The wild child and the mother (Larvesta TF)

What I am about to tell you is the strangest story I have ever encountered, so much so that I can scarcely believe it myself. I do wonder whether you will believe it, but I know this story to be true. I was part of it.

It was about a year ago that I was contacted by the Unova social services with a unique case. I don’t remember much of the meeting with those who were basically my bosses, who oversaw that my fostering was at an acceptable level (it always was and always had been: I believe that nurturing a child, both in terms of their welfare and personality to be of paramount importance). What I remember most was the file. The child they wanted me to take under my wing was approximated to be 7 years old, had nothing in the way of knowledge or skills about modern life and his picture was staggering. Really long blond hair, piercing light blue eyes and dirty marks all over his pale skin: those are what I remember well. He had been found in the Desert Resort, and the term ‘wild child’ was a key word in the file. This would be my hardest challenge.

I agreed though. I felt this child needed help, and with my experience and currently no other children being fostered under my roof, I was lonely. I felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity for the child. They say that you always have something to learn, and with each child I fostered and raised to maturity I learnt something new. What would I learn from him?

The first meeting with him didn’t go down well. When I entered the room that he occupied alone, he hid behind the bed. He’d been sleeping in this corner apparently since arriving, only moving to attempt a toilet in one of the other corners of the room (he had to be forced to go to the bathroom, and this often involved restraining and fighting…I shudder thinking how hard that must have been) or snatching food and drink that was brought to him. He wouldn’t interact with any apart from that. I tried coaxing, using my soothing voice, but nothing helped. Then I had an idea.

I asked to remain alone with the child and, although the others weren’t sure, they gave way. I then sat in the middle of the floor and urged myself to remain totally still. I sat there for a good number of hours before having to relieve myself, but returned to sit again. It was nightfall before the boy started moving. He crawled around me, his movements similar to scuttling, before poking at various parts of my body and jumping away, before returning. Some of those pokes were really hard and I don’t know how I didn’t yelp. Eventually, the boy realised I wasn’t a threat and curled up on my lap, asleep.

I think that was really my main success. He came home with me after that, screaming in the car all the way home. Over the course of the year, I realised how great a challenge this was. The boy never slept in a bed, only on the floor near the doors leading out to the garden, like some sort of Herdier. He never spoke, only responded in high pitched squeals and clicking noises. I learnt what the sounds meant to him, and that he did respond to a name eventually. Lars. I basically reeled off several names before the boy actually made some sort of comment. He never ate with a knife and fork, only his hands, although I did manage to get him to sit at the table. He never went to school, except one day in which I had to return ten minutes later because he fought with all the children and any home schooling I tried didn’t work. He needed continual help using the bathroom, and had no curiosity with man-made objects, not even toys.  I read up on other wild children and how they had been ‘tamed’ but any hints I got from there also failed. Yet, I could see that there was more to this boy.

Lars was afraid of birds for a start, fond of fire (he would sit for hours in front of the fireplace) but knew its dangers and was forever staring at the sky. He still had that scuttling movement too and one time I even saw him ‘talking’ to a stray Sewaddle outside. I wondered…and then tried something. I showed Lars a book on Pokémon and just flicked through it, watching his reaction as he tried to pick the Pokémon up, or rip a page with Pidove on it. Then I got to a page about Volcarona…and he started to cry. I researched more about this Pokémon and came to a conclusion. This was why he had been found wondering around in Desert Resort. Now I had to make a choice. It was hard: I was expected to bring this child up as someone who could life in a city without anyone knowing the difference. Would it make Lars happy though? He had never smiled since arriving here with me, not once…Which was more important?

Rightly or wrongly, I took Lars the next day, by car and screaming, to the Desert Resort. As soon as we entered, walking through the entrance, he stopped and gazed around. Lars looked up at me before running off. It was hard to catch up with him, I’m not as young as I used to be, but I just about did it. He ran into one of the old buildings, through several rooms (although cautiously around the sinkholes of sand), deeper and deeper before getting to a room so quiet the only thing I could hear were his scuttling footsteps, until…

There she was. One of the biggest and most magnificent bugs ever to have existed. The Volcarona had turned when I entered and now I saw her rushing towards Lars. I was afraid in that moment and took a step forward, only to hear Lars squeal and…snuggle into her body. There was a smile on his face as he rubbed it into the Pokémon, while she in return murmured in that buzzing speech of her species. I was right, this had been the right thing to do, and then…

Then I get to the strange part. Writing this now I can scarcely believe what happened. To start with Lars seemed to get smaller in my eyes. It might be the sheer size of the Volcarona, or the fact that her flapping wings sometimes obscured my view, but I did think that Lars wasn’t quite as big as he was. Soon after I knew something was different. His arms and legs, they weren’t wrapping themselves around the bug anymore. At first I thought he was letting go, but as I peered closer I realised that they were getting shorter. They were soon lost in the simple clothes: a white T-shirt and blue pair of shorts that I had provided. His socks and shoes lay on the ground. A gentle tap from the Volcarona’s wings sent the clothes aflame. I started towards them, but found that Lars was completely unharmed: there were no burn marks.

