Haven scrunched her eyebrows at the voice in her head, her steps faltering. The voice was new, but the presence – the warmth – was familiar. Foggy memories of comfort after lightning cracks of terror. As unnerved as Haven wanted to be by this alien voice, she instead found herself spurred onward. A new energy thrummed through her, easing over her aches and fears. 

Haven would find solace and support in others – but only in those that [i]she[/i] chose. Haven was tired of not having a choice. She could do this. [i]Her team[/i] could do this.

A rumbling met her ears and she looked over her shoulder to see a dirty old truck lumbering along the route's dirt path. Behind it sat the quiet daycare, no sign that Forrest or Mrs. James had noticed her absence.

Haven stuck her thumb out. The truck slowed to a stop beside her, engine still growling, and Haven looked up to see a young bean pole of a boy, maybe her little sister's age. 

[b]"Mauville?"[/b] he asked, his voice startlingly deep. 

[color=coral]"Not like this route leads anywhere else,"[/color] she called back, forcing a light humor into her words. She walked around the front of the truck to reach the passenger's side and tugged at the heavy door handle. Hoisting herself up, Haven slid into the seat and pulled the door closed with a heavy thud. [color=coral]"Thanks."[/color]

[b]"For a pretty girl? Not a problem."[/b] That managed to huff a genuine laugh out of her. He put the truck in gear and it was back to rolling along the route. Haven leaned back in her seat, letting out a heavy sigh. She didn't feel as drained anymore, but the Medicham's influence hadn't been enough to lift the new weight pressing down on her. 

What the hell had she gotten herself into? [i]How'd[/i] she gotten herself into it? She raised her left hand to run her fingers roughly through her hair.

She glanced over at the driver – to find him glancing back. Haven froze, her hand still tangled in her black hair. Her new scars were peaking past the sleeve on her jacket, up her wrist and the back of her hand. Her heart caught in her throat. Haven yanked her hand back into her lap, eyes glued back out of the window. Her other hand tugged the sleeve higher to cover the scars.

This was stupid. [i]She[/i] was stupid. He'd been staring at her scars. So? Who cared? [i]Haven[/i] cared, like the irrational idiot she was. And she [i]was[/i] and idiot. And now she'd gotten into a car with a stranger when she'd been nearly killed less than 24 hours ago and apparently was involved in some criminal enterprise and –

[b]"You… you were in Mauville yesterday right?"[/b] he asked, cutting through her frantic thoughts. Haven nearly jumped in her seat. [b]"Yeah! You were that painter, right? The one near the jewelry place. I watched you a little bit before I had to drive back to Verdanturf. Man, you are… that was really something, y'know?"[/b]

Haven glanced back at the driver, who was now beaming at the memory as he looked out the windshield. Heat crept up her neck and Haven blinked at his words. 

[i]Idiot.[/i] He'd been looking at her [i]face[/i]. Not her scars. And he was just some nice kid giving her a ride, not some gangbanger getting ready to jump her. She looked down at her hands in her lap.

[color=coral]"Uh… thanks. That's really nice of you to say."[/color]

The rest of the ride was spent with the boy – Thomas – chattering about art and Haven giving short responses while trying to not feel stupid or guilty or paranoid. She failed. But Thomas was a chipper distraction until they pulled into Mauville. 

Haven opened her door and jumped down, relieved to be out of the truck. Thomas was nice enough, but it'd been starting to feel claustrophobic in the little cabin with all his words and all her emotions. Closing the door, Haven walked around the front of the truck again to where Thomas was, with one hand digging in her bag. Eventually her fingers found a small, rectangular piece of canvas, the plastic feel of dried acrylic paint coating one side. She pulled it out and held it out to Thomas.

It was a small abstract painting, mostly a mix of bright pinks and oranges and blues in messy brushstrokes, flowing like someone had poured a sunrise out of a jar. It was a more whimsical piece of Haven's, done when she'd been bored and hadn't felt like thinking of any concrete images. But she was fond of it. 

