(ACE) The STARK Team

Things became quiet within the group. Sahara didn't particularly mind, however she did notice the Electric cat from earlier had disappeared. She wondered where it could've gone, but just as quickly dismissed it. Oh well...
Trotting along, a stream finally came into the canine's view. From a distance, it shone radiantly within the moon's beams and looked as if it could've been Arceus' own river. It had been ages it seemed since she even had a bath. While she wasn't thrilled over a river, the thought of being clean was very welcome.
As she glanced over the water, the coppery scent she knew all too well invaded. The water had turned crimson with blood.

Something was floating down the river. It was small, and pink. Maybe that's what caused the river to be contaminated? It floated, slowly making its way downstream to where she stood. As it came by, Sahara carefully swiped a paw at it and drug it out of the water. It's throat had been slit. But more interestingly, it had something carved into its belly. An A? What was that supposed to mean? As she inspected the supposed message, she felt like she was in some detective novel, looking for clues leading to a madman.

Wait. If it were a detective novel, the one responsible clearly would've been the said madman. In this case... Gaear. A... for Arcanine? Was it a message to her? No, it was too soon for him to be calling her. She looked around to the others, and finally realized what it meant. "Remain careful." There wasn't much more she could say. The Skitty was a reminder. Sahara knew that now. The Aggron would the the first to go...

"We can move upstream and find a point which the river is clean. Or we can try to find shelter and food."


((OoC - Sorry, I didn't know Nightfall went into SH.))

As Carl stumbled onto the scene, a permanent grin etched into his scruffy features, the stench of blood failed to register in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, his vision blurred to the macabre reality as he trotted towards the stream. It was until he was peering down at his murky reflection that he realized the water was stained red. His expression taking a sudden shift, fear infecting his inner celebration, the Meowth recoiled in a panic.
“What the fuck!?” He exclaimed blindly, eyes narrowed as he turned to Sahara inspecting the dead, water-logged body of a Skitty. Curling his lip back, disgusted, Carl took in the sight of the bloody river, paying the dead no mind as his paws rested on his hips. “Well, this is just a fucking mess. What kind’a ignorant prick just decides to fuck up a perfectly good river? Some fucking people, eh?”

"We can move upstream and find a point which the river is clean. Or we can try to find shelter and food."

Carl ranting quietly to himself silenced as Sahara’s suggestion, his attention drawn to her bloodied form as he gave a nod of his head. Food seemed a pretty good idea to him. He hadn’t eaten in awhile now and his paunchy gut had begun growling in demand, the scruffy-matted fur appearing to quiver with each guttural bellow. Looking to Smith, a small grin hit his features.
“You stashing away any grub, Smithy? And you wouldn’t be willin’ to share said grub, would ya? Helping you fellow man an’ all, eh?”

Vale quietly marched behind the others, his thoughts and fears running amuck in his mind. There was little he could do to stop it; the possibilities too much to simply ignore. Was Gaear truly dead? If so, why was there such a feeling of dread...? And where would he go from here? Besides Carl, he was already admonished and scorned by Sahara's discontent with company and Smith's honorable views. It wasn't like he was particularly proud of leaving someone behind, but the instinct to flee was too much to bear in such a time of peril. Stronger pokemon wouldn't understand it, the instinct to run... He was prey, some mediocre meat bag waiting to be offed and scarfed down in a mid-afternoon snack. The thought made him pause a little, his head hanging with shame. Despite his efforts, his best endeavors, he truly could never rise beyond what he'd been built to be: mediocre.

Tears welled up in his eyes, the familiar pressure on his forehead and nose as he fought the urge to break down. How far he'd come, only to now further his uselessness by breaking down in front of several far more powerful pokemon?! Get it together, Vale! he growled at himself, but it was nearly too much to bear. He'd failed his trainer by letting those demons kill him, he'd failed Sahara by fleeing and thinking only of his own hide... and... he'd failed himself by stupidly thinking that he could be more than that. Taking in a shuddering breath, wiping the tears from his eyes with his leg, he swallowed the lump and emotions as he lifted his head. He couldn't let himself be like this. Another steadying breath accompanied his step toward the others as they reached a stream, and he ran to catch up.

