ID: 9
Username: Dalton | JustDalton
Title: On the Slopes of Coronet
Summary: Thousands of years before Ash Ketchum, Yoko must fight for what’s right, at the risk of losing both her clan and herself.
On the Slopes of Coronet
Yoko watched the shadow of Coronet retreat across the mountain path, the sun climbing above the snow capped peak to the east.
She had long grown used to shaded mornings. A mountaineer’s days were shorter than the lowlanders, but all the sweeter for it, her father used to boast over a cup of sake. Yoko’s mother always said that they traded their mornings for a greater share of the world’s beauty, for none knew a greater slice of the world than those who lived in Coronet’s embrace.
Yoko had believed them, until the mountain had claimed her mother a few years back. The mountain and its shade seemed sinister now, the mountain clinging to their lives for as long as possible before Arceus’ light forced it to retreat.
She took a moment to bask in the sunlight, before carrying on, her pack brimming with the day’s supply of firewood. Coronet’s slope this high up was windswept and scraggy, with only spindly little trees and the occasional Staravia calling it home. But at least they could burn the trees. Yoko got a little too much satisfaction on setting the individual twigs on fire each night as her father drank himself into a stupor.
It was the only catharsis the world seemed to offer her.
Their village was a tiny thing, a half dozen hamlets that had been in use for generations. All were patchworks of repairs, bunched together in a wide and shallow cave under a dramatic overhang, which kept the wind and elements to a minimum.
The forge was bright and hot this morning, with the twins Akio and Aoi of the Sun hammering away at new spearheads for the lowlanders. Others moved about their daily chores, hauling back water from the nearby snowmelt and sorting through yesterday’s harvest from their cavers.
Yoko dumped her share of firewood at the base of the central firepit, satisfied. She’d found enough to last them another day. Another day the mountain’s cold would not claim them. Her victory tasted like the sweetest oran, which they only rarely received from their trade with the Lord of Eterna.
She returned to her family’s hut, built by her ancestors however many years ago and passed down from son to daughter to son in the proud tradition of the Slope Clan. A pity that all that remained was just her drunken father and the ghost of his daughter. It was in sorrier shape than the other clan houses, with both inhabitants lacking the care or energy to maintain its upkeep. But the shabby structure still kept the wind out, and by silent agreement from all its inhabitants that meant it was sufficient. On the front porch hovered Kotai, their family’s Geodude carefully picking through his morning meal. The Geodude was ancient, the long years exposed to Coronet’s elements sanding down his rocky exterior. His left eye was fully blind now, though Kotai did his best to hide the fact from his family. He was older than the living memory of the village, but whomever amongst her ancestors had christened their pokemon with his name had chosen well. The Slope Clan may be a tattered ruin, but their Geodude remained a loyal and solid presence.
“Is he home?” Yoko asked softly.
Kotai grunted in the affirmative, a small frown coming over his features. The Geodude hesitated for a moment, then tapped the chest that held their clan’s share of food.
“He didn’t!” Yoko gasped. She charged through the door, barreling through the small kitchen and stomping over to where her drunken father still slept on his pallet.
Time had not been kind to Goro of the Slope. His once powerful frame had been ravaged by loss and drink. The few wisps of hair remaining to his scalp had finally surrendered, and his beard was more gray than brown, a tangled mess that fell to his stomach and hid his mouth.
Yoko slapped him, hard.
“Bloody-” Her father started, then squinted up at his daughter’s face. “What-”
“You overate!” Yoko screeched.
Her father paled, to eat more than one’s share on the mountain could mean death. “No, no I would nev-”
Yoko slapped him again. “If you wish to die, then die! But don’t you dare take the rest of us down with you old man! What are Kotai and I going to do?! The next trade isn’t due for a month!”
“I-I,” Her father staggered to his feet, swaying. He steadied himself with a hand against the wall. “Forgive me, Yoko, I was drunk-”
“You’re always drunk.” Yoko sneered, brushing back the dark brown bangs that had come undone from her bun. Giving her old man up for a lost cause, she returned outside to inspect the damage.
Kotai watched gravely as Yoko counted out their wheat cakes, one by one. Their bushels of dried berries were tallied, the jerky strips layed out for inspection. After a few minutes, her father staggered out of the house, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, and sat silently on the steps in vigil.
