Chapter 24: Scars

Garret had a plan.

Despite the seriousness of the task ahead, he marched on with a smile, confident in his ability to discuss it all in the right way. His plan wasn't the most detailed out there, and if there was anyone who knew that sometimes not even familiarity trumped the impact someone's looks might have, it was him—

But he wouldn't let that get him down.

His role in keeping Anne safe wasn't as crucial as that of his wife or mom—at least, not yet—but he didn't take it any less seriously because of that. The human girl's future was uncertain, and if a closer chat with one of his coworkers would help her chances even a little, then that was all the motivation he needed to give it his all.

'Coworkers' as a term was... stretched, in this specific context. 

Both of their roles around the village were very fluid. They weren't expanding fast enough for someone to have to constantly work on new construction, but his mix of raw strength and decent dexterity never had to look far for a problem he could help with. Putting new buildings up or expanding existing ones was his most common task, though, and the Meowstic he was heading towards was often busy carving decorations and furniture for said buildings.

They knew each other just enough to be relatively friendly, but not to have ever spilled their hearts to each other, which... they probably wouldn't be able to avoid this time.

Garret tightened his fur's grasp on his thin limbs as he pushed on, some of the winter cold piercing through regardless. No matter how hard he tried to keep his spirits up, this was going to be difficult, and doubts were never too far behind. Doubly so, with nobody having seen Max for the past couple of days. Thankfully, Hawthorne wasn't bringing any worries about her dad up, which meant that whatever reason he had for keeping himself in his burrow, it wasn't anything tragic.

The Grimmsnarl hoped so, at least.

Even without tragedy, his seclusion still had unnerving implications. The Meowstic was never the most courageous person out there, but he gave off the impression of being calm and composed, unlike what his present absence would've implied. Then again, considering what humans had done to him, it could just be the case of a fear intense enough to erode any composure.

It would make Garret's task here much more difficult if so—and even more necessary. He could do this; he could help his wife and the little girl out—

"Garret."

Hearing a buzzed-out rendition of his name made the fairy look to the side, ending up staring the Vespiquen in the eye. Hardly the person he expected to just chat him up, leaving him with a blank—yet still intimidating—expression.

"What is the human's status?"

"Plenty good, Liz! She was recovering mighty well last I saw her yesterday!"

This time, it was he who was the receiver of a blank stare, growing blanker still as the exhausted Vespiquen slouched slightly.

"I didn't mean personal status. Are they staying or not?"

A much drier, more matter-of-fact question that Garret had absolutely no answer for. He really, really wished he did, be it so that they could either start celebrating or figure out what to do to keep Anne safe, but ultimately it remained to be seen where the elders' whims would go.

"I—I don't know, Liz. It's still undecided."

A low, droning buzz, not letting the bee settle many of her calculations. Barring any personal like or dislike, she had to know whether they would end up with another mouth to feed or not, and the sooner she had an exact number to work off of, the sooner she could start redirecting the village's efforts around. 'I don't know' was perhaps the worst non-answer imaginable.

She needed numbers, even if just bullshit, made up numbers.

"That doesn't help. What is the probability of them staying?"

The Grimmsnarl was much better with arithmetic than the bulk of the village on behalf of constantly having to calculate stuff for construction, but he only drew blanks here. It was an enigma that depended on way too many factors, many of which he wasn't even consciously aware of, to estimate. He couldn't come up with a concrete answer.

An off-the-cuff, throwaway value it was.

"I'm not sure—seven in ten, maybe?"

"Naaaah, more than that."

Mikiri's voice butting into the chat yanked Garret's attention away. She was passing by them, dragging what remained of the human two-wheel behind herself through the snow. Liz immediately got to crunching more numbers upon hearing his estimate; not noticing the Mawile's addendum.

Whether her obliviousness was accidental or intentional, only she knew.

"Seven in ten."

"I'm tellin' ya, it's more!"

"Seven in ten isn't enough for certainty."

Boy, did he know that all too well.

"Very unideal probability. Please let me know once you're more confident."

"Just round it up to a ten in ten, c'mon."

To Mikiri's continued annoyance, the Vespiquen kept not acknowledging her existence. She hovered away shortly after, without sparing the metal fairy as much as a glance. For her efforts, she earned herself two tongues being stuck out at her before the tinkerer resumed her own trek, leaving Garret to follow in her tracks.

Seven in ten was a very unideal probability indeed.

Even that felt like high balling it a substantial amount, too. It felt higher than fifty for sure, but exactly how much higher was anyone's guess, and Garret didn't feel confident about his in the slightest. Ultimately, though, it didn't matter. 

