. <Can you do it?> he whispers hopefully, eyes wide with anticipation.

The term 'in his own world' wouldn't be a metaphor here. For Navarone, it almost has a literal meaning, as he drifts about in an ethereal world, wondering what this dream might be, or if it is one, what memory, and from where. The flames don't dance now, they hurtle towards another shadowy figure, and only the outline is apparent. The long snaky silhouette of a Ninetales is apparent as well, and is the source of the flame, racing through the air in long pillars of fire. And yet, for all of fire's properties, it fails to light the darkness. Then the scene changes. No longer is there fire, only the faint image of a small Vulpix-kit, idly toying with a leaf. Bored with it, he looks upwards, bright little brown eyes glinting with innocence, small grin forming on his muzzle. And just as quickly, it switches back to the past scene, fires raging again. Drowned by the cries of a kit. In reality, he's still staring, but his gaze has drifted from the carcass, to no particular point. Briska still has his chance.

Dusk grins up at her dad, chest puffing out proudly. Flame snorts loudly from his corner, prompting a glare or two from assembled pups, though not from the still confused Briska. He peers between Dusk, Navarone, sometimes adding a glance to his father into the equation. Karen and Dakota have gone back to playing a little game, though the former's attention is more on the other members of her family. Briska finally takes a deep breath in through his nose, grits his teeth and thrusts his head towards Navarone. All right - Briska's gonna do it! He takes a few small steps towards the fox of fire. Then he glances back at his family uncertainly. <Be quiet, Briska,> whispers Karen. <Shhhh!> Dusk seconds. <Yeah!> yips Dakota, much too loudly for the situation at hand. <Heh,> snickers Flame. Briska stares at his sisters, grins a little nervously, and painstakingly lowers himself to the ground. Out goes one foot, and then another, and another. It's nothing totally foreign to Briska; every Growlithe has an instinct to hunt, and Briska has stalked and pounced a sibling or two before. It's just not quite this particular pup's style, and crinkling straw makes it very hard to sneak up on anybody...

Peppy ceases performing vital functions of life. He stops breathing. He stops blinking. His heart slows its beating. Only his eyes move, remaining locked onto his son as he every-so-slowly, ever-so-nervously, ever-so-quietly (kind of) slinks towards the Vulpix. With every step Peppy feels a twinge of pain, a kind of horror at the thought of Navarone turning around and ruining everything, ruining Briska's chances of impressing his father, ruining Peppy's absolute pleasure at watching his friend get tackled by his child! The desire to see Briska pull this off is nothing short of overpowering for the zany father, and his excitement is going above and beyond that of his other kids. His jaw is slack, his eyes are wide, and his tail is totally erect. His chest is burning, partially from anxiety, partially from the fact that he hasn't taken a breath for some time now. Overexaggerative? You bet. That's Peppy for ya.

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

The Vulpix's form is still, silent, unmoving except for his tails, which practically shiver in the chill air. Ears droop sideways-- his hearing isn't needed right now, not in reality. Briska quiet sneaking, the sound of straw rustling, a sound that would have sent the Vulpix veering his head towards the pups and spoiling Pepp's excitement; all go unnoticed, as if the Vulpix weren't even there. In body he is, but in spirit, he's somewhere else entirely. His consciousness ebbs and flows like the tide, almost easing into his subconcious reserve of memories. A different scene flashes through his head now, a small kit running through the forest, grass rustling underneath him. A flash, and then darkness. In the pale moonlit night of the mind, a scream erupts, and the sickening sound of bones cracking, the sight of flesh tearing from flesh. An exposed ribcage, and the blood mingles with the mud on the floor. Quiet whimpering. Navarone still stares intently at the ground, as if willing it to move, to rise like an ocean wave... which is not what he intends. He will crash over like one though, if Briska gets this hit in.

Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the west.

