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Emmet doesn’t want to admit that he is lost. He really, really does not want to admit he is lost.
But it is verrrrrrrry dark. He had forgotten how dark it was the first time he passed through Glimwood Tangle, but with the knowledge that it should be the middle of the day, the shadows seem all the more dark. The tall treetops blot out the sky, any stray beams of sunlight choked out before they could reach the underbrush.
He likes to think he has a good sense of direction, but with virtually no landmarks, he’s beginning to lose faith. The lack of sun means he has no clue how long he’s been walking, but surely he should be out by now. It must have been several hours by this point, and still there was no sign of the town beyond.
Before his departure, he had asked the people in Ballonlea for better directions, but all they had said was that space works differently in the Tangle. He had thought they were being dramatic when they called him foolish for attempting the journey on his own, but…
Well, the forest has absolutely no business being this big.
The people had also warned him about the ghosts haunting the forest, which was why they had initially thought Emmet was a ghost when he first emerged from the treeline, dazed and confused. They’re very superstitious folk, though not unkind. They said that the ghosts were dangerous, and if he were to make the fool’s errand of traveling alone, he was better off trying his luck with the fairies.
Which seemed counterintuitive, considering how fickle the townsfolk knew the fae to be, but apparently the slim chance that they might aid him if he was polite was enough of a motivator to avoid the ghosts.
That said, Emmet decided he would rather try his luck with the wandering spirits. Their fears felt… not necessarily unfounded, but a bit broadly judgemental. He was a bit offended on behalf of the ghosts, to be completely honest, but he couldn’t explain why, so he chose not to mention it. Especially considering the aid they had given him while he got his bearings, it felt verrry rude to just scoff in the face of their beliefs.
Even if they were objectively wrong.
Which he would prove.
If only he could find one of these distortion-damned things.
Thus far, he has only seen fairies. From a distance, granted, but he’s pretty sure they’re fairies. Although…
For the past however-many minutes, he’s been vaguely cognizant of a presence at the edge of his awareness. He isn’t sure how to explain it beyond that, but there remains the knowledge that something is following him. Its presence doesn’t feel fae, at the very least, but he can’t guarantee it isn’t something… less pleasant.
He doesn’t have many options, though, and while he would like to attempt reaching out to the presence, he can feel it drift further away whenever he turns around. If he’s going to go about gaining its attention, he’s going to have to do it carefully.
Slowing to a halt, he casts his gaze around until he spots a clearing with enough room for him to sit down. Making his way over, he very casually slides the messenger bag off his shoulder and places it on the edge nearest the presence. He settles closer to the center of the clearing and undoes the buckles at the front of the bag, flipping open the flap and reaching in to pull a few berries out of the small pouch he had been given.
He turns away as nonchalantly as possible, taking a bite out of a berry (a bit sweet for his tastes, but he won’t complain) and poking curiously at one of the small mushrooms glowing near where he’s seated.
Slowly, he’s aware of the presence coming closer, and when he hears rustling from the direction of his bag, he spares a glance over his shoulder.
There, digging through his snacks, is a tree.
A stump, rather.
With little arms.
It’s verrry cute, he has to admit.
“Hello!"
The Pokémon startles with a small warbling waah! sound, looking around frantically before diving under the loose flap, its little branch antlers poking out from either side.
Emmet turns around fully, tilting his head in question. “Are you the little ghost that has been following me?”
It peeks its head out from behind the bag, and now he can see the little red lights shining out from the holes in its stump-head-thing.
He smiles at it, and it ducks back into hiding with a small sound. “It is okay! I won’t hurt you. I am Emmet. I am verrry lost, and you are a tree in a forest, so I was wondering if you would help me find my way out.”
He can hear it make another little warble before it slides fully out from its hiding place, branches only catching momentarily on the canvas. His eyes are drawn to the spectral wisps coming out of the top of its head, and for a brief moment he’s struck with a sense of familiarity, but the feeling is gone as quickly as it appeared.
He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and slowly reaching over to offer it one of the berries he still holds. “I would be verrry happy if you coupled your cab to mine. You must be familiar with the forest!”
Cautiously floating over, it takes the berry from his hand with its nubby little arms, and Dragons this thing is adorable. Its wispy tail does a little happy wiggle as it takes a bite, drifting closer to him in search of more.
He huffs a small laugh and hands over another berry, smiling at the gusto with which it tucks in to the offered food. Out of curiosity, he lifts a hand and passes it through the faded edge of its head wisp. It feels something like a cold mist, and while not unpleasant, it isn’t something he particularly enjoys, so he drops his hand to brush against the rough bark of its face.
As soon as he touches it, though, the ghost drops its berry, hunger apparently forgotten as it leans further into his hand with a happy coo.
“Oh, have you discovered the joy of scritches? Pats and scritches?” He laughs and brings up his other hand to hold its face as it makes more happy sounds. “You are a little baby! Yes you are, just a little baby.”
It trills as if in agreement, and its eye-lights dim in what he reads as a contented expression.
Pulling his hands away, he asks, “So would you like to assist me?”
It gives a small cry at the offense of ceasing to give gentle scratches at the base of its branches, floating closer and reaching out to his hands. As he sets a hand back on its head, it nods vigorously.
He has to stifle another laugh and makes to stand, scooping up its semi-corporeal body and closing the bag to sling it over his shoulder. “Welcome aboard!”
True to its word, the ghost leads him along, two stubby hands clinging to one of his own and attempting to drag him further into the woods. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the twists and turns it takes, but finally, finally, he sees the distant shine of sunlight.
Nearing the treeline, he can see the sun has nearly set by now, although he doesn’t think he was in the forest for an entire day. The ghost slows to a halt, nervously warbling up at him as he stops alongside it.
“This is our final stop for today! Thank you for riding with us!” He smiles and gives it another pat on the head, turning to make his way out of the forest fully.
A quiet huff has him hesitating, turning back to see the ghost restlessly drifting back and forth at the edge of the forest proper.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, looking back at it quizzically.
“Phaaaah!” it responds, waving its arms at him with a small frown.
“Would you…” He hesitates, scratching his chin with one hand while the other fidgets with the strap of his bag. “Would you like to join me? We can keep this train moving for a while longer, if you wish!”
Before he’s even finished speaking, the ghost lets out a happy cry, and zooms directly into his chest. If it weren’t so small, it may have knocked the wind out of him, but as it is mostly incorporeal and as such very light, it simply bounces off before trying to burrow into his coat.
“Ah-” He gently grabs it before its branches can get caught in the dense fabric, drawing it up into the crook of his elbow as he points his other hand down the path before them. “Check safety! All aboard!”
It echoes his words with an excited trill, and onward they walk.