He'd still keep trying, even if it was zero.

The thought gave him a well-needed burst of confidence as he marched on. Something he really wished he could share with his wife.

He really hoped Aria was okay.

A different kind of concerned thought provided just enough distraction to let him return to his full pace. Worries swirled under his head with every step; his wife's terrified shriek still burned into his recent memory. So unlike her for her dreams to hit her, so unlike her to ever get that scared or tear up so inconsolably—and yet, here they were. As difficult as this situation was for them all, Aria was taking on much more stress than everyone else, and it really, really showed.

Once all was said and done later today, Garret was dead set on holding her tight for the entire night, no matter what the verdict would be. Be it comfort for her accomplishment of saving Anne, or reassurance should everything they've been doing to amount to nothing, she will need him more than ever.

And he will be glad to provide.

The mental image of the former outcome warmed his soul up as he came to a stop in front of a small shack. Max's dwelling was rather barebones even by the standards of the village, but they made do—at least enough so to never complain about any issues that needed to be fixed. Whether that actually meant they were doing perfectly fine... depended, and there have been a few instances of recent arrivals who didn't dare speak up about their problems because of worrying about coming off as either weak or demanding.

He trusted Max not to fall into that trap, but ultimately, it remained to be seen. After a few more moments of hesitation than he would've liked, Garret knocked on the door with as much gentleness as he could muster. Less than he wished for sometimes, but hopefully just enough for the task.

For a few moments, the dwelling only answered with silence, providing plenty of kindling for the flames of worry. What if something bad did indeed happen to him and Hawthorne was too afraid to tell anyone? What if he was too terrified to respond to someone knocking on the door? What if—

 *creeeeeeak* 

"G-Garret?"

The familiar voice was a balm for his mind, immediately tossing all worries and replacing them with relief. Max's gamut of expressions was almost as stilted as Garret's, but even then the fairy could clearly pick up on him not doing too well, besides just looking plain ill. Puffy, half-lidded eyes, slightly matted fur, an occasional shiver rocking his entire small body.

Still, he was here, and that's all that mattered.

"Good morning Max! Are you doing alright?"

All the Grimmsnarl got in return was a squinting, confused expression, not helping any. Suppose he needed to just speak up louder and enunciate better—easier said than done.

"Are you doing alright, Max?"

Even despite Garret doing his best to be understood, it still wasn't enough. Not a comfortable situation for either of them, but at least the Meowstic knew what to do next.

"*sigh*, come on—*achoo!*—come on in Garret, need to put my ears on for this."

Without waiting for a response, Max turned around and ventured into his humble home, and Garret followed. It was as plain on the inside as it was on the outside—a few pieces of furniture, a large group cot, a handful of assorted clay jars, and potted plants along the walls. Even despite the hearth burning brightly, the building remained oddly cold. There had to have been some insulation issue somewhere, and once he was done with the actual purpose of his visit, he wouldn't mind staying longer to fix his coworker's place.

But before that, came a chat that the Meowstic needed to prepare himself for. With more focus than such a simple act should require, he levitated two oblong objects into his physical grasp, and strapped them onto what remained of his ears.

Garret didn't know how a Meowstic ought to look. Really, almost nobody in their village did. Their sample size for many of the more uncommon species inhabiting the village was 1, leaving them assuming that every one of said species looked exactly like the person they knew. It was very hard to recognize someone looking different without a reference point.

At least, most times.

The two scars at the tips of his single-segment 'ears', combined with his daughter's appearance, clued most others about something being wrong. And while normally asking a question as blunt as 'who cut your ears in half' was never a good idea, it thankfully wasn't even needed here.

Because the answer, as with many bad things, was 'humans'.

Once Max was done putting the unwieldy prosthetics on, he turned to Garret again and beckoned him over to his spot beside the hearth.

"There we go. Mind going over what you—*achoo!*—what you said there, Garret?"

The rough imitations of what the top part of his ears would've looked like—folded over and almost reaching his eyes—didn't help with psychics any, but it at least let him recover some hearing.

"Ah, I just wanted to check up on you, Max. You've been gone for quite a while now, got everyone worrying!"

The Grimmsnarl's jovial tone was a bit forced, but thankfully no less received because of that. It brought some well-needed relief to the room, followed up by the Meowstic putting a kettle full of ice-cold water over the small, but roaring fire.

"Caught something nasty a couple of days ago, dunno from where. Makes me ache all over. I doubt I'd be much help for anything in this state."

