A foul and rotting stench twisted through the night sky in pillars of smoke. Empty fields broke around Annabelle as she sulked across the beaten path. With each stride she took, a darkness filled each step. In her right hand, a small cane with a metal beak at the end.

A small Spritzee fluttered just over her head. The pink puffball occasionally took a break on Annabelle's shoulder. The little bird's claws sunk into a black, waxy coat that wrapped around her trainer. Spritzee's white beak mirrored that of the one her trainer donned.

Annabelle took in a haggard breath. The potpourri stuffed into each crevasse of her mask came close. A mixture of herbal scents barely making a dent to keep the smell of death away. She walked on the bridge between the living and dead as Anabelle dared not look at the mountains of burning bodies that raged just twenty feet away.

She dared not think of all her patients in those piles.

Beside her, Spritzee called out. A shrill screech to snag Annabelle's attention. Through the glass lenses of her mask, Annabelle saw what charged towards them.

Matted fur. Patches of skin burning open with boils to contrast the purple coat. Long front teeth. Chipped. Beatty eyes the color of blood spilled across a bed. Cuts she draws into a child's arm. She just can't the humors. This was her last chance. Life leaving his skin. A final gasp of air slipping away. Dead.

A moment of weakness as Annabelle's vision blurred. The Pokémon before her doubled as she seemed to fade away. She stumbled backward and crashed into the dirt path. Anabelle yelped as the creature hissed at her feet.

Spritzee sprung forward and fluttered her wings about. Hot pink feathers stealing the Rattata's attention as its haunches rose.

"Back, Spritzee!" Annabelle ordered with a flick of her cane to block the Pokémon's path. The woman stood as she pulled her partner back onto her shoulder, "The Rattata may be infected. I will not risk losing you."

Regaining her posture, Annabelle twirled her cane. A taunt to the savage Pokémon. The Rattata took the bait. The gnarled pokemon lunged at Annabelle with claws tearing through the air. Annabelle smirked under her mask as she took a swing. Her cane bit right into Rattata's stomach, and the force flung the creature across the plane. A spine-tingling crackle stuck out among the fire's roar and Anabelle knew there was no longer a threat without even looking.

And so the two continued down the road. A small town crested on the horizon. A small windmill creaked close by as a greeting. Small wooden homes started to break just past a gate. Anabelle held no hesitation as she passed a lone cart. Bodies were tossed lazily across one another as a Ponyta pulled the cart down the path. No other human seemed to be daring near the pile.

Dark circles hung around Ponyta's eyes. Each step trembled as they continued away from the town. A hand draped over the cart, and a small glinting jewel caught Annabelle's eye. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she saw the small band cling to a narrow ring finger. Every thought it brought, Anabelle pushed away. She dare not imagine the lives that could have been lived, for her own health.

From the world behind, thunder crackled. Dark clouds shrouded the sky and left a dark green tint across the rundown town. Barely any living thing stirred down the street. Annabelle occasionally made out a small figure dashing down alleys. She wasn't sure if it was human or Pokémon. But it wasn't her job to care.

She passed by the broken homes. Boards crossed out windows and shattered lanterns creaked as their frames still clung to porch tops.

Before Anabelle, the largest townhouse grew. Stone steps led to grand oak doors. A small woman stood at the entrance. Her brown hair was wrapped into a high bun and fingers clenched her white nightgown. Sad blue eyes grew the moment she saw the bird-beak mask that Anabelle wore.

"Dr. Bernard," the woman's voice was dry and broken. Small wrinkles pulled at the corner of her eyes as a small smile tried to appear. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, but marc's condition has become—grave."

Annabelle nodded. She reached to her belt and flipped open a small leather satchel. A stack of paper and thin piece of charcoal was pulled out. The packet was bound by three straps of twine punched through narrow holes cut through the yellowed parchment. Anabelle quickly flipped through the notebook to a blank page and scratched down some words.

'I came as soon as your messenger Pidgey arrived, Sophia.' Each letter was delicately traced in cursive. Beautiful as it was sharp.

Sophia softly pushed the door in. She gave but a small nod to Anabelle and Spritzee to enter. The moment Anabelle's boot clacked against the stone flooring, her notebook was already open, words hissing across the page. 'How long as your father been bed-ridden?'

The woman sighed, "Two days." Anabelle nodded when they arrived at a grand door. Sophia halted. Her fingers fiddled with the ruffles of her sleepwear. "His fever has... He's a bit delusional. He continues to call out to my mother."

