Chapter 11 - Errata, Woven I

CHAPTER 11 - ERRATA, WOVEN I

The towering canopy of Pinwheel Forest gradually gave way to younger trees whose branches intertwined so tightly overhead that they formed living arches. Sunlight filtered through countless overlapping leaves, bathing the forest floor in a soft emerald glow. The undergrowth was strangely sparse, replaced instead by blankets of moss and thick carpets of fallen foliage that muffled every footstep. 

There was a faintly sweet smell in the air, subtle enough that I only noticed it after a few breaths. It softened the earthy scent of moss and damp wood. Across the moss crawled dozens of Swadloon—maybe even over a hundred. They noticed us, but seemed not to panic.

“Look.” Hayate’s voice was but a whisper as he pointed up toward the low hanging branches of the smaller trees.

My Electivire was faster to glance up than I was—he, and as usual, my Meltan—were the only Pokemon I had out, at the moment. Tiny shelters woven with silk and leaves no larger than a backpack hung from low branches, their seams woven together with immaculate strands of silk. Some Sewaddle had already gotten ready to evolve into Swadloon.

“I almost expected to have to fight a couple predators away,” I said. I stepped over a Sewaddle who seemed to pay us no mind. “Why aren’t they scared of us? Did your ranger contact put in a good word for us?”

Hayate’s blank expression slowly morphed into a frown. “Madeline said he’d meet us here, but then again he’s a ranger, he’s probably busy and couldn’t find an excuse to sneak out here.”

Honey shrugged, telling me I could just ask, and I acquiesced, crouching next to the nearest Sewaddle. This one was a girl whose leaf clothing was different from the ones I’d seen so far, but she said she needed to make haste and was busy, ignoring me completely. 

Come to think of it, paying closer attention, there were three types of Sewaddle here, all with different clothing. The one I'd just attempted to converse with wore a simple hooded cloak that wrapped neatly around its body, and was the rarest in number. Others had sewn broad leaves together into ponchos that draped over their backs, leaving their legs free. The last group wore layered coats of overlapping leaves, stitched together like tiny suits of armor that made them look noticeably bulkier than the rest. With an envious sigh on my shoulder, Mimi demanded leaf clothes for themselves.

“If we manage to make friends with them, sure,” I told the steel type.

“Maybe they just mistrust humans?” Hayate quietly suggested.

And so, we tried to have our Pokemon ask the Sewaddle question after question with no avail. I kept my attempts to my more diplomatic, friendly and kind family members. Honey and Angel—my conscience, as I’d once designated them—could not shake the bug types from their near trance.

“It might be biological,” the Johtoan finally said, plopping himself down on the moss next to his Dunsparce. “I mean, I haven’t ever interacted with Sewaddle ready to evolve. Maybe this is why they need to be protected while they go through this.”

And it was an entire process, that much was clear as I gave a noncommittal hum. For some Pokemon, evolving was as easy as being in a high-stress situation and having the strength needed for their body to undergo the intense process. But Sewaddle needed to hide behind a cocoon, abandoning their mobility for days and dissolving their body to rebuild themselves into something new.

And it was difficult not to feel wonder at the sight of it all. One giant leap of faith as you entrusted yourself to the forest with your fellow Sewaddle and hoped to wake up again as a Swadloon.

“Well, we might as well wait here then, no?” I said. “Your man is bound to show up eventually, and I guess we’ll be doing our jobs if we keep the Sewaddle safe until they evolve and travel back closer to the road.”

I lowered myself beside him, the moss springing beneath my weight like an old mattress while I released Cassianus and Princess for some extra muscle guarding the perimeter and Mimi jumped off my shoulder. Sewaddle seemed far less delicate from up close as they were from afar. Their bodies were encased in creamy-yellow chitin, each segment protected by a smooth shell that gleamed faintly whenever sunlight slipped through the canopy. They looked soft at first glance, but the quiet click of chitin told a different story.

