There’s a shocking amount of smoke in the air as I catch up to Onaga at the edge of the city, where she’s met up with all the other rangers. As I watch, pokemon scramble out of the trees, some turning to look back at the approaching fire, others simply moving away down the clear area between the forest and the city. Anxiety, fear, and frustration are practically pouring off everyone around me.

  Actually, there are so many emotions going around that it’s hard to tell who they’re coming off of anymore. There’s something else, too… like a distant rumbling on my sixth sense. I think it’s coming from the fire, but I honestly can’t tell if it’s that or if it’s just in the same direction.

  Refocusing, I note all the rangers and their partners, now including Weaver, are hanging back from the treeline, all four of the humans discussing their approach. All four of them are also still mounted on dodrio, which, thinking about it for a fraction of a second, makes sense. I doubt we’re all staying here for this.

  “Really wish Hilla and Nathan were still here,” Karlos comments as he tosses Onaga some kind of full-face mask from a large pack. Everyone else is already wearing the same.

  “Bibi and Sir Gordon?” Maya asks, cradling Lerp uncertainly.

  “Them too,” The big man sighs. Then he straightens himself in his saddle. “I think Emil was right, though. We don’t have the people we need for a proper response. Maya, you should stay here and take charge of the fire crew. Onaga–” He glances at me, then back at the woman, “–We need someone making breaks to the East of the spread.”

  “And you aren’t telling me do that because…” Onaga responds, leadingly.

  “What Emil brought up right before you got here,” Karlos says, turning his head to look at the other man for a moment. “We don’t have the people we need for a full response. More to the point, though, I can’t in good conscious order you to take Misdreavus in there.”

  “You mean on rescue response,” Onaga says, letting the implication speak for itself. I can tell she’s thinking about it, and the sheer amount of frustration in the air makes the short silence feel a lot longer than it probably is. “No,” Onaga eventually says, definitively. “Misdreavus hasn’t been through any drilling for it yet, and I don’t think we can afford to split our focus like that.”

  Karlos clenches his jaw for an instant, but nods, “Agreed. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” I don’t think anyone here liked hearing what Onaga said. …Her included, actually. The big man sucks a breath through his teeth, “Still, that makes containment more important. You should head out with Weaver and be on fire response. Circle around and try to recruit who you can to help extinguish things.”

  Onaga doesn’t wait for anything else to be said, and neither does Weaver. The black cat-weasel easily hops onto Dodrio, even as Onaga has the bird accelerating off down the clear path that runs around the city.

  “I’m not that fast!” I complain as the five of them start to pull away.

  That prompts Weaver to glance back at me, roll her eyes, and then launch herself in my direction. “You need to learn how to speed yourself up,” She quips just before she grabs me.

  Weaver hits the ground, and I don’t get the chance to say anything before she very thoroughly teaches me what being dragged behind a missile must feel like. And, just like that, she’s back in the saddle and I’m now being pulled along behind. “Um…”

  “That felt weird,” Weaver says. “I don’t think I’ve ever hit you that hard. You’re squishy, did you know that?”

  “I suspected,” I say, not sure what to do now. Actually, “What are we doing, exactly?”

  “What we can,” the feline shrugs. “We’re heading out past the burning part so we can cut a path through the trees. Try and stop the fire from spreading past that.”

  “Something we appreciate,” Dodrio, Right Dodrio, caws, the three-headed bird accelerating even faster. Holy shit, they’re faster than I thought, and that’s saying something. …Shouldn’t there be more wind?

  Onaga glances between us from behind her mask before moving her eyes back to watching ahead. “I meant what I said to Karlos, Misdreavus. This isn’t like Nabiki Cave, this is a crisis that we’re trying to keep from becoming a disaster, and we have the benefit of other rangers this time,” She tells me. “I should have asked you to stay behind, although I’m guessing you want to help anyway.”

  She ends her words there, leaving me to think about them. She didn’t say I wouldn’t be doing anything, but she also seemed worried by that. Or maybe it’s just the situation. The emotions in the air might be turbulent, but I can still taste the rise in anxiety and frustration coming off her. Or, I think they’re coming off her? I don’t know if that matters.

  Hmm… I’m not panicking about this. We’re dealing with a forest fire, and I’m not panicking. I couldn’t honestly say I’m calm, for obvious reasons, just that I’m not freaking out.