Shock helped him regain his composure as he temporarily forgot his woes and looked at what the others were gawking at. A skitty, staring up at the rest of them with wide, bulging eyes, his own gaze trailed down to her bloodied body, noticing the strange wounds. While his initial reaction was revulsion, there was something odd about her injuries... He tilted his head, staring down at the little kitten in confusion. It seemed Carl had already moved on from the gruesome sight, already asking Smith about food.

"...What..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to remedy it. "What's on her s-stomach?"

When they reached the stream, Smith frowned at the blood-clotted water, looking up river to try and see what was going on. Spotting the dead Skitty, he heaved a mighty, woeful sigh at the sight of the dead feline. Shit happens... Its throat had been slit, but most curiously somebody had carved the letter A into her belly. "Hmph. Wouldn't get yer fur in a twist about that. Probably some sicko's idea of a joke. Heh, yeah - A for the Asshole that did this."

He lowered his head and sniffed at the blooded water. "Don't worry, lass. That ain't infected blood. That stuff's a weird colour, and it stinks like fuck." Carefully picking up the dead Skitty in his huge hand, Smith shuffled over to a nearby tree
and dug the small Pokemon a grave with a single scoop of his hand. Placing it inside and covering it up, he rejoined the group. "I reckon it's safe t'drink, but let's move further downstream just so we don't have a nasty taste in our mouths."

He scoffed when Carl asked whether he had any food. "If yer want to trek a hundred miles up the mountain and break yer teeth on solid iron, be my guest," he huffed, pulling a medium-sized bush out of the ground and tossing it aside so the others could pass. "In other words, no I don't. Not here, anyway, not that yer could eat it. I'll have a look for some berries for yer bunch of soft-tooths once we find a place to rest for a while."

Sahara watched without uttering a word as Smith buried the Kitten Pokémon, it's ruthless death was bothersome. At least it had a proper burial though. "I reckon it's safe t'drink, but let's move further downstream just so we don't have a nasty taste in our mouths." Sahara nodded, though she wasn't particularly bothered by the taste of blood. She was absentminded during most of their conversation concerning food, barely catching the part about iron and broken teeth. Sahara trotted down the riverbank, the water quickly became clear and the scent of blood faded away, inviting the Arcanine to slide into the deepest part of the water. She pawed away the mess on her poorly groomed fur, finally making her look more like the companion she used to be, rather than a serial killer.

The cold water made her wounds throb, but it was soothing to the sadistic canine. After all, it was always nice to have battle wounds after facing off and winning. She shifted to a lay in the water, and stared up at the ominous clouds covering the moon as she fell back into her dark thoughts with depression evident on her face.

"...What…What's on her s-stomach?"

Carl’s observatory skills were famously lacking, obvious as the feline wore an expression of quiet confusion at Vale’s utterance. The poor guy looked like he was going to be sick.
”What’re you on about?” He muttered quickly, straining to catch glimpse of the feline Smith heard. He soon confirmed that there was a letter carved into the flesh, ‘A for Asshole’ as he commented bitterly. Carl scoffed in response, hardly phased by the macabre situation. He was used to it. People died every day – he thought nothing of a little blood, even commending the murderer’s originality for leaving a mark.

Still, things moved on briskly. Smith buried the feline a ways off as the bloody water proved a rather unsettling sight as Carl stared down at his murky reflection. His fur was a mangy as ever, whiskers curled from years of neglect but now, he found scratches marring his features. Huffing, he licked a paw and began to rub at the grime, hygiene never one of his strongest points. But the group were moving again, heading towards a cleaner area of the river as Smith spoke of food.

"If yer want to trek a hundred miles up the mountain and break yer teeth on solid iron, be my guest. In other words, no I don't. Not here, anyway, not that yer could eat it. I'll have a look for some berries for yer bunch of soft-tooths once we find a place to rest for a while."

The Meowth hadn’t even considered their altering diets. Looking up to Smith’s powerful, steel frame, everything made a lot more sense. He emitted a long, quieted ‘ohh’ of realization as he trotted aside the living bulldozer, looking back to check for Vale’s presence. As wimpy as the grass-type was, he owed the guy his life. Hadn’t he proven the ticket away from Gaear, albeit sacrificing the little squirrel that’d once been with them, Carl would have been as good as dead.
“Berries are good,” Carl replied, nodding his head eagerly. “Rest sounds even better,” A chuckle left him just as the river cleared up, the moon reflecting against the gentle ripples.

