...S-speak..?!

“Name and Rank, Feathertail!”

The shouted demand is followed by a silence so deafening, you’d likely be able to hear a twig drop at the forest floor. Of all the sounds you’d expected to hear coming from this purple eyed stranger, words were not among them. Your baffled expression does little to deter the armed avian and the way he draws back tighter on his bowstring makes it clear he’s not of the mind to wait for your reply.

“G-gwwahh..?!” Your astonished retort is as tactful as it is coherent, an annoyed huff from under that green hood cluing you into that fact. “Wa-wait… Who..?!” A sudden pressure upon your torso as that 4 clawed bird paw digs deeper to steal your breath.

“I am asking the questions feline…” comes the sharp response to your non-answer. His voice is spoken from the chest, more bold rather than loud, you determine. He sounds out every syllable of his words, giving him a ‘proper’ tone, not too different from a certain Vaporeon you recall. However, where Arro might have had a sing-song quality to his voice, this one has a more rigid manner of speech, like his words are barked rather than spoken. “You would do well to remember that…” A pained gasp due the constriction of your lungs seems to remind him that in order to comply, you’ll first need the capacity for breathing. You can almost see the exact moment he realizes this when his stern expression slips and for just a second you spot a bit of fluster upon his face. It fades quickly, however, and he relaxes the grip upon your chest a bit before prompting, “I won’t ask again.”

“Nnnhh.. s-sorry..” you apologize out of hand, almost automatically now that you mind is alight with questions of your own. “It’s just… your eyes..!”

“-have been the same color since the day I hatched. Stop trying to distract me!!” Again you feel a tightness building upon your torso. The owl is more to the point than you’d normally be comfortable with, this kind of emotionless exchange reminding you of how your clan's Elders had spoken to you in the past. Still, this mysterious Pokemon was the one holding your life in their hands so you decide it’s best not to tempt his wrath.

“.. Name’s Kale. Pleased to meet you.” Your attempt at lightening the mood a bit fails to garner any reaction aside from the bird cocking a brow at the poorly timed joke. Coming to the conclusion that erring on the side of caution was the best course for now, you let the dumb smile fall from your face. “...Sorry again…”

“Kale, then.” His confirmation is cold and leaves no room for misunderstanding. He is in control here and was trying his best to let you know it. “Continue.” The next part does breed some genuine confusion in you. You had no idea what he meant when he asked for your ‘rank’ and you carefully informed him of such. His rebuttal is fast and aggressive.

“Do not play games with me, tree cat!” That vicious looking quill retreats quickly with a harsh jerk, the vine-like bowstring stretching taunt. “Your position within the Huntsman's Claw! Now!!” The sudden reference to your old clan is unexpected to put it lightly. How did they factor into all of this..? What were these ‘ranks’ he spoke of?? As far as you could recall, there were never official positions of authority within the clan, and aside from orders given by the Elder himself, everyone simply followed their own rules. If it gave you a better chance to survive, you did it. Nothing more to it. Thoughts of the life you had under the heel of such a cruel system seem a distant memory even though it had only been a year, so exponentially better has your life gotten since then (Aside from the virus, of course). Your panic is subdued, though, as the owl mistakes you for one of the beasts you left behind. Perhaps you can explain..?

“H-how did.. I mean, I’m not of the clan. Not anymore!” Your words, less shaky than before, do little to reassure the tightly wound avian.

“That bag says otherwise!” comes the predictable rebuff. “I have only ever seen that equipment on their scouts or their scavengers, so which is it!? Do you hunt for our homes or just our eggs?!” The man is becoming more frantic by the second, and much to your horror, the hand holding the arrow is starting to tremble. You desperately try to explain yourself before that deadly looking barb turns you into a pin cushion. You express that you found the Claw to be a vile, abhorrent thing that you left behind, that you were made to find your own way for the last year in exile.

“LIES!!” Squawks the bird, now worked into properly crazed fervor. “All lies, every single bit of it!” The talons around your midsection clench even tighter not only making each gulp of air a struggle to take, but even threatening to dig themselves through your soft flesh. The hand gripping his arrow is shaking violently now, each new outburst making you flinch at the thought of him accidentally loosing the projectile. You had to get out of this deteriorating predicament fast but there was no clear path. Pinned as you were, even with your agile reflexes, you didn’t like your chances for dodging such a point blank shot. Your arms had limited range due to the talons constriction and his long, fluffy leg put him well out of swiping distance.

Wait… His leg..?

Forcing yourself to ignore the screeching demands he continues to level toward you, your eyes travel up the length of his toned calf, past his plumed thigh, and settle on the bulge of feathers just beneath his abdomen. Your own legs were essentially unrestricted and might be able to… But could you do such a thing..? The shame alone…

“You will listen to me when I am speaking to you, Egg Thief!” He’s becoming more unhinged with each new insult, and at the end of it all, you really didn’t want to become a permanent decoration upon that tree.

