Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ A Word He'll Never Know ❯ I Stand Alone. ( Chapter 6 )

Nurrr. Once AGAIN, I do not own Pokèmon but I do own the designs. I'm so boring.

Chapter Six: I Stand Alone.

Days went by. Then weeks, and then a month. The nameless boy had become a master with his knife. His body structure was small and thin from lack of proper eating. Cuts and bruises of various sizes would cause temporary scars proved his new life was harder then he thoughts.

The lad's heart had grown cold and dark. His fur too had taken a darker shade. It was no longer a light ash grey; but now a darker and more shadowy, yet not completely black. He had learned the rules of the wild quickly. Only hunt when hungry, don't waste water, and only make a fire when one was needed. Even if this life was hard, he loved every minute of it. No beatings, no loud noises, no bright lights, or people screaming. It was like a dream…But living here was really lonely, and he can't suppress that feeling for very long.

One day, the boy had made a trip to the stream for a drink. His helmet was slung over his shoulder in sling he'd made from Stantler hide and a belt made from the same substance held his knife. Abruptly he heard light laughter of a man. With his ears erect, he eased himself up the stream.

Slowly he peered around a bush to see a man with brown hair that had streaks of natural grey sprouting, small circular glasses, the man had a white trench coat that wasn't buttoned up and under it wore a white work shirt and tan work pants. For some reason, wild animals and Pokèmon were attracted to this strange being. The boy went to move forward but tripped over a root that twisted in the ground. A Growlite heard the snap and jumped around growling. The boy jumped to his feet and brought out his knife in a flash. The red-cream colored flame dog stealth fully pushed forward, his movements carefully planned out in his head.

The man straightened to a full stand as a Butterfree and Beedrill zipped away.

"Interesting…" the man thought out loud. He easily walked to the child with no fears, but the boy leapt back. The guy knelt down and held out his hand.

"Can you speak?"

The cubone hadn't talked in so long, he seemed to forget how. There was a pause.

"Guess not…" The man seemed to sigh. He then examined the small figure. The very first thing his eyes dragged attention to was the scar under his left eye. Then the man's eyes wandered to the knife and helmet.

"May I see your helmet?" The man smiled, but his mouth twitched in slight irritation as the boy didn't respond.

"Please?"

"No." His voice was cold and empty.

"Why?"

"It's not yours. It is mine. And no one can touch it."

"May I just see it?"

"You can see if from there."

"I mean hold it."

"I said no." The boy's muscles relaxed and he stood his full three foot in height. The knife caught a ray from the sun and shone brightly.

"Why aren't you wearing it? From all my studies I've done the mother creates a helmet that fits her child…"

The boy's heart stung, but he made no face. Instead he growled.

"My mother didn't make me one…"

"Oh…Where is she?"

"Dead."

"…Why?"

"…." The boy grew silent. The man waited. They exchanged stares. "I killed her." He whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"I killed the damn bitch!" The man was clearly struck dumb at the statement. Then, like magic, everything fell into place. "She gave you that scar, didn't she."

The boy had no need to reply. The answer was clear. The boy's eyebrows twitched, they couldn't decide wither to be sad or angry. Then the man smiled.

"Common little buddy. Let's go home. He gathered the small figure in his arms and set off. The Growlite had been lost the whole time. He growled then simply followed after them into the dying sun.

Why the boy let himself be taken was unclear.

Maybe it was because he just wanted a home,

Or maybe he just got so lonely, he didn't care what happened.

Well whatever the reason,

The boy was headed to a new home. Somewhere he obviously would be safe, hopefully forever.