>>47139645The deafening roar of the motorbike engine and the whistling wind in her ears formed all the music she’d ever need for this grandest of road-trips. Weavile threw her head back in bliss as the feathers of her headdress rustled in the breeze. She reached over to scritch at the shaggy hair of the Swinub who stared out into the plains of dead grass and grain around them, like the figurehead of a sailing ship. He inclined himself slightly towards her and snorted softly in approval before resuming his vigil.
“Won't catch you if you fall off,” Bisharp called over the sweet song of their travel. Weavile almost forgot she was there sometimes, frozen stock-still to the driver's seat.
“I could catch up on foot and you know it,” Weavile sang.
“Then I should kick you off, save on fuel?”
“Maybe, but ya won't!”
Bisharp sighed, not dignifying her with a response. Her gaze lingered on the cloud of steam that escaped her mouth as she did. “Fucking cold out.”
“I don’t feel a thing. How ’bout you, buddy?” She scratched gently at Swinub again, right behind where she imagined his ears might be if he had any.
Swinub sneezed.
“Ice types,” Bisharp mumbled.
They drove on in silence. Weavile was content to watch the grain fly by and listen as the duet of the wind and the engine continued. The road stretched ahead of them, but she could see now the barest shadow of a dilapidated city on the darkening horizon. She hugged her windbreaker tight to her body.
“Hey, Bisharp.” Her voice lacked the usual singsong bluster.
“Hm?”
“I’m… glad you’re here. You and Swinub both.”
For the first time in hours, Bisharp’s eyes left the road. “Thinking of him again?”
She didn’t answer.
“We’ll look in the city,“ Bisharp said. “Food, fuel. Maybe a Trainer.”
“…Maybe.” Bisharp shied away only a little as Weavile leaned up to throw an arm around her shoulder. The headlight clicked on, beaming brightly; the three of them together watched night cast its shadow over another dim, flickering beacon of hope.
