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

Flame has connected.

The air is damp and cold, the sky a translucent grey, brighter to the south. Nothing casts a shadow. In the forest, snow lingers in the forks of the broadleafed trees and on the needle-clad branches of the conifers. While at the coast, the sea matches the cold winter sky: grey, rolling and oppressive.

It's a lazy Sunday on the farm today. Winter is slowly morphing into Spring, and though the weather is gloomy and grey and snow still rolls across the surface of the valley, spreading as far as the eye can see, it's far thinner than it's been for weeks. The snow meets with a gloomy sky in the distance, and it's impossible to tell the time; the sun is nonexistant in an empty sky. Though a few of the more energetic or bored pokemon do take this opportunity to explore the snow, Peppy the Growlithe (as well as his mate and puppies... or, at least, most of them) have decided to stay inside the barn and sleep the day away. Peppy lies on his back now, tongue lolled out to the side, crushing his big bushy tail under his fuzzy body. His legs are stretched, and his paws dangle in the air aimlessly; he looks more like one of the puppies than the adult.

Flame is lying on his stomach, squished in-between a few of his siblings. Someone's tail flops into his face, and he wrinkles up his nose and sneezes. He grumbles irritably, and silently asks himself why he isn't sleeping in his usual corner, instead of snoozing with his family like a normal, functioning puppy. Well, to get on Peppy's good side of course! The only way to win his war with Dusk is to win the favor of their father. He knows it will help him later, when they get into serious arguments, one of which even his award winning acting abilities won't get him out of. He scans the room with a pair of beady eyes, and pushes the fluffy tail out of his face, and fights the urge to bite the offender of his space. Slowly, he gets out of the mountain completely made of puppies, and he saunters off to do some exploring, or maybe start some trouble with a few burrowing Rattata. Or, doing a spot of Pidgey hunting doesn't sound like too bad of an idea either!

Peppy is, apparently, having a hayday in his dreams. <Yeeeah...> he woofs to himself, one back paw twitching, his breathing becoming more rapid. <All... thes' burgers... furme? ... Aurora, y'shuddentave...> His face is locked in a perpertual grin. He opens his jaws wide as he starts up a great big yawn, large enough to knock his balance off. He leans over far enough to cause him to tumble over onto his side, and as his body smashes down into the floor, straw kicks up and dust bursts into the air into a large cloud. The Growlithe's eyes blink open as he gasps, immediately slamming one paw into the air to clumsily raise his upper torso into the air. Peer left. Peer right. Peer left again. His eyes are wide, his breathing audible. What just made that big thumping noise? Why does his side ache? Where did all this dust come from?

The puppy strolls along the barn, his steps slow and deliberate as he ambles semi cheerfully along. Every once in a while he pauses mid step, one of his paws a few inches above the ground. He'll stand completely rigid, will lift his nose into the air, and sniff around cautiously, in a fashion one might deem as paranoid. Once he's sure that no one is following him, and that the coast is clear for him to keep walking, he'll lower his foot back to the ground and continue along. Everything about Flame is sneaky and cunning, his posture, his gait, and the very way he moves with his head lowered and his muscles almost always rigid. Suddenly, there's a loud crash, straw goes flying, and Peppy comes into view seemingly out of nowhere. Flame stops in his tracks once again, and stares at the miniature scene of mayhem with an analytical gaze, his brows furrowed with judgmental scrutiny. Shaking his head back and forth in a disapproving fashion, he grumbles "Lithe." His tone is annoyed, but the word doesn't carry any solid meaning.

Peppy continues staring wildly throughout the barn, trying to look for any trace of mischief. Unfortunately for him, it's mostly silent; few pokemon are even moving, most are snoring away blissfully. One pokemon, however, does catch Peppy's eye. A very familiar one. Flame. "Growli..?" Peppy asks himself with a blink, pulling with his front paw to adjust into a more comfortable position, on his belly, leaning on his forearms, chest and head high. Did Flame have something to do with it? Did that little puppy somehow manage to cause a ruckus from all the way over there? "Rowww..." he tells himself. Can't be. Give Flame a little credit, he's not that bad... ... is he? <What are you doing all the way over there, Flame?> Peppy woofs to the pup. It's not scolding or angry, but it's certainly a little concerned. <Don't you wa... wa...> A yawn takes him over, and he raises his head to the air, spreading his jaws for ten seconds or more, letting out a deep yawn that leaves him wet-eyed as he smacks his chops sleepily.