“We’re short two days.” Yoko announced grimly. It was manageable, barely. She’d have to trade some of her mother’s old jewelry for more rations from one of the other families. But they could pull through.
Her father put his face in his hands. “Forgive me, Yoko.” He repeated, “I just miss her so. The drink is all that helps.”
“Drink yourself into your grave for all I care.” Yoko responded brusquely. “But leave me and Kotai out of it.”
“I’ll be better!” Her father babbled. “I’ll pull an extra caving shift, get us a larger share of the next deal!”
Yoko sighed, she would believe it when she saw it. The other five families all had men in their primes, and her father was a shadow of what he once was. Even if he stopped drinking and committed fully to the task, their share would be a pittance. Already she had heard murmurs that the Slope Clan were hardly worth their share of rations anymore from the others. Yoko was skinny as a stick and short besides, ill suited for caving. She didn’t begrudge the others their frustration, dead weight for the community could mean death on Coronet.
Her father seemed to read her thoughts, and opened his mouth to offer more empty reassurances when he frowned at something past her shoulder. “They’re back early.” He murmured, and staggered off.
Yoko turned to see that the caving team had in fact returned, despite it only being late in the morning. They weren’t due back for hours yet. She jogged to catch up to her swaying father, Kotai bouncing along beside her.
“-damned Zubat pack right in the entrance!” Kazan of the Peak was barking at the Elder of the Mountain. “We won’t be able to cave for iron until we remove them by force!”
“Let us pray we can.” Elder hummed, leaning on his pale white cane. The Elder was once of the Snow clan, before taking up the mantle of Elder and casting his original clan aside. Through his voice spoke the six clans, and his steady voice tempered even Kazan’s roaring fire. “Gather our warriors, we must see them off.”
The crowd cheered, each pledging themselves to the Elder on behalf of their clan. Her father swore quietly under his breath, “Kotai and I must help.”
Yoko hesitated, but only for a moment. However ravaged time’s arrow had made the two members of her family, they were still needed by the others. The cave must be reopened, no matter the cost. But for all her frustration at her father, she did not truly wish him ill. He was poorly suited for a battle, even against Zubat, and he was all she had left.
Yoko gave her father a desperate hug, “Stay safe old man, you’re still needed.”
“Have no fear little Yoko, Kotai shall keep me safe.” Father chided, the Geodude cracked his knuckles and grunted the affirmative. Kotai was an old hand at crushing Zubat, and the rock type radiated satisfaction at the prospect.
The cream of the Mountain marched forth in a grand procession, the children, elders, and Yoko cheering them forth. In the vanguard marched Kazan of the Peak with his cousins, at their side the mighty Magneton, Inazuma.Those of the Stone followed with their own pair of Geodude, both young and in their prime. Those of the Sun rode their pair of Ponyta. Those of the Wind with their aging but mighty Staraptor and his three Starly. Those of the Snow with their powerful Piloswine. Goro of the Slope and Kotai brought up the rear, and in their stride Yoko saw the last spark of her ancestors, who once marched at the fore of the Mountain’s war parties.
Yoko lingered once the other went back to their business, staring down at the cloudy floor that masked the lowlands so far below. How she wished she could leap and float gently down to that rolling green paradise, where food and song and nobility could be found! Where she could walk beyond even Coronet’s mighty reach, and sail to a place not even its shadow could touch her.
And yet Yoko turned back towards her hut, for there was work to be done, and the mountain never let one of its children go free.
The war party returned to raucous cheers, a victory paid for and won with their blood and sweat and partners. Those of the Mountain lit a pyre for their victorious dead, Chiru of the Snow and one of the young Starly of the Wind. Both were toasted with great bowls of sake, which were shared by all as the light faded. Caving could resume the following morning, and the quota for Eterna’s lord could be met.
Kotai and her father had returned, with Kotai only sporting minor scrapes. Goro of the Slope seemed decades younger, regaling Yoko and the children of the many battles of his time. It was enough to even lighten Yoko’s shadowed heart, resting by the fire and washing Kotai’s small cuts.
Aoi of the Sun approached, face redder than the fire, to offer her a cup of sake and a dance. He was two years her elder, and powerfully built from his work in the forge and cave, but still a boy at heart. Had he approached her of his own volition she might have accepted, but she sensed the Elders of the Sun’s hand in the offer, and she declined politely.