His words were self-evidently true, especially after a salvo of sneezes that followed. As glad as Garret was that his coworker's absence was just a result of an illness, a check-up was only a partial reason for his presence here.

And to his surprise, Max was aware of that, too.

"Don't worry—*achoo!*—it doesn't have... too much to do with the h-human..."

Garret was simultaneously taken aback by Max's words and concerned about the tone change near the end. It was as if confidence evaporated from him with each word, until all that remained was a pretense that neither of them believed in. In all this, though, one part stuck out to him the most.

"I didn't bring up Anne at all."

Despite his uncertainty, Max couldn't help but to give the Grimmsnarl a slight smirk.

"Hawthorne complained to us yesterday about Autumn having taught her and everyone else about humans—I guessed that she, and likely you too, are quite involved in the entire human ordeal. And, given that you know her name, it seems—*achoo!*—it seems I was right."

Garret might've wished to shrivel at being seen through so easily, but he tried not to let that get to him. Especially since, to the best of his ability to tell, Max didn't sound offended about that.

"Well... yes, you're right. I also wanted to talk about her, if that's alright."

"Oh, it is, it is. Though, I figured I wouldn't have to go over all this again."

...

Again?

"A-again? What do you mean, Max?"

"Oh? Elder Celia visited us yesterday evening to discuss just this topic. I would've thought that you knew."

Nope, and Garret most definitely didn't enjoy thinking about the implications of that. He's never had any negative interactions with the Primarina Elder, but with how concerned his wife and mom were about her, him being so as well felt warranted.

"Nope, first time hearing about it. Sorry for that, can't imagine it's one bit pleasant."

"Don't worry about it, I—*achoo!*—I figured that the discussion would eventually reach me considering... yeah."

Even though the thought of spying on an Elder's actions made the Grimmsnarl feel queasy, he couldn't resist asking.

"Out of curiosity... was she angry or anything?"

"Hardly—I don't even really know how she was. She just showed up, asked a few questions, hid her face behind that flipper the whole time and left before I could get her a drink. Nothing accusatory, just all flat and matter-of-fact about the human situation. Kinda like what I'm imagining you wanted to ask me, too."

That description didn't feel the Fairy-type with even the slightest bit of confidence.

"Well, I suppose there's gonna be some overlap—"

"You wanted to ask me what was my opinion about the human possibly staying here considering my past, r-right?"

Garret's taken-aback look told Max everything, and so did the Meowstic's amused chuckle tell the Grimmsnarl in return.

"It's alright. To sum up what I told Celia... absent any context, I wouldn't want the human to stay, no."

Dense silence filled the room as the demon processed the response, eyes growing increasingly wider. Before he could ask for an elaboration, or even plead his case, the water in the kettle finally announced its readiness, distracting Max away from the tense discussion.

Garret wouldn't have ever guessed that there'd be a situation where a cup of warm tea couldn't help in calming down—and yet, here he was. Fortunately for him and his task, though, Max wasn't done.

"However... I've gathered from a few rumors and what Hawthorne had overheard that this isn't just a random human. Hell, I sincerely doubt anyone would be seriously arguing for them to stay unless there was a damn good reason for it, and that alone makes me reconsider it. It's..."

Max had to pause and dig his mind for words, much of his confidence waning by the moment.

"It's not that I hate them specifically, even hate humans as a whole or anything, it's... it's just scary. The thought of seeing a human scares me. I—*achoo!*—I have a nightmare sometimes, of a human silhouette barging through my front door and hurting everyone I know. No matter how hard I try not to think about it, that—that association doesn't go away, and I don't know how many nigh-sleepless nights it'll take for it to leave me alone."

He took a deep breath, followed by as large of a sip of the hot tea as he could, having to lift the heavy wooden cup with both paws.

"And if what I've gathered overall is true, that it's really a choice between that human staying here or possibly death... then their wellbeing trumps my silly, irrational discomfort."

As relieved as Garret was, there was part of that response he wanted to hone in on—

"It's not irrational, Max. You've got good reasons to be spooked, I get it."

"I don't recall ever going over it all with you specifically, hah."

"Well... yes, you never have, but with a fear as intense as that, there has to be something that caused it."

"You're not wrong, don't worry."

With a moment of downtime, both men could enjoy a good sip of tea as they gathered their thoughts. Garret calmed down at the thrust of his visit having been successful. It really was a life-or-death situation, and Max expressed clearly that, in that case, Anne's life was more important than his discomfort. It felt a bit... rushed, though, and didn't really match up with what he'd heard about Hawthorne, piquing his curiosity further.

"Thank you for a thoughtful answer, Max. Makes ya wonder where'd Hawthorne get her attitude from..."

