21) Vacation

"I thought vacations were supposed to be relaxing."

"They are."

"Then remind me, why are we floating down this river again?"

"Who says vacations can't involve rafting?"

"Rafts aren't usually made of metal!" snapped a voice. The woman slammed a hand on the piece of bus they were currently on, just to emphasize her point. "For that matter, they usually come with actual paddles as well!"

"Well," said the man, "it's not like we knew we were going to get chased by that group of thugs on our vacation."

"Humph! Thugs we could have handled. But those people had authority on their side," said the woman snidely. "We could have handled them, too, but we'd have ended up legally taken in or something like that."

"You guys should stop squabbling and start paddling!" called the other, younger woman. She was at least practicing what she preached, as she was trying to steer the makeshift vehicle around rocks. However, the current was strong enough that she wasn't able to make for shore. "This could get dangerous! And I do not want to go through a fall a second time in a row!"

"What? You think there could be a waterfall ahead?"

"Why not?"

19-20

19) Gray

Two eyes blinked in the darkness. A shadow slipped through the night, blending in seamlessly with the shadows of landscape, of buildings, of the air. The night was ending, a thin seam of orange slowly seeping into the black, somehow changing it to gray instead of the dark orange one would expect. The shadow moved faster, as the blackness around it began to lift, revealing its silhouette much more effectively. This was not its time. It could not dwell in the moments of gray, the shadows and the shades. It could only dwell in the purest dark, or the purest light. But this night, it had gone too far from its lair. It would not reach it in time.

As the sun rose, the gray slowly dissolved. There was nothing in the landscape that the sun rose over, except for a spot of black that could have been the entrance to some sort of tunnel. But even that seemed to vanish in the light.

20) Fortitude

"You are very fortunate," the nurse tells me, as she hands me six Pokeballs. I know Skystorm is in one, and the Zigzagoon in the other. If I remember correctly, the rest should be empty, ready for me to capture other Pokemon to make them my own.

"Fortunate?" I ask.

"Yes!" she replies. "Most of the time, Pokeballs can contain Pokemon and prevent them from dying of poison, but since you didn't have any on you, your Wingull would most likely have died if your Zigzagoon hadn't come along with an antidote."

It's weird, hearing those two referred to as being "mine." But I guess they are mine, now.

"You showed great fortitude," she adds. "With a Pokemon injured like that, yet trying to press on and find this town. You obviously care very much for them, even if you don't have a license." She pauses. "Wait...why were you traveling without a license?"

Before I can answer, I hear the door being slammed open. That's a feat, considering this center's door is a sliding door.

"I've found you, Anna! You naughty girl!"

I know who it is.

And I run.

18) Rainbow

Two lone figures lay beneath the sky, looking up at the clouds floating by, flanked by a rainbow.

"We've come so far," murmured one. This one was most definitely human, or at least she appeared to be. She certainly had all the limbs necessary to make a human, her face had all the right features, but there was something off about them. Still, although the offness could be distinctly felt, you could look at her for hours and still not manage to figure out what it was.

The other one-it was definitely not human. It was much too small, for one thing. And no human had ever had a beak, or feathers. It was a Wingull, and he was the girl's partner.

"Skystorm, what do you think we should do next?" asked the girl, clearly worried. She had thankfully made it to the town without losing him, and the helpful Zigzagoon had joined the two of them. However, since she apparently had no Pokeballs with which to keep him in, he was currently being held at the Pokemon center. She had already filled out the paperwork, and was now simply waiting to be handed her trainer's license.

"I still have so many blanks in my mind..." she continued, rubbing her forehead. "I know all the species of Pokemon, but that's all I can remember, practically! I don't even know if training is what I wanted to do...but it seems I'm on my way to becoming a trainer, eh?" She gave a small shrug and managed to smile at Skystorm.

"Gull!" he replied. Anna took another look at the rainbow. The rainbow...a sign of hope and promises. She just hoped that would hold true.