There's no cracking of bones or flowing blood in a real world that is suddenly very tense for young Briska. His breathing is faster and is heart pounding with each placement of his paw. It's okay. Briska knows he can do this. So what if he's not pouncing on a puppy? So what if for some reason Poppa's making a big deal about this particular pounce? So what if everyone's watching him? The oddness of these circumstances are throwing the youngster off a bit, so he stops and tries to ignore them. The fuzzy pup is good at doing so, it appears, for after his pause he sneaks forward with renewed purpose. Much sooner than it might have been if he hadn't taken the time to collect himself, Briska is within pouncing distance - or he will be, if Navarone's mood continues. He crouches, developing muscles tense underneath his coat. Instinct and training collide as Briska's eyes narrow. He sucks in a breath, bears his teeth, and leaps, taking his sister's words about being quiet to heart and not even uttering a warning growl. It's a rather good jump considering Briska's age. If Navarone doesn't move, Briska will land on his back - his jaws finding the scruff of Navarone's neck and squeezing softly, though ready to chomp down less gently if the firefox moves abruptly and tries to shake him off.

And our Peppy is so ignorant to poor Navarone's thoughts. He cares only about his son getting his hit in, having little regard for anything the Vulpix is experiencing now. But to his credit, how is he to know? Peppy simply watches in awe as Briska flies through the air after kicking off the ground, and it seems to take forever for the pup to finally... land... on... the... Vulpix's back! <He did it!> chokes the Growlithe, taking in a huge breath of air, no longer looking quite so purple in the face. Eyes bounce back and forth from Briska to daughter to other daughter to Briska to still another daughter to Briska again, his face spread into a huge open-mouthed smile, his tongue hanging out and flopping out as his head shakes back and forth from puppy to puppy. He's panting for breath, unable to do much else but just watch and see Navarone's reaction. He is on top of the world right now, over something so small. Why was it such a big deal to him?

The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.

The sun sets, the western clouds turning purple, red, and gold. It's hazy and warm.

The fire rages on and-- abrupt pause. The Flamethrowers and Fire Blasts have stopped entirely, leaving a pit of darkness behind. The crying of a kit is more pronounced now, more apparent, choked with sniffles and sobs. There's almost no light, and it's as if someone just blinded both his eyes or wrapped a blindfold around them. All there is now is whispers, crying, and strangely enough, tears; the smell, the taste, the wet strokes running down a face that's not his own... or is it? All he hears in the small, unpronounceable whines of a kit, and the almost tender cooing of a Ninetales, motherly. He hears it almost as humans do, subtle nuances of speech hidden in the simple spoken names. "Vul... pix?" "Nine... ninetales." And all throughout, there is only one word he manages to grasp, it's meaning clear and message thorough, even though it is just one word. The Ninetales utters her final word, her final advice borne out of her dying breath. To do the one thing that she cannot.

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

See! Briska isn't the special needs pup after all! ..'Least not in hunting. One hopes. Or maybe he just got lucky? That seems to be Flame's thought, for he snorts and eyerolls at his brother. His sisters giggle, cheer, and wag their tails in the few seconds that this reaction is appropriate. Navarone's attack comes rather quickly. Now, Briska isn't a mean puppy. But he's pumped full of adrenaline, primal hunting instincts, and now he's been wounded by this thing beneath him. (He doesn't quite recognize Navarone as that guy who hangs out with his family sometimes - Briska hasn't had enough time to make the connection.) He whines loudly, eyes squeezing shut and a quick breath sucked in through his nose as his side is pierced. Only one thought sounds in his small brain: It attacked him, and it might attack his pack! Then his whine turns to a pained-yet-loud snarl, and his bite to a Bite as he brings the full force of his naturally strong jaws down on that scuff of skin he'd already captured. Of course, the full force of a puppy's Bite isn't quite as strong as the attack of an adult Growlithe...but maybe Peppy will give the pup-biter a more powerful demonstration of said attack?

Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Biting was *not* part of the deal. Sneaky stealth attacks in which Navarone's head gets jammed into the floor are fine, but counterattacks involving inflicting considerable pain onto his son? That is not cool. It takes a second for the thought process "Briska is being hurt" to actually register in Peppy's head, partially because his head is still a chaotic mass of ecstatic glee after Briska's "successful" pounce. After this recognition, one jolt rips through his body, one thought, one word that spread from his brain to his paws. Go. Fueled by the power that only desperation can grant, Peppy springs off of his back paws, sprinting towards the two fire types. He spends more time in the air than on the ground; his strides are long and fast, pulling him across that short-but-still-too-long distance with more speed than the Growlithe could ever, in any other situation, hope to compare with. Heart racing, breath rapid, mind a flurry of murkiness, Peppy doesn't even think to try an actual attack, like a Bite or a Take Down; he just keeps running and, if Navarone can't escape in that short window since the bite, will attempt to bash right into the Vulpix, probably hard enough to knock the wind out of him, too. If this is successful and not guarded against properly, the force will probably be enough to send both Growlithes and the Vulpix over into a tumbled mass - but that of course depends on Navarone's reaction to the situation.