Watching as Sahara sunk into the waves, the blood soon dissipating into the water, Carl trotted to the side, letting his feet fall into the water. No way was he going in though. Fucking water. Content to wet his paws and rub some of the blood and dirt from his scruffy features, the Meowth hummed absently to himself. Taking relish in the fact that with Gaear out of the picture, he was virtually untouchable.

"Hmph. Wouldn't get yer fur in a twist about that. Probably some sicko's idea of a joke. Heh, yeah - A for the Asshole that did this."

Vale looked up at Smith's callous, amuzed words as he trekked on, leaving the bayleef alone to gaze down at the poor kitten. The others didn't seem to care about this very ominous-feeling omen, which should have given Vale some peace of mind. But the feeling of dread remained firmly planted in his gut, removing his appetite. He looked back to the aggron, watching the others so easily move on and silently scolded himself. They don't think it's all that odd... Niether should you... he thought mournfully, not wanting to throw some stranger's terrible death away like a bad piece of food. She's dead, Vale. There's nothing to do but move on. Sighing and giving the skitty one last look, he trotted after the others, wishing he could have at least buried her... something, instead of running away like he always did...

Once caught up with the others, he felt the casual air about them anything but refreshing, his own paranoia keeping him ever watchful of their surroundings. He glanced to Carl, who was even more paranoid than himself when Gaear was a factor, grooming himself free of blood and grime. Obviously, he wasn't worried. And Smith continued to drone on about food and shelter, he wasn't worried either. Vale then blamed his unending discomfort with the fact that he was too weak to do anything else but worry, and then plopped down beside Carl. Maybe some company would help get his mind off of everything...

“Berries are good,” Carl spoke, seemingly answering some unheard question. “Rest sounds even better,” Vale glanced to Smith and Carl, nodding his head tiredly.

"...Yeah... Food and rest do sound pretty good..." He swallowed, turning to Sahara and Smith. "But where would we find either?"

Both Vale and Carl agreed to finding some berries and a place to rest, but the Bayleef asked where they would do such a thing. Smith gave a loud, "Hah!" as he shoved the foliage aside so that his enormous bulk could fit through. "Wherever the fuck we want! Those undead may think they own the place, but who dictates whether or not we can sit on our asses for five minutes? Besides," he added, ripping a small tree out of the ground, "if any undead show up I'll just shove their heads up their asses, so no need to worry 'bout them."

Eventually they came to a small clearing where the stream was clear and a little wider and deeper. A cluster of rocks nearby, no doubt from the nearby mountain, had come together to form a small cave. "There we go. Plenty o'room for yer in there." He watched Sahara as she waded into the water and bathed her wounds, and nodded with satisfaction. At least the lass knows how important personal hygiene is these days ... Wait, when was the last time I had a bath? Pushing that thought aside for the moment with a chuckle and a shake of the head, Smith stood at the entrance to the small cave and gestured at Vale and Carl to go inside. "Go on, get in there and rest. I'm off t'go and find yer some berries 'n' shit." Turning to Sahara, he added, "When you're done, make sure yer get in there and rest up as well, lass. Yer need it."

Pausing beside the stream to shovel a handful of water into his mouth, Smith plodded off into the undergrowth. "Won't be long!"

"When you're done, make sure yer get in there and rest up as well, lass. Yer need it. Won't be long!" Sahara smiled and heaved herself out of the water, weighed down by the heavy sensation following being in water too long. She shook the water out of her mane, causing a miniture rainstorm around the surrounding area.
The midnight shadows were gentle on her tired eyes, and no undead could be heard for the moment. Looked like she'd finally get to rest a bit, and perhaps eat something. Food sounded so good...

She cantered into the cave, following the looming shadows to the farthest corner. Curling up tightly, she was hidden away in the darkness. It was an old habit made after she had her four eggs. She would always hide away out of sight with them as she would fall into her despondent state. That's when the nightmares started. She still forced herself to go days without sleep, just to avoid the horrifying images that tormented her. Just another lovely night...

"...Yeah... Food and rest do sound pretty good... But where would we find either?"

Carl gave an amused snort at Vale’s response, the feline still allowing his feet to hang in the water as he turned to observe the grass-type. He couldn’t tell what exactly, but there was something a little off about his companion’s character – almost a sense of unease had overcome him. Still, the Meowth chose not to dwell on it. He eyed the Bayleef suspiciously as Smith answered him with his usual curtness, though thankfully a sight more civil than when they’d first met, soon gesturing to a nearby cave.