17) Blood

"Ow!" groaned Kiran, trying to get his tail out from under the pile of books. He had been trying to dust them, but had unforunately misjudged their weight. And now he was forced to wait for someone to come save him-due to the angle he was trapped at, he couldn't free himself. And he just knew that trying to drag his tail out would damage either it or the books.

"Kiran!" called another voice. Aral appeared, looking quite annoyed. However, her expression quickly faded into one of concern, and she quickly crouched and began to carry books off Kiran's tail. After she lifted the last one, he slowly curled it up to see, and was not surprised to see the blood on it.

"Ugh, there's blood all over this book-oh god! Kiran, you're hurt!" Aral's tone turned into an urgent one, and she dropped the book she had been fussing over to look at Kiran's tail. He cocked an eyebrow in confusion, but allowed her to look over it.

"Oh, you'd better come along right away!" she muttered, dragging him off. He just shrugged. Since when did she get so protective?

15-16

15) Silence

The forest has grown quiet. The only sound is Skystorm's fading cries, and my own hurried footsteps. The lack of fallen leaves, and the rather soft carpet of grass beneath us, means that even the sound of those footsteps is muffled. My breathing is the loudest sound now.

We're lost, I think. It's hopeless. We'll never find a way out of here. Skystorm shifts in my arms, leaning his beak against my chest. The inflammation has definitely grown worse. I want to check on it more, but I don't think it's a wise idea to move him. I slump against a tree, only half-aware of what I am doing. I'm lost. It's hopeless.

"Zigoo?" squeaks a small voice. I jolt upright, and notice a small, rather friendly-looking raccoon-like Pokemon staring at me. Its fur is covered in a zigzagging pattern of alternating brown and cream, and it's holding something in its mouth. As I stare, it drops it at my feet. I pick it up-it's a bottle of some sort of medicine. I peer closer at the label.

"Antidote?" I mutter. I stare at Skystorm. He's definitely been poisoned. But will this cure him, or is it already too late? I take another look at the bottle. It's most likely meant to be consumed, so I carefully open Skystorm's beak and begin to drip the contents in. It seems to take a long time. The other creature-a Zigzagoon, definitely-doesn't leave, but rather stays rather contentedly at my side. I like this feeling. This feeling of having someone close to you, someone who cares about you and your companions.

It seems like an eternity, but at last the bottle is empty. The inflammation has subsided, and Skystorm now seems to be asleep. But it's a peaceful sleep. The Zigzagoon is asleep as well, head on my knee. And now, the silence no longer seems oppressive. I feel as if I, too, could fall asleep without any worries...

16) Questioning

"Where were you on the night of June 1st?" demanded the policeman, glaring at the boy sitting in the interrogation chair.

"What does that have to do with anything? Wasn't the crime committed on May 25th?" the youth replied, sweat trickling down his brow.

"That was my birthday! That's one strike against you," muttered the officer, writing something down in his notebook.

"Oh, so you're ripping off The Phantom Tollbooth now, aren't you?" declared the boy angrily, standing up and pointing an accusing finger. "I was pretty sure you were going to ask how I knew when the murder was. And I'll tell you! I did do it! But what are you going to do? The author's too squeamish to put in an actual death penalty scene, so I'll actually get off scot-free! How do you like that, huh, miss?"

"I dislike it very much!" replied the author. "You weren't even going to get the death penalty. don't you know they don't give the death penalty to minors? That's a whole other bag of worms ready to be opened. Anyways, this story is useless to me now. Oh, and just so you're aware, if you're alive by the end, you actually end up worse off. The dead get to see past the fourth wall with no restrictions. But you-you're just going to fade away and be remolded into something else. Goodbye."

14) Smile

"Smile," the man said, holding up a camera. "You should always smile! It takes less muscles to smile than to frown, don't you know that? And every day could be your last! You don't want to be found dead with a frown on your face, do you?"

"You're creepy," said the little boy, staring back at him, eyes wide.