[color=coral]"Thanks again for the ride."[/color]

[b]"O-oh wow, thanks! Hey, it was no problem!"[/b] But he seemed delighted to take the painting, nonetheless. [b]"You gonna set up shop again today?"[/b]

[color=coral]"Nah, today's not really a work day, y'know?"[/color] Haven didn't think she could stand being surrounded by people right now, all watching her. No, today wasn't a work day.

But that didn't mean it wasn't a paint day.

[hr]
The sun was beginning to set, fiery light streaming between the buildings and casting long shadows. Haven shook the spray can in her hand, looking up at her work. 

Almost finished. 

She was in an empty section of city, set up in a narrow alley. There was some kind of power outage, which meant this section was closed off from the general population.

She'd never let something like that stop her before, though.

Haven was standing atop Dagger's shoulders, Blink's vines wrapped around her waist to make sure she didn't lose her balance. They'd done this trick hundreds of times though, whenever Haven needed to reach a higher part of a painting and didn't have anything to stand on. Cloak and Lace were on lookout duty as usual, making loud mischief whenever someone was in danger of finding Haven. She could hear the occasional shouts and bangs over the music streaming from her headphones whenever a ranger came nearby for a patrol.

She'd been painting this stretch of ugly wall nearly all day. As soon as she'd gotten into the city, she'd found her way to the closest art supply store (with a quick stop at the local drug store) for a few more paint cans, and then had gone hunting for a good enough spot. 

Haven [i]needed[/i] to paint. She needed somewhere to put all of this energy and emotion, some way to channel herself and lose her thoughts. 

What she really needed right now though, was another color. Haven tapped the vines around her waist and jumped back, off of the Granbull's shoulders. Blink guided her down, softening her landing as Dagger rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck. Haven took another step back to evaluate her work.

It was nearly ten feet tall, and just as wide, a bright, messy splash of color in an otherwise drab corner of the city. An image of a bustling underwater reef could be found in the loose strokes, full and teeming with coral and water pokemon. There wasn't quite enough contrast, though. The reds needed to be brighter.

Haven walked over to where her bag lay on the floor, the egg propped up. She gave it a passing glance as she dug through her supplies for an orange can. Her left hand peeked out of her sleeve, exposing the beige medical tape she'd wrapped around her hand up to her elbow. She clenched her fist. There was tightness and a twinge of pain. Grimacing, she went back to digging in her bag. 

Soon enough she found the orange she was looking for and stood up again. 

There was a crash and angry voices. Haven jumped, dropping the can, her heart immediately in her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut and put a paint-stained hand over her mouth as shaky breaths escaped her.

It was just Cloak and Lace. No one coming to attack her. Probably. But that had been close. Way closer than they normally let it get. Haven forced her eyes open again and looked out at the mouth of the alley. She'd spent long enough working on this piece. It wasn't perfect, but they never were. This was as good a place to call it as any. Haven crouched down to stuff everything back in her bag and stood up again.

[color=coral]"Time's up. Let's go find the others and head out before we get caught."[/color] She pulled out their pokeballs and recalled them, slipping them in the front pocket of her jacket. 

Whatever peace she'd found painting was all but gone now, adrenalin starting to pump through her body. This was irrational, she told herself. It was just another day of being a delinquent – the kind of excitement she used to love. She goes and does something she probably shouldn't, almost gets caught, and gets an energy burst. Same thing she'd been doing for a decade. 

Except this time that wasn't excitement flowing through her. It was fear.

Gritting her teeth, Haven made her way to the edge of the alley, ducking behind the corner. She just needed to get her two little trouble makers and dash. If she got caught she could pretend she was lost. Haven darted to another alley, eyes darting around looking for her pokemon. She nearly made it to the end of that one, too, when a familiar chirp caught her attention behind her. Haven spun on her heel to see her two Pokemon standing at the opposite end of the alley. She opened her mouth as they started trotting over to her –

When something slammed into her back, pain blooming at the center of her scar. A scream caught in her throat.

White fear struck and Haven spun, a desperate fist shooting out at this new attacker.