Gosh, I am so, so, so sorry to everyone who's messaged me and failed to get a reply while I was away. For a while I was going through a thing and thinking, 'This story is shit. Why would I even bother finishing?' and legitimately quit FF for a while, sort of ashamed I even wrote this.

I did realize though, that I love to write, despite the quality. I truly do, and I intend to finish this story if it kills me, regardless of how bad I think it is.

But hey! I finished this, at least! (Though, this is just a short kind of thing to let people know I'm back from the dead e3e) And I promise this time that everyone will get a thank-you review, and if you don't get one, you can kick me right in the butt. No, really.

And if you're reading this, have a pineapple. *gives pineapple* You're welcome. Now go out there and read my cringe-worthy writing!

The state of unconsciousness is a remarkable thing. It can occur in order to prevent external stimuli from overloading the brain, or even to regroup, in a sense, in order to tend to internal matters such as critical vital signs - or perhaps even to provide a mercy from registering extreme pain. In my case (and boy, do I hate to admit it), what caused my mind to cease function was my crippling fear of water.

Not in small doses, like a drizzling rain or a narrow, trickling stream. What terrified me were large bodies of water that had carried with it enough power to knock a Tauros off its feet. Huge masses of liquid that could swallow you whole and drag you down into its bottomless depths. Naturally fire-types such as myself are weaker to water based attacks, which doesn't help my fear in the slightest.

My fear of water hadn't always been as immense as it is now, though; we shared a mutual dislike, to say the least. My lack of ability to tolerate water matched the its natural need to douse fire, and the fear was always a dormant entity, latent in the back of my mind.

But, as irony has always been a cruel mistress, every traumatic event that's occurred since I lost my home has had something to do with water, and that dormant fear had been awakened, pernicious and boding danger to the young Growlithe who could never overcome it.

And as I layed in this warm steaming pool of water, this all became clear to me.

My subconscious state was that of fitful nightmares, light waves licking at my pelt in tiny waves, storms rolling overhead, each droplet like an individual fang piercing my skin. I ran desperately for this tiny almond-furred Eevee that I could barely distinguish among the storm, but the closer I got the farther she retreated, and just as I was nearing the end of my dream it seemed that her light-airy frame was becoming large and beefed. I called out for the tiny fox. "Kitsune! Kitsun-Ack!"

A weight on my back forced my body to the ground, and writhing, I fought to regain my footing. The figure jumped from my back to stand before me, and a streak of lightning illuminated the creature for just a moment, presenting the black-furred demon fox from my dreams. She pushed her paw down onto my neck with tremendous force, baring her teeth at me as I struggled to breathe. "You're to blame for all of this."

Lungs burning, tears began to form in my eyes, the weight of the events of the last months flashing through my mind all at once and overwhelming me to the point where I thought I would burst. "Like it or not, you are Artemis, and I can't wait to sink my fangs into your throat for real."

She lunged for my throat then, and as the weight of her jaws clamped into my skin, my chest heaved with an excruciating pain, and with a gasp I jumped awake.

Mongrel was sitting in front of me, watching with a gaze hard as steel, and although I wanted to ask why, the urge to retch was greater. I doubled over and heaved into the warm, steaming water surrounding us, but the Houndour's expression never faltered.

"Took you long enough," he said quietly. I noted a strain in his voice, but if he recognized it himself he never let on.

I snorted, indignant. "Why yes, Mongrel, I am okay. How thoughtful of you to ask!"

"Don't call me that," he said simply, getting to his paws. "We're at the spring; it's far from where we should be, but it's listed on my map, so I know the way back."

He didn't want me to call him Mongrel. Why? Everyone called him Mongrel. I had to admit, he was acting pretty odd then, and for a fleeting moment I figured he might have hit his head on something.

Shaking the grogginess from my own head, I tentatively took a step forward, then another and another until I doubled over a second time, a searing pain shooting along the nerves in my hind leg; I'd almost forgotten about my sprained ankle. "Mong-Uh, William, wait-"

"Come on," the Houndour insisted. "We need to get back to the guild as soon as possible."