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

The fierce threat of danger in Navarone's eye flares up as he sinks his ivories into the smaller pup latched onto his back, hoping to get the pup to respond somehow-- and by that bite, he means business. Unfortunately, the pup decides to go aggressive, something that Briska isn't, especially when he's not hunting. Navarone, however, has no qualms about taking a good bite into his foe, his mind still clouded, his awareness dulled. All he knows is that something on his back is trying to kill him, and his instincts kick in. His bite becomes harder, the grip around the pup's flesh growing exponentially tighter, the teeth drawing blood from the Growlithe. It's only when that strong iron-ish taste in his mouth hits him that he finally springs out of his blind rage, his eye losing all ferocity and leaving the remains of shock at what he's doing. Before he could even begin to comprehend it, Peppy, 50-something pound mass of protective father, bulldozes into the featherlight firefox, sending him flying, then crashing into the ground, rolling a bit before he finally slows to a halt, legs in a sprawl, tails and headur messed up. He doesn't move; he is still but for the beating of his heart and the pounding breaths in his chest. The victor is apparent here.

Ah, but to Briska, this is hunting. Briska's snarl morphs between an angered rumble and a pained whine as Navarone digs in deeper. His watering eyes spring open and narrow harshly. All that is in his mind is another set of instincts - break the neck! The pup jerks his head from side to side, the movements unpracticed and rather clumsy. The blood filling his mouth means little to the pup; just another experience, like rain or fire. The pup doesn't have time to break Navarone's neck, and with his present strength and inexperience he couldn't do so anyway. Daddy's coming to help. Briska doesn't let go. Twenty-two pound of Vulpix twist and turn with thirty or so pounds of Growlithe; the two rolling until they finally crash to the ground. The pup manages to lose his grip on Navarone's neck, so no flesh is torn from the Vulpix. And now that there's stillness, the pain in Briska's side becomes even more intense; hot, burning, filling his mind, provoking the Growl that bursts from his throat though the look on his face is one of agony. With his bloodied mouth, it makes for a particularly effective Growl, even though it's not really aimed at anyone, for the dog just lies there, trying to fight past pain he's felt little of in his short life.

As he charges into Navarone and sends the Vulpix sprawling, Peppy himself stumbles to the ground, perhaps tripping over his victim or maybe even his own force, but, unlike the smaller fire type, he does not go tumbling across the wooden floor. He more or less collapses to the ground, his chin ramming into the wood and his body falling after. It's enough to invoke a "Grooowl!" of pain from the pokemon. He clenches his teeth together tightly, his face scrunching up in a fit of anger as he gets back up to all four paws. The big, fuzzy tuft on his head bobbles in front of him, drooping down in front of his right eye. He jerks his head up, sending it back where it belongs. His breathing rate is incredible, his chest expanding and deflating so fast it looks more like it's twitching than anything else. Teeth still tight, eyes wide with fury and fright, Peppy's paws grip the wooden floor as best as they can, tense and strict. He is waiting for Navarone's movements; if anything looks even the slightest bit threatening, the Growlithe will be ready. It takes a lot of effort to get it out between breaths, and his voice is quiet and cracked, but Peppy manages to get out a concerned <Briska>. Nothing more, no '<Are you okay>', no '<Are you hurt>', just the pup's name. It's all he can do right now.

The Vulpix practically looks unconscious, if but for the fact that his one working eye manages to blink open, first a small crack, then widening up again. It takes a while for him to understand what's going on, and his mind is still cloudy, fogged by his sudden, apprehending visions, his sudden lapse into memories. He manages to draw his paws back to his body, in an effort to stand, pushing himself upwards-- only for the sudden burst of pain in his neck to jolt through him and send him crashing back on the boards again, a resounding wooden thud ringing in his ears with a otherworldly quality. His eyebrows furrow, wincing at the hurt pulsing on the back of his neck. Once again he struggles to get up, forepaws pushing at the ground again, and finally he manages to stand, wobbly and looking like he's going to fall over any moment. The vulpine head turns to Peppy, his one eye narrowing at him, muzzle curled into a defeated snarl.

