An invisible weight pressed upon you. The black appendages in front of your ears rose, sensing a powerful presence. An aura of dread made you feel the smallest you’ve ever been.
There was a ripple in the brown water beside you. That was all you saw before your nightmare emerged. Surging from the murky depths, the Feraligatr crashed upon the shore. On all fours, she still towered above you. Her head was overhead; her arms were to your sides -- escape was impossible. She looked down at you and opened her mouth...to talk.
“Are you…,” her voice was slow, heavy, and rumbling. It sounded like a mountain was talking with a mouthful of rocks.
“...Her friend?” Brown swamp water dripped from her form, soaking the small jackal below. Her yellow eyes bored into you, expecting an answer. They seemed calmer, not as feral; they still maintained a dangerous glint. Her jaws caught your eye. She had rows of teeth. Crooked and sharp, like dozens upon dozens of crooked arrowheads. And yet, her maw was big enough to swallow you whole. A frightening thought, and more than enough motivation for you to try and answer her. But you found your words were too scared to leave your throat. All that arose was a small whimper. You wondered if her prey died of fright before even reaching her jaws.
The Feraligatr snapped her jaws with a fearsome crack, inches from your face. Her patience had thinned. “Answer me. Or I’ll rip the words from your throat for you.” Countless old scars lined her snout, but a fresh one caught your eye. A crimson line stretched from her lower lip toward her right eye. Curiosity gave you the courage to speak.
“Did Nidoqueen give you that scar?” you blurted out. You regretted your words the instant they came out.
“Yes, she did.” Feraligatr said, her voice a rumbling whisper that shook your very bones. “She gave me this one,” Feraligatr pointed towards the fresh scar with a sharp claw, “and this one.” She pointed a claw to her heart. “Heartache,” she said. “She deserves to know what it feels to be hurt there.”
You were confused. Nidoqueen caring, motherly, and maybe even sacrificed herself for you. Again, curiosity prompted you to ask, “why”?
“She despises predators. Like we have a choice of what we can eat. She thinks we’re lesser, undeserving of sympathy.” Her warm breath enveloped your face and you could feel the bitter resentment that it carried. “I had a friend. He was a Murkrow,” she said, almost wistfully, “he ate Caterpie to live and she thought he was monster for doing so. She ate him, not because she needed to, but because she could.” A deep growl emanated from deep within her throat. “I was young and I couldn’t help him. But now… Now I am big and she is weak.”
You felt a question blaze within you. You gather the courage to look the monster in her eyes. You ask…
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