  I should probably learn what’s supposed to be happening and what I should expect. “What… What exactly are we doing?” I ask.

  “I’m going to be making a path,” Weaver emphasizes. “Ryu’s probably going to do her best to make sure there aren’t many issues with that. I don’t know if you’ll be doing anything, but this is going to take a while, so there will likely be something, even if it’s just helping me.” She swivels her head in a very catlike motion to watch the trees for a moment. “Ryu wasn’t wrong that you should have stayed behind, I think.”

  That’s not a comforting thing to hear. “Why?” I ask.

  “Charlie, the fire is going to get worse before it gets better, and there might be pokemon trapped in there in pain and afraid.” She reels my arm in until she can throw an arm around me. “I’m not saying I think you won’t be able to help,” She tells me, “But maybe that you won’t be able to focus. If things get to that point.”

  “I can,” I defend myself.

  “Right,” Weaver says, rolling her eyes, “Let me put it a different way. Remember when you almost killed those poachers?”

  What does that have to do with– Oh. Okay, fuck. I get what she’s saying. While it’s true that I could try calming myself down, the fact is that if I need to do that, it won’t be good when it breaks. Well, that, and the fact that being magically calm does not, in fact, mean that I can prioritize well. I don’t know what I would even be doing…

  It’s what Onaga had said. I’m very much not ready for this.

  “Okay, yeah. But what about…” I almost ask about everyone in the fire, but that’s the thing, it’s just fire. I don’t know how bad it actually is, but we’re all magic.

  Before I can restart my question, Onaga signals Dodrio, and she brakes hard. We slide a good thirty feet before stopping, kicking up a dust cloud large enough to blind me for a moment.

  Weaver lets go of me as she hops out of the saddle, the ranger barely a half second behind. “I don’t know how long we have, but there’s barely any wind, so we should have the time to make it wide,” The woman says. “I’ll go ahead along the path. Head straight for the river.” She pauses for an instant, turning her head to look at me, “You’re destructive enough to clear a path?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer at all before continuing, “If you’re going to insist on helping, then I think the best thing for you is to work with Weaver. So, follow her lead and if you can’t keep up or she asks you to leave her to it, please just fly away.”

  Again with her focusing her emotional emphasis on things when talking. Although it does get her point across, I suppose. She doesn’t want me getting hurt because I don’t know what I’m doing, or from pushing myself too hard.

  Onaga again doesn’t wait for a response, quickly moving off. That’s fair, we’re on a time crunch, and Weaver can absolutely hand me my ass if needed.

  “You were asking?” The weavile in question, prompts, stretching her arms and claws.

  “I… Right,” I recollect myself, mentally rewinding. “I was going to ask how bad a fire like this is. For us.”

  There’s a different rumble on my senses than the one coming from the fire, and then Weaver strikes the ground, carving a decent amount of earth—and everything on top of it, off to the side, leaving a shallow crater. She lets out a long breath before stepping down into the depression. “That depends,” She grunts, swiping several times in a blur of motion, this time churning and loosening all the dirt in front of her. “It’s not good, obviously, but you’d last longer than I would in that heat.” Her next few blows flatten the section she was working on into the sides of the small ditch we’re now in. She shakes her arms, nods, and then takes a step forward. “You’re worried about how badly hurt anyone trapped inside will be?”

  “You aren’t?”

  “Not really,” She shrugs before sweeping her claws through the dirt again. “Charlie, there’s at least a small fire almost every other year. This one looks like it will be worse than normal, but people know what to do. Most are either going to get away as fast as possible, or get underground.”

  “…And when they can’t?” I ask, dreading.

  “That’s why we want to put it out as fast as possible. Of course…” She trails off, continuing to work for a few seconds. “Well, you’ve met a decent amount of grass and bug-types, you know what they’re like.”

  I do. I’ve only spoken with a few bugs, but they seemed rather philosophical about things like death, their own or otherwise. And the more plant-like grass pokemon are… a bit odd. They’re mostly unbothered by basically everything physical, so long as they have sun and water. I can’t imagine that includes fire, though. “I can’t– How hurt is anyone trapped there going to be?”

  “Depends on how long it takes us to get everything under control.” Weaver grunts. “Probably a lot of burns, and, depending on what they are, they might pass out from the smoke and heat. Most deaths are generally bug or grass-types, but usually nothing too bad otherwise.”

