Author’s Note: Well, I finally decided to finish Emberstorm. The first part was dark and bloody I know, but I try to write as realistic as possible. The world isn’t that forgiving as “happily ever after.” This won’t be as dark though, and only a page long. This is kind of an intermission thing, just a little tidbit. Update on Emberstorm: She is now at level 95 (Yes!) and well, she’s still my strongest Pokemon. I still hate Gary.
(new email) chustang@nativestar.net

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Emberstorm
by Chustang
 

Chapter 2
“Fading”

 Light. Truthful light.
 She didn’t want the light.
 Light made her see the way her life now had been shredded to nothing, her dreams just a fractured mirror, the reflection the sole reality. Dreams. She could hardly remember. Did she ever have them? Yes, she did. But they faced their mortality in blood flames, and had become fading, echoing memories.
 Tears sifted through her ragged, bloody fur, and the Arcanine seemed to flinch at the light they contained. Her black, now soul-deprived eyes dimly opened, dreading the light.

* * * * *


 Ash woke painfully.
 Pain.
 The first emotion was undying, throbbing pain.
 The second, light. It seared his eyes, like a scolding torch of truth. Flinching, he sealed them tighter and tried just to breathe. Blood burned in his throat as well, and they came out in long, agonizing wheezes. Why was he hurt? Nothing seemed to exist in his dark, light-seared world without burning. No memories yet, he thought dizzily. Can’t think…. straight…
 Voices, too far away to make sense, too dim to wake him from this horrific nightmare.
 

A sigh, but slight hope. “Considering the danger he was in, he’s pretty lucky. He’ll live. But much recuperation will be needed and lots of home rest. No more traveling for about a month.”
Tears of happiness, but bitten lips in tension. “Doctor, is he going to be…okay?”
“He’ll be able to talk and think normally, if that’s what you’re asking. But, his spine might be too damaged to walk again.”
A slight, sharp intake of breath, a restrained sob.
Softer, deeper voice of compassion. “Don’t worry Misty, Ash’ll be okay. You know him, he’d never give up.”
Tears betrayed the nod, and her lips tightened up. Misty leaned against Brock, crying softly, and like a good brother, he comforted her. “All he needs is time and faith from us.”
A slight hum of reassurance from the doctor. “But, the Arcanine that saved him doesn’t seem to be recuperating quite as well as him mentally.”
Brock, his arm still around the troubled Misty, turned his gaze toward the young doctor. His eyes were solemn again, and he asked, “Will it be okay too?”
“If God’s willing. Only if God’s willing.”