Having said that, his skin looked very different. It was darker than I remembered it. Suddenly, colossal sounds of snapping and breaking came to my ears, making me gasp. Lars seemed oblivious to it all, and I just struggled with incomprehension. It came from Lars, right? I began to realise that his body was less human-like than before, rounder, smoother. His complexion was definitely that of a tree like brown, divided into bands. He looked more creature than man…wait that was it! How could I have been so thick?!

I continued watching the changes, although now I was calmer. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just being in the presence of a happy reunion. His arms and legs, now considerably shorter, also began that heavy clicking as what I presume to be his bones pushed through to the surface and hardened. To match this, the skin turned black, completely. I couldn’t see any elbows, knees, wrists or ankles; it just seemed completely unending except for some small wriggling of miniature fingers and toes. These stuck together eventually, causing each limb to have a pointed end. Then some sort of lump, well two of them actually, pushed themselves out from just below Lars’ neck, which was now being absorbed into his body. The lumps started pointing, then twitching and then moving along the contours of the Volcarona. That meant that Lars haf six limbs into total. Yes, I had to admit it. The human I once knew wasn’t going to be that anymore.

That long mane of really blond hair that he had suddenly grew longer, overtaking many parts of his face. His ears, his cheeks, his chin, his mouth and even where his new limbs were became covered in it. There was snapping going on again and it always surprises me thinking back on this how Lars didn’t yell out. The hair stretched out, becoming fuzzier, as it gradually paled to form a white mane, encasing his head. His nose was…how best can I put this? It was polished off with the new form of his exoskeleton and the colour deepened to that same unending black. His eyes were narrower now, oval in shape as Lars looked on in wonder at the Volcarona. The vivid blue of his irises took over his whites, leaving a small dot of a pupil. From his shaggy mane came five curving points, wobbling out from the top his head, on the sides and near the bottom. Red and orange in shade, it reminded me of miniature flames.

There were no more sounds, no more changes. Lars, my Lars, wasn’t mine anymore. He was a Larvesta. I realised what I saw, but I couldn’t believe it. Fear, anger, confusion ranged through my mind, but then they were replaced with a simple conclusion. Volcarona was Lars’ true mother, had most likely caused the transformation herself, and he was happy. I had never seen him so filled with life, with joy. To attempt to separate them would probably leave me in ashes, and even if I did, who would believe me that I had just seen a boy change into a Larvesta? He was meant to be wild…

Still, I didn’t leave for a long time. I just stared, smiling slightly though my eyes I was sure were filled with worry at the future, at the two of them. Eventually, both turned to me, as if remembering I was there. Lars left his mother briefly and flew over on tiny flames from his tiny horns. He dropped to the ground, definitely smaller than I remembered him being. I bent down and, like I did when I first met him, remained still. He nuzzled me, just once, before hurrying back to her. The Volcarona just nodded at me; as if grateful I had returned him. She then turned her back on me and led the Larvesta away. The chamber wasn’t that big, but I sensed the cue. I left the room and didn’t turn back once.

What to do though? No doubt someone would notice Lars was gone. Despite how happy I was to see him happy, I could end up in prison for…well, anything that the social services imagined. I walked out, back into the sandstorm when…

“You know what you should do.”

I jumped and turned. There was a dark skinned lady in a very inappropriate dress for a sandstorm, a black dress. Still, she had such a look of overwhelming knowledge in her eyes that I couldn’t help but give her a questioning look.

“You should tell the truth.”

So that’s what I have done. I don’t expect anyone to believe me, but then again, we live in a world where dragons are kept in stones, where legends have the power to control time and space, and we are even able to create our own Pokémon. Who’s to say that what I have seen is any stranger than this?

Nevertheless, if you don’t believe my story, I will take any consequences that come my way. Either way, I think it’s time I finished foster caring. I’m an old lady now, and I think it’s time I had a vacation, maybe to check on a family I know in the Desert Resort…