  And that’s happening right now, right over there. “…I get why the rangers hate this,” I say, slumping.

  “Not to make you feel worse or anything, Smokey,” Weaver says, rolling her shoulders, “But you’re kind of just floating there. And if you feel like you aren’t going to make a difference….”

  I’m a dumbass. “Right, I’m sorry if I’m being distracting. What do you need?”

  “Well,” Weaver gestures ahead of us, “Maybe you could move all the growth to that side? Loosen all the dirt up? Then I can focus on flattening and compacting it. Wide, too. About three times what I have here.”

  I consider everything ahead of us and nod. “Yeah, I can do that. I might get a bit loud during the softening up part, though,” I warn, spooling psychic power to start sweeping things to the not-at-risk side of the trench we’re making.

  “Shouldn’t these breaks be permanent?” I ask, right before releasing a deafening amount of sound at where I just cleared.

  “We’re putting holes through claimed territory,” Weaver explains, starting to flatten the large area I readied. “The rangers get a lot of leeway with most of the pokemon here, but if we try to keep clear spaces running through everywhere, then they’ll get used as paths and new borders, and it can cause problems. Besides, the grass-types don’t like leaving that much space bare for so long and will just start growing things on them.”

  Make as much sense as anything. “So, what exactly is Onaga doing?” I ask, clearing the next chunk of earth in front of us. “I know she said she was going on ahead, but what does that mean?”

  “She’s trying to minimize problems on the way to the river,” Weaver says, covering her ears for a moment as I blast the dirt with sound. “Then the idea is to get help from the pokemon there who can create a rainstorm or are willing to help put the fire out directly.”

  “…Why don’t they ask–”

  “Marshal?” Weaver correctly guesses my next word, continuing the work cycle we’re quickly establishing. “It’s not her territory. It’s not even close to it. And if the fire did get near her home, she’s strong enough to cause a storm over the whole region.”

  I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand that logic, at least slightly. And I’m not surprised to hear Marshal could do something on that scale. Even if it is slightly terrifying.

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  “Just so you know, what we should be worried about right now is all the beedril,” Weaver casually drops, flattening her section while I prepare the next. “They’re going to be mad, and I imagine they–” She stops as conversation becomes impossible for a second. “–will take it out on everyone else, soon enough. They might even be attacking bunkers right now.”

  “Bunkers?” I ask, judging that I have a moment to rest.

  “Yeah. People know what to do in a fire, Smokey” Weaver says, prompting me to start again as she begins working faster. We can’t have her outdoing me. “Most just get away, but some aren’t fast enough, so they dig deep to be out of–” Once again, she has to pause as I make noise, “–danger. A lot of the rock or ground-types will make bunkers, although they tend not to care about the fire, individually.”

  Huh. The picture I’m getting of everything… “This sounds like a terrible question,” I preface, “But if fires aren’t that much of a problem, then why are the rangers so anxious about it?”

  “Well, Smokey. First, they’re human,” She smirks, waggling her eyebrows at me. “And secondly, what happens after the fire? If it burns too far.”

  Hmm, I’m not sure what she means. With everything I know about how things work in the forest– Oh. Okay, yeah, I get it. “Lots of fighting over territory,” I realize aloud before blasting out another wave of sound.

  “Mostly over the resources that are left, but yeah,” Weaver nods. “So we try not to let that happen. That’s why. Most everyone likes things the way they are now, with some exceptions.”

  I let the ring of my most recent sound-wave fade before asking, “Like the beedril I still haven’t had the pleasure of meeting?”

  “No,” The weasel responds, drawing the sound out, “They’d be the worst off if things burned like that. As it is, they’ll probably lose a few hundred kakuna and weedle.” She stops long enough to let me scream again before finishing, “Although, that was going to happen anyway.”

  Having heard this discussed more than once, I know that even the rangers’ opinion is that the beedril need to go through a die-off. Hmm, what makes them decide whether a wild population is worth trying to save? Is it the same kind of metrics we had back on Earth, or do they take the pokemons’ society into account as well?

  I’d like to think it’s the second, and it’s just that wild pokemon all have a least a bit of a mercenary outlook. So die-offs are considered normal by many of them, as that’s just–

  “You might want to pick up the pace, Smokey!” Weaver calls, breaking from my thoughts. “I’m going to get more done than you will, at this rate.”

