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

Briska has connected.

Fair weather clouds sail across the blue sky, propelled by light breezes from the west. It's warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and dry. In the forest, the wind rustles the bright green leaves of trees and bushes and carries Oddish pollen, downy seeds, and the fragrance of wildflowers along with it. While at the coast, the ocean is a deep cool blue today, the waves lapping at the coast gently under the pleasant spring sky.

Ah, another one of those perfect afternoons. It's warm and bright enough to have fun, but cool and breezy enough to avoid lazing about and doing nothing. Wind squeezes through the cracks in the wall and through the door, which is currently wide open for the comfort of the few pokemon still inhabiting the barn. Much of the day thus far has left poor Aurora home alone to care for the furry energy bundles while Peppy picks off a helpless Rattata or two, and now that he's returned to the barn, she's taking this opportunity to catch up on some well-deserved zzs. Dusk and Karen, perhaps waiting until mommy wakes back up, have nuzzled up on either side of Aurora; Dusk is fast asleep, and Karen's quickly getting there. Dakota as usual, however, is wide awake and more than happy to irritate either of her two brothers, who are still awake at this time. And where is dear ol' dad at this time? He's resting on his haunches near the door. He takes the occasional peek to make sure Flame's not bullying his siblings or Dakota's not playing too roughly, but for the most part, he's more content to peer up at the blue sky and feel the wind running through his fur than anything else.

The fair weather is good enough today to allow for a hunting trip. Scorch, the Charmander who usually resides in the corner of the barn is absent, out practicing his shabby hunting skills. The little fellow doesn't make a show of himself normally, so it is unlikely that any regular residents of the barn have noticed his absence. If anyone -did- notice him leave, they will know that he has been gone for some time now, indicating that he hasn't had much success. Perhaps it's his usual preference of Pidgeys that is hampering him, as they are extremely hard to catch, unless the Charmander uses the element of surprise, something that he is noteably poor at.

Briska's world is a blur of colour and motion. The sound of wind whistles and hoots in his ears, and even his paws are starting to ache as they pound into the straw-covered floor again and again. Briska's maw - still a bit large, proof of his puppyhood - gapes, his tongue flapping from his pale muzzle like a pink ribbon. The pup spins in a circle a few feet away from Flame's corner; Briska is little more than a blur of sunset orange and off-white. The reasons for his actions aren't terribly clear, and they don't seem to interest either Flame or Dakota. The latter is yapping at her brother, falling into play bows only to frisk up onto her paws seconds later. The former is glaring at her quite acidly.

Yips and yaps permeate throughout the barn. Dakota's developing quite a loud voice for herself, and the ruckus she creates as she bothers poor Flame is enough to grab a hold of Peppy's attention. The Growlithe casually turns his head to regard his daughter, just to make sure her yaps are excited little nothings, not cries of pain or fright. Sure enough, it's simply Dakota trying to be friendly, and the scene causes the adult Growlithe to smile softly, shaking his head hopelessly at the spectacle. She never learns. <Dakota!> Peppy woofs out to the puppy, his voice stern but not harsh, mean, or even scolding. Whether she looks over and/or replies or not, Peppy will follow it up with a softer, <Don't bother your brother so much. Why don't you play with...> Briska? Briska is currently a puppy torpedo, swirling around the barn at speeds that cause the Growlithe to prick up his eyebrows, though whether it's because he's impressed or because he's perplexed is uncertain. <Briska?> The Growlithe's head cocks slightly. He's now quiter; Briska probably won't even hear him if he's concentrating so fircely on his sprint. <What are you doing?>

It is rather a strange sight to see Scorch tear into the Pidgey like he is. Pulling off a drumstick, he munches happily to himself in the corner. His face seems to show more satisfaction than normal, probably because of the size of his catch and the effort that was required to get it. With the drumstick in one hand, he gets up and wanders over to one of the larger piles of hay. On his way there, Scorch can't help but notice the antics of the puppies, bringing a smile to his face. Scorch wasn't like that... much... Briska's energetic racing catches the Charmander's eye in particular and he forgets what he was doing, instead turning to approach the family. <Hello!> He waves in greeting.

