Miko lay awake in bed, listening to the steady drumming of the raindrops on her window. The Azalea family lived above a modest bakery owned by her mother. Everything they owned was small, and most of it was second-hand, but it was home. Her fingers toyed absent-mindedly with the corner of her bedsheets. Her mother was downstairs, and the fresh scent of baking dough wafted upstairs. Miko couldn’t sleep. She barely ever did, and it never did her much harm to lay awake. Quite often, she would give herself something to busy her hands with, or she would spend hours thinking about nothing in particular. In fact, she only remembered sleeping one or two times this week. And it was a Sunday. Ah, well. If it didn’t do her any harm, why was she so worried about it? She heard the clicking of a lock, the stomping sound of boots. Her father was home. It was coming from the back of the house. Cole almost always used the back door, because his wife would scold him if he walked through the front and scared away any customers. The lingering scent of cigar smoke and alcohol followed him as he trudged upstairs, mumbling to himself. Mother wouldn’t hear, most likely, because she was busy running the family business. Miko did, though. She heard everything, because she never slept. Now, she heard Edie’s gentle hands flipping the sign on the door to closed, and the pitter-patter of her shoes that echoed the raindrops outside. Miko pulled the covers over her head, because she knew what would happen next. It happened whenever her father was in the house with her mother. Miko hated it. She tried to force herself into sleep, but as usual, it didn’t work.
It started off with a rough, growling sound from her father. Her mother replied in her anxious, chittery tone. Her father replied, and his words were full of venom and slurred. Her mother said something along the lines of “lay off the drink” and she was pretty sure she heard “child” too. Her father began to shout. Miko could guess what would happen next. It happened every night her dad went out. Edie’s voice increased in volume and, right on cue, mentioned Miko. The girl in her room pulled the covers even further over her head, willing herself to block out what would happen next, but she just couldn’t. Cole screamed and shouted and stumbled around, his voice rough and his words slurred together into an inaudible mess. Her mother retaliated with a couple of harsh words, and that did it. Miko climbed out of her bed and smoothed down her white sleeping gown. It was a petite, simple, short white dress. That was all she needed. She swung her leather satchel over her shoulder and tiptoed over to her window, the sound of her parents arguing reaching an unbearable level. She undid the latch and slid the window open, dangling her legs out of the gap. She found the long, somewhat frayed rope with her bare toes. As her hands gripped the windowsill, she edged down with her legs until she was hanging there. She reached up with one hand to close the window, effectively blocking out most of the sounds. The one sound that escaped before she could close it, however, was the sound of a head hitting the desk. Her dad had gotten angry. This barely ever happened. Miko shuddered, not from cold, but from discomfort. She slipped down the rope with practised ease and landed in the alleyway round the side of the bakery. She lightly touched to the ground, and as soon as she had, she was off. Running through the town, sticking to the shadows, hiding behind the occasional tree until she was out of the busiest part of Zinnia Town. She breathed a small sigh of relief and slowed to a walk.
Miko plunged one hand into her bag. After pushing past a wilted flower crown, a sketchbook full of plant drawings, some pieces of leather-like fabric she had woven into plaits, a pencil decorated in vines and a fresh iced bun, Miko’s hand found the smooth, shiny material. She gripped it tightly and pulled it out to reveal a Pokèball. She released the Pokèmon inside with a burst of bright white light. Her Fennekin let out a sound of content to be out and happily walked by Miko’s ankles. The girl had arrived at the edge of her destination.
Her toes brushed against the much softer grasses here. Her white hair was buffeted about by the gentle breeze. The sound of water trickling through a stream reached her ears and the girl smiled. She reached out a hand and her fingers found a tree. Pine. She recognised it by the feel of the bark and the sticky pitch that coated her fingertips. She pulled away and floated towards the merry tinkling sounds of water. Fearn didn’t make a sound, but paused to sniff at the clumps of grass. Miko reached the river and cupped her hands, crouching down to wash off the pine pitch. She lay down on her back by the riverbank, letting needles and mud and grass tangle into her hair. Her Fennekin curled up onto her, closing her eyes with a small huff. Miko smiled gently, letting her eyelids slip closed. The sounds of wind rattling through the trees, the reeds whispering and rattling, the water running past her in a rush to get nowhere, the gentle birdsong; these sounds filled the air to create the gentle harmonies of the great outdoors. Miko lay there for who knew how long before scooping up her Pokèmon in her arms and swinging the bag back over her shoulder. She stepped into the stream, bare feet getting washed and tickled by the gentle currents. She slowly walked downstream, and left for the wild places of the night, her parents long forgotten.
Home 
