After recalling his Pokèmon, Clever Clover studied his surroundings. The vegetation
around the lake
was more lush than was typical in the Flatlands. There were even dense stands of trees, almost
small woods, wherever a
river flowed into or out of the lake. The island in the center of the lake appeared heavily wooded.
The entire area was
green; the mirror-like surface of the lake was even green with reflected light.
Something about the lake mesmerized the pony. It seemed somehow... familiar. He
made his way
slowly toward the lakeshore. The weather was so pleasant that he couldn't rush despite the
hypnotic lure of the lake. As
pleasant as it was, Clever Clover still felt uneasy, and that may also have contributed to his lack of
haste. Bic's magic
had led him to the lake, and if that imp wanted him there, he was sure there would be something
unpleasant waiting for
him.
When he reached the lake, he stepped into the cool water to sooth his sore hooves.
There was no one--
or thing-- around, though the songs of birds drifted across the water of the lake. Clever Clover
gazed at the island.
"Looks like a nice place," the pony mumbled to himself. "So Bic probably wants me elsewhere.
Or the island isn't as
nice as it looks."
His hooves refreshed, Clever Clover began to walk along the shore of the lake. The
shore varied
between sand and rock, with occasional muddy sections. It wasn't long before he reached a stand
of trees near one of
the rivers draining the lake. "I wish Bic would just spring whatever he's going to spring and get it
over with. Then I
could at least enjoy this scenery."
" ‘Allo ‘allo!" a shrill call from the reeds broke Clever Clover's train of thought.
"Hu? Who's there?"
"Ee's jus' me," a pudgy muskrat stepped out of the reeds, nibbling on a cattail stalk.
"What you be
about o'er ‘ere?"
"Um, who are you and what do you mean ‘o'er ‘ere'?"
"Ah do be Josephus LaRue an' ah means ‘o'er ‘ere' as opposed to ‘o'er dere'," the
muskrat said,
pointing toward the island. "Isle Ponies don' usually come o'er ‘ere. You types do be
anti-sociable."
"Well, if I'm supposed to be ‘anti-sociable", why are you bein' so sociable to me? And
what do you
mean by ‘Isle Ponies'?"
"Me mammy raised me up right. But you don' be talkin' like no Isle Pony, though you
got the look o'
the breed. Where's about you be from?"
"I'm from Friendship Gardens."
"Never ‘eard o' it. But you still ain' tol' me wha' you's doin' ‘ere."
"I'm not really sure about that myself. Do you know how I could get out to that
island?"
"Ah usually jus' swims, but there's an ol' codger wit' a boat what ‘e rents fo' fishin', up
on the nort'
shore."
"Uh, thanks, Josephus."
"T'ain' no problem."
* * *
Clever Clover had to go downstream aways to find a place to cross; and as he did, he
was attacked by a
Goldeen; but it swam away before he could try to catch it. On the northern edge of the lake was a
sizeable wood with a
small creek running through it. On the edge of the lake, near the creek, was a rickety old cabin
built on stilts. There was
a porch around three sides of the cabin. A dock extended from the porch into the lake. Moored
next to the dock was a
wooden rowboat. The purple pony climbed the steps to the cabin and knocked on the door.
"Whadya wan'?" came the reply in a gruff voice.
"I, ah, want to rent your boat."
"Rent? Ya got money?"
"Yes."
The door flew open to reveal a gray-haired old man in overalls. He grinned a crooked,
toothy grin, until
he saw Clever Clover. His grin turned to a scowl. "Oh, yer one o' them."
"I'm not an Isle Pony. But I do want to visit the island."
"Alrighty, fifty bucks an' ye row yerself. I ain't goin' anywhere near tha' island," the old
man-- whose
name was Ed-- sneered.
"I don't have any bucks, only jangles."
Ed thought for a moment. "That'll do."
After Clever Clover payed Ed, he summoned Farfetch'd to help him row to the island.
"Well, I don't
know if Bic wants me on the island or not, but I'll find out when I get there."