Briska cranes his neck forward, his large green eyes narrowing at what they see. And what travels through Briska's optic nerves, hitting that large mass of tissue and neurons that is his brain? A large fluffy puff - his tail. The fluffy puppy bears his still pure white teeth in a short grin. Oh, he's gonna get it this time! The youngster hasn't quite realized that he could catch his tail without difficulty if he just stood still and curled up a bit. Nope, Briska is a certified tail-chaser today, and no matter how long he's been doing this (a few minutes), he's not going to let victory elude him! Flame has much larger victories on his mind, and is quite happy when dad calls off Dakota, as it means he can go back to sitting and dreaming about them. He sighs in relief, and even shoots dad a very quick grateful look when pop's back is turned. Dakota, meanwhile, spots a new friend. She yaps at Scorch and bounds happily towards him, intended to stop a mere half-foot in front of him and grin at the Charmander's face. Nope, she never learns.

The sounds of a greeting from a non-Growlithe pokemon set Peppy's warning meter up a notch, and he starts to stand up. As he realizes that it's simply the Charmander, however, the Growlithe settles back down onto his rump after giving off a slight sigh. Scorch hasn't exactly become one of the family, but he's definitely proven himself true enough to be trusted around the puppies - at least, for now. Peppy focuses his attention back on Briska, whose movements still perplex him. What, didn't Peppy himself chase his tail when he was a youngster? (Shoot, knowing Peppy, he probably wouldn't have to go back very far to remember.) The fire type rears back slightly, trying to figure Briska out, before Dakota's energetic galumping and hyper yapping distract him. <Oh, uh... uh, Charmander!> A name is too much to remember. <If she... uh, bothers you too much, just let me know!> He speaks more humorously than anything else, so even if Dakota could or does understand his words, she'd know that he's not being mean or rude.

Scorch is rather taken aback by the hurtling orange and white torpedo heading towards him, and even though the puppy stops short of him, the lizard stumbles backwards as if Dakota had collided with him, falling onto his rump with a surprised look on his face. He blinks twice before realizing he's still in one piece, then grins sheepishly. At Peppy's greeting, he smiles back. <Oh, er, hi! Um, yeah I will!> His words and facial expression show humor too, understanding Peppy's words, even though he can't remember the Growlithe's name either. Scorch's eyes flick back to the puppy before him, and then to the drumstick in his hand. Looking back at Dakota, he offers the meat to the puppy. <Pidgey?>

Wind whistles, paws thud, heart races...and jaws close in. Yes, Briska's hind legs were too slow, due to all the concentrated running he's been doing over a period of time that's rather long for a puppy, and Briska has his tail. His green eyes widen, sparkling with fathomless joy, and he even yips a quick "Ow!" in victory before he chomps down. Now, Briska's tail has been chomped on and tugged many times. He's even done so to the tails of other pups, up to and including ma and pa - it's all part of a good tussle, after all! But for some reason when he started this exercise he didn't get that what he was chasing was attached to him. Briska's eyes widen, and he holds his tail in his mouth for a few more seconds. Then he abruptly spits it out and howls a pained "Iiiiiii!", his head jerking upwards and eyes squeezing shut. Dakota gives a canine chuckle at Scorch's reaction, and then yaps playfully at her dad's words. She steps eagerly and confidently towards the Pidgey...until her brother's cry distracts her. She turns to look at him, blinking.

Peppy probably should have taught his kids the ever invaluable "don't take food from strangers" lesson, but the Growlithe doesn't seem to mind the fact that Scorch is offering his Pidgey. That, or he doesn't notice - he's still fixed on Briska, wondering what the puppy is doing. And it hits him, finally - half a second too late. For one instantaneous moment in time, Peppy sees those excited, victorious green eyes, that proud "Ow!", his opening jaw. It's at that second that the father realizes exactly what his son's about to do, and by the time Peppy can open his mouth to warn Briska to -not bite that-, Briska's already munched down. Peppy takes a moment or so to wince, his shoulders jerking up as high as they can involuntarily, before he springs to all four paws, dashing over to Briska as though the poor little guy is seriously hurt. <Briska!> Peppy woofs as he stumbles to a stop, almost tripping over himself. He inspects Briska all over, from toe to chest to nose then finally to tail. <Oh no, oh no, are you hurt? Are you okay? Where does it hurt most? Will you be okay? Why did you do that? Are you really hurt? How bad does it hurt?> This is all launched rapid-fire at poor Briska, Peppy's overdramatic worry getting the best of him.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

Still sitting down, Scorch suddenly turns his head towards the source of the cry, Briska. Not knowing what happened, the Charmander pushes himself to his feet and hurriedly walks over to the puppy. Then something clicks within the lizard's head, revealing what must have happened. Scorch's deductive skills can be excellent at times, but they tend to work slowly. Scorch can't really relate to having done the same, as Charmander tails are even more difficult to catch, and there is the added hazard of a burning flame on the tip. Thankfully, this Charmander has never burned himself... yet. Scorch would enquire about the puppy's health, but all the questions he could ask have already been asked by the dramatic father.