His gaze is thoughtful, the seriousness in his dark gems says as much. However, sitting with his mouth partially open, and his tongue sticking out the side of his lips in concentration, he looks goofier than he usually does. His tongue slips from the side of his mouth to the front, curling around the edges as he breathes, and a small gust of air leaves his nostrils when he chuffs. <Hmmmph.> What is he doing all the way over there? Will Peppy even get an answer from the normally silent pup? <Nuthin.> he quickly assures his father, shrugging his shoulders and looking as calm and uninterested about everything as he can. His eyes go to the floor and he stares at the dust collecting on the wood, while his ears flop uselessly against his head. Unfortunately, he cannot perform his act for long. Two seconds go by, and his dark eyes begin darting back and forth like they usually do, as he instinctively checks his surroundings. The ears on his head go erect, and he's once again listening for any unusual sounds around him. Peppy's half sentence receives a growl of disapproval, and the puppy blatantly rolls his eyes.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

If Peppy notices his son's none-too-content grunt, he doesn't let on about it. Lazily, the dog steals a glance at Aurora, who despite the noise is still snoozing away (or, at a bare minimum, pretending to). He looks back at Flame. Aurora. Flame. Gosh, he's tired. With a submissive exhale, complete with closing of eyes and shaking of head, the Growlithe growls and pushes off of the ground, back paws moving closer to the front as he struggles to ascend to all four paws in his sleepy state. He (eventually) succeeds, lets out a "Grrlth" of annoyance, and marches slowly, very slowly towards Flame. <Nothing?> the Growlithe repeats as he walks, looking more tired than anything else. <What do you mean by nothing? You have to mean -something-, or you wouldn't be doing it, right?> Wow! Actual... logic!

The landscape looks ghostly and drained of color in the cold pale fog.

Breathing heavily, some stray straw and dust leftover from Peppy's dreaming episode gets sucked up by Flame's nostrils. He jerks backwards with a disgruntled snort, pressing his paws against the wooden floor for support. His whole face contorts as he wrinkles up his nose, and his lips curl back against his cheekbones. The entire barn and all its snoozing inhabitants get a quick flash of Flame's tongue and milk teeth as he lets out a thunderous sneeze. <Achooo!> The bulky Growlithe puppy wipes his nose with a paw, rubbing some straw and dust into his fur, while ridding his lips of some foamy slobber. <Ewwww.> he groans, proceeding to wipe his paw on the floor, trying to get some of the nasty gunk out of his fur. He most certainly isn't going to lick his paw now! Sadly, this only worsens his situation, and he ends up collecting more dust in his dark fur, much to the pup's dismay. Then Peppy comes his way, and Flame focuses his attention on the larger Growlithe. He answers him by stating quite simply; <Sit'n.> Is that sarcasm in his voice? Maybe. If there is sarcasm, will Peppy even be able to tell?

Peppy just jumps. No, really, he actually stops his trot to jolt back a step. His tail stiffens, his body crouches. After he realizes that all the puppy did was sneeze, he relaxes, glances to the side, and continues his walk, this time a little more slowly and a little more cautiously. Right as Peppy enters normal speaking distance, Flame replies, and the Growlithe comes to a stop. He blinks, glances at Flame, peers up at his forehead, and stares down at Flame again, this time a little more harshly. This goes on for a moment or two before the pup finally sighs. A very small smile forms out of the corners of his mouth. <I guess I can't argue with that.> Bringing up his back paws, Peppy plops down onto his rump and haunches, tail swaying back and forth rhythmically. Beyond Flame, flakes of snow trickle into the barn, the large door allowing just enough room for it to sneak in. <... You know what?> Peppy asks rhetorically, looking past Flame, not expecting a reply. <You guys haven't gotten to see the snow yet, have you?>

