Nobody ever visited Mewtwo. So he stared for a long time at the small thing that landed in the moss by his foot. It was a baby robin named Pip, with one crooked feather. "Home, please," said Pip, pointing his beak up the tall oak.
Mewtwo could lift a mountain if he wanted to. He lit his hands, and Pip floated up into the air — but Pip kicked and wriggled and would not sit still. He did not want to be carried. He wanted to climb.
So Mewtwo did the smallest thing he had ever done. He held one leaf still in the air, then another, and another, all the way up the oak. Pip hopped up them by himself, and at the top Mama Luma opened both wings. "Home!" said Pip.
Then Pip patted the empty space beside him. "Home," he said again — but this time it meant come up. Mewtwo tried, but his tail knocked three acorns loose and the whole nest wobbled. "I have no nest," he said, and turned down the dark path.
They followed him. Luma carried twigs and Pip carried moss, and by moonrise a small round nest sat above his cave door. It was far too small for Mewtwo, but it was close enough. "Home, please," said Pip. "Home," said Mewtwo.