"There we go. Plenty o'room for yer in there. Go on, get in there and rest. I'm off t'go and find yer some berries 'n' shit."

Nodding his head appreciatively at Smith’s gracious offer, Carl soon set his sights on settling down for the night – no doubt the Aggron would be fine. Grinning like a Cheshire at his extraordinary change of fortune, Carl rose to his paws.
“Don’t mind if I do,” He snickered enthusiastically, content in that his battered appearance had been partially improved with a quick wash. The blood was gone, the dirt gone and now only a collection of cuts and bruises decorated his scraggly form. A night’s sleep would see them scabbing over, quickly remedying the problem. Still, Carl thought it made him look rather rugged.

Trotting into the cave, the cat made himself comfortable in the corner, a short distance from Sahara’s form in a vain bid to steal some of her warmth. Guessing she wasn’t the cuddly sort, he thought against curling up atop her form. It was only right she earn a good night’s rest having killed Gaear! Hell, Carl was prepared to do anything to keep that hound happy – even if it meant sacrificing what he saw as a giant, thermal pillow.

Smih was quick to answer Vale's quiet question, the aggron's voice loud and confident. "Wherever the fuck we want! Those undead may think they own the place, but who dictates whether or not we can sit on our asses for five minutes? Besides," he added, ripping a small tree out of the ground, "if any undead show up I'll just shove their heads up their asses, so no need to worry 'bout them." Vale gave a small sigh, his feeling of dread not abating at Smith's assurance. But everyone else seemed fine, so... maybe it was just him...

They soon came across a good sized cave, which everyone else quickly settled into. "There we go. Plenty o'room for yer in there." Vale turned to Smith, glad that his initial anger at he and Carl had quelled. The bayleef nodded politely and walked in to join the others, glad that they at least had some peace of mind. Sighing lightly, he turned when Smith announced his plan for foraging. "Go on, get in there and rest. I'm off t'go and find yer some berries 'n' shit."

“Don’t mind if I do,” was Carl's snickering reply, the meowth still completely and utterly happy about their newfound freedom.

"Be careful," Vale called as Smith went off, and the bayleef turned to the rest of his company. Rather sure that Sahara would not like to be any closer to them than she already was, Vale went to Carl's side, the only other pokemon he'd really found a friend in during this whole nightmare. He sat down beside the meowth, frown still upon him.

"...Carl...?" he began, voice low with worry. "Do you... really think we're safe?" He looked to the feline, eyes bouncing over the other's features. "That skitty..."

Smith stopped to examine the foliage after a couple of minutes of shuffling along, not really knowing what on earth he was supposed to be looking for. Huh ... sure been a while since I ate any berries. Since leaving the Galactic HQ and living the rest of his life in one mountain or another, he had implemented his species' natural dietary requirements by constantly mining iron ore from the rocks and easily chomping on that with his steel jaws. Did more for me than those tiny things ever did. Why can't the soft-tooths improvise like we did, eh? No wonder there's such a big berry shortage these days...

Musing silently to himself, the Aggron finally came across a small clearing, surrounding which were several small berry bushes. "That'll do," Smith grunted as he pulled one of the bushes clean out of the ground and began to tromp back the way he had come, the entangled roots of the bush trailing behind him.

((OoC - Skip. D: Sahara is just sitting quietly in the dark.))

"...Carl...? Do you... really think we're safe? That skitty..."

The question had taken the Meowth by surprise, the scraggly feline soon turning his head to read Vale’s concerned expression. Having first worn a smirk, an expression of amusement at the grass-type’s constant worrying; Carl’s grin soon vanished as the weight behind the queries fell to his scrawny shoulders. He stared at the Bayleef a moment, whiskers twitching in contemplation.
“Yeah,” He shrugged, nonchalant. “I mean, Gaear’s dead. Pokémon die every day, Skitty was just unlucky, weren’t she?” But despite the feline’s natural dismissal of foul play, the fact Vale felt fear was already beginning to infect him. What was there to worry about? What had Vale seen that he hadn’t?