“Yoko, my daughter!” Her father called, already drunk, “Fetch another drink! I cannot tell the story of the Machoke I drove off without a drink!”
“Foolish old man.” Yoko groused to Kotai, “had he truly seen a Machoke, he’d have come back without his arms.” Kotai chuckled, but gestured for her to get on with it all the same.
Yoko wandered past the revels, ducking flailing arms and dancing couples with practiced grace. The sake jug by the central fire was empty, forcing Yoko to wander away from the warmth of the fire towards their supply shed in the back of the village. She hoisted another great jug of sake onto her shoulder, and spun to head back.
Only to hear the tiniest of noises, a clicking sound.
Yoko froze, listening carefully. If something was in their supplies…
Another click.
Yoko set the jug down and slowly scanned the room. Jug after ceramic jug of sake, rusted mining equipment, lamps, a few barrels of emergency rations, and patched fatigues. Nothing too out of the ordinary.
Another click, this time she traced the sound, walking around the emergency rations pile, poking her head into a shadowed corner of the supply shed.
To a sight she’d never forget.
It was a Zubat, young if Yoko had to guess, it seemed so much smaller than the others she had seen, though they had been corpses. It was stretched across the wall in a macabre display with its full wingspan pinned by a pair of iron spikes hammered into the wooden supports, a trickle of blood coming from the impaled wings.
Yoko let out a little stunned exhale, horrified. No creature, even one as universally despised as a Zubat, deserved such treatment.
The Zubat responded to the noise, the poison type cringing back against the wall.
But how to save it? The smallest bite could mean death, as so many of the Mountain had discovered throughout their history. Zubat were executed with extreme prejudice for this exact reason. But the thought of leaving any living creature to such a fate was against every lesson her mother had ever taught her.
Yoko rummaged through the equipment sacks, finding a pair of thick leather gloves. Now equipped she returned to the damned creature, which again cringed as far away from her as it could.
Who could have done this?
“I’m going to try and help you.” Yoko said soothingly. “Please do not bite me.”
The Zubat’s ears twitched, but it still leaned away in terror. Yoko took a deep breath, then grasped the spike embedded in her left wing. When the creature didn’t lunge, Yoko took another shaky breath, then ripped the spike out with a sharp jerk. The Zubat screeched in pain as her wing came free, all her weight now tearing at the wing still embedded in the wall. Yoko didn’t hesitate yanking the second spike off with a desperate cry.
The Zubat crashed to the floor with a squeak, and Yoko hastily took a step back, still wary of its poison. The poison type scrabbled at the ground, letting out a little cry of pain every time it moved its wings. Eventually it just lay still, trembling.
Yoko cursed her soft heart, for she dug through the medical supplies without a second thought. She dare not risk stitches on a wild poison type, though that might be the creature’s only chance to fly again. Instead she unscrewed the jar of oran paste, returning to the shivering Zubat before her.
“I have some medicine for you.” Yoko spoke slowly, carefully enunciating each word. She dipped her spoon into the paste, presenting it carefully.
The Zubat twitched, sniffing at the paste and taking a nibble. The Zubat chittered in appreciation, tearing into the paste with greater gusto.
“Who did this to you?” Yoko murmured. The Mountain Clan had had an antagonistic relationship with Zubat for generations, but to go so far as torture was a line too far.
“I did, little Yoko.”
Yoko spun towards the door. She had been so focused on her task that she hadn’t heard him enter.
Kazan of the Peak rubbed his short beard, glancing between the Zubat on the floor and Yoko with hard eyes. In his other hand he lifted a lantern, casting the scene in an ominous light. “You dare interrupt this foul creature’s punishment?”
Yoko glanced back at the quivering Zubat, which seemed to be trying to melt through the floor in fear. “Punishment?”
“Both The Peak Clan and the entirety of the Mountain Clan have lost many sons to these creatures over the years.” Kazan’s voice was as hard as the iron he mined day after day, his towering presence screaming of physical strength. He was more than twice Yoko’s size. “Stopping their hearts with Inazuma’s electricity or crushing them with a Geodude’s Rock Throw is too quick a death, too painless, for the long list of sorrow their swarms have given us. Only through their suffering, can we quiet the screams of our noble dead.”
“The dead cannot hear us.” Yoko whispered, “and I name you mad, Kazan. Terrible as Zubat are, my mother always said Arceus treasures all their creations.”