"Oh child! Why would you every say that! I am wounded!" He placed his hand over his heart in a dramatic manner, gasping as if mortally injured. "I am most certainly not 'creepy,' as you say it! I merely wish to encourage the act of smiling, to spread my smiles throughout the world!"

"I don't want to smile," muttered the child, picking up the stuffed bunny he was carrying and holding it in front of his face. "I'm not going to smile. I'm not!" he repeated, a little forcefully. He wanted to get off the chair, but it was much too high up for his little legs. He wriggled in place for a while, wondering if his mommy would be mad if he ran away. But he couldn't run away anyways, so it didn't matter.

"Oh, child, really?" said the man, now sounding sad. "That is so disappointing. I am afraid I must force you to smile, then."

"How can you make me smile?" asked the boy. He had decided that it wouldn't be that bad a fall. Maybe his bunny would help by providing a landing pad.

"I have my ways. But it would be better if you just smiled for me." His voice was angry now, and he had put down the camera and was reaching for something behind him. "I have my ways. Smile, boy, or forever regret it!"

"You're scary!" screamed the boy. His stuffed bunny fell to the ground, and he made a motion to jump. Something flashed. And then he felt himself being skewed sideways, pulled to the ground, his mouth distorted, a cry coming from it...

And then it was over.

---------------------------------

"Your pictures, ma'am!" said the man. He bowed professionally, handing her the stack. "Now your child will smile forever in these images. You will never be bothered by his tantrums again. You will never again have to endure the pain of his frowns. Your world will be just the tiniest bit more perfect."

"Thank you, sir," said the woman with a smile. "It was worth every penny."

"Always a pleasure. Always a pleasure to see someone with a smile."

13) Misfortune

"So, Wingull," I say as we stroll along, "I think I should give you a name of some sort. It's getting awkward just calling you 'Wingull' all the time. That is, if you don't mind? I mean, I assume you have a name of your own, but everything you say sounds the same to me, so I really don't have any idea what to call-"

"Wing," he says, placing a wing over my mouth. He then nods vigorously, apparently giving me the go-ahead to name him as I please.

"Skystorm," I say at last. The Wingull looks at me for a while, and I wonder if I've made a grave mistake, but he finally nods, apparently accepting my choice. We continue on through the forest. So far, we haven't seen any other people around. It's almost creepy how quiet it is...

However, disaster strikes just as I think this. A small, red, caterpillar-like Pokemon leaps out of the trees above us, its large single horn stabbing into Skystorm's flesh. The Wingull gives a cry of pain, but dives down to strike viciously at his opponent with his beak anyways. The battle is fierce and furious, but over quick. The remains of the creature-a Wurmple, I think it was called-lie at Skystorm's feet, and he flies tiredly back to my shoulder. Suddenly, however, he slumps over with a cry of pain. I notice the inflammation around one of the puncture wounds on his wing. Poison? If I'm not mistaken, Wurmple horns can transmit a potent venom.

"Oh no," I whisper, taking him in my arms. "No!" I can't believe my misfortune. I have no idea where the next town is, or if it will even have any medical supplies available. What can I do? The poison seems to be hurting Skystorm more and more, even as I look at him. I have no choice. I take off running in a random direction, praying that I have chosen correctly. Who will be my companion if he dies? Who will listen to what I have to say? Who will help me regain my memories?

12) Insanity

"You're mad," she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to hold the ragged coat tight against her body. "You're utterly mad!"

"Mad?" he laughed. "The world is mad, and I am the only sane one! I will show you! I will show you the truth of your world! And you will despair." His face contorted into a leer, as he grabbed her shoulders and glared into her eyes. "Oh, how you will despair!"

"No-no!" she replied. "What you say is false! All of it is false!"

"Don't you hear it?" he whispered in her ear. She tried to twist away, but he held her in place and continued to hiss. "Don't you hear that clicking noise? Don't you wonder why it never stops? Don't you wonder how you got here?" He backed away.