There were some interesting dynamics in play with the different Sewaddle groups. The cloaked ones were loners, preferring to gather the leaves and plant matter for their cocoon by themselves. They kept a respectful distance from one another, crossing paths only briefly before disappearing back into the undergrowth. The poncho-wearers traveled in loose bands, helping one another drag oversized leaves or lending silk to the ones wearing coats. It seemed that they were the least dexterous with their silk, opting for more leaves for their cocoon and needing help from others, but they were also the biggest in size at nearly one foot tall. I’d noticed that they took the outer ring of the evolution grounds and they were the most numerous, meaning that they had taken it upon themselves to be the last ones to evolve and guard the others.

“They might be from different… well, I don’t know if you’d call them clans,” Hayate whispered to me. “Damn, I should have done more research. They’re more complicated than people give them credit for.”

That much was certain. Now that we were sitting Ducklett here watching them work, I regretted ever thinking this would be a stroll through the park—that I could simply lean on Mesprit's gift and walk away with all the answers. 

“Or they’re all part of the same group, just specialized differently,” I suggested with a head tilt. Mimi’s head was barely visible through the tall moss, but I was making sure to keep track of them. “Think about it, in a city, not everyone does the same thing, but they’re still a part of the same group.” I brought my hands together.

“Fifty-thousand Pokedollars my theory’s closer to the truth than yours,” Hayate said, presenting me with a handshake.

A sharp smile crept up my lips. “Are we going to talk about how you can’t possibly hope to pay if you win and it’s a crazy amount of money that could change your year?”

“Let’s make it one hundred thousand,” he joked—in his deadpan type of humor.

He was far too proud to have me help him that way, and I did not know him well enough to actually offer that amount of money, especially given the fact that Unova’s currency was much stronger than Sinnoh’s and it was ever larger of a sum than it seemed. 

We idly watched the Sewaddle do their work while Hayate took notes on his phone. Hours passed us by, and the sun was now high in the sky, bringing the canopy to its brightest. There was still no sign of the Ranger despite Hayate noting that he should have been on his lunch break by now. And since we were deep into the woods, there were no hopes of contacting the outside world.

“I mean, it’s not the end of the world, but it’s still weird,” he said, itching the side of his neck. “We were supposed to get premium info about the current state of the Rangers and ask if anything else on the way to Striaton needed to be dealt with… were we swindled?”

“I try to leave that type of paranoia behind me.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Maybe his boss was being a hard ass and he couldn’t leave. It happens. Maybe he’ll show up tomorrow.” We were, after all, supposed to stay a day or two until they were all done evolving. “Or if he doesn’t, just have Madeline message him when we get back to the main path.”

Reluctantly, he accepted and we waited as more hours passed us by, with still no predators to be seen. If this was a riskier spot to evolve than the usual, it was not showing any signs of that. My team and I were powerful, and we had a faded title acting as the wind in our sails, but as the sun lowered in the sky I had to admit that things felt off. Like an unscratchable itch just beneath the skin at the back of my neck.

The first thing of note that happened and that soothed my nerves was when a hungry contingent of Swadloon began to arrive. They were much smaller in number than the Sewaddle, each with carefully wrapped bundles of leaves, flowers, herbs, and moss secured to their cloaks with delicate strands of silk. Each parcel, they placed at the base of the tree central to the evolution grounds and bowed, almost like a religious offering.

Hayate and I sprang to action, thankfully managing to engage in conversation with one of the Swadloon. There was a faint scent of honey and berries coming from the leaf-woven box he dragged behind him in the moss. He seemed surprised to see anyone here—I could smell it on him.

“Good afternoon!” I cheerfully said, although still with a respectful quiet. “Don’t be alarmed—we’re only here to keep you safe from predators while you evolve.” 

The Swadloon looked at me as if I was speaking Kalosian. He told us that he had no reason to even begin to worry and that we were free to remain here as we wished. I then asked about the mental state of the Sewaddle, the Swadloon told us to pay it no mind; when their young grew close to evolution and began making their cocoon, a biological imperative overtook them to see it through no matter what and without distraction.

