He sank his toes into the grass, brushing aside the featherlight leaves and feeling their passage across his skin. The surrounding green swayed in a sea breeze, a great hand sweeping across the exposed land. In its wake, the beat of water lapping against the shore rose in tempo. It was only for a second. No more. The world stilled again, and David closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation of the sun on his cheek.

  There was something about walking barefoot on grass that never failed to set him at ease. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was an ancient instinct, common to all humans, or maybe it was buried memories from a childhood with little appreciation for shoes. Whatever the reason, after days of walking on sand, David was enjoying every second of his time on the grass. He had been since they reached Route 12.

  Route 12. It was this world’s name for a bay of islands. They stretched out nearly as far as the eye could see, steep hills in the distance providing a blurry backdrop. Each island was a different size. Some contained nothing but hardy grass. Others had more of a seaside feel to them, with beaches wrapped around themselves like tight yellow belts. The large ones were characterized by the bridges that connected them. Those too stretched out as far as the eye could see.

  Made from a light yellow-brown wood that David could only associate with the oak of his home, the bridges blended into the sand from a distance, pulling the further islands together into an indistinct shape. Large pylons driven deep into the sand below held their arches above the waves and water that chewed away at the islands. So far, the bridges had always been at least two meters across, but they seemed to grow as David and the Rangers traveled further into the Route.

  When you walked on these bridges, the wood creaked below and an echo of your thumps bounced back at you from the mirror below. Resonating footsteps, like those approaching David currently.

  Glancing away from the islands ahead and the silver reflection of the sun on the waves between them, David looked into Maggie’s unflinching eyes.

  The Ranger, also barefoot, stepped off the bridge and onto David’s island. How she didn’t get splinters from the battered and aging wood, he didn’t know. She wore boots whenever they hiked, but the moment they stopped for a break, all shoes came off.

  His island was of middling size, only connected to the bridges thanks to a larger nearby island some eighty meters across. It boasted one large patch of grass which he was standing on, and several smaller bits scattered around. All the sand around these spots was blended with dirt and browner than usual. The whole effect reminded David of pastries, leading him to dub the island ‘The Great Danish’. To fulfill an impulse, David had ripped a sheet out of his training notes and written that name on it, burying the paper in the sand at the center of the island for some future traveler to find and wonder at.

  At the time, David hadn’t considered how the Rangers would take this impromptu littering. He was now.

  “You’re doing it wrong,” Maggie stated.

  David blinked, thoughts of how to explain the paper floating away.

  “Excuse me?”

  Maggie jerked her head at the largest section of sand on the Great Danish, and the Pokemon practicing there.

  Cloudburst whistled, half in warning, half in greeting as she spread her wings out to show off her size. A shower of sand rained on the grass nearby from the movement. The spray was nothing new. David’s vacated boots were covered in a thick layer from her previous training. He’d long figured she was using the spot as a target. This time, however, the sand fell towards the bridge and Maggie, not his shoes.

  Pokemon couldn’t understand human speech, but Pidgeotto hadn’t taken long to detect the hint of hostility that the female Ranger had for David.

  Maggie gestured at the fallen sand. “You’re doing it wrong.” Her hand fell to her belt.

  David’s hand twitched to his own belt, but he stopped the new instinct before he palmed Venonat’s pokeball. Maggie might not like him, but after so many days of traveling together, there was some trust between them.

  In a long blip of light, Kettle, Maggie’s Graveler, appeared on the beach. Sand tumbled away beneath the giant rock as it sank under its own weight.

  David felt a shudder beneath his feet.

  The sinking stopped, and the sand reversed its path. Graveler rose back up until it rested on flat ground. It was an incredible feat made normal. David barely even noticed how strange it was.

  “Pidgeotto!”

  Cloudburst hopped closer to him.

  Maggie eyed the Flying type dispassionately. “Her wings stir up the sand, but they do not move it. They don’t have the connection. Watch.” She turned to her Graveler. “Kettle.”

  Kettle closed its mouth and hugged its two smaller arms into its chest. The Pokemon reared back before bowing forward and planting its two larger hands onto the sand.

  A tremor shook the grass.

  Cloudburst gave a shrill squawk and took to the air.

  The sand close to the bridge glowed brown, then launched forward. It hurtled away, as if thrown by a meteor strike, leaving a crater behind. The sand soared through the air until it struck the water with force, sometimes skipping across its surface. The furthest grains reached nearly twenty meters away.