  ▲▲▲

  ▼▼▼

  Misdreavus and Weaver have nearly managed to catch up to me, although that’s only mildly surprising. Weaver’s not generally a slouch when it comes to digging, and her increased physicality after evolving was going to make her faster at most physical tasks, but Misdreavus is evidently a hard worker as well.

  At this point, I’m honestly not surprised by Misdreavus wanting to help. Or by them being good at it, although I suspect Weaver had to pull them onto task. I just wish their first reaction to things wasn’t generally to freeze, but that’s something that can be helped. However, it’s a bit hard to run emergency drills with so few people, and I’m confident Misdreavus is one of those people who will react differently if they know something’s a drill.

  The ghost thankfully isn’t looking as wide-eyed anymore, as they tear through underbrush—and even trees—as fast as Weaver can dig. Between the Nabiki Tidal Cave incident, how they acted when attacked by poachers, and now this, I think the issue they have is picking a course of action, and that once they start moving, they can stay on track. Analysis paralysis. Maybe I can find a way to work on that with them.

  At the moment, however, Misdreavus is on task, though starting to flag, holding their head with two sets of arms between actions. Weaver’s doing better, but I can still see her icing up in an attempt to stay cold enough.

  It’s a good thing they’re nearly done, then. They’ll both get to take a break and rest. Which they’ve frankly earned, having covered the distance faster than I’d hoped. Much faster.

  Glancing right, the fire thankfully still isn’t visible yet, and the smoke seems to be more distant than expected. Odd, the fire spread quickly at first, but it’s slowed quite a lot. That only makes me more certain there was some kind of accelerant feeding it at the start.

  I only had to convince one pokemon to move as I made my way to the river, a golem who was more disinterested than anything else. They only moved two meters before curling back up. Frankly, most pokemon have fled or hidden by now, likely aided by the noise Misdreavus is regularly making. Although hunkered rock-types are easy to spot if you know what to look for, and they’re still everywhere. Not that I’m worried about them, they’ll be fine in a fire and might even be blocking burrows.

  As Weaver and Misdreavus reach the riverside where I and the two water-types I’ve managed to get onboard are, I give them the good news. “You can stop now,” I tell them. “Both of you did great.”

  At that, Weaver dramatically falls back, although the thicker sheet of ice that builds over her and how much she’s panting indicate how hard she’d been pushing herself. Misdreavus, on the other hand, continues cradling their head, prodding at various parts of their body with their many arms as they gently drift to the ground.

  “Biba bibarel bi biba?” Bibarel asks, looking down the clear path my partners made. He nods approvingly, “bibiba.” I imagine he approves of the work ethic required of the two for doing that much that fast, alongside all the freshly cut trees I said he could take. I take a moment to look down the path myself before inspecting my two partner pokemon.

  They had been pushing themselves. Harder than I’d thought. I’m guessing one of them would speed up, and the other would just try to match it instead of maintaining a pace until they reached me. It’s hard to say who might have started that, as they both clearly enjoy playing off each other, but I would put my money on Weaver.

  Taking a last look out over the wide river, I gesture to Bibarel and Quagsire, “We need to get moving. The fire isn’t spreading as fast as we feared, but it also doesn’t look like it’ll burn itself out.”

  Quagsire, the larger of the two already large water-types, nods. I would say it’s in a sage way, but that’s not exactly how most quagsire are. Without any further prompting or preparation, he starts waddling in the direction of the fire, raising his head as he begins to hum tunelessly.

  Bibarel shakes his head, giving me a look that positively oozes the question, ‘Are you sure about him?’ I respond by simply pointing to the already forming clouds above us. For all that bibarel tend to be hard and thorough workers while quagsire are typically lackadaisical, one of them can make rain with ease, and the other can’t.

  Of course, the other can create much higher-pressure water, so finding one of each willing to help was a stroke of good luck. Bibarel shrugs in a ‘you’re in charge’ way before falling forward and following Quagsire. Both of the water-types stop and turn around when they notice I’m not following yet.