When I translated to Hayate, the shorter boy frowned. “Well, why aren’t you worried about predators, then? You told a couple of rangers about it, didn’t you? Because you usually evolve closer to the road?”

It was an easier life, closer to humanity’s influence. Getting caught was more probable, but you were also less likely to get eaten, and for some, I was beginning to understand, that was enough. A look of understanding washed over Swadloon’s eyes, and he told us that the Sewaddle no longer held such worries.

“Why?” I asked.

Because if I or anyone else dared disturb these grounds, we would be dead where we stood. 

My blood ran cold. 

Swadloon continued crawling toward the central tree with the rest of his congregation, but before he got too far away, I called out. “Hey! What are you offering?”

The bug type turned toward me, eyes lingering on his parcel. Food, he answered. Food and gratitude.

“For the Sewaddle after they evolve?” I asked.

He nodded, and I regretted not using my gift of empathy to tell if it was a lie or not.

I quickly gestured to my Pokemon still guarding the perimeter and nudged Hayate’s arm with my elbow. “Hey, I don’t like this; we should leave. There’s a certain feeling in the air… don’t you think? Like the world’s holding its breath.” 

The air had completely stilled around us, and the faint smell of sweetness had curdled into something perverse. It dawned on me that the constant shifting of the Sewaddle had masked the fact that we had not heard the sound of other wildlife for half a day, which should have been impossible. The emerald light filtering through the canopy had deepened into amber with the setting sun, and for one impossible moment, the grove looked less like a forest and more like something perfectly preserved. 

The Johtoan blinked at me, not understanding. To him, things were odd in the non ruinous way. He did not see that there was a knife held at our necks ready to cut and to leave our blood to pool among the moss and silk.

“I mean, if you think so… it seems like they have things under control here anyway—”

I cut him off, releasing my entire team, and scooped up Mimi inside my pocket. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. My skin tingled as if a million horrors crawled upon it. I seized Hayate by the wrist and pulled him toward the edge of the grove, explaining everything to my team who formed a protective circle around me in hurried fragments, but the trees seemed to be wound tighter than before, having turned to a labyrinthian nightmare we could not escape from no matter where we turned or how fast we ran.

A nightmare which led us right to him.

He stood alone beneath the amber canopy, impossibly still. His body looked as though it had been cut from living leaves and stitched together by impossibly patient hands, every fold crisp, every seam flawless. Long, blade-like forearms rested neatly at his sides, and his crimson eyes settled on me with recognition—or at least I believed it was. The light caught the edges of his leafy cloak until it too glowed like polished amber.

I did not attack the Leavanny. I was smarter than that, had grown since my days as a feral child who thought everything was out to get her, and so I raised a hand in front of me as if I could push it away. I kept my Pokemon quiet with a whispered order, making sure no offensive growl could give the still bug type a reason to strike. Hayate’s leg shook and his teeth quite literally chattered, his facade of nonchalance collapsed as I kept him upright. He could barely manage to stand.

“We meant no harm to the Sewaddle, nor the Swadloon, nor have we…” something throbbed in my head. Not the sharp pain of a migraine, but something duller. A slow, insistent pulsating pain. “Nor have we damaged the grounds themselves. We did not know they already had a protector and simply wish to leave.”

The Leavanny let out a slow, chittering laugh. It rose and fell in quiet clicks of mandibles rubbing together, so soft I might have mistaken it for rustling leaves if there had been any wind left. The grass type said this was different than usual.

“Yes, we’re different. We wanted to do good.” The words spilled out of my mouth as sweat dripped down my forehead. “We will not be a disturbance any longer.”

For some reason, Leavanny’s laugh grew, arm-blades glinting in the light as he placed it in front of his mouth. He called me an interesting child and—

“Stick close to me,” I told Hayate.

—attempted to drown the world in silk.