"This world is false. We are all creations of a higher mind. She is working at it right now, changing my dialogue and actions, as well as yours, as she sees fit. But I will surpass her! I will finish my masterpiece, and-"

He was cut off by A GIANT ROCK FALLING FROM THE HEAVENS. IT CRUSHED HIM UTTERLY. NO ONE CAN KNOW THE TRUTH. AND THEY WILL NOT HEAR WHAT I TYPE HERE, BECAUSE IT IS NARRATION, NOT DIALOGUE. AH, THE WONDERS OF PLAYING GOD.

She woke up in the field, covered slightly in dew. He was gone, for good.

10-11

10) Breathe Again

"Hahhhhhhhh!" gasped a voice. A shape covered with dark black tendrils burst from the water, and two hands emerged to brush away the tendrils and reveal a face that was gasping for air, happy to finally be able to breathe again. It was an extremely annoyed face, the face of someone who had just been dumped unceremoniously in a river and was now forced to tread water.

"Seriously?" another, quite feminine, voice added. "The best plan you could think of was to drive through the railing?"

"Well, they're not chasing us anymore, are they?" replied yet another voice, much more masculine. The figure turned and began swimming in the direction of the other two voices. It was rather easy, seeing how they were downriver of her.

"True, but if you haven't noticed, the bus is busted!" she called out. Her sister, as well as the former driver, turned around from the piece of metal they had been sitting on and utilizing as a makeshift raft.

"Get on!" called the man. "Not all of the bus fell apart! And most of our stuff was in the waterproof compartment, which should be drifting by any moment now!"

"Well, at least you had that much forethought," muttered the woman, dragging herself onto the piece of metal. It was quite crowded, with the three of them squeezing together.

"How are we going to reach the rendezvous now, though?" she added. The man shrugged.

"We'll think of a plan when we need to!" She just sighed. Well, this wasn't the worst situation they had got themselves into, at least.

11) Memory

"We are the keepers of memory," Kirak read off the document. It was above the entrance to the archives, and located on the letterhead of almost all the place's stationery. Right now, he was reading from one of the histories of the archives, which also had the famous quote on the title page.

"Of course we are!" snapped Miss Shrike. "If it wasn't for us, much of the world's knowledge would fall into oblivion, unknown and unappreciated!" She was in a bad mood today, probably because a patron had brought her children along, and they had completely decimated one of the tunnels playing hide and seek. Luckily, most of the documents could be salvaged, but actually rebuilding the tunnel would take a while. Kirak had offered to help, but Aral had told him that he was actually meant to read up on the archives' history today. Not that he minded...there were interesting things about them.

"Do you mean that literally? Surely there are other lib-archives around, aren't there?" asked Kirak. He had nearly made the fatal blunder of calling the archive a "library," a term Miss Shrike hated. Well, at least he had caught himself in time, and she hadn't seemed to notice.

"Yes, but none of them are as good as ours! All our knowledge has been extensively catolouged, perfectly organized to make every single fact easy to find. And our archives are also physically superior. None of those others have as extensive a tunnel system, or as organized a shelving system, or as skilled shelvers as ours!" The last line was directed straight at Kirak, who blinked in surprise. Had he just received...a compliment?

---------------------------------

"Yeah, that was a compliment," said Aral. "She never gives out specific compliments-always gives a general statement. But you can tell when it's about you-like you said, she'll look you right in the eye." She nibbled at a biscuit that she had just dipped in tea. "You must be quite a talented worker, Kirak, to earn her favor so fast."

"Oh, I really don't do anything!" muttered the dragon, now embarrassed. "I just do as I'm told, and try to do it as fast as possible."

"But you also do it well," pointed out Aral. "If you didn't, she certainly wouldn't have looked at you when she said that, or possibly she wouldn't have mentioned it at all. She's odd like that. But you'll get used to her eccentricities."

"Oh, right, and about the slogan-"

"Ah, you wonder about it, don't you? But once you've come to work here more, you'll feel it." Aral leaned forwards, her biscuit placed down on the table and forgotten as she stared into Kirak's eyes, making him shudder with confused emotions. "You'll feel the pulse in the tunnels, the knowledge of the earth. The archives are memory. Even if you were to destroy all the documents, the archives would remember...and they would act." And with those ominous words, she leaned back and took another bite of the biscuit.

