"Billy?" Nick wondered, confused. "Huh? Where am I?" he asked, pressing his hand to a burning forehead.

"Nick! Son!" the voice of Mr. Twilight exclaimed. "You're awake!"

"Dad?" Nick turned his head to ask. "Keith?" Then suddenly, "Mrs. Sandra?"

"It's Sandra, remember?" Keith's mom smiled. "You've been asleep a long time," she said gently.

As his vision cleared, Nick surveyed his surroundings. The room had few ornaments--only a bed, a curtained window, and cheerful wallpaper. His dad seemed both anxious and joyful, wanting to erupt with conversation, but not sure if he was allowed. Keith stood silently by his mom, looking thoughtful. Bandages covered much of his face and arms, but he smiled and gave a friendly wave when he met Nick's gaze. Continuing his perusal, Nick saw a kindly-looking nurse standing apart from the others; she smiled warmly.

"A hospital?" Nick thought, slightly dazed.

"That's right, dear," the nurse replied. Nick did not realize that he had spoken aloud. "You were pretty scratched up, but you'll be OK."

Nick struggled to remember what had brought him to a hospital and to figure out why everyone was being so quiet, but his mind was too blank and dreamy to let him think clearly. Without a reply to the nurse, Nick continued looking around. Billy stood alone in a corner of the room with his arms crossed, not really understanding what was going on, but determined to look tough anyway. He nodded gruffly to Nick, who Nick simply gazed on. Finally, window-side of his bed, Nick perceived a third women that he didn't recognize. He struggled to search his memory, but it was to no avail, so he just asked weakly,

"Who are you?" too tired to sound polite.

"I'm Robert's mother. Your friend told me that.. you saved my boy," she said with difficulty. "Thank you so much! I can't even think about what would've have happened if you hadn't protected him!" she burst out. Nick's mind began to organize itself. First he recalled the trek to Clarkesville, then pictured the gym battle--which he had lost--and he finally aroused a foggy image of the little boy he had been carrying somewhere...

"Oh," Nick answered simply. "Is he OK?"

"He's fine," the mother said. "But Mr. Beddingfield," her face grew angry at the name, "didn't tell me that the trip would be dangerous! 'Oh, no,' he said. 'There'll be no trouble at all. Me and Mr. Binks can handle the kids!' Mr. Binks indeed!" The women was working herself into a rage. Nick sensed futile anger and it annoyed him. The others in the room (save Billy) squirmed uneasily as she grew louder.

"Mr. Binks did nothing! He wasn't there! He was watching a movie while my son was being attacked by those monsters! A movie!" she continued, incredulous that could commit such a ghastly deed. "And Mrs. Gina drove her son to a soccer game! And," her eyes grew cold in contrast to her blazing tone. "Mr. Beddingfield," she spat, "didn't even watch my son in the forest!" The women suddenly lost all energy and began crying weakly.

"Thank you," she finished through her tears. "Nick Twilight. Thank you for saving my son."

"She's had a hard day," the nurse whispered confidentially.

Nick bolted upright. Yes, he remembered Mr. Beddingfield. And the children, the Caterpies, a bright light--and then Nick recalled a sudden terror; his hand shot to his feverish head, and Nick collapsed into the cool sheets of his bed. His eyes closed, and the room faded away.

When Nick awoke, a long time later, his fever had subsided and his memory was crystal clear. He remembered with terror the devilish assault of the birds, recalling every scratch and peck. Nick was shock by a glance at his forearm. Bandages nearly covered his arms, and the throbbing of his shoulder belied the presence of stitches. Nick mentally flew through the whole experience to order his thoughts. He saw the radio, the first swoop of a Spearow, the eruption of attackers from overhead. The running, the fleeing! And the great bird swooping down on Robbie. He sat up.

The nurse stood in the room, and--surprised by Nick's movement--glanced in his direction. Seeing Nick awake and looking by no means sickly (Nick was actively rolling out of his bed), the nurse briskly walked through the door into the hall outside. Nick's feet pulsed a single throb of pain as he stood; overhearing voices from the doorway, he looked down at himself. Nick was adorned with an odd-looking, light blue hospital gown which served as the only covering for his cold, bare feet. As Mr. Twilight hurried into the room, Nick asked,

"Dad?"

"Nick!" Mr. Twilight exclaimed. "I'm so glad your OK!" Immediately hugging Nick, Mr. Twilight held Nick at arm's length by his shoulders and questioned him, "What happened to you?"

Nick shook his head.

"I was hoping you could tell me. How long have I been here?"

"Two days," Mr. Twilight replied. "And the strange thing is, the doctors said you hadn't endured any serious wounds. They couldn't understand why you were unconscious for so long. But," he continued, "you're OK! Please don't do that ever again to me again."

Nick laughed, "I wasn't exactly planning on it. My arms are pretty gashed, but they aren't hurting me," he added thoughtfully.

"And your shoulder," his dad continued. "You got a pretty sharp peck right there."

With no immediate reply, Nick reached out and hugged Mr. Twilight. "I feel fine now--and hungry," voicing his stomach's chief concern.

"That can be fixed. Mrs. Soster, could you bring my boy something to eat?"

The onlooking nurse re-entered the room and said that she would bring Nick food shortly. Still confused by Nick's unexpected well-being, she couldn't help but wonder about her charge; the boy was chattering with his father, fit and energetic. A few hours before, he had been unconscious! This was not the trend for coma patients. Mrs. Soster exited the room and the tip-tapping of her heels faded down the hall.