My Pokemon had been in too many fights like this to need any order. They fell into a rough formation without a sound. The ripple of silk moved like water, impacting Sunshine and Sweetheart first as Princess took to the sky with a familiar boom. Threads hissed and burned on contact with the Turtonator’s shell, spreading across the grounds until the Leavanny disconnected it from the rest of his silk. He was using it to control the flames, and the trees themselves were not burning yet. Sweetheart, meanwhile, struggled to wrestle free from her trappings—

A flash of light to Leavanny’s right, and Honey’s fist drenched in red-hot flames would have taken the Leavanny right in the chest if the grass type hadn’t slipped out of the way. He tried to slice him apart, but went utterly still as Cassianus’ eyes shone bright pink. Even then, my hand had moved by instinct, recalling the electric type and releasing him back next to me.

“Hold him still and hammer him,” I yelled to make my voice heard as a familiar calm sank deep into my bones, down to the marrow. “Princess, Moonblast, gravity.”

Having finished plotting in the air, the Togekiss zigzagged among the massive trees, gathering behind her a moon imbued with belief. It spun and spun, making the trees creak under its gravity. The fairy launched the moon toward the frozen Leavanny right as my heavy hitters freed themselves from the bug type’s silk. Under Sweetheart’s command, stones protruded from the fresh earth, jagged pillars thrusting skyward in a staggered line beneath the Leavanny. Chunks of dirt and shattered roots exploded into the air as each spike chased the last, threatening to skewer him from every direction.

Got him.

Something inside Cassianus’ mind broke. I did not know what it was, even if I heard the endless chattering of insects emanate from their head; their eyes went dark for a moment, and that split second was enough for Leavanny to dodge each one effortlessly as if he knew exactly what was to come—but my Jellicent slipped from beneath the earth as if he were a gaping maw of screaming ghosts and clamped down on the Leavanny hard. Simultaneously, Angel’s vines found purchase and wrapped around the bug. Wrapped in darkness, they’d make it more difficult for him to use any moves.

Just then, Princess’ moon and a dozen more attacks she always endlessly wove into the mix—Mystical Fires, Air Slashes, earthen spikes and Shadow Balls—impacted the Leavanny as the moon slowly pulled the bug toward its pale surface. Using silk to anchor himself and hissing from the pain of a scorched exoskeleton, Leavanny had to contend with Sweetheart’s weight.

The rock type was, simply put, too heavy to be pulled by the moon hovering in the air. She took a few lumbering steps and broke into a run, roaring loud enough to shake the forest. Honey and Sunshine used the Moonblast’s gravity expertly, throwing Thunders and Flamethrowers that twisted around the planetoid and impacted Leavanny while Buddy kept trying to enter his body to rupture his insides. My Tangrowth took on more of a supportive role, boxing in Leavanny with crude constructs of stone that Ancient Power afforded him, because the grass type could cut through his vines effortlessly even when they were armored in stone.

There was, however, finally a moment of respite to check up on Cassianus.

“You okay, Cass?” 

No. I cannot access my psychic abilities. It locked them away, somehow. When I try, it’s like trying to stop sand from slipping through my non-existent fingers. Oh, and my head is killing me.

“Stick with me. I need you for Protect,” I whispered to Honey. The electric type nodded. Power thrummed through his fur.

Sweetheart rammed her entire weight into Leavanny, who flew off and hit a tree like a ragdoll. Ordinarily I would have expected him to be crumpled paper by now, but unfortunately he seemed far more resistant than he should have been.

Something felt off. 

I watched my Pokemon corner him behind walls of flames, rocks and sharpened air slowly, but the Leavanny was not fighting back. It was as if he was simply observing and dodging, only occasionally slashing at something or keeping Cassianus’ psychic abilities out of the fight. I blinked a few times, emotions rippling through the fight, and isolated for Leavanny’s. 

A deep, patient blue formed the canvas. Strokes of warm gold curled through it. Here and there danced flecks of bright vermilion, not rage but delight, like an artist unable to hide their excitement as the final brushstrokes neared. 

To be a trainer was to see the battle as a whole. To commit yourself to the story, to notice the pivots and to stamp them down before they had an opportunity to get you killed. This time, it came in the form of Leavanny laughing underneath Sunshine’s burning foot.

“It’s coming,” I muttered. “Sunshine, take space! Everyone, retreat!”