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

<Oh!> shrieks one of the sisters. <Briska!> howls another. <Meanie!> yaps the third, while an angry growl comes from one or two or all of the pups. It's hard to tell who's silent and who's not, as their voices are nearly indistinguishable in their shock. Maybe Flame even joins in - as stated, it's hard to tell. A flurry of paws are heard during the yips and howls as the pups attempt to gather around their brother...and keep away from the Vulpix. Briska pants, each ragged breath bringing a soft whine with it. He watches his oncoming family dully, but panic lights in his eyes a few seconds later. <S..stay!> he barks weakly. <Stay, P..P--Poppa..> he whimpers the order to his father. And then Navarone tries to rise. Briska knows the creature is going to attack the pack. He takes a deep breath. <Staaaaayyyy...!> he growls at Navarone, red-tinted teeth displayed proudly. He struggles to his paws. Protect the family. His ears pull back against his scalp, his tail curves over his back, his legs tremble. Protect the family. ...And pain bursts through him. But, strangely, for all the pain, he feels light-headed. Oddly, the ground tosses underneath his suddenly blurry, indistinct paws. Briska gasps, eyes wide, and for a moment that seems an eternity he stands, his gaze empty and elsewhere.

Peppy tenses and relaxes, tenses and relaxes, tenses and relaxes at virtually every movement the Vulpix makes. Adrenaline is pumping through his blood right now, and it's taking conscious thought to stop himself from simply leaping upon his friend and putting to a halt any risk that the firefox could potentially inflict on his son. Briska's soft, panicked voice snaps Peppy's attention over to him, and the Growlithe can only watch wide-eyed as his puppy tries to stand up, powered by some unseen force of love not unlike his father's, before falling back to the floor. Everything just stops for Peppy. Navarone has vanished, and the image of his daughters and mate crowding around Briska fades into nothingness. The pain that suddenly bursts in Peppy's chest is like nothing he has ever felt before. Instead of slowing him down, however, the burning sensation drives Peppy to march towards his son, his movements uncoordinated and clumsy, eyes locked onto Briska, entirely disregarding the threat that put Briska in that condition in the first place. He approaches the fallen fuzzy body, and thankfully, the other puppies fall back, giving their father his room. Peppy doesn't notice them. Eyes wide, he leans forward, moves his head down, and prods Briska with his nose gently, somehow managing a soft <... Briska?>

The night is warm and sultry, and dark clouds hide the stars in patches. Elsewhere they shine brightly. Dew forms on the ground.

A commotion starts up. In the darkness of the barn, many a pokemon are startled awake by the series of events that have just unfolded here in Assisi. A Pidgey hen hides her children under her wings, a pair of Nidoran chatter excitedly in the back, but all are intently gazing at the group of fire-types. Some are more concerned over the felled Growlithe, while some stare daggers at Navarone, the obvious and most convenient villain right now to put the blame on. There are loud shouts, accusations. The Vulpix watches as Pep draws closer to his son, tending to him, and his gaze wanders around the barn, his gaze settling on just about every pokemon there is. There are some gasps as their eyes meet his, while some just stare back, hardened and furious. They say everything there is needed to be said. Get out. And he does. Without so much as a word, the Vulpix paces towards the barn doors, wincing as he pulls on the fresh wound on his back with each step. Out he steps into the wide world once more, storming out the barn, noiseless. How oddly familiar this all seems-- minus the fire and the Ninetales, of course.

Briska hits the ground heavily, scattering dust mites into the air. His eyes are closed, his breaths quick and shaky. The more his side heaves the more his blood stains his fur, dripping onto the straw below him. It's almost black in the light of the barn. The pain of his wound inexorably destroys his plans to help his family. Briska can only think of his body; of the itchy, cold sensation that crawls over his nerves and makes him shiver uncontrollably, a full-body shiver that tousles the fur from his back to his toes. It's shock, though he can't label what he's never felt before. It sets in now that he's as weak as a day old pup. And Briska acts like a day old pup, whining softly and weakly like he did when his mother's warmth and scent left him. His father's words produce little reaction, except a slightly louder whine that turns into a sob as tears begin to flow, shock and pain and exhaustion taking their toll on the puppy.