“If he treasured them, he would have stopped me. Your mother, may Arceus keep her, was wrong” Kazan shrugged. “Now step aside, little Yoko. Return to your dying father and crumbling rock type. I see the pain this creature’s suffering has caused you, so on the honor of the Peak clan, I will forget your impasses and kill it quickly.”
The Zubat whimpered.
Yoko owed this creature nothing. There was nothing she could do. Kazan could sweep her aside with one arm tied behind his back. All Yoko had to do was walk away, pick up her sake jug, and return to her father. He would boast and lie and drink. Kotai and her would roll their eyes at each other and sit in silence, and tomorrow morning all three would rise to carry out their dying Clan’s duties.
“Have faith, Yoko.” Her mother had whispered on her deathbed. “Every moment, every action, is part of the Lord Above’s grand design.”
“If he treasured them, he would have stopped me.” Kazan had shrugged.
Perhaps Yoko’s discovery had been more than mere chance.
She found her voice.
“Zubat, I name you Kibo, for the new life you shall bring to the Slope Clan.” Yoko spoke, her rising confidence swelling her voice as she spoke the ancient oaths for the first time. The Zubat twitched its ears, and tilted its head in confusion.
Kazan’s frame swelled with rage, “You dare-”
“The Slope shall provide you with hearth and home. Family and kin. Your burdens shall become our burdens. Our battles, your battles!” The Zubat rose with the words like a flower to the sun, seeming to recognize their import.
Kazan strode forward, raising his left hand for a powerful blow.
“I name you Kibo! Zubat of the Slope clan! May our clan grow ever stronger!” Yoko scooped up the Zubat without fear, setting it on her shoulder. In that moment, Zubat could have killed her. But by Arceus’ design or the power of Yoko’s promise the Zubat swelled with pride.
The hand came down, and Yoko was flattened to the floor, the Zubat clinging on with a frightened squeak.
“You bitch.” Kazan swore. “The oaths are for our faithful partners, not pests! You sully your clan with your words. You dishonor the Mountain Clan itself, and all our kin!”
Yoko spat blood. Kazan loomed.
“Zubat are our enemy!” Kazan howled.
“No. Other Zubat are our enemy.” Yoko grinned a bloody smile, now came the dangerous part. “Kibo is of the Slope Clan, and you have harmed him most grievously. I demand satisfaction.”
Kazan’s eyes burned. He grabbed Yoko’s hair and dragged her out of the supply shed, Zubat clinging to her shoulder like a lifeline. “GORO!” Kazan bellowed. “GORO OF THE SLOPE!”
Through tear filled eyes Yoko saw the celebrations screech to a halt. Her father stumbling to his feet, his drunken eyes recognizing Yoko after a long moment. “Kazan? Release my daughter!”
“YOUR DAUGHTER HAS BETRAYED THE MOUNTAIN!”
“Silence!” The Elder of the Mountain Clan stepped through the quieting crowd glancing between the raging Kazan and the bloodied Yoko. “Explain.”
Kazan beat her to the punch. “This bitch has spoke the oaths to our enemy. A Zubat!”
The crowd rumbled, barks of outrage coming from Kazan’s cousins. Her father blinked in surprise at the accusation, drunkenly stumbling forward before Kotai seized his wrist. The Elder flicked another hand up, quelling the rage, his mouth set in a grim line. “Yoko?”
Yoko took a deep breath. “Kazan was torturing it! One of Arceus’ creatures!”
Kazan scoffed, the Elder’s eyes flickered briefly to Kazan, seeming to take his measure, before turning back to Yoko. “And this… required you to invoke your Clan’s oaths?” His eyes caught on Kobi, clinging to her shoulder, and widened in surprise.
“To save its life? To preserve the Mountain Clan’s honor? Without question!”
“Yoko…” Her father looked terrified, blinking at the Zubat on her shoulder. “Get away from it, before it hurts you.”
“Kobi is of the Slope Clan now, he will not harm me.” Yoko stumbled to her feet. “Kazan has done harm to the Slope Clan, I have demanded satisfaction.”
The laughter from the crowd at the situation came to a screeching halt. Her father reared back as if struck. To demand satisfaction was to imply a most grievous insult, and to state that the accused and their clan lacked honor. Yoko took the moment to share a long look with Kotai, who without hesitation gave her a firm nod. Yoko blinked back tears at her friend’s courage and loyalty.