"You will learn, Kirak, don't worry."

7-9

7) Heaven

"Hey, that rhymes!" Then he paused. How could he see those words hovering above him? For that matter, where was he? He looked around frantically, to see that he was floating in some sort of white void. As he looked around one last time, another figure came drifting towards him. He blinked. His beloved? But she had perished in the last battle!

"You're dead," she said, as if she sensed his confusion. "And now you can see what your world truly was. Nothing but the imagination of some higher author. And in your death, you have reached what might be called heaven. All those who died before you are here."

"H-heaven? How is this heaven?"

She looked distinctly annoyed. "For one thing, I'm here. Is that not what you have wanted in your heaven? And from here, we can watch what happens to our friends. I am sure they will win. We are the protagonists, after all."

"B-but-how are you taking all this so calmly?"

"Ah, I've been here a while."

"But you only died a few days ago!"

"It took the author several weeks to finish writing the scene between my death and yours. Now calm down, and relax. You can't influence the mortal world anymore, so you might as well enjoy this one."

8) Innocence

"There are many things that I have no idea about," I say to the Wingull on my shoulder. He gives a sympathetic cry of "Gull!"

"I remember some things, like your species, but I can't remember anything about my past! At least I know enough not to trust that woman...I haven't been reduced to the innocence of a child. That would be a worrisome thing." Even as I ramble, I notice how Wingull looks distracted.

"Are you thinking about your friend? That Natu?" He nods vigorously. I sigh. "He sacrificed himself to save us...at least I think he did," I add hastily. "He could still be alive...maybe. Perhaps. Perhaps he was just captured."

Wingull gives another cry, leaning against my neck. I know we should keep moving, or else we might end up in deeper danger. Someone might come after us, now that I know of their existence. But this place is so comfortable, and I am still so tired. Wingull is already asleep...and that is the last thing I notice before I, too, drift off.

9) Drive

"Watch out!" screamed a voice as the bus tore around a corner. "Where did you learn to drive anyways?"

"In a truck, on the freeway, when I was 14!" the man replied. The woman in the back snorted angrily. Still, the speed was necessary, seeing how there were several vans and motorcycles in pursuit. She figured that, if they could just lose their pursuers, they would be home free.

"Are they still after us?" she called towards the further back of the bus.

"Yeah, sis," replied a voice. A somewhat younger woman was gripping the windowsill, her face pressed against the back window. Occasionally, she would duck as a bullet shot at the glass. However, so far it had been able to take all the hits. A faint spiderweb pattern was beginning to form across the back, though.

"Do I have to keep watching?" she added. "This stupid window's going to break soon, I can feel it."

"No, you don't," replied the driver grimly. "I've got a way to lose them for sure."

"What do you m-" the woman began to ask. The words caught in her throat as she noticed the railing they were speeding towards. The railing overlooking the ocean.

"Oh, you are not doing what I think you are about to d-"

CRASH!

3-6

3) Light

Ughh...my head hurts. Where am I, anyways? And why am I so dizzy? And why is everything so dark? I need to remember...I can't. I don't know my name. I don't know my past. I don't even know if I'm a boy or a girl.

Suddenly, there is a creak, and light spills in, illuminating my surroundings. Well, it appears I'm in the back of some sort of truck. And apparently I'm a girl.

"Honey, we're here! This is our new home!"

Is that woman my mother? Well, there's nothing else I can do, so I might as well get off the truck and follow her. Hopefully someone will explain things to me soon. Or maybe my memories will come back...maybe I hit my head on something in the truck? Why was I riding in the back of the truck anyways?

4) Dark

There was nothing but shadow in the room. While this made the surroundings seem that more mysterious, at the same time it was quite a deterrent to actual conversation. The two figures sitting in the room seemed to have no trouble, though. As a matter of fact, one of them was actually drinking a glass of water, somehow managing to put it down and pick it back up several times without knocking it over or spilling it on him.