Two tears leak from Briska's shut eyes, travelling down his fuzzy cheeks. His toes and chest and nose appear fine, even if his fur is quite wind-tossed, making the sheer volume of his coat even more apparent. He's larger than ever now, which makes the high-pitched whine the mingles with Peppy's frantic words that much more pathetic. Briska's tail will reveal the source of the problem. It doesn't visibly throb, though to Briska it sure feels like it does, but...is that a bit of pink mixed in with the white fur? Dakota looks over at Briska, then at Scorch, then at her father. She takes a step towards her brother, before spinning around and trying to wrassle with the burnt Pidgey. Eh, dad's taking care of it.

Don't die, Peppy thinks to himself. Don't die. Peppy's panic intensifies even further when he spots the tears that trickle down his son's face. The Growlithe's head quickly jerks from Briska's face to his tail, and even though Peppy's colorblind, he can still see the darkness around that one area right there. Peppy takes a breath here, squeezing his eyes shut for just a second. Peppy's had cuts three times that size that he hardly even noticed, but apparently it's a lot different when it's his kid and not himself. <Okay, Briska,> Peppy woofs, trying to remain calm, despite the obvious concern (fright?) in his voice. He turns back to Briska's face. <D... does it really hurt? Is it still bleeding? Is the cut big?> Yes, all Peppy has to do is look and see for himself, but he's frantic right now, and Peppy thinks even less than usual when he's frantic.

Scorch can't do anything to help the poor thing. He doesn't know how to treat a bitten tail, and even if he did, Peppy probably would take offense at a relative stranger taking an active role with his family. So, he stands back while the father takes care of the problem. Or tries to. Then, another idea visibly hits the Charmander. If he can't help the injured puppy, at least he can try to keep the others busy, to stop any natural curiosity they may have from interfering with the situation. One is occupied with the Pidgey leg, but the others... Scorch waddles back towards his bed of hay, to where the rest of his catch lies.

Briska gives another whine, but this time it's softer. Briska likely has been nipped hard enough to bleed before - certainly he has, with a brother like Flame - but it's one of the rarer occurrences in the barn. And each time it hurts. The pup gives another whine, his ears still plastered against his scalp. Slowly his head lowers, as he finally sees that family is around. <Poppa,> he woofs, in dull surprise. He was a bit wrapped up in his own world of agony when Peppy spoke earlier. Briska opens his mouth again, and then tries to form a coherent word. "Li..grow..." <Er..uh...> "Ow, li, the.." <Mah, no, tuh...> No, he doesn't know a word to describe what he's feeling, and he gives a half-whine, half-grumble. The pain must be fading if he can voice his frustration.

And even Peppy, no matter how ignorant he may be, realizes that if Briska's no longer wailing in pain and is trying to relate to his father the pain he's in, he's not inches away from death or anything. "Grrrowli growli?" he asks once more, vaguely questioning if Briska is still in a lot of pain. Peppy's attention shifts over to the tail now, which he inspects with a sort of false professionality, like an archaologist over a rare fossil. It's like he's creating the illusion that he knows precisely what to do. <I think you'll be okay,> he tells Briska, though if the puppy gestures that he needs a comforting nuzzle or nose-nudge or something, Peppy will be more than glad to give it to him. <Make sure you don't do that again, all right?> As if biting his tail wasn't enough of a clue for Briska...

And Scorch returns from his small errand to find that all the fuss is over. Drat. He holds the rest of the fat Pidgey in his hands, but looks at a loss as to what to do with it now. Looking around at the rest of the family, he feels a little guilty for not offering the others any. Taking a few steps forwards to about the middle of the family, he places the remainder of the carcass on the floor. Taking the other leg for himself, he steps backwards a few paces. Even though he hasn't said anything, not wanting to interrupt a tender father-and-son moment, the offer is there.

Dakota is still playing with the Pidgey leg, growling and snarling cute little snarls over it. Hey, it's fun to play with your food! Briska's tail is still heavily furred, and there still is a bit of a pink stain, though Peppy would have to squint to see it under all the fur. It doesn't appear to have gotten much bigger, however. The rest of Briska gets very droopy - his head lowers and his eyes go to his toes, his ears lowering as well. Life would be so much better if his pack didn't keep talk to him and expect him to talk back. Why can't he be like Dusk or Flame or Karen or even Dakota, who all seem to understand the magic of moving your mouth to form words? The pup doesn't often feel a longing to communicate, but when he does, it bruises up his little feelings to know that he just isn't good at doing so. Flame, the only other pup awake, sniffs at the Pidgey carcass with faint interest, though he can't exactly smell much from his corner at the back.