"I just don't understand it!" she mused, as she neared the bustling main office. Approaching the mass of hospital operators who digitally coordinated all of the hospital's activities, she requested, "Send Nick Twilight--number 112--a meal, and," she continued to the operator in charge of Nick's section, "a doctor. He's active now, but I think it may be better if he were still restrained to bed until we have another look at him. I wasn't told to expect him to recover so quickly. He had slipped into a coma, we thought, but that just doesn't make sense. Nothing out of place showed up on the CPS in the first place. Of course," she paused, "it's amazing enough he survived that attack!" The operator nodded officially and entered the appropriate requests.

Mrs. Soster re-entered room 112 several minutes later bearing a plate of food and was immediately followed by a young male doctor. Nick and Mr. Twilight glanced up from their conversation. Nick was seated on his bed.

"Nick, Mr. Twilight, this is Doctor Gavner," the nurse introduced for Nick's sake. "He'll be checking up on you during the next few days."

"Huh?" responded Nick, as he accepted of food. "How long do I have to stay here?"

"I don't know," the doctor replied. "You've suffered some serious mental trauma. Or at least," he said half to himself, "that's what we thought. How are you feeling now Nick?"

"Fine," he replied. Mr. Twilight shifted away as the doctor approached Nick.

"Look me in the eye," Dr. Gavner requested. Nick's eyes were focused, his face an ordinary hue... "Hm..." the doctor continued. "Can you stand up?" Nick stepped to the floor with no difficulty.

"I see..." replied Dr. Gavner. "Show me your arm." Dr. Gavner examined the wounds, then squeezed Nick's wrist for several seconds to measure pulse.

"Nothing major," he muttered. "But you have a nasty gash on your shoulder."

"Will he be all right?" Mr. Twilight asked.

Dr. Gavner looked up with an odd expression on his face, and replied,

"Well, Mr. Twilight, I just don't understand it. Nick looks fine--healthy even. The whole thing just doesn't make any sense."

"Why not? Nick was attacked by a flock of dangerous animals, he was brought here, and now he's recovered. There's not something wrong, is there?" Mr. Twilight was somewhat anxious.

"No," the doctor reassured. "Let me explain. First, I was told by Nick's friend--"

"Keith?" Nick interjected.

"Yes, Keith--that the two of you--as well as a group of younger children--had been attacked by a flock of Spearow. That's strange enough in itself, considering that you didn't assault them first. Secondly, you survived. That," he paused, "shouldn't have happened." Nick breathed deeply.

"If I can trust the report I received, there must literally have been hundreds of Spearow. Nick, your little band was miles from the nearest shelter and had no realistic way of protecting yourselves. You were extremely lucky to be attacked by the leader."

"Staryu protected me," Nick answered.

"Saved your life, you mean. Had your pokémon not been trained for battle, you would not have stood a chance. But from what I understand," he paused noticeably. "Staryu, didn't.. defeat your pursuers. Did it?"

"I don't know. I dashed at the Fearow when it attacked Robbie, and--that's the last thing I remember. My pokémon are trained enough to fight on by themselves," Nick suggested.

"But that didn't happen, not by my account. According to Keith, when you jumped at that Fearow, there was 'a bright yellow flash' and then you and the Fearow were lying unconscious on the ground. The Spearows all went away, and your friend had to carry you and Robert Ingles through the forest until he met up with Mr. Beddingfield, who was supposed to be supervising you."

"Keith carried me?" Other questions were pushed out of Nick's mind by the concept of his companion, wounded from hundreds of pecks and scrapes, struggling up from the ground and carrying him. Keith could have easily left Nick on the ground, gotten to safety himself, and sent help. Accustomed to little but jeers and the occasional stone, a selfless sacrifice from anyone but his father was a completely new experience for Nick.

"Yes, over a mile. Keith Salls is well acquainted with the dangers of nature. Leaving you wounded and unconscious when an angry group of Spearows were about could have been fatal. Keith bore you and Robert until he found Mr. Beddingfield and his group, and an ambulance soon arrived at the edge of the forest in response to Mr. Beddingfield's 911 call. The three of you were taken to the Clarkesville hospital, and transferred here. Keith received stitches in his upper back, but Robbie had few injuries--though he was slightly in shock. You, however, have been unconscious for two solid days in what we think was a coma, though our tests show nothing abnormal in your brain. Do you understand?"

Nick pondered for a moment, and answered,

"Do we know anything about the light that flashed?"

"Do we? I infer that you can't explain it either," Dr. Gavner paused. "Frankly, I'm baffled, but it's not my field. I'm afraid the Clarkesville media might interrogate you more viciously than I."

Nick pondered the strange event, but accomplished nothing more than the creasing of his eyebrows. He remembered the other inexplicable occurrence--that only he both knew and believed--and sought for a connection. Unfortunately, the thought of the bright pain that ended Nick's memory of the escapade induced clouds to form over his mind. He blinked a few times, and said nothing.

"So," Dr. Gavner turned to Mr. Twilight. "Nick will have to stay here for at least another day. We'll give him a PET scan and an MRI, and if everything looks normal, he'll be able to leave."

Mr. Twilight sighed with immense relief.

Mrs. Soster accosted Dr. Gavner as soon as he entered the hallway.

"I told you so," she said.