Turning away, the Meowth looked down at his claws, scraping dirt from beneath the sharp utensils as his attention drifted across to Sahara, the canine dead to the world. Lips forming a dead line, eyes narrowing a fraction, his eyes fell back to Vale once more.
“Why do you ask?” His curiosity piqued, Carl was now searching for the grass-type’s comfort. “What makes you think we ain’t safe?”

--

Gaear was watching.

It was hard to miss the plodding Aggron as he ventured away from the group, the prey now left sitting pretty in a cave. Whilst the Haxorus had considered paying Vale, Carl and his partner-in-crime a little visit before bedtime, he wanted to get to know his greatest obstacle first. He’d only ever seen the mysterious steel-type from a distance. He knew nothing of his mindset, his behaviour – nothing about him at all. Sacrificing an early taste of vengeance, Gaear had chosen to stalk Smith, silent.

No doubt he was strong and seemed intent on helping his new friends, judging from the berry bush he proceeded to tear from the ground. The Haxorus lurked in the shadows, concealed from sight as his crimson eyes caught each of Smith’s heavy movements. He would be trouble.

Allowing the creature to make his leave unscathed, Gaear remained motionless, unseen; a smile crawled across his lips.

As Vale poised his question to Carl, the meowth's expression was light at first, but slowly fell. The bayleef's own mask of concern stayed put, his eyes searching the meowth's for an answer. “Yeah,” Carl shrugged, nonchalant as Vale took in every word, every twitch in the other's expression. “I mean, Gaear’s dead. Pokémon die every day, Skitty was just unlucky, weren’t she?” Vale allowed his gaze to fall with a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, a small weight coming off his shoulders. If Gaear weren't dead, Sahara wouldn't be with them, right? But...

“Why do you ask?” Carl queried, earning Vale's attention once more. He locked gazes, and the bayleef could tell that the meowth's careless zealoutry was somewhat shaken. “What makes you think we ain’t safe?”

Vale frowned, emitting a small groan of uncertainty. He'd surely sound stupid, cowardly... but then again, Carl was just as cowardly as he was. Instead of boldly trying to face up to the terrifying dragon, they'd both ran for their lives and depended on another to face and kill that threat. So... Carl wouldn't judge him, would he? He sighed, then looked back to the meowth.

"It's just..." He looked back to the apparently sleeping Sahara, then leaned in to whisper in Carl's ear, speaking so softly only Carl would hear. "It's just, Gaear nearly destroyed all those undead in the mountain, and... he's really strong, right? But then when Sahara fights him, she gets a wound that doesn't even bleed anymore..." He glanced to her sleeping form and sure enough, the blood that remained on her was only marring her fur. "Surely he'd have inflicted more damage than that... and I heard that dragons are resistant to fire... It just... doesn't add up..." He sighed, then retreated a little, returning the distance between them to normal.

"...Sorry, I'm just so paranoid..." he apologized, hoping that his blabbering nonsense was merely just that-- nonsense. He looked back to Carl, hoping that the meowth would laugh off his fears, telling him he was just a baby for being so scared of someone dead.

Smith arrived back where the others were in prompt timing, making a grand entrance as usual. The Aggron unearthed a cluster of saplings, swearing and grumbing to himself. "Fuckin' trees ... gettin' in the way ... stupid..." Tossing the little trees to the side and arriving at the entrance to their little cave, he simply dropped the berry bush he was holding right in front of them."There yer go, enjoy. I'm off for a quick dip."

Smith waded into the stream, its full deepness only coming up to his ankles, cupped some water into his hands and splashed it onto his face. He sat down in the gentle flow, looking up at the moon with a solemn expression that he made sure that none of the others could see.

Wonder how Faralda's doing ... and did she manage to hatch my kid?

Well, Sahara certainly wasn't meant to know something. During their discussion of relative safety, Vale began to whisper something into Carl's ear. Since there was only three of them, she knew it had to be something about her, or her story. "Whatever... Bothersome Grass-Type.", she scoffed in the confines of her mind. But still, she couldn't resist a small, low laugh at her current position; She couldn't be proved guilty of anything. The plan was utterly perfect so far...

"There yer go, enjoy. I'm off for a quick dip." Sahara's ears perked up as the berry bush hit the ground. While it wasn't as appealing as a fresh kill, berries were good too. She appeared from the shadows next to the bush and plucked a few off. Since it probably wasn't a good idea to kill something in front of them, at least it would hold her over until she could hunt away from the group. Once satisfied, she returned to the darkness and rested her head on her paws, finally drifting off to sleep.