Annabelle acknowledged the symptom. She recorded it on a back page of her notebook before flipping back to her communication page, 'I'd prefer if you stay out here to prevent further chances of contamination.' Sophia agreed. 'Is there anyone else who's been by your father's side?'

"His partner Pokémon, Helioptile, hasn't left his side since he first fell ill," Sophia explained. There wasn't much else to say and so she took her leave with a small bow.

Anabelle stared down the door. Spritzee gave her a small nuzzle and the woman sighed. She gave a small scratch to the little bird, "I know, I know. But just give me a few more moments," she breathed. Her fingers brushed against the bronze door handle, "this man made the herbalist shop possible. I just need to—prepare myself. Prepare to see the mayor in this state..."

One more deep breath and Anabelle pushed her way into the barren room. A single bed sat just under a single paned window. Dark green curtains hung just overhead to frame the glass. Midnight blue sheets thrashed across the queen bed. Suffocated groans tightened the air. At the foot of the sheets, a small yellow Pokémon heaped itself. Dull blue eyes stared blankly across to the shadowed corner of the room. As Anabelle approached, the Helioptile didn't even move.

"Charlotte?" A graveling voice pleaded, "Charlotte, my love, is that you?"

Anabelle poked her staff against Helioptile. The body simply rolled with her push and she knew it had been gone for a while. She continued to walk around. Her heart clenched as she saw the elder man curled up tightly. Tight wrinkles pulled across his bones and his hollow eyes looked up to where Anabelle towered.

"You!" He coughed. A black tongue lashed behind yellowed teeth. Marc pushed up against his bed. His trembling arms couldn't stand his weight and he crashed back down, "You stole Charlotte away! Bring her back."

Anabelle didn't answer as she pushed Marc back with her cane. The small metal tip pulled his loose white shirt apart so she could see the dark pustules marked up his body. Varying sized circles crossed his chest.

He tried to fight back, but all energy had been used up in his shout. A fit of heavy coughs came. Blood speckling across the sheets and Anabelle took a step back.

She pulled her cane and hooked it into her belt. Anabelle opened her notebook back up and scribbled down what she saw of the man. She flipped between other patient reports. A few pages were filled with herbal remedies, sketches depicted different plants and recipes.

Elderflower tea would help the fever, and a splash of honey will help with the cough. Anabelle glanced at a bowl and towel that rested on the nightstand. A momentary thought told her to place the towel on the man's forehead. But she dared not, for she knew this man was infected. Her shoulders sank as she watched the man slow, his breaths labored.

He had the Plague. Black Death. And his time was whittling away faster and faster.

Anabelle pressed the head of her cane against this chest. She counted the light breaths he took over the course of a minute. Each one took longer than the last. A sharp breath came before his chest rattled. Marc's eyebrows pinched together. Teeth were clenched, grinding on each other. His black fingertips curled against the bedcover. His chipped nails caught on a thread or two.

With a heavy sigh, she let herself speak, "Please be calm, Mayor."

His eyes darted to hers. Pupils just the size of a pen tip, "You..."

"I know this is an extremely painful death and you are very close," Anabelle took a knee and gave a glance to her Spritzee waiting on her shoulder. "But we can make it just a bit easier. Please Spritzee, use aromatherapy."

The pink sprite floated down and stood on Anabelle's extended arm. With a soft flutter of Spritzee's wings, a light mist began to emanate. Small curling tendrils of perfume laced around Marc's nose. His shoulders fell back and his expression went slack.

"Lavenders, like Charlotte's hair," his eyelids grew heavy. Every muscle unwound from his body. A small knock broke against the door and in the moment Anabelle looked away from Marc, he whispered, "I'll be with you in just one moment..."

A small breath left his lips and so did the last of his life.

Anabelle knew it was over. She rose and tucked her partner back against her ear. Anabelle opened the door to see Sophia standing. The doctor was already reaching for her notebook.

Sophia's toes fidgeted with each other as she spoke before Anabelle could write anything, "How—how is he? I heard him talking and..."

'The Plague has claimed him, Sophia.'

Simple words scrawled across the page in large letters. But the moment that Sophia's eyes saw them, she continued to read them over and over again. Her trembling hands rose to cover her mouth. Sophia fell to her knees.

Anabelle was ready to turn and walk out, but a small cord plucked in her heart. So she knelt down and continued to write in her notebook, 'I'm sorry.'

Tears streamed down Sophia's face. The woman opened out her arms and scrambled in an attempt to hug Anabelle. Anabelle's face twisted and she leaped away. Her beak mask twisted down with gleaming glass ports to hide her eyes.

Anabelle quickly wrote one more last message to Sophia. A disgust grew in how the mayor's daughter scrunched up. Her nose curled up and she shook her head.

