[center][h2][color=0072bc]Dewmeadow[/color][/h2][/center]

[@Morose]

You headed off into a general direction of where you believed Rowan had run off to, trudging through the thick mud for your teammate. You left behind Yasha to the bridge and the raging waters below, crashing against sharpened, embedded rocks. The quickly moving waters threatened to take anyone downstream and deeper into the swamp to the west. 

In front of you were intermittent trees, hailing over the flatlands of Route A. They were the highest point for miles, useful for prey Pokémon to watch out for incoming predators and hostile individuals. Rowan’s tattered backpack bounced against your arm as you approached, a group of Taillow performing a strange behavior. Rather than looking in your direction, they each perched along one of the branches in a uniform direction.

They all looked in the same direction, as if they were watching something go by. Or had something just been there?

[@hatakekuro]

During the battle, you hadn’t noticed the exact direction Rowan had run. You were much more focused taking the blow of a Fury Cutter, an impressive move that might’ve just won your group the battle. There were many questions to answer in this situation. Who was the Red Hand? Where had Rowan gone? What was the group to do now, and where should they go? Where was the professor’s assistant, and where was the Dewmeadow trader? Mara decided to take to a random direction off of the bridge and into the mud in search of the blonde-haired boy. Behind you was the prairie of Dewmeadow, and in front of you was  a more swampy, warped wood that led to Quagmire. How far away it was from the bridge, you weren’t exactly sure of. There were just too many uncertainties here, but surely some action was better than none. The waters of the rapid raged below, threatening to overpower any passerby that might fall into their depths. They travelled from your right to your left, curving and heading deeper into the mire.

[@PlatinumSkink]

Your frantic pursuit of Taillow was proving fruitless. Your shoes nearly caught in the miasmic mud as your pace quickened with each failure, bright eyes meeting barren spaces of tree. Whether the Taillow weren’t there or were hiding, you couldn’t tell. And your search wasn’t thorough enough to check otherwise. To save time, then, was to continue running, sprinting, madly moving forward deeper and deeper into the wilderness. Your mind attempted to mark each tree in each location to keep track of its surroundings. Remember that rock, past that log, and into that bush, each step made the journey back more hectic.

After what seemed to be the hundredth tree you looked up, your lungs felt on fire. Your chest heaved and your throat became sore. Between heavy breaths, the sound of your sloshing boots was finally accompanied by some other sound. You were quiet enough to hear it, if just for a moment.

[color=7ea7d8]“Az! Azuuu…”[/color]

Your peripherals caught a flash of bouncing blue, bounding behind bended bark. Once your vision focused, though, the color was no longer there, and you could only hear memories of the sound you’d heard. You looked up, about, anywhere. 

No Taillow.

And where were you exactly?

The swamp had engulfed you.