Flame can't help but snicker when his sneeze is through, at Peppy's frightened reaction to it. If he can frighten his dear old dad with a sneeze, imagine what power he'll have over him when he's bigger and stronger! He snickers evilly at the thought, but Peppy's question causes his laughing to cease abruptly. The puppy quiets himself, straightens his posture, and holds his head and chest high, keeping both his triangular shaped ears erect. Apparently, he is actually giving his father his full and complete attention! Amazing, it must be a full moon, or a miracle of some sorts. Upon Peppy's mention of snow, the pup quirks his head to the side, his taut motionless ears flopping to the side, and kissing at the licorice colored fur of his cheeks. His eyes scrunch at their corners as he thinks, and he doesn't respond for at least a minute. Finally, after a long period of thoughtful silence, Flame tilts his head forward again, and trots over to the barn's door. There's a small pile of snow on the ground, and he pushes his nose in it, giving his tail one or two flicks. Is it an actual tail wag, or is he just moving his tail? It's really hard to tell. <Snow.> he announces, he doesn't say that he hasn't been out in it, but it's easy to figure out that he knows what the white powder is.

The only muscles Peppy moves at all while Flame approaches the barn door are his eye muscles. Other than that, the Growlithe is motionless. Flame speaks. This seems to break Peppy's trance, and quirking up both eyebrows, the pup pauses before woofing a low, <Snow, right. Very good.> Is Peppy himself being sarcastic? Or is he actually interested in his son's curious habits, his exploration of something new. A chill ripples down the Growlithe's striped back, his orange hairs standing on end. Probably from the cold... what else could it be? <Oh! Uh.> Peppy's voice raises a bit now, and his barks are now slightly louder. <Don't go out into it yet. Later we'll go see lots of snow. Later. Not now.> Peppy clamps his teeth together. If Flame decides he wants to disobey dad, he'll go out into the snow, and then *Peppy* has to go and bring him back, and it's really cold and uncomfortable out there and Peppy sure as heck doesn't want to go!

Peppy doesn't have to worry. While Flame enjoys bothering and pestering his poor, patient father, he's not aching to leap out into the cold. He prefers the warm of the barn, and his nest made of straw. He's only to go out into the snow if someone makes him. So, when the time comes for the pups to see the snow out in the open, that's when Peppy will be getting trouble. So, for today, Flame is on an unusual run of good behavior. He licks the snow once with his tongue, and jerks his head away at the tingling sensation his action causes. Pacing away from the snow, he quickly loses interest in the subject. However, he hasn't lost interest in Dad just yet. Of course, that's probably because there's nothing better to do, and none of his siblings are up and about for him to pester. Sitting a few feet away from the older Growlithe, preferring his own space, no matter who he is conversing with, he sets himself to the task of communicating a rather complex idea for one his age. <When...> he pauses, focuses on his task then continues, <I get...> he stops again, wrinkling his brows, and sweating in concentration. He's a determined thing. <Hunt?> he pipes up, wagging his tail and nodding his head at a Rattata scurrying across the barn.

Peppy breathes out a sigh of relief when Flame heads away from the door. His tail wags back and forth cheerfully, and for once he actually gives Flame a big smile, which only increases at the black pup stops and starts to speak. When... he gets... hunt? Fwoomp. The smile collapses into something of a frown at Flame's next comment, and the adult Growlithe shifts his attention to the walls. <Hunt?> Peppy repeats, now directing his gaze to the ceiling as though it's more interesting than the puppy. <... Not for a little while now, Flame. You... uh, you need to know how to do some things first. Like Ember, or Agility, or Bi-> Peppy stops in midsentence. He glances back at his swaying tail, and grins uneasily. Maybe they don't need to be taught how to Bite anytime in the near future. Peppy's tail's been chomped on enough in the past few months to know that they're quite proficient at that, indeed.