'Helioptile has passed too. Make sure to contact the coroner to take the bodies away soon.'

Those weren't the right words, and Anabelle knew that. She bit at her lip and quickly showed herself out. She swiftly walked back up the path she came.

Spritzee flapped with a strong beat in each motion, trying to keep up with Anabelle. The town was gone in moments. The rain had finally come. Droplets pelted the dirt and soaked through her boots. Bits of mud were already squished between her toes.

Ten minutes must have passed and the storm raged. Spritzee and caught up to Anabelle and had snuggled up close to stay tightly secure. A little cottage broke through the storm.

A fenced in home with a sod roof. Small bits of grass carpeted the top of the home and vines from the front garden scaled close up the walls. Anabelle creaked the gate open and clicked it behind her. She kicked up the puddles formed up her path. Berry plants sprinkled in even rows with drooping blossoms. Weeds had made their way in and weaved around her great oak that just leaned over her home to provide constant shade. It wasn't even autumn yet, but many of the leaves were already barren from the spindling tree.

She entered her home quickly and quietly. Her boots came off first and then her mask. Baby pink hair tumbled out from under her hood and hung just over her shoulders. The strands were all split and there was no even line on how they were cut. Her empty eyes hung low on her face. Slowly, Anabelle peeled her gloves off and was reminded of reality.

Fingers down to her knuckles the color of charcoal. Trembling hands set the rest of her heavy uniform down onto a wooden crate. Anabelle lucidly dragged herself across the one-room home. She paid no mind to Spritzee who fluttered to a small perch on a writing desk.

When Anabelle made her way over to the table, she picked up her match and lit a candle. Sprizee cocked her head as she watched her trainer slide into the chair before her. Anabelle shuffled the dozens of half-written letters off to the side. She brought out a new packet from a small drawer and her quill.

The hours burned away and the jar of ink ran low. By the time Anabelle was sealing her letters, pressing in a hot red wax to keep them shut, the storm had passed and a gentle dawn had spilled in.

One letter for each of her daughters who she urged to leave when Anabelle took this job. Filled were words of endless love and hopes that they will be able to be happy.

One letter for her sister. Words of regret and words she wished she had said years ago. A final thank you.

One letter for her brother. Thanks for all the years and help in legally being able to own a Pokémon as a companion. She knew this job would lead to this lonely door.

And a final letter to the city coroner.

Her lungs struggled to continue pushing air. She gave one look up to her Spritzee and smiled, "Thank you."

She handed the letters over, carefully to make sure the papers were clean, and Spritzee took off through an open window.

Anabelle watched until the pink sprite disappeared in the distance. Sweat dripped down her neck as she rose. Her heart clenched tighter with every step she took towards her bed. Anabelle pulled herself under the cotton sheets. Her fluffed feather pillow cradled her head gently for a soft sleep.

The soft scents of a million herbs littered around the home swaddled Anabelle into the eternal darkness. Her face fell, and a small tear raced down her face. She had so much more left to do. But, this was the end.

By afternoon, all the letters had been received. Two men stood. The coroner and his assistant dressed in heavy black leathers. A Reuniclus floated behind the pair. A summer sun gave way to a thick smell of rot, but the two were used to it as the entered the home. The coroner gathered piles of papers and began to skim.

"Who was she?" A young assistant said as he poked around the thousands of herbs and berries littered around the one room cottage. He turned to see the body peacefully lying in bed as if she were simply asleep.

"Annabelle Joy," the coroner mumbled as he fumbled through the paperwork. "She was a medicinal assistant to Dr. Clement Bernard. He was one of the first recruited to be a plague doctor. Died within the first few weeks. We hired her to pose as him and continue treating the townspeople and their Pokémon..."

"Ah," the assistant mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair, "Well... Once you have what you need, we should get out of here as soon as we can and torch it."

The men nodded to each other. A few moments later and they were out in the garden. They threw canisters of oil into the wooden cottage. Without a second thought, the coroner tossed his torch into the thick of it. It only too seconds before a fire erupted out. "Let's go," wood groaned and cracked as the men stepped away, "There are more waiting for us."

Spritzee stood on the fence, watching the flames engulf the home she once shared with Annabelle. She stayed there through the dawn watch. A noon sun burned into Spritzze's back but still, she stayed. By dusk, the ashes had sunk down. Small bones crushed finely by charred wood pillars sizzled in the opening. Finally, Spritzee nodded, knowing it was truly done. So the Pokémon spun around and took towards the sky.

And so the plague rejoiced as it claimed another soul.