Immediately, a drawn out, tired, regretful exhale. Regardless of if the Meowstic was hiding something from him, the point about his daughter struck true. Garret wasn't expecting to catch his coworker on a lie, and so didn't act suspicious—merely really, really curious about what Hawthorne's deal was.

"It does, I'm aware. Me and my wife should've been more forceful in getting these attitudes out of her when we first heard them. By now they've all festered and I worry it's too late to change anything."

"I wouldn't say that, Max. Kids are smart, especially ones as old as Hawthorne."

"I know, I know, but—*achoo!*—it's still difficult to convey a more nuanced attitude. No matter if I'm afraid of humans or not, they're no more universally evil than we're universally good, and I don't even think humanity as a whole is some malignant force. I've no idea how to tell her that in a way that doesn't sound like me backtracking on what I said."

The Grimmsnarl pondered on that question for all of fifteen seconds before coming up with an answer, of which ten were spent downing a good sip of the tea.

"Why not backtrack on what you said? If you told her something that's just outright wrong, then correcting her isn't a bad idea. She's old enough to know that her parents aren't always right."

"I meant it in the sense that anything I say will sound fake. As if I'm being overly polite because that's what others want to hear, whereas a harsher, more intolerant attitude is my 'real' one. Not true in the slightest, but I have no idea how to prove it to her—believe me, I've tried, it just doesn't stick."

Now that was a much tougher question. 

Correcting oneself was one thing, but doing so to someone who didn't interpret anything beyond your original words as genuine was... challenging, bordering on impossible. Garret didn't have any magical advice. He hoped under his breath that he wouldn't ever end up in a situation like this with any of his children, especially when it concerned something important.

Garret discarded the simple suggestions such as saying it from the heart or being as genuine as can be. If he could think them up in a minute, then most definitely so could Max, and they just didn't end up working for one reason or another.

Though... he had one more idea.

"It sounds like you need to show it to her, not just say it."

Just as with Garret's other ideas, Max had thought about this one a bunch of times in the past, before inevitably discarding it because of it just being impossible. No way to dissuade his daughter's hatred of humans without having a human to interact with. Even now that it was more possible, all the Meowstic could think of was just how much he didn't want to do that. No matter how nuanced his abstract opinion of them was, he was entirely content to never see another human ever again.

But if it was the only way to get his daughter to stop being so virulently hateful, it looked like he'd have to.

"I... I guess. It—*achoo!*—it's terrifying to think about, but you're right. Either way, not something I can do here and now, and likely not until the human ends up staying for good."

Fingers crossed.

"Just... wished I had more restraint so that things never got this bad to begin with."

Max's words snapped Garret's attention back over to him, their implication worryingly uncertain. Was he blaming himself for just Hawthorne, or for the entirety of his present state?

"What—whatcha mean, Max?"

"I—I told her too much at too young of an age, I think. She was curious about what happened to my ears, so I told her. Asked me about humans, so I told her that too. I wasn't keeping any secrets from her, even though now I think I really should have, in hindsight. Well—not 'secrets' secrets, but things that she was just too young for, things that she shouldn't have had to hear when so little. It was too much detail for her, I could tell, but I just couldn't stop. I..."

A much more intense shudder rocked the Meowstic's body, his entire small self huddling closer to his mug.

"I worry I've scarred her with what I've told her. She just got scared and angry; so much of the nuance went over her head, but it was enough for the worst of it to just burn itself into her mind forever."

Garret took a larger sip as he chewed through Max's words. His situation was messed up and perfectly understandable simultaneously, and he'd be lying if he said that it didn't leave him a bit conflicted about his coworker's character. Then again, he hadn't endured as much trauma as the Meowstic clearly has, he was in no place to judge.

...

Judge too harshly, at least.

"If you don't mind, Max... what did you tell her?"

The Meowstic let out a dry chuckle, the accompanying smile painfully fake. This discussion obviously wasn't getting anywhere further without him going over just what he'd told his daughter—and by extension, telling the tale of his past once more.

"Figure going through what I've been through will help to explain it, yes..."

Garret lifted an eyebrow at his question being warped right in front of him. Before he could speak up in protest about it, Max explained himself.

"I—*kachow!*—I know that's not what you asked for, Garret, but the two are one and the same, pretty much. A recollection of the same awful events either way."

The Grimmsnarl wasn't entirely convinced, but went along with it. Max obviously knew better, and this didn't sound like any sort of malicious, intentionally construed lie.

"Alrighty. I hope it's not too much to go over all that, then."