Peppy can only assume the obvious, which, unfortunately, isn't the truth. He thinks Briska felt bad about doing something as... ah... curious as chasing and biting his own tail, not about his hard time with speaking. Something in Peppy's chest pings in pity, and his eyes widen slightly out of sympathy for the poor little guy. <Don't feel sad, Briska...> he woofs to the pup, lowering his head slightly to try and make his eyes level with the smaller Growlithe's. He would mention that everybody does it at least once, but so far Briska's the first of the five puppies Peppy's seen do that; it would be a blatant lie. Peppy's attention shifts to Scorch, but stops halfway up the Charmander's body - and locks onto the Pidgey he holds in his hand. His mouth opens slightly, and his eyes narrow down at his puppy. The makings of a grin perk onto his face, and he woofs a hurried <Be right back!> before stepping towards Scorch. As he approaches the smaller fire type, Peppy speaks to him, but peers at the Pidgey the whole time. <Uh. Mind if I take some? Uh, for him? To, uh, cheer him up? Please?> Should Scorch say yes, Peppy will tear off a chunk, return, and give it to Briska, tail-a-wagging. Should Scorch say no... we'll see.

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

Scorch looks at the approaching Growlithe, as he asks for a piece. <Sure! I don't think I'll manage it all anyway. It was quite a fat one...> The Charmander allows Peppy to take any amount he wants from the carcass. After all, it is on the floor. Munching quietly on his food, Scorch begins to once more keep himself to himself. Assuring the puppies with a quick gesture towards the carcass, he watches the family with joyful eyes. Unless spoken to from now on, he will remain silent, sitting at the side of the scene. Eventually, he will wander back to his bed to rest. Honestly, with a place to sleep, this Charmander has become lazy.

Scorch has disconnected.

Briska's tail is in its previous position; slightly raised but not to the point of clearly, in canine body-language, denoting confidence or superiority. Briska doesn't want to chance moving the puff of fluff and, recently discovered, flesh and bone. As Peppy talks to him, Briska gives the lightest of whimpers, possibly gone unheard by his father. The puppy sighs heavily, before giving his tail a lightning-quick glance, his eyes quickly going to his father and the...the thing that's been around. Briska can't muster much curiosity, and instead watches listlessly.

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

Peppy's reply is a half-felt <Thanks!> to the Charmander before he descends onto the Pidgey like a hawk, pecking and prodding with his nose to find the absolute juciest, tenderest spot that hasn't already been consumed by Dakota. He finally settles for a piece of the bird's breast, and he yanks it off with a fierce tug, a feather or two fluttering into the air as he does. He takes the meat over to Briska, and, settling it down in front of the puppy, nudges it towards him with his nose, all the while looking up at his son to see his expression. <It's for you,> he woofs to the pup, keeping his furry head low as he tries to appeal to his son. A sad Briska makes for a sad Peppy.

Dakota peers up at her dad, spending a few seconds of her attention on his retreating form. She then parts her jaws in a yawn, eyeing her mother and sleeping sibs. She's had a long, busy day. The peppy gal trots over to the matriarch of the Growlithe clan and curls up next to her. The sandman hasn't come for Briska yet; the fluffy pup looks to his father, and then down at the Pidgey. He repeats this process a few times, but his actions are rather sluggish. When did dad come in with a Pidgey? Why did dad come put the bird near Briska? The pup's already poor ability to comprehend is smothered even more by his recent adventures. Peppy likely needs to do something else for Briska to get it.

Oh, no. Everything Peppy's relied on, everything Peppy's ever used to cheer the puppies up or start a conversation or anything has had something to do with -food-. To think that there is something food -cannot- cure, a disappointment too great for food to heal... the thought is enough to make Peppy's head drop even further. His chin slams into the wooden floor, and he just kind of gawks up at Briska, almost as if not understanding. <You don't... want it?> Peppy's voice is confused, concerned, and, above all, incredulous at Briska's rejection of his offering. Maybe that cut was bigger than he thought. Maybe Briska somehow thinks it was Peppy's fault and refuses the food because of that! ... Maybe Peppy's just not smart enough to realize that Briska just might not be hungry.