And perhaps if Briska were still standing, Peppy would have apologized to Navarone for being rash, or perhaps he would have exiled the Vulpix himself, or perhaps he would have unleashed all hell and went psycho-mauling on him. He doesn't do any of these. He doesn't even notice Navarone leave. Peppy is, in its purest sense, terrified. Terrified that this damage is going to be permanent, terrified that his son isn't going to survive the night, terrified that his friend of all pokemon will do it again. Watching Briska struggling there on the ground, blood coloring his side, whimpering and whining helplessly, Peppy swallows heavily, not even bothering to hold back the tears that rise in his green eyes. He knows they'll come whatever they do. <Oh no,> he whispers to himself, the adrenaline in his body giving way. Anger is an emotion left behind. Only sadness remains. Instead of lifting his head back up, Peppy only goes down further, now running his wet black nose along the pup's head to his neck, allowing his cheek to touch his son's. His eyes remain locked on the cuts, though it's difficult to see through the blurriness. <Please be all right, please be all right,> he whispers into the smaller Growlithe's ear, over and over. Peppy doesn't know what else to do.

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

A lone Rattata looks up in the darkness, nose twitching, little rubies scanning the horizon. It scampers away into the grass once more, as the sound of rustling grass intertwined with footfalls grows nearer. Navarone's trot has grown into a run, a full-out burst of speed, going nowhere, anywhere-- it matters little to the firefox now. All he knows is that he nearly tried to take the life of a child, the son of one of his friends. One of his only friends. But not after what he has done. Instantly the thought of him biting into the pup's flesh and tasting his blood sends him sprinting forward, not really knowing or caring where his destination is. Funny how your past comes to haunt you, and how strange that it comes in more ways that one. In retrospect, he damns himself. Peppy had made him let his guard down, made him unaware, to forget what had happened so many times before. That no matter what his intentions are, that he will always hurt others. Mother. Spook. Streetwind. And now Briska. How could he forget? The Vulpix squeezes his eyes shut once more, launching ahead, running over the fields of the farmlands. But where will you go, Navarone? You are not welcome anymore. No matter where you run, no matter what you do, you cannot stop what fate meant to do. Long after his furious run is over, will the thought ring true in his mind. And in hopeless confusion, it asks.

Briska will cry himself out after twenty minutes. That done, he'll try to get to sleep, managing it sometime during the too-long night. Nothing will stop his sobs - not his family's words or tears, not any caresses he receives - and nothing will stop him from sinking into an exhausted sleep. Right now, Briska simply can't alter his focus, his memory is shot, and he's the only creature in his world. His body is in control, doing what it can to save him. Pokemon have remarkable abilities to recover. He'll exhaust himself, sleep, and try to heal. Blood from the bite wound is already clotting, and in the morning the wound will be a lighter shade of red, brown on the wound's edges and blood dried black matting his fur. It'll ooze red if Briska moves, but the pup won't want to. Briska is the family's protector, brave and strong. He'll live to see another day.

And though he will be far quieter than his son, Peppy will, too, be weeping the whole, his hot tears dripping down his face and trickling onto Briska's head. He will continue to nuzzle Briska's cheek for a good few minutes, whispering pointless whimpers into his ear periodically. <Please be okay.> <Don't die.> <You'll be all right.> <I'm so sorry.> And, finally, he chokes out a hushed <I love you> before stripping himself away from the smaller Growlithe, stumbling a step back, spinning around, and squeezing his eyes shut. It's only just now that he realizes the pain in his shoulder and neck from where he bashed Navarone, but that feeling is hardly as powerful as the one he feels inside. He doesn't say anything to Aurora or his other puppies; he simply shakes his head, slowly opens his eyes, and walks over to the wall, ignoring any questions Aurora or one of the girls may make. He places his forehead against the wood, staring down at the ground though blurry vision. What does he feel? Anger? Perhaps. Sadness? Definitely. Betrayal? Maybe. Tired? ... He doesn't even have to work that one out in his head. He slinks down to the ground, head scraping against the wall, ignoring any splinters or burns he may feel. His chin smashes into the floor, but his eyes are already closed by then. Peppy is dead asleep, unable to take the sudden stress placed upon him, and he won't wake up until Briska's whines in the morning wake him up.