"No, no, not anymore. For better or worse, I've mostly grown numb to it by now."

With a deep breath, he began his recollection proper.

"I don't remember a lot from the earliest parts of my life. To the best of my knowledge, I was with my human from the moment I hatched. She lived in a small house with only me, and since she left for a human job early each day, I spent a lot of time alone."

That sounded... unpleasant.

"Huh. You were left alone for hours as a hatchling?"

"Not quite hatchling, but... yes. I didn't mind a whole lot, since it was warm and she left me plenty of food and water. Or, at least, I don't remember minding at that point. One day, though... I had a slip-up."

Garret nodded and took a big sip of the tea, still following along.

"I don't recall what caused it, really. I probably just got scared by a loud sound, but the next thing I remember was staring at a shattered table and half of a wardrobe, together with other damage around it."

"Did... you do that?"

"Oh yes, yes. Espurr are… surprisingly powerful. Disastrously so, occasionally, and without the right ways of managing stress, that kind of power can sometimes just... slip out. Maybe it wouldn't have happened if I had been raised by other Meowstic, maybe it still would and they would've been able to handle that much better, I—*achoo!*—I don't know."

"How did... 'your human' react?"

"She was terrified. Not that I can blame her, but it didn't help either of us. I felt her get scared, so then I got scared, and I remembered us both panicking for a good while after. I didn't want that to happen again, didn't want to accidentally hurt her, and we both feared that I would do that on accident. The next thing I really remember, probably a few weeks later, was waking up one morning, a-and—"

Max cut himself off right as his voice wavered. Instead, he pointed up at where the scars on his ears were, the implication obvious.

"Just... one day I woke up, and suddenly had almost none of my psychics remaining, and was partially deaf."

"I'm so sorry, Max, that's terrible..."

"Really, I thought I'd gotten over the worst of it by now, but seems not. Guess something like that never really just leaves us alone, no matter how much we think we may have it under control at the moment. I'll—I'll get over it, don't worry, it just hit me hard there."

The Meowstic took his time taking deep breaths as his coworker stared at him in concern.

"A-alright, I think I'm okay now. So, one day I wake up, and the tops of my ears are gone. For Espurr and Meowstic, it's where a good chunk of our psychics are stored, so without them, it's so much harder to do anything. And it scared me. It felt like the entire world had suddenly gone so, so quiet, and I didn't understand why. What was left of my ears hurt a lot; I couldn't keep my balance; I kept bumping into things, and—and it all just hurt. But... that wasn't even the worst part."

Garret lifted an eyebrow, a small shudder accompanying the gesture.

"You know, before then, I felt her caring for me. She wasn't home as often as I wished she would be, and tended to be very busy, but... I could feel her affection for me. Even when she was stressed and didn't have time to play with me or whatever, I could still just lay down near her and feel better. But after that, I... I couldn't sense that anymore, I just didn't have any way to. It's as if all that warmth had just disappeared. That was even scarier than losing all my psychics."

The Dark-type couldn't relate exactly, but his imagination provided him with plenty of fuel for his empathy, anyway. His kids couldn't sense his love for them directly, of course, but they still saw it clearly every day. His words, his affection, his pride, being there for them when they felt down, or like they didn't fit, or for any of a dozen other reasons.

And to imagine them losing not just that, but also what amounted to both of their arms all at once, without even being able to ask for an explanation, was...

It was Garret that needed a moment to recover this time, the awfulness of the mental image almost making him cry there and then. As soon as had the chance later today, he would go there and hug his kids tight and there wasn't an earthly force that could stop him.

Just had to find out where 'there' was, but that was a footnote.

"Good gods, that's—I don't have words, Max."

"I... yeah. It was awful. Afterwards, I was even more scared, but didn't have a way of expressing it anymore. No telepathy, and without telekinesis, I could barely do anything by myself. And since my fear wasn't as noticeable now, she just couldn't spot it either. She'd spend even less time with me, got even busier, and all I could do was run in circles around a house that was barely twice or thrice the size of this one."

This time, instead of further sorrow, Garret saw his paw clench to his side, a flat expression turning into a scowl.

"And she stopped taking me places. Before then, I have faint memories of seeing the outside world, plenty of other humans, some grass and trees, fresh air—but that also was just gone after whatever happened to my ears. For a while, I thought that I really deserved it all. That I had done something terrible by breaking that table by accident, and that this was my punishment. After I evolved, even without my ears, I could just barely make out her thoughts sometimes, so I would just... sneak up on her. Try to sense all I could, figure out the why of it all, get an answer, any answer, and—"

The Meowstic took a deep breath, trying to keep his rage from pouring out even further. Instead, a couple of tears slipped out from underneath his eyelids.

