He woke into this world like any other creature. Small, innocent and so naïve about the world. He clung to his mother’s back watching her leap gracefully through the trees. Her brush shaped tail coming into sight ever so often. He gave a chuckle as she stopped and tickled his tiny belly with her tail tip.
She spoke to him but to his young ears it was all babble to him. He felt her place him down on the massive tree branch. She placed berries before him. His white fingers shot down toward them. He recently was weaned from milk and berries had become one of his favorite craves. His mother laughed gently as he placed handfuls into his little maw. Purple juice dripping out of his lips.
He looked about the lovely Kanto landscape. He was so young and the world so old and wide. He would learn that his kind were known as Smeargles and that the world wasn’t as shining as it appeared this day. She lifted him to her lap stroked his little head and mutter to him. Her words made no sense to him but one always stuck out. She would always repeat the same word to him as she gazed at him, Zeek.
“Mom! Do you have to wash me in front of everyone!” He muttered.
“What’s wrong Zeek?” She looked at him.
His head turned this way and that way. He understood some of it! Some of her words were making sense now! He smiled and forgot the older baby smeargles were laughing at him. He let her comb his hair and groom him. For once he started to understand what she had said.
“Zeek?” He stumbled that out of his mouth somehow.
“Zeek! That’s your name! Yes it is! You are smart boy! Yes, a very smart boy!” She danced him in her lap.
Run through the forest my little one.
See the world!
See from the tree limbs…
See from on high!
Run through the forest my sweet little one.
See how many wonders you can find!
But always… always…
Always come back to my sheltering arms!
Run to see the world!
Leap to claim it!
Run through the forest my sweet little one!
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But return to my sheltering arms… always!
Zeek smiled and laughed as she played this game. Her sweet voice drifted about the tree tops. The older smeargles began to dance about. Zeek watched as his group gave into wild antics with the song so vivid in his memory. The males crooned along and drew on the walls of the huts. Zeek watched amazed as images of various animals appeared upon the walls. He heard the elder shout words all he could barely understand but, the words didn’t capture his attention. The colors being spread about the wall did.
The greens, the reds, blues different shades and hues. He reached his hands out but, he couldn’t reach out and just touch those wonderful colors. He felt his tail tip moisten. He felt it ooze and drip with something, he brought it into sight, the red dripped from his tail.
“Sorin! Sorin! He is dripping for the first time!” His mother brought Zeek before the elder.
Her ancient face settled upon Zeek. She smiled and touched his little forehead. She stared into Zeek’s eyes. Zeek wondered why they got so excited about his tail. He stared as the elder took him from his mother’s arms. She set him before the wall. It was always a great celebration for a Smeargle’s first artwork. Zeek stared at the creatures above and around him. He didn’t know it but, the greatest of artist came from his mother’s bloodline.
His tail turned blood red, he lifted it splattering it on the wall. He laughed as his tail went from red to black, yellow, blue, red and he kept stroking his tail on the wall. When he was done he stepped back, he saw a black blob before him with two red spots a few yellow stripes here and there. What Zeek saw as a random play of colors the others saw differently. The elder raised from the rock she sat upon. Her face drawn into horror.
There wasn’t something right to Zeek. He cocked his head and studied it. His tail grew blood red once more as he made a few strokes. He stepped back satisfied. He turned to see his family group watching him in terror. His mother immediately grasped him up and muttered to the others. They shouted something. She shouted something about Zeek only being a child.
“He is cursed! He will bring evil upon us if you do not rid our clan of him!” Sorin rapped her staff upon the floor. “Explain his art! He draws evil and it will devour us!”
“It’s not what you think!” She studied Zeek’s work. “He is a child! How could he draw something so vivid! He hasn’t even seen…” Her eyes went back to the painting, they lowered to Zeek and he saw a deep sadness in them. “He hasn’t seen one of them!”
“The child has! When they came for his father he did! He most be banished from our home! To allow him to stay would be inviting the demons in as well!” Sorin stamped her staff once more.
“Sorin don’t do this! How could a child survive in the jungle alone!” Her tears fell.
“Who said he would be alone? You birthed him! You are the source of the curse!” Sorin pointed at her.
He saw the anger in his mother’s eyes. What was going on? What did he do wrong? He turned around staring at his picture. His storm cloud was still there. He saw the hint of red on the clouds as the sun began to set and a few yellow rays from the moon. It was a cloud to him.
Deep gruntal voices stopped the males that had begun to advance on his mother. Zeek shivered and clung tight to his mother. What was that sound? Deep in his mind that sound was there.
“It’s too late they are here!” Sorin shouted.
“Zeek hold tight!” She leapt into the trees.
Zeek turned to see Sorin striking black things with her staff. They howled and bit at her. The Umbereon leapt into the tree hut. One fell through the roof directly before the painting Zeek drew. He shouted as he saw his “artwork” leap after them.
“Don’t look back Zeek!” His mother shouted as tears rained. “Don’t watch!”
He obeyed her but, the sounds from the dying smeargle filled his ears. The Umbereon sniffed about the hut. The old smeargle had been hardly a treat to them. The smaller whelps another meager snack for the growing pack. The older plumper smeargle escaped to the trees. The pack leader turned his crimson eyes toward the branches above, blood running from his lips. His nose quivered and his stomach shrank and groaned.
“To the trees!” He howled, his pack needed food.
“Zeek! Don’t look back! Don’t let go!” She launched into insane jumps.
Zeek had to look. Six Umbereon launched into the trees. Graceful in motion they held an eerie beauty. A deadly beauty. Growling the pack pounced. A male cried out as the dog held him and they both fell through the canopy.
Five midnight wolves raced after the fleeing tribe. They weren’t like any dog before them, evolution made them agile, graceful, it was more like watching a pack of panthers than wolves. Pirouetting they grasp the larger trunks with ease pulling their onyx haunches into position they exploded through the foliage. Zeek’s mother cried out as they surrounding her.
Ivory fangs contrasting with the dark fur. They snarled and began to bunch up on their hind quarters. She was breathing harshly and Zeek felt her heart thundering. He began to cry as he clung to her belly. What choice did they give her? She did the most desperate thing she could. She leapt off the branch praying her tail would find hold to something strong enough to hold their weight.
To be continued...........