Flame eyes the Rattata running past hungrily, a string of drool bubbling at the corner of his lip. The drool collects there a few moments, clinging to his skin a minute or so, before oozing down into a sticky puddle at the pup's large feet. Licking his chops greedily, his tongue inches out his mouth, and cleans his lips of any remaining saliva. His raspy tongue hangs lazily out his maw briefly, before he slurps it back into his mouth, giving his tail another few wags as the rodent disappears into a pile of hay. He wriggles where he sits, and for once displays the puppyish behavior he so often shuns for feigned maturity. Sitting on his haunches, he whimpers impatiently when the purple pokemon vanishes from his sight, and he fights his instinct to go chasing after it. Peppy's answer brings a frown of dissatisfaction to Flame's canine-featured face, and he hangs his head and whines piteously. Aw, he's so good at dramatizing every situation. When he starts talking about learning different attacks though, he jerks his head up, his smile renewed. <When?> he asks quickly, inching closer to his father, his eyes sparkling with malicious desire. When do I get to rip something apart Dad? They seem to say.

It's only now that Peppy actually notices the Rattata, and his own mouth involuntarily begins to salivate. His tummy rumbles quietly, and he tears his gaze off of the running rat to focus down upon his stomach. He must not have realized how hungry he was... which is surprising, given that he's always hungry. One tiny little drop of saliva also creeps its way out of Peppy's mouth, and it drops onto his belly. He, of course, notices, and quickly straightens his stance, swallowing all the water collecting in his mouth. Yuck. He sneaks a peek at Flame, wondering if his temporary lapse went noticed or not... then realizes the puppy is doing the exact same thing. <Don't even think about eating one of the other pokemon here,> the Growlithe warns, teeth clenched, all too serious in his tones. He's somewhat hypocritical, of course, but he at least knows he wouldn't attack the Rattata. Flame very well might. <Maybe not too long now, though.> The pup's furry face grows a small grin, and his tail's speed increases. <You'll get to, eventually. You're all going to be the greatest hunters ever.> At this, Peppy's white-furred chest puffs out. One can practically smell the pride dripping off of him.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

The pup's dark eyes dart from his father to the haystack. Hay. Peppy. Hay. Peppy. An itch creeps up on Flame, and he shuts his eyes as he lifts a black furred leg to scratch at the corner of his ear, murmuring contently under his breath. The bothersome itch removed, he lowers his foot back to the ground and continues to listen patiently. The drool on his paw, mixed with the rest of the gunk and dirt that had been rubbed into his fur earlier begins to dry, turning the hair in the affected area crisp and gritty to the touch. This goes unnoticed by Flame as he stares intently on his father, his gaze never faltering, and his eyes unblinking as he listens. <What?> he asks, his voice laden with disbelief at his father's order. Flame gets on all fours, and starts over in the Rattata's direction, then thinks better of it. If he attacks a pokemon now, he might not get to go hunting ever again! Stopping less than an inch from the hay, Flame sticks his snout into the stack longingly, drool running from his mouth like sink faucet. The word greatest catches Flame's attention, and he faces his dad, a look of absolute certainty on his features. <I'm the greatest.> he informs his father, puffing out his chest and striking a pose.

When Flame starts to move in the Rattata's direction, Peppy's proud grin fades, and he pulls himself out of his sitting stance, eyes following the black puppy through his entire trek towards the haystack. <Hey...> Peppy woofs softly when Flame gets close to the stack. When that doesn't work, the Growlithe panics a little, and his voice raises as he follows Flame at a brisk pace, barking a louder, <Hey, get away from there!> Grrr. If Flame dives into that haystack to attack the Rattata, Peppy think to himself and he wakes his way across the barn, he is going to be chained to the wall until he's old enough to leave. The panic level raises a notch when the puppy juts his muzzle into the haystack, but goes back down when Flame glances back at his father, no Rattata in mouth, no blood dripping from his fangs. Peppy stumbles to a stop, panting hard, his stance off-balanced and clumsy. Huff, puff. Huff, puff. <You may be the greatest,> growls the canine, none too pleased. <But as long as you're under this roof, you're going to listen to me, Flame.> Not even an "all right?" or "okay?" to the end. The Growlithe's patience seems tried.