"She thought she was doing me a favor."

Out of all the possible answers, this was the one the Dark-type expected the least of all; staring at his friend aghast.

"H-how could she have thought that?"

"I don't know. Maybe—maybe some twisted idea that if I couldn't do my psychics, then I wouldn't have had to worry about accidentally damaging anything else anymore, which..."

Another pause to catch his breath, another opportunity for his anger to condense into sadness.

"I was already resentful of it all by that point. Being stuck in that tiny house, unable to do anything, unable to even figure out any human items. The couple of 'toys' she brought me for entertainment got either broken or I was too sick of them to even look at them anymore. I felt imprisoned; I felt angry, and I couldn't keep it in any longer. My claws were quite grown out by then, so I just started scratching things. Anything, everything, just to show her, show how furious I was—all I got for it was a trimming session that I eventually gave up fighting against. She had won, and I had lost."

"It beggars belief how that human could've thought she was doing anything but being abusive towards you..."

"It does, doesn't it? Though... I think she knew, but she just had no idea what to do with me."

"Even putting just letting you go aside, couldn't she have handed you off to a safer human house?"

"You'd think, but... I don't think she could have, actually. For all the awful things they do, I think my—my ears having been cut off was still against human rules. At least, I think that was the case because of what happened some time later."

Max had Garret's entire focus, expressed through an intense nod.

"One day, she accidentally left a window unlocked, and I took the opportunity to get out. I climbed out, escaped, and just... ran around the area for a while. I barely recognized some of these places, but each time I did it made me happy, and oh goodness, there was so much greenness out there. She only kept a single plant in a clay pot in her house, and I forgot just how much grass and trees there were outside!"

The second-hand euphoria at breaking out was marred by how disturbing it was to hear something as omnipresent as trees be described that way.

"But then, I—I kept running into humans. And they feared me. Whether it was because I was a Meowstic, or because of the missing ears, I don't know. But it just happened almost every time. I'd keep walking away, but then some of them would start using their 'phone' things that my human used at home, and I got just the worst fear that something bad would happen to me if I stayed there. I couldn't have been out for more than a couple hours, but I was terrified by the end, at that overwhelming fear coming my way. I—I managed to get back home, and hid in the darkest corner until my human came back."

By now, Max was shaking fearfully in place, barely maintaining his composure.

"These random humans were scared of me, then once my human came back home she was scared of me too, and I was scared of them all. B-but then, in the evening of that day, some more humans showed up, with scary blue uniforms. I saw them talking to my human, they spotted me and got alarmed while my human got scared, and I hid again. Squeezed myself into a tiny nook behind some furniture while they were still talking to my human, and didn't dare to move. Then they kept searching for me, and they just wouldn't stop for hours and I stood in place and it hurt and I was afraid I got myself stuck and I wouldn't have been able to escape on my own and—"

 *pat-pat* 

The Meowstic flinched at the unexpected sensation, eyes shooting open to see a dark-haired hand patting his shoulders. More startling than comfortable, but he appreciated the gesture.

"Apologies if that was too much, felt you going down that dark path and wanted to help."

"Suppose distraction helps with that, too. Th-thank you, Garret. Anyway—they kept searching for me for hours, almost found me a couple of times, but eventually left. I waited for a while longer afterwards, then managed to force my way out of that spot, all wet with tears. It was all dark, there was a thunderstorm outside, my human was gone, I had no idea what had happened, but I knew I needed to get out before they came back. The windows were closed, and I scratched and pounded at them for ages, trying to break through. I didn't know how to use any moves, I just kept bashing my body against it and prayed it would shatter."

"What happened then?"

"I looked around the house for anything that could help, and found a small hammer. It finally started making cracks, so I kept hitting it, put all my strength and all the psychics I had into it, and eventually it just exploded into a rain of glass. I didn't wait any longer and just jumped through. I felt the pieces scratch me from all around and the cold rain drench me, but I knew I couldn't stop. Took off toward where I remembered all the trees being and ran. And ran, and ran, and ran, until I couldn't run anymore."

By the time Max had finished his tale, his breathing was little more than anxious gasps. He stared unfocused at the floor as the recollection finished washing over him. He had no idea how long it'd take for him to truly calm down again after all that, but that was a problem for later.

"Then, the next thing I know, I was here. Sprout had spotted me when scouting, and brought me over. And then... just an even larger, much more relieved blur."

"I'm—I'm really glad you found safety here in the end, Max. All that sounds like an utter nightmare."