“I ask the questions, and you answer them. DO YOU UNDERST- !!! ”

*TTHHhhwackk!*

Time stands still as the sound of hindpaw meeting crotch echoes about the now strangely silent branches. A nervous glance from your shameful kick to the face of your assailant reveals that he too has frozen in place. The initial look of confusion spread beneath his hood quickly melts away to become a mask of unmitigated agony. Painful as it is to watch, your plan works about as well as it could have with his pinning claw wrenching itself from the bark to instinctively protect his wounded manhood. Thinking you’d have mere moments to dodge the forgotten quill, you drop well below where he’s aiming. Though, as it would turn out, this was unnecessary due to his hands, much like every other part of him, clenching tightly into his curling body. The arrow finally falls harmlessly from his grasp as his balled form hits the branch at your feet. The look of absolute misery he gives you, tears forming in his violet eyes, tugs hard at your sympathies. He can barely gasp through the anguish in his nethers, but he still manages to collect enough of a lungful to sing you the song of his people.

“AAAARRRRrrrrraaaaahhh- HHhaaahhhaaaaaaa!!!!”

Regret washes over you in an instant as the poor owl rolls over prone in place, his pitiful cries likely echoing for quite a stretch through the darkened woods.

“Waa… Why would you…?! HOW C-could you..?!!”

The accusatory tone clear through his tormented whimpering has you unthinkingly blurting out, “I’m sorry!!! I didn’t want to…!” Your meager attempt at apologizing (despite being at his mercy just a minute prior) is a sorry comfort that appears entirely lost on the avian. Thoughts of escape were briefly considered, but this one spoke of your clan and your damnedable curiosity was once more overriding logic. With guilt clouding much of your reason, and knowing it to be a foolish choice, you sigh and plop yourself down next to the unknown Pokemon to wait out his sorrow.

Time, as they say, heals all wounds and eventually the pitiable ranger’s forlorn wales fade into quiet sniffles. The man is still curled tight and facing away from where you sit, wallowing in the aftershock. You know you should just leave him to his convalescence, but something he said during the course of his ‘less than competent’ interrogation has been sticking in your mind. He had stated that your old commune had not been victims of the outbreak as you had originally thought, but were alive and on the move. Another puzzling notion was their presence here. Your clan made its home far to the northeast, the village of Yelsdin resting in the shadow of the Tovmir Mountains. Why then would they be this far south? Seeing no other way to begin the sure-to-be horribly awkward conversation, you start with the basics.

“Are… you okay..?” you softly probe, hoping the concern in your voice comes across as genuine, rather than the second hand embarrassment that it was. The reply is sharp but still edged with a soreness that makes you wince.

“Why would you care?!”

It would appear he isn't quite ready to forgive and forget. Not an ideal start. You try your appeal once more.

“Listen… I am sorry for what I did, but not sorry that I had to do it.” You try to go easy on the accusatory tone in your voice, though that unstable missile aimed at your kisser will likely haunt your dreams for a while. You explain your reasoning for the low blow, citing that his manic episode made you think you were moments away from a messy epitaph. He doesn’t have a pointed barb in response this time, rather he just stares at you over his shoulder, still clutching his pride. Seeing this as a modicum of progress, you push on.

“I am more than willing to answer any questions you may have for me, but I’d like it if the conversation wasn’t so… ballistic?” If you were honest, that one wasn’t intentional but the groan that comes from your downed branch mate grants you the understanding that he doesn’t really care. However, it sounds as if it comes from a place of irritability instead of agony. More progress?

“... please stop making jokes..” Comes the quiet rebuke. His words are much softer now, almost what some would call meek. As he continues, it becomes clear to you that at least some of his commanding presence from before was put on for your benefit. “I… arrgh… I don’t wanna fight anymore…” Relief shakes from some of the tension in your gut as he says as much. You quickly agree to the stalemate and again ask if he needs assistance, going so far as to gently place your hand on his side.

When he recoils at your touch, you try to reassure him by calmly saying, “You need not fear me, stranger. I just want to see if you’re bleedi-” As you lean over his side to better assess the collateral damage, your words catch in your throat as you see a pillar of pink bird flesh, fully erect, poking through his hands as he desperately tries to hide it. It isn’t just ‘impressive’, it looks like it was made for an Articuno but somehow wound up on him. Your sudden flushed cheeks and bulging eyes clue him in to the mortifying reality that you’ve seen everything he attempts to conceal.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean too..!” Again you are stammering out an apology as his horrified face burns so bright that most of it is made clearly visible beneath his leafy hood. His winged arms wrap tighter around himself to fully obscure the generous endowment, and his eyes drill an venomous glare into yours. As humiliated as you both must feel right now, a new question dawns on you due to the odd reaction he had to being kicked. In your hasty endeavor to shift the focus of his ire to anything but yourself, you unthinkingly babble out:

“Wait did… did you get like that because… I…?”

The swiftness that which his violet eyes go from simmering anger to crestfallen disgrace is almost as impressive as his not-so-little friend. He does, however, respond this time with a wailing “NOOoooo!!!” The ear rattling denial is punctuated with one hand coming up to yank hard on the two vines hanging from his hood, surprisingly drawing it closed to hide his burning visage in an instant. Muffled sobs are soon heard emanating from the quivering headwear and once more, you’re back at square one. With a long exhale of exasperation to dispel some of the perplexing feelings whirling within, you lean back against the truck of the tree and mutter to yourself:

“.. Just wanted ONE peaceful night…”