Flame saunters back over in Peppy's direction, his gait confident, and his head held aloofly. He paces back to where his father is, and he sits on his haunches, placing most of his weight on his hind legs, and the rest on his four paws. Luckily, there is no gory scene for Peppy to freak out about. The puppy's fangs are white, clean and free of blood. The Rattata sleeps safely in his nest of hay, and hardly notices the intrusion of the pup's snout into its hideaway. Peppy is scoring some more points today, even if he is scolding Flame! The very fact that he agrees with his pup on the issue of greatness is enough to bring a smile of elation to Flame's lips. His father doesn't appear half bad after all. Of course, when Peppy barks an order at Flame, he cringes away from the older Growlithe; none too thrilled at being yelled at, or being bossed around. The very words Peppy barks stings, and crashes painfully at the young pup's eardrums. He knows he's hopeless until he gets bigger, and there's nothing he can do about this situation until a time in the future. He doesn't verbally respond to his father, but gives him one quick nod of his head. That's all the submission he can muster from his body today. He juts his lips into a pout, and lets his mane hang into his face. Gee, he gets all excited about hunting, and his dad yells at him. How unfair Peppy is! What a big meanie.

A pang of parental pity perks up in Peppy, and the Growlithe shifts his weight, still glaring down at his son. He can't help but feel bad for scolding the puppy... He did just want to hunt, right? He's just being a kid. He's just excited. But can he let something like that go unpunished? The adult Growlithe sighs and shakes his head, torn in two opposite directions. Bah. Aurora would know what to do. <... Just don't do it again, Flame.> Pause. <Or we'll make you have to wait longer before you can hunt.> There! That sounds fair, right? Then how come Peppy feels so bad about it? The Growlithe exhales, stealing a glance back at the rest of the family, still fast asleep, enjoying the warmth of the others. That could be him. His white tail flickers at the thought of sleep, but he doesn't budge.

The landscape looks ghostly and drained of color in the cold pale fog.

The pup's face falls into a frown as he stares at the floor dejectedly, muttering incoherent nothings under his breath. His head hangs forward, and he tucks his chin against his chest. His mane is growing longer, and his fur has a slight curl about it. Thick, wavy strands of silver cover his jet-black eyelids, and he remains completely silent, unable to regain his composure. The poor puppy is really offended, and his posture shows it. His head hangs so low all Peppy will be able to see is his mane, which covers the top of it, and his shoulders roll forward as the rest of his figure slumps like that of a lifeless rag doll. His muscles are only stuff enough to keep his body from falling to the ground in a dead faint. <Sorry.> he apologizes, his voice little more than a hushed whisper as he gets to his feet. Slowly, in the most depressed of fashions, he creeps, almost crawls to his corner to be by himself. His silver tail, which is normally held higher than he should be allowed to hold it, is tucked underneath his legs, and brushes against the fuzzy for of his belly. Landing in his bed of hay with a plop, Flame crosses his front legs in front of him, and rests his head on them like a makeshift pillow. Hmm. If that won't give Peppy a guilt trip, nothing will!

Flame apologizes. Time stops, mountains crumble, pigs fly, plums deify. Peppy's head swings back to Flame. He stares, long and hard, even as the puppy goes about his little guilt-inducing act. Peppy remains constant in his absolute bafflement. Peppy's eyes can only stay open for so many moments, however, and when the Growlithe blinks, he is snapped back into reality. <You...> He said he was sorry. He apologizes. He did something wrong, -knew- it was wrong, and actually -regretted- it! Peppy feels like crying. After a moment of recovering from the shock, the pup turns his head to little Flame, lying there all sad and guilty, and indeed, Peppy does have more feelings of emotion swelling up inside of him. He slowly, steadily pads his way over to his puppy, his face worried, his tail low and bobbling as he walks. He comes to a only a few inches away from Flame, peering down at the little black puppy. His black nose twitches. Slowly, very slowly, he lowers his head down to Flame's level... and will actually, no, get this, attempt to -nuzzle- the dark one. Now, Flame could easily get out of this by moving away, or swatting the muzzle, or verbally protesting, but if he just lies there, he's actually going to have Peppy's cold nose affectionately rub against his cheek.