"So you have done as I asked? She remembers nothing?"

"Nothing at all. Be assured of it."

"Good. So we can mold her to our desires."

"Why did it have to be her, though? Why not take a younger child, and raise them? Then there would be no risk of old memories breaking through."

"Ah, it seems you are unaware of the power of suggestion. Our agent simply needs to repeatedly explain her past to her, and it will become real. It is actually much more effective than raising a child from youth. She will actually end up less likely to turn from us this way."

"Ah...you would know about the failure of such plans, wouldn't you?"

"Shut up."

There was the sound of a slap, and then a splash, as if someone had shoved someone else, resulting in that someone else dropping their drink on themselves.

5) Seeking Solace

"I'm so confused," I tell the woman who claims to be my mother. "I must have hit my head harder than I realized, because I can't even remember who I am. I don't even remember who you are!"

"Now, Anna, honey, don't tell me you really forgot your own mother's face?" She smiles so warmly, so sweetly, that I find myself believing she is really my mother. But at the same time, there is no familiarity in that smile. I can't recognize it like I recognize the creatures around me, those creatures apparently called "Pokemon." They are familiar, at least.

"Well, while you're still recovering, why don't you go to your room?" She grabs my arm and pulls gently, shoving me into the room. Well, it seems pretty nice, at least. I have a computer, and the bed looks comfortable. But it doesn't feel like my place. And I tell her such.

"Well of course! It's a new room, after all! Just lie down, Anna. Lie down and take a nap, perhaps." Maybe I should do that. As she walks out the door, I flop down on the bed and close my eyes. But sleep does not come easily.

"Gull!"

I open my eyes. A small bird-like creature with wide wings and a long orange beak is staring curiously at me. I prop myself up on one arm to look at it.

"Hey there. I remember you, at least. You're a Wingull, aren't you? At least there's something familiar about all this strangeness..."

"Win-gull!" it seems to agree, flying up to land on the desk beside my bed. I have to smile slightly.

"Well, now I have someone to talk to. I don't know anything about myself, really. Only what that woman who calls herself my mother has told me. None of it sounds false, but none of it really rings a bell, either."

The bird Pokemon stares at me, perhaps with a hint of sympathy in its eyes. I find my smile growing even broader. At the same time, I find myself growing sleepy now. Apparently just talking to someone can make me feel better.

"Well, at least it's some comfort to talk to you. Maybe you can stop by later..." I mutter. "It's good, to have someone to seek solace with."

6) Break Away

I wake up. It's night time, there is someone in my room, and their footsteps don't sound like my mother's. Wait, what's that? When did I start thinking of that woman as my mother? And then I realize there is some sort of faint whispering. It's coming from under my bed.

The light clicks on, and I see a Wingull looking at me. The same Wingull from before? But it's nowhere near the light switch...and then I notice the other bird in the room, an almost spherical, green-feathered creature covered with odd, almost runic markings. A Natu? Its eyes are closed, but now it opens them and looks at me. And then a psychic message broadcasts itself into my head.

You are in danger. You must flee this place. That woman is not your mother. It turns to the Wingull. Show her. The Wingull darts under my bed as I watch in shock, and drags out what appears to be a tape recorder. I pick it up and hold it to my ear. Apparently, the whisperings have been coming from here.

Don't listen to them! A blast of psychic powers rips the machine from my hands and smashes it violently against the floor. The Wingull squawks, and the Natu blinks slowly.

Snap. I forgot about being quiet. Girl, run now! Get out of this place! He will go with you. It uses a stubby wing to gesture at the Wingull. I am still frozen in shock. However, the Natu apparently cannot afford to wait. I feel a psychic influence shoving at me, pushing me towards the window. The Wingull flies up and lands on my shoulder. And then we are shoved right out.