  “She moves, not the ground. The Ground is still. It is silent until it must shake. If she wants to fight her nature and use Sand Attack, she must learn to be still.”

  Ooh. That’s what she was talking about.

  David had been so distracted by the surroundings he’d nearly forgotten what he was doing. Sand Attack practice with Cloudburst.

  “You think standing still will help?” He looked at Cloudburst, who was decidedly not still as she circled in the air above. “We’ve tried everything up to half burying her in the sand.”

  Maggie nodded. “It is against their nature, but Pidgey have a connection to sand too. Soft Sand can often be found in their nests.”

  David hummed and waved at Cloudburst, signaling her to come down. The flight was a bit silly, really. A knee-feather jerk reaction to the Move which hadn’t even been aimed near her.

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  “We’ll try it. How can she move the sand while still? Even Kettle moved her hands.”

  Maggie scoffed. Instead of arguing the point, she gave another order. “Again Kettle.”

  Once more, the sand near the bridge darkened to brown. Another crater formed as a shotgun blast raced across the water.

  Kettle didn’t so much as twitch her cement-like exterior.

  Cloudburst landed in a much smaller swirl of sand, letting out small squawks as she faced the larger heavier Graveler.

  “Point taken,” David said, staring out at the ripples in the waves from the Move. He turned back to his Pokemon, who was stalking back and forth with her wings twitching as she faced down the living rock. He mumbled what he said next under his breath. “Who knows? The more difficult part might be just keeping her still.”

  Maggie’s mouth twitched up minutely. She nodded and stepped back on the bridge. Graveler returned to his pokeball in another long blip of light.

  Cloudburst cawed as she left.

  “Thanks!” David called after the Ranger. It was possible that the advice was a red herring, but Maggie’s words had a grain of truth to them. Why the mostly silent Ranger had decided to help instead of glare at him, he didn’t know, but he appreciated it anyway.

  “Oy,” he hissed, kicking some sand and grass at Cloudburst, who was still crowing at Maggie’s retreating back. “Stop it.”

  She immediately began to protest at him instead, her volume rising as he explained the change to their training methods.

  -.-

  “- the perfect posting in summer, or even winter if you enjoy the waves and have a good way to stay warm.” Georgio paused his rambling to nod at a fisherman before continuing as if the break had never happened. “Of course, that’s not just for Water specialists. The south of the Route is abundant in Grass types and the Northern hills have several Ground types. Several islands are often taken by Psychic trainers for meditation.”

  David hummed at the Ranger’s words. He was half paying attention to the endless spiel, there was occasionally useful information in there, and half focused on the Pokemon trailing behind Maggie in front of them.

  Kettle, being a giant living rock, was not allowed on the old wooden bridges between islands for obvious reasons. Maggie had decided that she still wanted company though, and had released Dugtrio instead. However, there was no ground for Dugtrio to dig through. It didn’t seem to bother either of them. Not as much as it did David to see the mole-like Pokemon sli-

  “Route 11 is the fishing center of Kanto, but that’s a given really. The calm, shallow waters aren’t suitable for any large Pokemon, leaving the young to rule and grow outside of the madness of the sea. On top of that, its proximity to Vermillion and the Water gym made this a top destination for any young trainers.”

  Really, David wasn’t sure how it was possible for that to be anatomically correct. It just didn’t make sense for Dugtrio’s body to be so swo-

  “I came here too. My first year.” Georgio patted his belt. “It’s where I found Flops.”

  Did each of the snake-like heads control one part of that? A limb and a spare? How did that work?

  “It was that island up there. No, wait. Was it further ahead? Behind? I know I had to swim to the island. Cush came with me and...”

  David didn’t even know how Dugtrio moved through the earth. It didn’t seem possible for stone to not affect the Pokemon’s skin. And that was another thing. Why was Dugtrio that color below the ground? It didn’t match its brown head and pink nose at all. It nearly hurt the eyes, such a bright shade of-

  Did Georgio stop talking?

  David tore his eyes away and looked at the Ranger beside him. Georgio raked his fingers through his beard, eyes downcast in a way that stretched the sun wrinkles around his eyes in a weird way. While David wasn’t paying attention, it looked like he’d been lost in memories.

