There was a respite for a few years after the previous sky shaymin’s death. The shaymin did not forget their struggles . Violence turned them against visitors and saved the life of their current leader many times in the coming months. Yet, as the new year began, a mon snuck through their ranks with force and back up, scattering the shaymin like dead autumn leaves. One stood alone, its small body the only thing between the hunter and the Tree of Life.
The leader of the shaymin, Dicentra as he was known, refused to leave his post. He knew what the hunter wanted. He knew what everyone who attacked his shaymin and his tree wanted. He was not scared to stand alone. Even something as small as he and as gentle in appearance as his fellows could be ferocious and strike down their attackers. They’d done it before.
“I knew it,” he said, venom in each word. “You wish for a fight to the death? So be it! I welcome her loving embrace every time. You do not, will not, cannot scare me.”
The determination never left his clear, red eyes, not even as his blood drained from his tiny body and splashed against the side of the tree.