"I can't walk," I said, limping forward just a bit to make my point. Standing even without my injured leg was straining.

Mongrel growled, halting in step. There was an erratic shudder from his shoulders that made me question whether he had been hurt as well, but I wasn't sure until I noticed that his forepaws were trembling with the effort to hold him. "Artemis, I swear to the gods if I have to go back there and get you-"

"I'm hurt." My fur was bristling, unsure of how far I could push my boundaries when Mongrel was in such a state, but at that moment I felt raw and there was so much weight resting on my back that I wanted to fall and let it all tumble with me. "I'm not taking another step. I can't just channel all my pain into malice like you and push on like some heartless robot."

He flinched. Now I'd hurt him. "Malice," he parroted quietly. "Is that what you think this is?"

Realizing I'd overreached my boundaries, I stayed shut.

"Heartless, eh?" He choked out a mirthless laugh. "What would lead you to believe that...?"

His voice was terrifyingly calm, and responding, I couldn't keep the tremor out of my voice. "I-It's pretty obvious, I mean… Mongrel, you're pretty vicious."

Whoops. Wrong choice of words. I could see the hairs on his back rising now, slowly, and all at once he whipped around, lashing out at me suddenly with a barrage of heated barks that led to suggest that maybe he'd been waiting to say this for a while. "I'm not vicious, you dunce!" He spat his words so forcefully that I had to wince, my ears flat against my head. "I'm toughening you up! If you can't handle Miles's snarky comments and Kalix's superior attitude, what makes you think you and those eggheads you call friends could get anywhere as a rescue team? Or even as explorers, for that matter?" He paused suddenly, but the fury was still present, latent, in his eyes. "They say if you can't take the heat, then get out of the kitchen; in this case, I implore you to take that advice."

He turned away from me then, disgusted, but before he could take a step forward his lean body crumpled and fell into the spring water.

I remembered suddenly that I'd thrown up here just moments ago, and gripped the scruff of his neck in my jaws to pull his head above water. I had no idea why he suddenly collapsed like that, but I could guess he was sporting injuries, too, and I felt guilty that while I was griping about my ailings, he was taking his own with gritted teeth.

Which also called to mind that I had no idea what Mongrel might have gone through before all of this. It sent a pang through my chest as the thought occurred to me that a Pokemon like him would be my father's idea of the perfect son.

I hauled his limp, unconscious body onto the smooth outer ring of the spring, the stone surrounding it warm against my paws. Sitting beside the Houndour, I decided to wait for him to wake. I was no doctor, and didn't have the first clue how I might help him, so I figured I could guard him.

After all, a lame, three-legged Growlithe is better than no one.

Hours rolled by, and still no one came to get us. Either that, or no one had looked.

The day was sluggishly coming to a close, the sun disappearing over the horizon to make room for the moon's upward incline. The warmth of the stones under my body as I lay beside Mongrel was gradually lulling me to sleep, but I fought the feeling, dreading yet another night terror.

This drowsy feeling was persistent, though, a soothing mantra wreathing around my aching form and promising the prospect of a sound sleep. I resisted as best I could, unable to keep my eyelids from meeting and breaking my connection with the waking world.

In those last few moments my initial thoughts were scattered, unclear and untethered, sailing through my mind at speeds that made it difficult to distinguish from one another. I thought about Kitsune, hoping she was safe, and Reiki, who surprised me today with his skill. I worried for all of the guild, and wondered if the warning about the traitor was real.

What I couldn't stop thinking about, however, was my father, and how in those last days we had shared included me disappointing him. I couldn't be the Pokemon he wanted me to be, but Mongrel already was.

I decided right then that in honor of my father, who died to protect me, I would do anything in my power to possess the strength, the determination, and the sense of leadership that he always wanted me to have.

And if that meant emulating Mongrel indefinitely, then so be it.

This was kind of rushed, but I don't care. Tell me which parts need improving and I'll get to that ASAP. The rest will be much better, I promise. Now if you'll excuse me, it's midnight, and I can barely keep my eyes open to type this~