  I slowly let a breath out before looking at my two partners. They need to rest, which is why it’s unfortunate that I couldn’t find anyone willing to scout. Doubly so since I won’t consider sending Weaver into a fire. I don’t exactly want to take the ghost in there, but if they’re willing and able…

  “Misdreavus?” I query, causing the ghost to turn their large eyes my way as they continue prodding themself. “Are you willing to scout at the moment? You shouldn’t need to do much more than fly up and point me toward or away from things.”

  “Wea weave, weavile vile weavile,” Weaver adds, probably giving context or advice, by her tone.

  Misdreavus considers for a second. They glance at me, at the smoke visible in the sky, then massage their head again. “Dreavus,” They end up saying, slowly nodding before rising off the ground.

  “Weave vile,” Weaver says, in a much more serious tone than a moment ago, sitting up to look at the ghost pokemon. “Weavile wea weave.”

  Misdreavus halts in place, turning just enough to look at Weaver, “Dreave misser misdreavus? Mis misdreavus, mis” They reply, rather firmly.

  Weaver nods, looking only somewhat mollified. Then she sighs, stretches, stands, and gestures down the cleared line she and Misdreavus made. I nod, and she disappears down it in a blur, heading for safety.

  After she’s gone, I turn and get us back on track. Which, for the moment, means following Quagsire toward the flames. “She was worried about me?” I ask Misdreavus after I decide the silence needs breaking.

  The ghost noticeably glances down from their thoughts, then nods. That’s about what I expected from their little interaction before Weaver headed off. Even if she’s not showing it too much, she’s worried about me heading in here without her, but she knows why I’m leaving her out.

  And thinking of safety, “Misdreavus,” I say, once again catching the pokemon’s attention. “If I tell you to leave, will you? I don’t care what else might be happening if or when I do, I just need you to understand that if I’m telling you to fly away, I need you to do it.” I tell them.

  They blink rather owlishly at me before freezing for half a second. They do, however, nod once they resume motion. Good. I’m not sure if they really understood what I meant, yet, but it’s something.

  Moving briskly, it doesn’t take long for us to reach the edge of the burning area, which quickly ceases to burn as Quagsire’s small downpour reaches it. That won’t be enough for the deeper sections, but it will still help.

  “Ranger Mont to Ranger Onaga,” My radio says in Karlos’ somewhat muffled voice, “Confirm?”

  “Confirmed.”

  “I have eyes on an artificial weather event moving into the East side of the burning zone. Is that you?”

  “It is,” I say, not stopping even as I indicate a still-smoldering patch of plant matter that’s going to re-ignite. Bibarel sprays it down.

  “Acknowledged. Be advised that the fire’s spread has been wildly inconsistent, between one meter per hour and one meter per minute. We’re unsure of the cause. More to the point, there’s a hot-spot West-Southwest of you, and an unburned section near it. We suspect there are pokemon holding the fire off inside of it. Make your way there and decide on further action. Confirm.”

  I sign off with, “Confirmed,” Changing the direction we’re moving slightly before sighing. “Misdreavus, there’s an area in the fire that isn’t burning,” I relay. “West-southwest, would you lead us there, please?”

  The floating pokemon nods before flying up, evidently feeling somewhat better. If nothing else, the ghost is being put through their paces today.

  It’s very good that they’re willing to help, and that they’re mature enough that I won’t need to raise them the way some rangers end up needing to. I frown at that thought. Espeon is a child, although more of an adolescent, and I’m likely going to be raising him for the next four to five years.

  Still, I’ve been rather fortunate there. Just thinking about Emil and Piplup has me glad I’m not dealing with a headstrong child between my two recent partners. Instead, they’re both more aloof, although I suspect for rather different reasons.

  I put that aside for now, as Misdreavus descends back down to my eye level. The small pokemon points slightly off from where I’d have thought, and the four of us change course in response.

  As we move farther into the fire, visibility starts to become an issue. The smoke and steam are thick enough that I can hardly see a meter. The heat isn’t helping either, my visor constantly fogging up even with the rain running down it, and requiring me to wipe it regularly.

  The filters in my mask are still holding up, and the two water-types aren’t having issues breathing yet, either. Although that’s likely because of their lung capacity. Misdreavus also isn’t having any problems yet, but that’s because they, like many amorphous pokemon, don’t breathe the same way most others do.

