"Look at that!" The Vaporeon girl exclaimed, pointing at the ceiling. "It looks just like a happy little Eevee dancing in the sunlight." She was lying on her back on her bed, with her head at the tail end and her tail draped over the headboard. Outside rain pattered merrily against the window.

The Sandshrew-morph on the other bed sighed and placed her book spine up in her lap. It was plain that she was not going to get any reading done here. When Brooke wanted to talk, Brooke would talk, regardless of anyone whom might be around. And what they might be doing. It had been raining here for the better part of the last week, and to be completely frank, it was no wonder the Vaporeon was bored. At least Cassandra had her books, but Brooke could not read more than the few words she had been taught in school here. Cassandra stood up, tucking the somewhat battered copy of "Lord of the Rings" under her arm.

"I’m going for a walk," she said.

Brooke grinned at her, upside-down, "okay then, bye bye!" She replied, happily enough, "I’ll just like stay here and talk to my pot plant. She always wants to listen!"

Cassandra waved and departed, down the hallway outside their dormitory.

It had been several months now since the two girls had arrived in the Pookamon/Pokemorph Island Haven and they had been sharing a room ever since. The building they lived in was an absolutely enormous homestead known as Seaview, and if you peered outside the window you could see the wild waves whipping the wind beaten coastline. About three dozen morphs inhabitated these halls, being taught in the ways of reading, arithmetic, agriculture, cooking and all other necessary survival skills that they had never needed back in the isolated labs where they had been raised.

Unfortunately, the rain meant that everyone was inside, seeking entertainment, thus the quiet Sandshrew morph did not even entertain the thought of going to the main recreation room, choosing instead one of the conservatories. On a day such as this, the rain pattered noisily against the glass, drowning out your own thoughts, but it was a reassuring sound, a continuous sound and Cassandra thought she could easily cope.

There was someone else here, she noticed as soon as she entered. A Ninetails’ morph by the look of it, staring blankly out the window across the rain-swept garden. He did not seem much of a distraction, but Cassandra felt as though she were intruding.

"You don’t mind if I read in here, do you?" She asked tentatively. She still had trouble talking to strangers. Or anyone really, except of course Brooke.

The Ninetails turned to stare at her, as though he had been dragged kicking and screaming from a trance. He shrugged. "I don’t care," he replied. His voice was deep, but seemed somewhat lost. He turned his attention back to the garden.

Feeling a little daunted, Cassandra curled up in the cane couch and once again found her place, continuing to read. After a while she forgot about the presence of the strange fox-man, until she heard the sound of sobbing.

Glancing upwards, she noticed that he had his pale hands over his face and was weeping quietly into them. Not wanting to appear nosy, nor wanting to draw attention to the fact that she was even there, Cassandra buried her nose in her book again.

After about ten minutes of this, her natural empathy and the fact that she was unable to concentrate was enough for her. She closed the book and took a deep breath.

"Hi," she said shyly, "my name’s Cassandra."

The morph turned and stared at her as though he had forgotten she was there. And quite frankly, he probably had. He blinked his crystalline blue eyes. "Once I was called Saffire," he replied. "But now I am Nothing."

"Once?" The Sandshrew’s curiosity got the better of her. "You remember from before the Change?"

He nodded, the crest of silver-white hair between his ears flopping dangerously to the side. "I wish I did not," he replied. "I have the most torturous memories sometimes." He shook his head sadly. He had long pale tresses with a hint of blue.

"You had a Trainer?" She asked. "And he named you?"

"She," Nothing replied. "My Trainer was female. But I failed her and she was torn away from me, leaving me all alone. Did you ever have a Trainer?"

"I, I may have," Cassandra muttered, ashamed of her lack of memory for such things, "but I just can’t remember."

The Ninetails smiled at her reassuringly. "Sometimes forgetting is the best remedy. So what is that you’re reading?"

Cassandra waved the book at him. He took it from her and looked at it.

"Lord of the Rings… hrm, I once tried to read that and found it amazingly boring. You know, my Trainer taught me to read? Try this instead." He reached into the pocket on his large trenchcoat and extracted a much loved paperback. It was entitled "Stardust". He handed it to her. "This is my favourite book of all time, I must have read it thirty times."