(OoC - Lol Sahara has been awake the whole time. She is asleep now though lol.)

"It's just... It's just, Gaear nearly destroyed all those undead in the mountain, and... he's really strong, right? But then when Sahara fights him, she gets a wound that doesn't even bleed anymore... Surely he'd have inflicted more damage than that... and I heard that dragons are resistant to fire... It just... doesn't add up..."

Carl flinched away from Vale’s close proximity, only relaxing when the grass-type’s words began to register in the feline’s mind. Frowning, suddenly finding his own confidence in the situation slipping away at break-neck speed, the Meowth turned his head to watch his companion’s face. He had a point. The cat never would’ve guessed the guy was so observant, surprised that as his gaze wandered across to the Arcanine, things began to match up. There wasn’t a scratch on her! Gaear would’ve have at least got one hit, surely?

"...Sorry, I'm just so paranoid..."

The feline sat back, watching the fire-type with unusual intensity – hoping that his newfound worries would disappear the harder he tried to ignore them. Of course, it was to no avail. Absently chewing his lip as he carried such information, the Meowth eventually gave a great sigh of defeat. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He was so enamoured with the idea of Sahara killing that psychopathic dragon that he was unwilling to believe anything else. Vale had made a series of valid points threatening to abolish the cat’s short-lived joy.
“I-“ He was interrupted by a quiet laughing. Tensing, the feline’s eyes shot to the cave’s entrance only to find the sound came from far closer. Sahara? Looking uneasily to the grass-type, his fur sticking up with growing concern, Carl was finding it awfully difficult to look at the Arcanine in the same way.

"There yer go, enjoy. I'm off for a quick dip."

Smith’s loud arrival didn’t ease the cat’s worries. Jerking away from the uprooted berry bush as it collided with the ground, the Aggron’s curt voice sounding in unison, Carl glared as the steel-type left. Could they trust him? He had taken an instant liking to the darkening fire-type – was he part of this cruel game in league with Gaear? Thoroughly stressed, the Meowth watched Sahara like a hawk as she claimed a few berries before retreating to the shadows that seemed to be suiting her more with each passing minute. He remained silent but incredibly alert, his entire weedy frame ready to run were the situation to call for it. But nothing happened. The canine went to sleep, leaving Carl and Vale sat in a suffocating tension.
“I… I don’t know what to think anymore,” The Meowth muttered quietly, looking the Bayleef with a newly awakened fear. His stomach gave a soft grumble, tempted by the scent of the berries littered a few steps from his current position – but the cat daren’t move. For all he knew, they could be poisonous.

The air was tense with both his own and Carl's anxiety, Vale's own throat tightening with the slight panic. As the meowth mulled over Vale's words, the bayleef could feel his chest tighten more and more as the seconds ticked away. Would he be ridiculed? ...Would he be taken seriously? Legends forbid Carl actually think him right, for that meant that there was all the more reason to panic. He swallowed hard, unaware of the knot in his throat that had taken hold.

A bush crashing onto the ground in front of him caused Vale to scream a little, jumping back nearly a foot away. His eyes went immediately up to see Smith's jovial grin, who had nearly immediately turned around to go back outside. "There yer go, enjoy. I'm off for a quick dip."

After Vale remembered that his heart belonged in his chest and not his feet, he returned to his spot beside the meowth, almost plopping down to relieve his now very shaky legs. Sighing, he turned to Carl as the other spoke, “I… I don’t know what to think anymore,” he admitted. Vale looked down, eying the offered berries, contemplating whether they were good or not. Having been so accustomed to eating berries, he at least knew which were good and which were bad. Gulping a little, he tentatively took an oran and rolled it around in his mouth a moment before chewing and swallowing the berry.

"...Should we leave...?" The question was soft, but loaded with emotion. He had no real emotional attachment to any of these pokemon, but Carl had proven a good friend already. He didn't like the idea of abandoning Smith, especially against Gaear and potentially Sahara, but... against those two, what else could they do...?

When he had finished bathing and staring at the moon, Smith hauled his heavy backside out of the water and trudged back onto land. Chipping off a piece of rock out of a nearby boulder with a quick pound of his fist, he began to chomp on it as he arrived at the cave entrance. "How are those berries? If yer don't like 'em I can--" He stopped chewing and simply stared for a moment. The atmosphere was ... uncomfortably tense all of a sudden.