The Elder seemed to age another decade. “That is your right, as one of the six Clans of the Mountain. As this is a challenge between different sexes, this will be settled by your Clan’s partners.” The Elder raised a hand towards Kazan. “Who shall stand for the Peak?”
“Inazuma!” Kazan barked. The Magneton floated out of the silent crowd, sparking in agitation.
“Who shall stand for the Slope?”
“Kotai!” Yoko responded, staggering to her feet. The ancient Geodude bounced forward, cracking his knuckles and sizing up their foes.
Murmurs from her clansmen. Yoko recognized how long her odds were. Kazan and Inazuma were the Mountain Clan’s vanguard, this age’s fiercest warriors. Kotai’s prime has passed him by decades ago, much like the Slope Clan he served. Everyone in the crowd knew this would be over in moments, nothing less than the suicide of the Slope Clan.
“To the battlfield then, where the victor shall decide both your fates.” The Elder sighed. The Mountain Clan moved as if a single organism, silently marching to the open space at the entrance to their hamlet. Kazan cast her one last glare, before sweeping off in a fury, rumbling instructions to the silent Inazuma floating besides him.
“Yoko-” Her father seized her, then quickly let go when his drunken mind remembered Kobi’s presence. Kotai steadied him, keeping the old man on his feet. “This is madness!”
“No, it is necessary.”
“You have not seen Inazuma fight.” He clutched his beard in despair, his eyes boring a hole into her own. “You have no experience battling with Kotai!”
Yoko laughed, her fear abating. “I have worked with Kotai all my life, I daresay we know each other better than any other in this world. What is a battle, compared to that?”
Goro of the Slope swallowed hard then, glancing down at the Geodude at his feet. Kotai’s gaze was as solid as his typing, never wavering. “For a Zubat?” He whispered, disbelieving.
“I…” Yoko’s voice faltered.
She could have said it was the right thing to do. She could have said Kazan needed to be stopped. But those weren’t the words that came out of her mouth.
“Its what mother would have done.”
Her father blinked, his eyes glassy. “It is, isn’t it.” He murmured, the fog of drink clearing for half a moment as he seized her hand. “She would’ve been proud.”
It was Yoko’s turn to look away, her father’s earnest confidence shaking her to her core. “Any advice?” She asked briskly.
Goro tugged on his beard, sharing a long look with Kotai at their feet. “Get Inazuma on the ground. Kotai’s Bulldoze will take care of the rest.”
“Easier said than done, father.” Yoko grimaced.
“Kotai knows what to do. Trust him.”
They marched silently through the crowd, the children shying away as they caught sight of Kobi. The Zubat was treating her shoulder like a lifeline, refusing any attempts for Yoko to remove him with a firm squeak.
A ring of onlookers surrounded the space of empty dirt that served as the clan’s arena, on the rare occasions it was needed. Serious battles between clan pokemon was a last resort, used only when a grievance had come so severe it could no longer be overlooked. Such occasions had too high a potential to winnow the clan’s strength, a cost that could mean death upon Coronet’s slopes.
Kotai bounced to his place on the battlefield, idly watching the opposing Magneton as he rolled out his arms. Even Yoko noticed how Kotai took a stance that protected his blind eye and his left side, a fact that Kazan immediately picked up on from his place on the opposing side. The warrior looked smug, confident in his easy victory.
Her father gave her arm a final pat, looking pale and nervous. Yoko could focus on little more than her breath, her entire body wired with tension.
The Elder took his place at the center of the field, glancing between the two fighters with a weary sadness. “May Arceus grant strength to your partners, and may this necessary conflict absolve the Mountain Clan of its strife.” He brought his hands together in a clap.
The stories wax of battles eternal, great duels lasting hours as pokemon grind each other down to the wick of their candle, squeezing every last drop of energy into the conflict. But real battles between clan raised partners were the works of moments, two pokemon throwing everything they have into vicious quick strikes to defend their clan’s honor.
Kotai’s battle with Inazuma was no exception.
