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[Aubre Ellen McKenna]

It was too dangerous.
It was too far.
The infected were out in force
She worked too much.
She simply didn't have the time[

All of the above had one thing in common: they were excuses. The real reason she had never ventured this way was simple. It would hurt too much. Her heart would shatter; the world’s best glue would just leave it a mess of powder and crimson paste. Then again, even those two did not get to the truth. They rang hollow—just like the rest. The encounter would hurt. What would hurt more was admitting, finally, that it was gone. It was not a nightmare. The cool wind across her skin made her shiver Scratches stung where branches pulled at her clothes and freckled skin.

---

Red shoes backpedaled as if their owner had been back-handed. Her head shook back and forth in denial. Nervous fingers clutched at a nearby branch for support. The path had been torn, likely devoured, and left to the wilderness. Between blades of grass, hidden, were familiar letters carved by love-struck teenagers and mischievous children. The little hovel to the left of the path, obscured by an overgrown willow, had once been the world’s smallest candy store. Just over this hill, barely taller than the little redhead, would be the end of it all. The end to an illusion—the fantasy that, just outside of her eyesight, her mother still hid. One day, with a smile, Aubre would find her.

A nudge at her side. A little yellow lizard, turning away to act tough, gently clasped her jean leg. He gestured back toward the city with a claw. He could smell anxiety—it was not her usual kind either. Pravus now patrolled this path for infected and, in order to make it easier, had trimmed back a lot of foliage.
“N-no, it’s alright, Alister. I think this is s-something I need to do..”
Set on fire, assaulted, torn apart, and nearly bed-ridden, Aubre had faced a lot. Was she that much of a coward that two or three steps overwhelmed her? For a moment, nearly giving in to her crumbling spine, she moved to turn away and back toward Nada Citadel. Fingers tightly clutched the flowers in her hands.
One step. Two steps. Finally, the hardest of all, was the third.
What stretched before her was nothing special to the usual passerby.
What a wreck!
Why didn’t someone tear that down?
It was just a burnt out frame

To the redhead, with the foreign trees wrapped carefully around it, the place still felt like home. Teetering, as if she might fall over for a moment, Aubre moved toward the charred ruins. No skeletons greeted her; that was the only relieving thing about it. Trembling with equal mix shock and devastation, she sank onto a tiny little boulder on the edge of the property. The old faded numbers of an address, painted by her mother one summer, flaked to the ground.

This was the right place—she could not truly deny it. No one but her father, with his mutation, could grow palm trees in this place. The remains of strong wooden beams, shaped like a gallows and seemingly hungry for its missed victim, made Aubre shiver. Her mother had cooked in that kitchen. Her father had taught her how to ride her first horse. The yard had been the site of immeasurable mischief. It was also here, a little over a year ago, that she imagined their dying screams. Taking a deep breath, leaving the flowers carelessly behind, she rose. Her voice sounded oddly flat. Something moved in the bushes.
‘L-let’s go back, Alister. I c-can’t do this..”
“Mouse c’mon, it’s okay. Just wait a minute. . “
“Home, let’s go back home..”
The word was bitter in her mouth; it reminded her of something soured. If her old one was a charred ruin, held together with ashes and misery, her new apartment could serve the same purpose. It was just a four letter word. It was nothing to cry over. She would just pretend the rain had come early as tears dragged down her cheeks.

Toward the east, where Nada Citadel squatted, the teenager headed. Not once, until the trees had swallowed the hovel, did she turn around. She could still see that rock; from here, the handprints and little digits invisible, it was nothing more than an old boulder.

It just happened to mark three graves. Thunder crashed. The skies opened up.

It started to pour. Green eyes turned skyward as she plodded along toward the city. The rain had put out the fire. A storm had saved her life. It covered her tears. She loved to prance in it without an umbrella.

Aubre loved the rain.

She also hated it.

Five minutes later, as the wind began to howl and the trees shake, a male voice shouted up at her:
"We need to get inside somewhere--it's a bad storm, Aubre."
Aubre really hated the rain.

---

The storm continued. Thunder crashed. The trees offered little shelter; most of them were fragile and ready to topple over. The infected wouldn't even hide under them.

Her clothes were drenched. She would end up with pneumonia; her little dance with nostalgia would put her in the hospital ( on top of shattering her sanity).

The gates of the city drew into view. Lips tasting of tears pulled upward in the most timid smile.

Finally: home. Then, as if that word itself was a curse, the wind picked up. It grew louder. A branch crashed right in front of her. Alister, who she had not even noticed had vanished, managed to shout over the storm. He pointed.
"Hey! Mouse! There's a little safe-house off the road!"
Aubre ducked inside. Nada Citadel was just a mile or two away.

[Boozie]

 
The shed was fairly small, unused and abandoned in the mist of the storm. It provided enough comfort to protect the unlucky travelers from the bellowing winds and the crashing rain, but still a small breeze shook through the narrow boards. With only the brightness of the lightening overhead to illuminate the corners of the room, was it safe for the youngsters to say they were alone in their hideout?

Hrairoo was cozy up in his corner of the shed, content on not only waiting out the storm but waiting out until his evolution as well. Although the lack of sunlight was displeasing to the young Metapod he felt that he had a much better hiding spot than his brothers up in the tops of the trees. The infected Pokemon he had seen around as a Caterpie seemed to be either too stupid to find their way through the door or frankly uninterested in checking the shed out for prey. So here he waited, droopy eyes watching the outdoors through the shudders of the window. He had a good sight of the door and the window from his corner of the ceiling which was essential when he had decided to stay put there. So it was much to his surprise and fear when someone had walked through the doors, and he immediately felt his shell harden up in shivers.