"What's yer problem? Yer all look so serious all of a sudden." Smith finished chewing his rock and swallowed it as he took a look around. "There's nothin' here. I'd have noticed it by now if there was. What yer all lookin' so worried about, eh? ...Yer feelin' ill? Are the berries bad?"

Bird chirps filled the Fire-Type's ears as she looked around confusedly. She stood in the middle of a field covered with blossoming flowers. The sky was a light shade of blue that went on forever. The scent of rotting flesh was nowhere to be found, no Undead hunting for their next meal, nothing... It was perfect.

The yips of four pups snapped Sahara from her gazing as they, while a bit uncoordinatedly, ran to her feet. The pups were obviously her own. She crouched to eye level with her children, allowing them to frolick around her in the way that young ones did. For that moment, the poor Arcanine had the happiness she had longed for, for so long.

The scent of blood became pungent, Sahara leapt to her feet as her gaze met the ground. At her feet laid the broken bodies of her four Growlithe pups, twisted in unrealstic angles and laying in a puddle of blood. The scenery around her shattered like glass, giving way to an entirely new landscape. The once beautiful meadow became a barren wasteland of bloodstained dirt and a few twisted, leafless trees. The sun was falling beneath the horizon, leaving a playland for the Undead that staggered around the inanimate corpses of everyone she once knew. Murkrows flew the skies, their eyes glowing red and cackling madly at the canine's shock.

Tears streamed from her eyes in the real world as the inescapable dream played through her mind.

(OoC - Nightmares; They're always there to screw with your mind. lol Should we do a time-skip to morning next round?)

"...Should we leave...?"

Carl contemplated the words far longer than he usually would. At the first sign of danger, the Meowth would flee without a second-thought, but he remained uncharacteristically hesitant – weighing out the pros and cons. He was unsure whether they were just being paranoid. Sahara had no real reason to betray them, maybe a slightly unfriendly demeanour but she had never struck him as one prone to mindless slaughter. On the other hand, Vale put up a good, unfaltering point. There was something fishy about the whole scenario and now that the cat’s concerns had been awakened, he was becoming obsessed with them. Fortunately, Smith was ready to break his concentration.

"How are those berries? If yer don't like 'em I can-- What's yer problem? Yer all look so serious all of a sudden. There's nothin' here. I'd have noticed it by now if there was. What yer all lookin' so worried about, eh? ...Yer feelin' ill? Are the berries bad?"

The Aggron’s sudden, looming presence was intimidating to say the least. Carl instinctively flinched at the blunt words, looking ashamedly between the steel-type and his kindly offering of food. Vale was eating the berries – surely they couldn’t be that dangerous. Reaching for one of the berries bearing a resemblance to the grass-type’s own choice, Carl flashed an uneasy smile at Smith.
“Oh no-no-no!” He stuttered quickly, able to pick up his upbeat charade in a moment. Dispelling his concerned expression, the feline took a generous bite out of the berry he’d claimed – grinning broadly as the juice dribbled down his chin. “S'all A-Okay!” He spluttered through the mouthful, his words barely intelligible as he watched their host. Casting a sideways glance at Vale, he shrugged. There was nothing they could do now. Smith was blocking their exit – it was best they make the most of his hospitality whilst they still could.

Swallowing his food, Carl shifted on the spot – curling into a ball as he gave the Aggron a final, strained smile.
“Just about to get some shut-eye,” He admitted, unsure of whether that would be possible in the current situation. Still, it was worth a try. Smith seemed a nice enough guy, but the Meowth had learnt appearances could be deceiving. Hell, for all he knew Vale could be the traitor. Scared of what his own wandering thoughts might come up with next, Carl swung his tail before his face – burying his head as he muttered a final. “Night,”

He prayed he would make it till morning.

Vale recieved no answer, but soon, the chance for one slinked away as heavy footfalls once more caused the ground to shudder. He swallowed another berry, looking over the bush to see Smith returning. The aggron gave Carl a shock, the meowth only able to shrug at Vale as Smith conversed casually with them.

"How are those berries? If yer don't like 'em I can-- What's yer problem? Yer all look so serious all of a sudden. There's nothin' here. I'd have noticed it by now if there was. What yer all lookin' so worried about, eh? ...Yer feelin' ill? Are the berries bad?"