  “Why the bridges?” David blurted, feeling guilty for his lack of attention.

  Georgio shook himself, that far off look disappearing. “Bridges? Oh, eh, a couple of reasons really. There had to be a Route here, to connect the south to Lavender town. Most of the town is surrounded by treacherous hills, and the only pass through them is halfway along the coast. The choice was between a bridge or a swim. Same for most of the islands. You can wade across in most places, but that can be dangerous in a storm or the winter. The woods are also dangerous.”

  David looked at the plain woods along the shore to the west. They looked quite placid and open. “Dangerous? It doesn’t look it.”

  “It wouldn’t,” Georgio made a face. “It’s not the woods themselves, it’s what you can find within them. Big Drowzee habit. They like the lulling sound of the waves, or how everything else reacts to it, anyway. The big lugs are friendly enough, but they can’t resist the taste of a good dream.”

  David shuddered. Right. Crazy world where creatures could mess with your mind.

  “And why is that dangerous?” he asked warily, already predicting a poor sleep, and not knowing if he should be grateful that his horror might keep the actual horror away.

  “One or two bites might not be, but if enough Drowzee were drawn to you in a night…” Georgio clicked his tongue. “Waking up wouldn’t be so simple. Left vulnerable, who knows what else gets you. Ekans are known to be about. Easy prey for them in the hypnosis’ footsteps.”

  Nightmare material. David thought. He was definitely leaving Venonat roam tonight.

  Some of his thoughts must have shown on his face as Georgio laughed. “They don’t really come out onto the bridges or islands. Too open and exposed for them.”

  David grunted in response. It was too late. The idea of a night attack was stuck in his mind now. Assurances would not help. Looking ahead, he saw that Maggie and Dugtrio had made it to the next island. The Pokemon was back to its pleasant self, lower half hidden beneath the sands.

  Nightmare material. David repeated.

  Despite it all, the next morning David woke without issue. There had been no attack overnight, but not everything was right. To his surprise, Venonat was twitchier than normal. To the point that he wouldn’t sit still and his antennae didn’t stop for a moment, becoming a white blur in the air.

  None of David’s questions worked to ferret out why, making this another moment where David wished for a translator. There was only so much he could read from the Bug Pokemon, and less if Venonat did not wish to stay still.

  When he shared the fact with the Rangers, they went on alert searching the area. Nothing was found. Wallop, Bret’s Rapidash, had spent the night on the beach as well and had noticed nothing. Eventually the Rangers chalked it up to a circling Flying type investigating the passing Bug type.

  David had his doubts, but if there was something around, he had no interest in lingering to find out.

  -.-

  The three Rangers stopped without a word by a sign leading to the next bridge. “Silence Bridge” it read. They took their backpacks off in unison and began to rummage through them.

  “What’s going on?” David asked.

  Georgio held up a slip of cloth. “Time to wrap all our cutlery and pots.”

  “Taking the name literally then,” David said with a smile, shrugging his own backpack off. His various possessions clanked and rattled at the movement.

  Bret and Georgio shared a look, while Maggie raised an eyebrow at him.

  Crap. This is another thing, isn’t it?

  Frantically, he searched his thoughts about why this would be a thing. Staying silent in this world was usually to avoid being detected, but this seemed like a safe area, and days ago Georgio had said it was full of young Pokemon instead of monsters on the scale of Gyarados. This wasn’t about hiding. If not that, then reflection? Mourning? Lavender town was some kind of giant graveyard...

  “Well, yes,” Georgio said. His voice was puzzled, like he was unsure why he even needed to say anything. “It’s tradition.”

  “Right,” David agreed hastily, trying to laugh it off. “Respectful silence and all that.”

  Bret nodded and both he and Georgio focused back on the sound proofing. David hoped they passed the slip up as a bit of flippancy rather than anything weird. It seemed his guess was correct. He hurried to do the same, wrapping anything that could jingle up in the fabric. Maggie’s eyes never strayed far from him as he did.

  Fifteen to twenty minutes later they set off, the Rangers testing all their gear for sound before declaring themselves ready. David did the same. The old wood of the bridge creaked beneath their feet, but no one spoke. Nothing rattled, nothing clinked.

  They walked across the sea towards the hills. With each step, the clouds dissipated until a tall gray tower loomed on the horizon. Lavender town waited.