"Oh, it... it was, at times. Most of the time it was just—just a boring torture. I thought it wouldn't get to me as much this time, but I suppose I was wrong. I-it got me thinking too, because I liked some things from when I lived there, you know. I had no idea what a godsend running water was until I had to make do without it here. And indoor heating, gods I'd spend so much time sleeping beside the radiators in the winter."

That was an entire tangent Garret didn't expect in the slightest, leaving him really curious to see where it'd go.

"I just wonder why they have to be the way they are. These things I mentioned are tiny compared to many others. The sheer standard of living there is so much higher than here, but that doesn't matter if they keep all that to themselves. And now I'm thinking why. Why do they treat us the way they do; why do we have to hide from them; why do their 'trainers' enslave us, and..."

The flimsiest deep breath the Grimmsnarl had ever seen, only barely interrupting Max's revelation.

"And I think it's all borne of fear. As much as I fear them, as much as we all fear them and what they can do to us if they band together—I think they're just as afraid of us, if not more. In a one-on-one, almost any mon could kill almost any unarmed human and it wouldn't even be close. I think that's why they want to contain us so much. It's not hatred—not just hatred, and whatever hatred there is has to come from that fear. And you know what's the worst thing?"

Garret was too busy processing Max's revelation to respond, but that didn't stop him.

"I have no idea how it could ever change. Even if all humans just gave up a-and said to the entire world that they wouldn't try catching us ever again... there'd be many, many mons that would use that as an opportunity for revenge—even a good few in this very village. And the other way, if mons as a whole tried to lower their guard, we'd all end up getting contained and exploited. Are we just stuck like this? Forced to hide from humanity forever? Will—will anything ever get better?"

There weren't answers to these questions, and both men knew that fact very well. But while Garret might've seen the obvious implication of that fact and looked away, Max didn't, and was being increasingly sucked into a vortex of despair—

 *pat-pat!* 

Nothing a bit of percussive maintenance couldn't help with, though.

If nothing else, it startled the Meowstic out of his train of thought, leaving him blinking at his coworker. Garret didn't consider himself a particularly intelligent person, not like Jovan, or Ana, or even his wife was. Still, he liked to think he got a couple of things figured out, and this area was one of them.

"Y'know, thinking about this kinda stuff helps nobody. If we can improve the world, we should, but if we can't, fretting about it won't do us any good. It'll just make us all the more miserable—at least that's how I see it. Whattcha think?"

The swerve away from the previous topic came from the left field, but Max couldn't say he didn't appreciate it. It felt boorish to admit it, but Garret had a point. The last thing the Meowstic needed was to be sucked further into despair, especially with so much happening.

"I—I think I agree. Thank you, Garret. For that—*achoo!*—and for giving me an opportunity to chew through all this. I may have gone through it all over a dozen times now, but... something clicked this time that didn't before. I promise not to get too depressed about it, but goodness, I'll need some more time alone to finish processing it all."

"Well~ you're very welcome, Max! Thank you plenty for having me. Don't worry, don't worry, I'll be heading out in not too long—just noticed one thing when I stepped in."

The Meowstic raised a single eyebrow, taken aback by the followup.

"It's weirdly cold in here. There's a hole in your wall somewhere."

Max groaned as if half his soul had left him, topped off with the weakest nod Garret had ever seen.

"I miss concrete..."

A few hundred meters away from her son, Autumn was taking the winter head on.

Granted, that might've been because she forgot to take her shawl with her in her haste and had to resort to focusing much harder than usual on her safeguard, but she was doing it anyway. She had little spare brainpower to focus on her bodily sensations, though, not with the trouble she was likely getting herself into.

That Banette sounded suspicious the moment she saw him. And with his reaction to Sage's group hug, it felt like her concerns about him had been justified. She knew full well that him leaving could've meant many things, some much more innocuous than others—but it had to mean something, and considering the graveness of Sage's past, Autumn didn't want to stop until she knew just what was the older ghost's deal.

She would've really preferred if she wasn't being led out of the village in pursuit of him.

Even if she was safe against whichever Ghost-type moves he could use on her, the other types were still fair game. No matter how much of an expert at Protects and other defensive moves she was, she knew as well as anyone that with no offense of her own, all pure defense would accomplish was forcing the attacker to be more patient.

Of course, all that presumed that it'd come to blows. A possibility that Autumn was reasonably confident wouldn't happen, but her fears disagreed.

And now, it was time to see whether they would be proven right.