Great silver lights spun into existence around the Magneton that hurled themselves at Kotai, a Magnet Bomb attack. The ancient Geodude utilized a Rollout to dodge past them, stopping to scoop a great wad of earth from the arena floor and hurl it at his floating opponent. The Magneton scattered into its independent Magnemite, snapping back together once the Mud Slap had passed. Their relinking was paired with a powerful Sonic Boom that they launched at Kotai, who slapped the ground before him with a grunt. A great spire of rock rose, shattering as it met the Sonic Boom’s explosive force and leaving the Geodude untouched.
Her father had the right of it, so long as Inazuma levitated above Kotai’s ground attacks, the mighty Magneton held the advantage. They had to ground it.
“Set up a Smack Down Kotai.” Yoko whispered, “Find a way forward.” Only Kotai’s brief thumbs up allowed Yoko to know her orders had been received.
Great waves of Magnet Bomb attacks chased Kotai as he bobbed and weaved across the arena with Rollout. Attacks he couldn’t dodge were met with a hasty Rock Tomb, always on the defensive. Yoko barked directions for him to dodge, which Kotai took without a moment’s thought. Her father roared suggestions from behind that were lost in the adrenaline of her friend battling for their clan’s life.
Inazuma was the pride of the Peak clan for a reason. They represented a trio of Magnemite’s that had been raised by hand for a decade, all shaped to be the ultimate defense against pesky Zubat swarms. But they had hyperspecialized in electric attacks, and had always preferred them. As dangerous as their Magnet Bombs and Sonic Booms were, they weren’t Inazuma’s way of battle, and the steel type was releasing more and more sparks in agitation.
The opening came and went before Yoko even recognized it, but Kotai had moved an instant before it even appeared, the ancient Geodude’s long years of battle preparing him for that exact moment. Another Magent Bomb miss saw Inazuma, for a brief moment, spark and rotate in the air, the three magnemite directing it adjusting their position. In that time Kotai spun a Rollout that leapt at them, but he aimed low, and Inazuma simply lifted an inch higher and let him zoom by.
Only for Kotai to cancel his Rollout and seize the Magneton by a hangin magnet launching himself above the steel type and in its blindspot, with a roar of determination the Geodude delivered a hammerblow to the back of the top Magnemite’s head. A perfect Smack Down that cracked and shattered the ancient stone that made up his hand. The Magneton slammed into the ground below, spinning to fire another Sonic Boom into the air from its downed position. Kotai blocked with his good arm, then slammed into the earth, unleashing a powerful Bulldoze that buried the arena and Magneton both in a wave of dirt.
Kazan shouted obscenities. Kotai grunted in satisfaction, cradling his damaged right hand. Yoko and her father howled at their victory. Inazuma didn’t even twitch.
“Match!” The Elder called.
Yoko rushed the field, Kobi protesting the sudden movement, and dove on Kotai in desperation, “Show me!” Kotai’s right hand had lost three fingers, his palm cracked but repairable with time.
“You brave Geodude, we do not deserve you.” Yoko flung her arms around their family’s protector. Behind her, the crowd was in an uproar at their upset, and her father boasted to all watching that the Slope Clan was not a spent force. “Thank you.”
Kotai patted her arm, looking pleased, before directing his stern gaze at Kobi on her shoulder. The two had a conversed then, an exchange of grunts and squeaks that ended with Kobi fluttering to the Geodude’s wounded arm.
“Yoko of the Slope Clan.” The Elder intoned, looking shocked, the crowd pausing their sounds of disbelief. “Arceus has pronounced his judgement, and found your claim righteous. Kazan of the Peak is at your mercy, what is your sentence?”
Kazan paled. In that moment, Yoko could have exiled him, pronounced his life forfeit, or any number of punishments.
“I am satisfied with our victory. I only demand Kazan stay far removed from Kobi of the Slope Clan in the future, on pain of death.”
The Elder sighed in relief, “the Mountain Clan abides by your ruling. Glory to the Slope Clan.” Kazan stormed away, not looking back.
Her father plopped into the dirt beside her. “They’ll be talking about that one for ages.” He softened as he looked at the conversing Kobi and Kotai, a small smile on his face. “A new clan partner…”
Kobi chittered a greeting, Kotai grunting in approval.
“Its a new day, a new beginning.” Yoko sighed, squeezing her father’s hand. “Perhaps we can stop living in the past, and live to elevate both ourselves and the Mountain Clan once more.”
A solitary tear rolled down her father’s face, “Aye, I think your mother would like that.”
And so the Slope Clan was four once more.