He couldn't feel the rain pelting down his silky blue fur or the wind pushing him to the crumbling treetops. Nothing could deter this young Pokemon from it's set target, as it pushed through what seemed like a dangerous path. He had only one thing on his mind; a driving force that numbed him into a state of zombie-like stumbling on the stormy road. Hunger. The hunger that made his mouth water and his tail stand up straight. Food was a driving force for many Pokemon, but not normally to this type of extreme. His eyes were glassed over, staring down a target that seemed to be fleeing to a shed. He was close enough that he could almost feel the fresh meat that his mouth craved and his stomach died for. 

A wild infected Panpour has appeared!

[Aubre Ellen McKenna]

(Please do not respond for at least 48 hours; thanks Cabby for a great post)
The little lizard, holding himself close to the ground, escaped a lot of damage. The water, which soothed his skins and scrapes, did little but tickle. A second eyelid, which protected his large baby-blues, had slid into place. Alister turned to beckon to his trainer. He smelled something nearby. While his first instinct was to spur her on with fear, just so she could get out of the rain, he knew better. She would freeze. He would be stuck with a popsicle. When he spoke, trying his best to be encouraging, he failed:
“Come on, Mouse! Hurry up! It’s just a little hurricane! The zombies are faster than you! “
The wind howled like a pack of wolves. The words, besides the annoyed expression, high-pitches, and waving, were unintellible. Nervous ears, listening for any sign of attack, was nearly certain a real dog waited for her. The wind tore at her bare skin, clothing, and rapidly depleted her energy

. Buffeted by the wind, Aubre felt close to tipping over. It was as if, just to spite her, the wind had turned into molasses. Unlike in that game candy-land, where it would taste sweet, this wind was like something bitter and boiling. Her own clothing, which was proven difficult to maneuver in its bagginess, felt as if the world had climbed upon her shoulders. The wind grew louder. Arceus, why do you want to hate me so darn much?Blinded by the rain, which pelted her skin, the redhead was forced to close her eyes. The pain had grown to be too much. Her entire body trembled as dark lashes squeezed together. She had a hard time, in an empty room, with locks set against intruders, letting her senses go. Filled with dangerous animals, many of them rabid, this was not her bedroom.
“Alister! Keep talking! P-please! I can’t see anything. . . I can’t see.”
What if he abandoned her? The little lizard might have ducked inside—she was stupid, slow, and worthless after all. She just caused him trouble. The droplets of water turned icy. A few spots of hail slammed into her exposed skin. Fingers withdrew into her hoody. Green eyes opened again. Aubre felt herself groan; the shed looked as if it had grown legs and ran off. Alister seemedd. For a moment, quaking, she nearly collapsed in the rain. What does it matter? Another step followed. In this case, determined to die somewhere warm, obstinance proved to be a positive trait for the redhead.

Alister spoke. Thank you, Arceus. I’m sorry—I’m really sorry. Don’t hold it against me—what I said earlier., her mind bitterly begged. The little reptile began to shout to guide her. While it more negative commentary, something about her legs resembling gelatin, it allowed Aubre to race toward the voice. Only when he grabbed her hand, scales surprisingly soft, did the redhead allow herself to sigh in relief. Her fingers, surprisingly strong, nearly crushed his paws. The Helioptile had seen the flash of blue from the Pansour. He chose not to mention it. He did not want her crying; he was already soaked.

Hands laid upon the door. Alister could not reach the knob anyway; he would claim, until his dying day, that him being short had nothing to do with him going back. She moved to duck inside---and froze. Glancing into the corner, seeing the Metapod, she frowned. How had it gotten in here? The door was likely hard to open. The wood was rotten. The storm was shaking the little building. Emerald eyes soon began to pick out the holes in the wall. This was about as safe as armor made of swiss-cheese. The floor had holes from ground-types. Opening her mouth to ask about his presence, as the Metapod had turned to look when they entered, Aubre prayed he was intelligent. Something blue, out of place in this dark land, caught her eye. Old shoe, more pink than red, froze on the threshold to the door.

This shed won’t do anything. It will break in here, eat my brain, and kill Alister—no, no, no. Tempted to hide inside the shed, likely endangering the Metapod, Aubre was torn with indecision. The lizard on the other hand, rolling his eyes, rushed out into the storm. He knew how this worked! Electric-types could wipe the floor with that monkey! Sparks began to fly as he began to charge a thunder attack. Green eyes widened as Aubre shouted:
“Alister! You can’t do that! We’re soaked---you’ll just end up hurting yourself. We might be alright inside—for n-now..”
Clinging to the door like a life raft, offering a hand to the little lizard, she tried to convince him to come inside. He was just as stubborn as her. What else could he do? Would it work if he got closer.? Taking a step forward, ignoring the hand, the reptile pondered on a way to keep the monkey away. Finally, with a smirk, he used an attack of sorts.

Electricity raced around him in a small circle. It sparked. It fizzed. It popped. The puddles gathering, in between tree roots, seemed to glow. Sharp teeth showed beneath yellow lips. What idiot monkey, even sick, would rush into that thing?
“I’ll be right there, Mouse! Get your thong straight!”
The electric-terrain ability, fought for with a move-specialist, would prove useful. It stopped a few feet away from his trainer. With a cocky jaunt, hopping away, the Helioptile moved toward where his trainer waited for him. She really worried too much sometimes; at least, even ifi t was smothering, she loved him.