Out of everything she expected Yaksha to be doing once she'd finally caught up to him, Shadow Clawing away at a random, snow-covered tree wasn't it. Each strike was accompanied by a grunt of equal parts rage and regret; each grew ever more potent. None of them physically damaged the tree, but they still eroded it, draining it of whichever passive, motionless life it held—

Until it couldn't take any more.

After one last strike, the brittle wood finally shattered under its own weight, sending the log falling toward them both. And while the Banette was either too paralyzed or too unwilling to move out of the way, the Indeedee didn't have that limitation.

Autumn shrieked as her eyes were overcome with a green flare, her aura enveloping the entire tree. It only lasted a second or so, but even that was enough to redirect it away from them, if at the cost of a pounding headache and draining the elderly Normal-type of much of her remaining strength.

Leaving her defenseless before the grief-stricken ghost.

"~What the hell are you doing here!?~"

His ethereal voice overflowed with fury; pink eyes drilled into Autumn's very soul. A part of her wanted to turn and run, but the rest wanted—no, demanded answers.

"I can ask—*pant*—I can ask you the same question. Why did you run, do you have something to do with what happened to Sage—"

"~How DARE you claim that!?~"

Their stare-down had turned into a powder keg in an instant. No matter how righteous in her indignation the Indeedee felt, a more restrained part of her knew nothing good would happen if she pushed the envelope further. She still didn't trust him one bit, but figured she could take a half step back, even if she didn't mean it.

"I-I'm not, and I apologize for the insinuation. Still, I need to know for Sage's sake—why did you run?"

Hearing an apology was more effective than Autumn could've ever imagined. Instead of calming the Banette down, it outright stunned him; much of his ever intensifying fury evaporated in an instant. It took a while before he found the composure to respond, tone having switched from aggression to... discomfort.

"~That's—that's none of your business.~"

"Maybe, but as her guardian, it's definitely Sage's business. We both want the best for her, don't we?"

Yaksha had a hard time disagreeing with that logic, much to his unease. He despised having to be introspective like that, only pushing through that dislike because of the ghostly girl.

Any other time he'd tried descending down that route, he only found a bottomless lake of hateful tears.

"~It's... I failed her. I've been protecting her for weeks now, but couldn't make her anywhere near as happy as your entire bunch did in the time it took me to nap. I fucked up the only thing that gave this entire existence any purpose, the only thing I had left.~"

The admission took Autumn aback, unexpected in its clarity. It didn't answer everything, it barely even answered anything, but it made for a great jumping off point.

"What do you mean by 'the only thing you had left'?"

The question had the Banette grow more distressed. For a moment, the Indeedee worried about that emotion reverting to anger, but thankfully, it turned towards despair instead.

"~I don't have anything else. It's been years, decades since I woke up in this body, and I remember nothing from before I met Sage, and nothing before I first died. Watching over her is the only thing I have, that I ever remember having. If I can't do that, if I can't even do this one fucking thing...~"

To Autumn's fear, his fury made a swift return, aimed at the entire world.

"~THEN WHY AM I STILL HERE?~"

She watched his body go limp as he turned his face to the sky and unzipped his mouth all the way, letting the pink tendrils of whichever spectral energy that controlled him lash out at the nearby air. It didn't last more than half a second, but it left the Indeedee slowly reeling backwards.

And then, she stopped.

He might not have felt like he had a purpose anymore, but she did.

"I—I don't know. But what I do know is that no matter what mistakes you've made previously, you can still fix them. Nothing stops you from being someone who makes Sage happy, nothing stops you from treating her and others more kindly. Or from staying here for good, if that makes her the happiest."

Emboldened, Autumn approached closer, elderly body shaking in the cold.

"You can change, Yaksha. We all can. Do you want to change?"

"~Yes, of course I do! Why the hell wouldn't I!?~"

"Good. Then I'll try to help however I can, especially if you two will stay here for longer."

She sensed the tiniest seed of gratitude within him, before the addition at the end turned it right back into mockery.

"~Here? With a human?~"

"Why not? Sage is a human ghost—"

"~YOU'RE LYING—GAH!~"

His momentary outburst ended as soon as it had begun, stunning the Indeedee as the Banette gripped his head. It hurt, all of this hurt; it was as if an invisible knife was stabbing his mind. Agony beyond description, making him fear he was about to finally fade away. And then, it eased out, bit by bit, the wounds of unknown origin gradually mending.

He was still certain this random mon must've been lying, but it clearly wasn't worth getting this angry over either way.

"~I... nevermind. I think I'm—I'm better now~"

Especially since no matter what their pasts were...

"~Could you... guide me back?~"

...he knew he wanted to be there for Sage until his very end.