The puppy continues to lie there, nuzzling his nose into his paws, and fighting back tears. Oh, everyone hates him! He doesn't need anybody!.but everyone hates him! What's up with that? Scooping up some straw and hay from his nest, he covers his head with it, like a crying child would do so with their pillow. Then, out of nowhere, something cold and wet touches him through the straw. Is it that blasted snow he doesn't like? No. It's Peppy, and he's nuzzling Flame! He jerks his head upwards in surprise, and the straw goes flying, a cloud of dust pluming out over the two canines, falling and settling into their fur coats. <What?> he yelps, eyes going wide in fear as he spots Peppy so close. Oh no! He's going to get a time out! No, he's going to get carried off by the scruff! He doesn't deserve this! He's wrongfully accused...he's getting some attention? The pupils of his eyes dilate as the fear dissipates, and disbelief sets in. Flame doesn't move away from his father's touch. He doesn't return the nuzzle, or give his father a kiss on the cheek, but he doesn't run away, and that's what's important. His tail wags a few times, and his tongue flops out of his mouth as he gives his dad a doggish grin. Maybe, deep down in his Growlithe heart, Flame isn't all bad.

Uh oh! The Rockets are scheming! Better save than sorry! (Saving)

Peppy doesn't do much more. A little affectionate rubbing, and he retreats his head back up, looking to watch the black one's expression. He expected gagging, eyerolling, maybe some spitting, but he got... well... a positive reaction. Peppy just keeps getting surprised today, doesn't he? Peppy smiles softly, the tingle of the puppy's fur still being felt on the tip of his nose. <... You are my son,> he woofs simply, nodding his head with satisfaction. <And no matter what, I'll love you.> He's speaking loud enough for Flame to hear, but truth is, he'll telling himself more than anybody. Even if he gets disrespected, even if he gets ignored... Flame's still his flesh and blood. The Growlithe wags his tail back and forth as he looks down at Flame, still slightly crouched from when he nuzzled the young one. <... Want to go to sleep now?> Does the puppy understand everything he's saying? Peppy doesn't know, but hopefully something will get across.

Flame blinks, still overcome with mixed surprise and disbelief. His tail continues wagging, and for a few brief moments, there's an expression of jubilance on the pup's face. Black lips are curled upwards in a grin, and his dark jewels shimmer with the fiery luster of love. The look is there long enough for Peppy to spot it, if he cares to be unusually observant, but the flames of loving passion only flicker briefly, and the normal coldness takes over within moments, his eyes turning to indifferent coals once more. His tail stops wagging, and for a minute he seems as surprised about his own reaction, as he was to Peppy's. Flame remains silent for a long time, which is nothing unusual, and he listens to his father speak though his gaze is now on the floor. The word "love" sends a shiver down the pup's spine, and the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. <You,> he starts, biting his bottom lip with his pointy teeth as he thinks, <Are Dad.> he comments blandly, his voice lacking the warmth that Peppy had used with him. At least he didn't call him Peppy, or some other disrespectful name. It seems Flame is accepting his dad's apology, and calling things to a truce for now. As for Peppy's last question, Flame flops back down in the hay, shuts his eyes and goes to sleep. There's his answer.

The fog is grey-white in the light of mid-day.

Peppy. Observant. Ha. No, Peppy doesn't really catch anything in Flame's eyes; he only sees the more obvious motions - the wagging nail, the baby grin... and, finally, being called dad. Not Peppy. Dad. Given that he's been shocked twice in the past few minutes, this hardly strikes him as anything too surprising. Peppy shakes his head a bit. <... 'Night, Flame.> Peppy turns to the side, pauses, gives the black pup once last look, and proceeds to march back to his mate. Slowly, cautiously, steadily. Well... Flame avoided getting deprived of food for a month as punishment this time, but he's still got that wild sort of instinct in him. Will he ever really be a good kid like his siblings? Peppy doesn't know; all he can do is hope. And wait. Squatting down beside Aurora, he nuzzles into her as his body tumbles alongside her. Two seconds later he's already fast asleep, his body sprawled across the floor, breathing deeply.