“I’ll do my best, ma’am,” Nanette’s said, her expression earnest. “You can call me Nettie, if you’d like. Otherwise, Nanette is fine.”

Were they really the same age? Miss Anderson was so collected and at ease. In a word? She was cool. Whereas Nanette felt the exact obvious in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Maybe it was something gained with experience. Nanette swallowed minutely. Even thinking of the word “cool” was agonizing. But she would make for a poor ranger if she couldn’t adjust to the heat. And she didn’t want to give others a reason to write her off as a spoiled rich girl who couldn’t handle sweat.

“There wasn’t any place like this in Kalos, so I’m excited to start today’s expedition. Was there anything else you’d want us to cover while we’re here, ma’am?”

Climbing would be a welcome change, at least. Maybe the sights and sounds of Mt. Chimney would be enough to distract her from just how warm it was underneath the flak jacket.

Elinor Anderson | mission

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“Yes, ma’am!”

Nanette gave a little salute before turning to Mila. She understood Mila’s excitement with the heat and the new scenery, but having a rapidash who had only ever done long rides across sloping terrain and dressage shows suddenly barrel up a mountain was asking for disaster. It was something they could pick up in time and with baby steps. Then she would crest the mountain with her steed as bold and confident as Miss Anderson.

“I know, I know. We can have a ride after this,” Nanette soothed. Mila’s snout pressed against her cheek and Nanette patted her side before pressing the button on her pokéball.

Once the ball was fastened back at her belt, Nanette turned to Elinor with a small smile. “Shall we?”

And then she was pressing on ahead. Most might expect people of her breeding to be inexperienced, prissy, and arrogant. Nanette knew her limits, and knew that she had much to learn. She wasn’t new to things like hikes, though, and she liked to think she was quite hale and hearty. Pebbles skid beneath her boots, clattering on the sloping ground. The parameters for today were to reach a certain height. Not quite the crest (she wasn’t a volcanologist, after all), but decently high that no common tourist would be up there. There was an altimeter in her pocket to keep tabs, and a myriad of other tools in her pack. Fortune favored the prepared.

“If you get hungry, please let me know. I have extra protein bars with me, and enough water for two,” Nanette said over her shoulder.

Blades of rough grass brushed her knees. Nanette had read about different biomes when she had decided on her ranger route. In mountainous terrain, fescue thrived. And in the mountains came hardier pokémon, too. She thought she saw some peeking through grass and overturned stones.

“If you don’t mind me asking…can I ask how you got started as a ranger, Miss Anderson?”

Elinor Anderson | mission

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It was a question she got occasionally, and Nanette always considered her answer carefully. Because there were a thousand reasons and perhaps a million outside factors, all equally as important, that led her to where she was today – dressed in ranger red and blue, standing atop the craggy heights of Mt. Chimney with her capable, lovely superior. So, naturally, Nanette could list any one of those reasons and they would be true.

“I’ve always wanted to help people and Pokémon. My mother is a surgeon in Kalos, and I’m good at science. When I came here, I knew I wanted to help, somehow. I was stuck between choosing a residency at a human hospital or Pokémon center or becoming a cadet.”

She paused only to traipse over a fallen log – the wood worn and ashen. Her arms were aloft to keep her balance, graceful as a dancer. Once across, Nanette continued, and her tone was thoughtful.

“When I could talk to a recruiter, that solidified it for me. That I could use my knowledge in an immediate way. Not to be rude, but Hoenn is…well, it’s a bit crazy. So I want to help with that, even a little.”

For all Nanette’s private gripes about the heat and the constant dampness, she was growing to love this region, its people, and everything else it had. More than anything, the people of Hoenn persevered. And while they themselves were more than a little insane, the people here – whether born and raised or more seasoned transplants – were passionate. It was hard not to be enamored with that ferocity.

Elinor Anderson | mission

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