Once upon a time, it would have wounded his pride to listen, but he retreated into his shell and spun away. His tail slapped against his shell, exploding him further from the Leavanny, and my entire team followed suit.

“I don’t assume you’ve changed your mind now that I’ve shown myself to be a tough fight?”

His answer came in the form of horror. My Tyranitar and Turtonator groaned, their bodies shifting ever so subtly, and they turned to face me. The subtle glint of the finest silk, so thin they were practically invisible, shone from them to Leavanny’s hand.

Puppets on strings.

I was no third rate trainer, so I recalled them and released them, but it seemed like Leavanny’s influence was here to stay, always finding a link inside them the moment they were out of their Pokeballs. We were better off, then, with them always inside.

With Cass out of the fight as well, this had essentially taken three of my Pokemon—and my two frontliners—out of the picture.

“Fuck.”

Yet even though Leavanny still stood, he was exhausted. His exoskeleton was scorched nearly black, cracked open where Sweetheart's stones had glanced off him. Wisps of smoke curled from between the plates of his carapace, and every few seconds his body jerked with another involuntary spasm. Paralysis. One of Honey’s attacks, or Princess had weaved in a Thunder Wave I hadn’t noticed.

I leaned against my knees, wiping the sweat off my palms. “Buddy,” I whispered to a piece of him always in my shirt. “Bombard him with Night Shades.”

The first salvo came from the front. Souls formed into sickly purple copies of him and screamed through the air as they exploded on impact. Leavanny was not particularly fast, I noted. Faster than anyone on my team who was not Princess or Honey, but not the type of Pokemon to dodge attacks so easily. The way he'd behaved at the start of the fight had led me to think otherwise. 

Instead, Leavanny surrounded himself in hardened silk, hoping to wait out the bombardment—no. No. Dozens of similar cocoons appeared around the battlefield, and he exited the one closest to Angel, who, try as he might, was the most disadvantaged in this fight. That did not, however, mean he was useless. From this close, he had more vines than Leavanny could cut.

The Tangrowth drowned the Leavanny in countless vines and Honey rammed into him at full speed, electricity coursing through him and frying the Leavanny alive. From above, spikes stabbed into the softened exoskeleton and pinned the bug against one of the trees. He struggled for a few seconds, but he was stuck and far too wounded to fight back.

Had we lived another day?

It was… over?

Had that primal fear I’d felt before he appeared been misjudged? Even now, I could not shake the feeling that something was off.

“Good job, everyone. Let’s get out of here before the second shoe drops—”

An undiscernable number of voices rang out in my mind.

That was a fun deviation.

I froze as the words licked my brain. Where psychic communication was like having something cold wrap around your head, bugs were more direct and tickled, as if a thousand little things were crawling in every nook and cranny of your brain. As if the words were being forced into you against your will.

It was only the second time a bug type was communicating with me directly with their own form of telepathy, but it felt odd all the same. And the last time one had, she’d been easily capable of killing me before I could even blink.

“Excuse me?”

So there are two variants of Moonblast, and it collapsed the entire pattern. Why?

I frowned at Leavanny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But look, I’m going to spare you, and you won’t have to ever see us again.”

I dragged Hayate by the arm, who was still terrified and silent, and who had probably pissed himself, judging by the smell. Leavanny’s head cocked to the side/

“We meant no harm to the Sewaddle, nor the Swadloon, nor have we…” something throbbed in my head. It was the sharp pain of someone driving an ice pick into my brain. I groaned, legs wobbling as my vision blurred for a second. “Nor have we damaged the grounds themselves. We did not know they already had a protector and simply wish to leave.”

The Leavanny let out a slow, chittering laugh as my face twisted in horror. The grove was not covered in silk and burning flames yet, nor had jagged pillars of stone torn through the earth or the lingering whispers of restless spirits settled between the trees. My Pokemon stood by my side, ready for a battle which had not happened yet.

So you remember now. I could not get deep enough into your head. Such a curious human.

“What have you done?”

Correct history, he answered. It was, after all, the fifth time we fought.