2) Love

"Aral, I hope you don't mind me transferring Kirak over to your department," added Miss Shrike. The two of them were sitting in one of the break rooms, the heron-cheetah hybrid having a rare moment of rest as she sipped some tea.

"Oh, of course not, Lena! We were childhood friends, you know. It's too bad we drifted apart...well, this is a chance to reconnect!" Aral added cheerfully. She had a heavily buttered biscuit in one talon, and was biting off large chunks of it as she spoke. "Mmph-he's just as nice as I remembered him. The years have been kind to him..."

"Really?" said Lena. "And I told you, I prefer you use my last name." Griffin expressions were hard to read, as their beaks tended to prevent too much expression, but there was definitely the glint of a smirk in her eye.

"Yeah," said Aral, finishing off the biscuit. "Well, I'd better get back to work."

"So must I," agreed Lena. "I shall just finish this tea." As Aral strolled out the door, she picked up a piece of paper and began to write.

---------------------------------

"It's obvious she's developed a crush on him," Lena said later. She was back home after a hard day's work, and was now talking to her husband over dinner. One would not have thought they were mates-he was a large black raven-panther hybrid, while she, as previously mentioned, was slender and swift.

"But I thought you said they hadn't met for quite a while."

"Yes, but I'm sure they've been thinking about each other all that time. I told you, Aral never dated anyone."

"I thought you often said workplace dating was doomed to failure. Wouldn't this be an example."

"True, but she never even tried. Also, it doesn't count if you knew each other before you started working together." Lena extended the piece of paper she had been writing on previously. "See, I've recorded the various conversations I've had with them. There's definite feeling on both sides."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm just going to watch, Peter. Eventually they'll figure it out."

1) Introduction

"So, you want me to hire you," muttered the griffin, staring across at the dragon. He actually towered over her, even hunched over in the seat like he was right now, but the placement of her claws on the desk signaled that she was not to be trifled with. Her talons were unsheathed, and tapped constantly at the wood.

"Um, yeah," he replied, sounding somehow nervous despite the size advantage. "I mean, I know your tunnels and stuff are all sized more for griffins, but, I, I, er..."

"You're going to ask me for that favor, huh, Kirak, old friend? Even after we've been separated for so long..."

"Well, only if you can handle it. I mean, I wouldn't want to intrude, Aral..."

"Fine. I'll introduce you to the main cataloger today. She'll tell you how things are organized in this place. We do have some larger spaces that might be more suited for you."

"Oh, thank you, Aral!"

"Don't mention it. You better hope your interview with Miss Shrike goes well. She's the one you have to worry about-I can give you the chance, but she'll be the one to determine if you are suited to working here."

---------------------------------

"So, you want to work here, dragon?" asked the slender griffoness. While Aral was built around a mix of an eagle and lion, boasting brute strength as an advantage, Miss Shrike had the slender build of a heron, crossed with some sort of cheetah. Even as she spoke, she dashed around the room, picking up various objects and placing them in new spots. Even watching made Kirak feel dizzy.

"Yes. Aral said I could try."

"Try? Hmm, 'try' is the operative word. You'll have to deal with a lot, you know. This is nowhere near the easy life I think you're expecting."

"I know that! I know how your catalog is organized in three-dimensional space, with each book or scroll or whatever having its own location, that a trained cataloger-like you-can name with absolute position. I know the work that must go into returning each piece to its proper place."

"So you've done your homework, then. Fine. Catalog these." She shoved a pile of various papers she had been carrying into his claws. "Don't disappoint me."

"Yes, yes, ma'am!" muttered the dragon, bowing hurriedly and rushing towards the actual archives.

"I expect you back here at this same time tomorrow!" she called after him. He stopped.

"Wait-you mean I got the job?"

She snorted, an odd expression on her heron face. "Of course you did. Now go. Don't bother me again. If you have any questions, ask Aral." And she turned back to the documents on her desk. "I still have to restore these. Ugh-the damage!"

Kirak smiled slightly. So he'd made it, eh? Well, that was just fine with him.