Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Hands of Creation

Chapter 87 - Sunken Eyes

"Alright, let's do this!" She tossed the ball forward; in midair, it burst open, and the ball went flying back to the trainer. The zigzag of white light materialized into a Bulbasaur.

Smallflame's apprehension suddenly switched to confusion, and then his face twisted into a smirk. This would be easy.

"My, aren't you confident?" Charizard said, smiling.

He looked back, daring to glare, and then looked back at Bulbasaur. He seemed ready to fight, so Smallflame roared out a challenge. "Alright, you dumb Bulbasaur! I'll beat you in two attacks! Just watch!"

"Wow, two, I'm sooo impressed." Bulbasaur rolled his eyes.

Charmander crouched down and ran forward, flames erupting from his throat. Bulbasaur's vine came whipping out quickly—it suddenly transformed into sharp claws, slashing at his shoulders.

<><><>

"Kid, wake up already," Jerry said, his wing-claws grasping Owen's shoulders.

Owen shook limply, eyes fluttering open. "Huh? Wuh?"

"Finally." Jerry stopped. Owen's arms felt sticky—no, not sticky. Crusty? That was a good word for it. With blurry vision, Owen tried to wipe away at that crusty feeling, only to realize that it was dried mud caked on his scales.

"Ugh, you couldn't even try to clean me a little?" Owen mumbled, his vision slowly clearing. His orange and cream scales were covered in a thin layer of purple dust, occasionally with patches of thicker grime.

Jerry snorted, jabbing the spade of his tail in the dirt. "This is after I cleaned you a little. But I wasn't about to risk dunking you in water when I don't like the stuff either."

A rumble shook the cave and Jerry quieted down, glancing behind him. While the cave was abandoned, there was no telling if a wraith would find them in their sleep. It was a good thing Jerry had been awake to scare anything off.

Owen sighed, turning to get up. It was only then that he realized there was a wraith right next to him.

He screamed and sprang to his feet, ready to fight—but a wave of dizziness followed, and Jerry had to grab him under his arms.

"Calm down, calm down! It's dead!" Jerry pointed at it. "Most of those things just dissolve away, but that one has some shape to it. Didn't know what to really do with it, so I chucked it in the corner."

"Next to me?! What's wrong with you?!"

"Bah, get over it!" Jerry waved him off. "Besides, you should be thankful. That's our meal."

This did not help the situation. "What do you mean, our meal? I'm not eating that thing! It's—is it even edible?"

"I dunno, but I haven't eaten a thing here except for wood and red water, so if I'm gonna take my risk on some meat, I'm gonna do it. I told you before—my gut needs meat, not wood. And I'm pretty sure so do you."

"Um—Charmander can handle a lot of things, and I think we can go vegetarian if we—"

"Kid, have you had a look at yourself lately?"

"I'm not a—what do you mean?" Owen followed Jerry's claw, which was curled over so the curved top pressed gently on his chest. He blinked in surprise, realizing that there was barely a layer between his scales and his bones. Jerry ran it from the bottom of his chest up; his claw bumped against every rib.

Owen looked at his arms; the scales had a lot of extra skin to them, and he saw the bones of his wrist. The details along his hands where the soft, tiny scales followed the contour of his depleted muscles and joints. He turned his head and checked his shoulders, but all he saw was a faded scar where he had been attacked by the fanged wraith.