“Oh no-no-no!” Carl assured, stuffing some of the berries in his mouth to reiterate his point. “S'all A-Okay!” Though he flashed a big, berry-juice dripping grin, it was easy enough to tell, at least to Vale, that something was definitely eating at the cat. The bayleef knew what -hell, he'd instigated the entire thing- but he hoped that Smith wouldn't press further. Vale put his own best smile on, nodding approvingly, and wished Smith to drop the matter. He wasn't sure whether the aggron was on their side or not in this strange, silent battle...

"They're wonderful, thank you!" Vale replied, bowing a little with his long neck. "Though we should save some for tomorrow." As Carl curled into himself and shoved his face into his tail, Vale dragged the bush further into the cave, to prevent it from getting munched on. Though the thought was a little outdated, as he was more likely to be prey than the berries, he settled the bush into a corner, then plopped back down onto the craggy floor beside Carl. He was the only one Vale could trust... He curled into himself as well, though not nearly as skillfully as Carl had managed, and tried to fall asleep.

((Sounds good, Night :3))

Sahara stirred out of her sleep, slightly blinded by the bright sunlight that was shining into the cave. She had woken up first, giving her the perfect opportunity to slip out of the cave and meet up with her cohort. Quietly, she escaped into the bright morning; Had zombies not be lurking around each corner, it would've been the beginning of a beautiful day. The sun gave the Undead a disadvantage, although it did also make them smell worse. Disgusting.

The Arcanine's pelt was brilliantly shining in the morning light, which was going to make hunting difficult. Or not...
An unsuspecting Furret gleefully ate berries from a nearby bush; Had it been paying attention, it would've seen the Fire-Type inching closer and closer. By the time the Normal-Type spun around, Sahara was already over top it, fangs bared, waiting for the kill. It barely had time to make a squeak before she ripped it's throat out and began licking up the spilled blood. Fresh meat definitely beat berries.

She finished her meal, afterwards, carefully wiped away the stained blood from her mouth. The others didn't need to see that. Now, where could Gaear have gone? She looked around for the dragon, before finally sitting back on her haunches and softly calling out, "Gaear, are you out there?"

Gaear had spent the night’s duration a short distance from the Aggron’s cave. Comfortable without the luxury of a roof, the dragon embraced the chill of night like an old friend; the low temperature apt to keeping him in a constant state of semi-consciousness. He could rest his eyes without the risk of falling into a slumber, recharging his energy in brief, but effective bursts to leave him refreshed by morning’s arrival.

At the break of dawn, the Haxorus had begun circling the cave’s proximity – the growing light allowing him to time to ensure that his prey hadn’t slipped away in the darkness. Sheltered in the shadows of the trees, Gaear strained through the gloom to make out four figures, unmoving. He could attack now, surprise them and end all the theatricality with a quick slit to the throat. But where was the fun in that? It was almost an escape. No, Gaear had always been eccentric in his killings – brutal, often swift, but always sprinkled with a dash of creativity. He simply couldn’t allow Carl and his cohorts to suffer anything less than his finest work.

Soon, there was movement.

Tensing, his breathing becoming shallow wisps to perfect his camouflage, Gaear watched as one of the larger forms stirred and rose to their feet. Canine anatomy – it was clearly Sahara. She slipped out of the cave, basking in the morning sun before darting off into the forest. Unsure of her motives, suspicious that the hound might be attempting to flee her current predicament, Gaear followed. Moving surprisingly quickly for a dragon of such weight, the Haxorus eventually sauntered onto the scene, watching as the fire-type finished her meal. He smiled to himself, his earlier concerns of treachery put at ease by what was in fact a simple hunting trip.

"Gaear, are you out there?"

Observing her for a moment, the dragon eventually gave a huff and trudged out from the shadows that had encased him, confident that they were alone. He flashed a dangerous smile as he approached.
“For a minute, I thought you were making a run for it,” The Haxorus chuckled darkly, a threatening undertone tingeing an honest admittance. But he moved swiftly on, stopping directly before the Arcanine as his red eyes scanned her features – looking for any glimmer of dishonesty, any sign that she wasn’t as fit a partner as he’d first deemed. “What is it?”

(( Carl’s just sleeping. He likes a lie in, even in the epidemic. xD ))