  Quagsire seems to start putting more into his raincloud as the rain starts to come down more heavily. Not that you could tell by looking at him, with the forever placid face his species has. Bibarel, for his own part, has been soaking more and more of our surroundings as we get deeper, to the point he’s causing a small flood, with the help of the rain.

  I bring the group to a halt as I almost trip over a bright orange pokemon. Unsurprisingly for the circumstances, a flareon. This happens every fire, a few eevee decide to try for an otherwise impossible evolution in this area, although most just end up with burns. This one seems to be right around the proper age and size to try, standing at just over a meter post-evolution. They also seem to have settled into a vulpine build instead of truly canine or feline, which is always a toss-up for flareon.

  The fluffy pokemon is steaming in the rain, looking both excited and bashful. I’m assuming they truly just evolved, given their excitement and the burnt, flattened space around them.

  They’ll be perfectly fine in the fire, now. Flareon themselves can reach temperatures that make a forest fire look positively chilly. Of course, where there’s one eevee… “Were there others around here who tried the same thing?” I ask the eeveelution.

  “Flare…” They nod, obviously testing their voice.

  “You should probably check on them,” I tell the steaming pokemon. I pause for a moment longer, wondering if I should try and recruit the miniature inferno. Ultimately, I decide not to. A newly evolved fire-type won’t have the control to extinguish fire quickly.

  I get the four of us moving again. There will be time—and a dedicated operation—to check over any pokemon still here once the fire is out. Glancing at Misdreavus, the floating ghost-type takes that as their sign to confirm that we’re still going the right way. Rising and returning quickly before pointing, slightly course correcting us.

  I can’t help counting the minutes it continues to take us to get to whatever it was Karlos spotted. Quagsire and Bibarel diligently continue to drown the fire in our way, as the heat continues to rise. It’s sweltering, and if I weren’t already soaked from the rain, I’d have sweat through my jacket by now, but this is about as bad as it should get. The cold water from my two conscripts is preventing it from getting worse.

  I think the heat might be getting to Misdreavus, though. They’ve started to look around nervously and have even gone mostly invisible. I wipe my visor again before asking them, “Is it too hot for you?” Their eyes flick to me before moving in what I think is a head-shake. “What is it, then?” I ask, just as we step into…

  A completely unburned section of the forest.

  This has to be what Karlos told me to check out, but there aren’t any pokemon holding the fire off. That I can see, at least. I turn to look back, and the burnt plants simply cut off in a clean line. The smoke isn’t even intruding here.

  My gaze moves back into the clear area. Something is keeping the fire at bay, and now I need to know what.

  “Barry, route me to Karlos,” I say into my radio, pulling my mask down off my face as I move more cautiously now. The trees are just as thick here as any other part of the forest, and I want to be sure I don’t upset what or whoever nearby is capable of doing… whatever is keeping this place safe.

  “Routing in two. One,” Barry says, no nonsense at the moment.

  “Ranger Onaga to Ranger Mont. Confirm?” I open.

  “Negative,” Karlos responds. Mmm, I assume he’s too busy at the moment, then.

  I move deeper into the safe zone, glancing back to see the water-types resting, and Misdreavus–

  Misdreavus is unmoving, their eyes locked in a direction, several meters behind me. That’s probably a good indicator of where I should be looking, too. Following the direction the ghost is staring in, I start moving that way.

  I make it maybe six meters before the smell of gasoline hits me. Abandoning my measured pace, I rush ahead.

  The first thing I see is an exact copy of the strange machine we found in Nabiki cave… No, three of them, all silent, scattered around the area. Several tall, thin green canisters are lined up against a carved stump, next to one of the machines. There’s also a man in burnt, grease-stained clothes passed out, looking as though he’d been crawling toward something. Or maybe away from, with what else I see here.

  It’s plainly obvious that there was fire here at some point. A burnt line of greenery runs from a seemingly arbitrary point to a browned and blackened section of trees that make up a decent portion of the otherwise healthy forest here.

  I move to check the man over, and need to put my mask back on as the stench of gasoline, machine oil, and burnt hair is overpowering. How did he escape the fire… Or, how did he extinguish himself if he’s soaked in flammables like that?

  What in the One’s schemes is going on?

  Before I can investigate any further, the already dim sky grows darker still. Several hesitant raindrops are all the extra warning I get as the storm starts in earnest. Grinding my teeth for an instant, I hitch my radio up again.

  Discord link.