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

Lacking in vocabulary, smarts and perceptive abilities, Briska doesn't have much to offer the pack that is the Mount Olympus of his young life. All Briska has to give is love, protectiveness, a certain sensitivity to the emotions of others...and confusion. He shows the latter now by peering at his dad as Peppy's chin hits the floor. Briska gives a curious little whine, though his ears do flatten for a few seconds at the sheer disbelief in his father's tone. He can't understand what he did wrong, but the why of things rarely matters to Briska. 'How to fix' is the thought on his mind. <P..Poppa,> he says as he stares at his father; his concern with pronouncing the word doesn't cover up the worry for the parental figure before him. The pup's head raises, and he even moves his tail upwards - though he visibly winces as that happens. Briska takes a deep breath and then walks around the Pidgey carcass. When he reaches his father, he stretches his neck and quickly nuzzles either side of Peppy's muzzle, or will, if his father lets him. Providing Peppy doesn't move, Briska will stare up into his father's eyes, his own filled with worry and kindness. He tilts his head, and gives a small smile, asking his dad - quite confidently, if his body language is any indication - if he's going to snap out of...whatever he's in. Peppy might not know that his son is mimicking a posture he's seen his father take a few times before. ..Or he might. With Peppy, you can never tell, now can you?

Bright colors, sweetness, and light! Candylion-springtimes! (We're saved!)

Oranges, reds, and golds light the fair weather clouds, shadowed in purple, around the setting sun. A soft breeze blows from the west.

Peppy is still pondering over Briska's rejection when the puppy starts to speak, his voice sounding so quiet, so pronounced, so... worried. When Briska starts to move forward, the older Growlithe's frown lessens a bit, though it creases back into a cross look when Briska makes his way around the Pidgey. Peppy's initial thought is that Briska, sick of being with his father, has decided to walk away, but that is soon diminished when he realizes that the smaller dog is rounding the corpse and heading for him. And Peppy doesn't move a muscle. Briska has confused him a lot this afternoon, and the young pokemon's actions right now aren't an acception. And then he gets nuzzled. For a second or two after Briska starts nuzzling, Peppy can only lie there, peering out of the corner of his eye as the puppy's soft fur rubs against his own. He recovers quickly enough, and, the odd pains of a parent's love taking over his stomach and chest, nuzzles Briska right back. As Briska peers up at his father, Peppy notes how much the little guy's grown, and that alone is enough to put a smile on his face. A wise word would be suitable at this point, but Peppy remains silent, grinning down at his son with all the pride he's ever felt.

Briska's tail begins to flick from side to side as Peppy looks down at Briska with what the pup knows is love. Poppa is better again. Of course, the movements of Briska's tail stops abruptly as pain registers, but it's a dull, faraway pain. Peppy has a good few seconds to see happiness and love flash through his son's eyes, before the puppy lowers his head and squeezes his eyes shut - this time, because he just can't hold back a yawn. Once he's done, the kid takes a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. It's a sigh of relief, the emotion found on his face. Trying to keep people happy is hard work. One thing Briska knows is that he's never going to chase his tail again...it makes Poppa shove dead birds in his face when he's not hungry and speak in and gasp and sputter and generally look like a poor head of the pack when Briska knows he isn't. ..And, yeah, it also hurts a tad. Briska looks over at his siblings, keeping track of where they are. Flame's asleep, away from the family, but the rest of them are cuddled up together. "Rrrrth," Briska mumbles, eyeing the sleeping ones with half-lidded eyes. Ah, the blissful thought of sleep!

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

Yawning is a contagious disease. It can shatter any mood with perfect accuracy, even those as powerful as the love between a father and son. When Briska succumbs to the yawn, he starts up a domino effect, and Peppy is the next one in line. Before Briska is even done, Peppy himself has already raised his head high to the sky, stretched his jaws as wide as they'll go, and let out a yawn that would put a Snorlax to shame. His chops smack open and closed a couple times as he turns his attention back to Briska. He regards the pup for a moment, before slowly dragging his gaze across the floor and over to the four sleeping females. <You look tired, Briska,> Peppy notes as he turns back, nodding his head wisely a few times. <C'mon, off to bed.> Supposing Briska hasn't already started making his way over to the rest of his family, Peppy will attempt to bring his muzzle over behind one of Briska's hind paws and gently - very gently - shove him in that direction. Briska's tired of making people happy; Peppy's apparently tired of being awake.