Cassandra accepted it and flicked through the pages. "Thank you," she replied, "um, can I borrow this?"

"Sure," he answered. "You are new around here, yes?"

"Relatively," she smiled. "I came over here with a Vaporeon called Brooke. You probably have heard of her."

It took a moment for recognition to dawn on his handsome face, and then he chuckled. "Oh yes, her, the strange one that dances with pot plants and light shades?"

"That’s the one."

"She must be fun to live with." It was not a question, although it did reek a little of sarcasm.

"Oh yes, very much," Cassandra replied. "We’re rooming together now.

The Ninetails looked a little embarrassed. "I didn’t mean to imply there was anything wrong with her," he muttered.

Cassandra shrugged, "she’s a lot more interesting then some of the people around here." But not you, she added to herself, admiring the silver-furred man’s muscular form and sapphire blue eyes. He certainly was an attractive fox. She felt her cheeks burning from the inside at the thought. "Anyway, thanks for the book," she stuttered.

The fox who called himself Nothing smiled. It was a smile that never reached his eyes. He did not look used to smiling. "I hope you enjoy it," he said in his smooth, deep voice, "and maybe I shall see you around sometime."

"Um," Cassandra muttered, "how am I to return your book to you?"

He looked startled, as though that particular side of things had not occurred to him. "Oh, I’m in here most days in the evening," he replied. "But no hurry."

She nodded and hurried away, clutching the well-loved book to her chest. Inwardly she cursed herself. Here she was, meeting this handsome man and she could not relate to him as well as she wanted to. She was too shy, too introverted. Perhaps she should take some listens from Brooke. One of the last things you could say about Brooke was that she was introverted!

*

"Would you like some water to drink, Mr Leafy?" Brooke was watering her potplant, a huge fern that had claimed most of her small desk. Not that Brooke ever used her desk anyway, preferring to write with the book in her lap as she sat on her bed. Reading and Brooke were discovering some clash of ideas. She could not get the hang of it. Drawing was fine, and the walls were covered with Brooke’s pictures of James, her Eevee Buttons, Mr Leafy, Cassandra, her teachers and a number of the other Pookamon and Pokemorphs in Seaview, but aside from writing her name clumsily in the corner of every picture, she had learnt nothing more. She looked up as Cassandra entered. "Mr Leafy is thirsty," she informed her, "and the milk has run away with slime."

"I’ll get some more tomorrow," the Sandshrew replied absently. "Brooke, can I ask you a question?"

"Do unicorns fly?" Was her answer.

"Um, I don’t know, do they?"

Brooke shrugged, "that’s why I asked you. So, how can I , like, improve your facts?"

"I was wondering how you let a man know you like him."

The Vaporeon stared at her, her blue eyes burning as though there was a rage hidden in them. She flung her watering can against the wall. Cassandra jumped. She had certainly not expected this reaction.

"Never ever let man know you like him!" Brooke shouted, slamming her tail against the ground. "If man knows you like him, it like means he can take your heart in his big, strong hands and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze until its broken and there’s nothing but pain! No!" She fell forward onto the bed and began sobbing.

Cassandra was at loss. "I’m sorry," she whispered sadly, wishing she had know why such a simple question had upset her best friend so much. She reached forward and put her hand on Brooke’s shoulder. Certainly, she knew the Vaporeon was prone to strange and sudden changes of emotion, but this was too much, too weird.

Brooke turned her head and hissed at her.

Hurt, Cassandra drew back and backed out of the room, "Stardust" beneath her arm. She could not stand it here.

Could not stand Brooke’s pain.

But more than that, she hated Brooke being mad at her. Especially when she could not know why. As she was leaving, she caught sight of one of Brooke’s pictures, a screwed up bundle in the rubbish bin behind the door. Something about it spoke to her, called to her. She glanced at Brooke, but the girl had her head buried in her pillow.

So she bent down and palmed it, stealing quietly from the room. Once outside, she unfolded it.

An angular face set with purple eyes gazed back at her. Between the eyes was a golden halo and a mop of crudely drawn black hair. It had been torn in half, so that one side of the head was severed from the other.

And she began to understand.