That’s… interesting.

Fuck. I don’t know how to feel.

Last time we ‘talked’ I was 14 and she sent me Oscar and his stupidly expensive Luxury Ball with a note attached.

Dear Francesca,

Happy Birthday,

I hope you enjoy my gift. The people of Alola find Litten to be absolutely darling companions.

From, Mother.

I did not send a response.

Sending me Oscar continues to be her best decision since she fucked off to pursue a career in acting when I was seven. What if she shows up around town without notice? She did that a couple of times before she remarried and moved to Alola, either because she stopped caring or the hassle of customs was more trouble than I was worth.

If these four know, then everyone will by the start of term this year. Worst of all, they’ll ask me things about her. Funny that, isn’t it? No one cares enough to ask when they think she’s a deadbeat (or just plain dead), just awkwardly shift the conversation away from mothers in their entirety.

Oh, but it won’t be the same. Now they’ll want to know things about her, asking incessant questions over and over and over again; What’s she actually like as a person? Pretty shit if you ask me. What’s that like, having Audrey Davis as your Mum? I wouldn’t know. She’s such a MILF, can you introduce me? Piss off, you lecherous pest. I’ve always loved Audrey Davis, can you give her this? You would honestly have more luck sending it in the mail.

Or any of the other nonsense they can and will cook up.

Awestruck tones, voices catching on her name, a sense of fragile honour to be so close to her daughter. Ingratiating people trying to worm their way into my trust because now I’m worth their precious time and effort.

As if I haven’t uncomfortably dodged questions about her for years now, with the popular assumption of my mother and I’s estrangement being absolutely correct. As if anything has changed about me between this year and the last. As if she’s anything but human, just as flawed as the rest of us.

Pinpricks of pain jolt me back into myself.

I look down to see my hands in Oscar’s black and red fur in what must be a painfully tight grip. He was baring it trying to help, but I must have clenched harder than he expected, and now his claws have ripped through my jeans. I tear my hands out his fur, swearing under my breath as he turns, watching me, worry in his eyes.

“Shit. I’m so sorry Ozzy. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I whisper, soothing his rumpled fur back into its pristine condition. I should brush him when we get back home; he always likes to look his best and he must be irritated by all of this-

A paw gently bats at my nose.

He stares firmly into my eyes before declaring, “Litten,” easily understood as reassurance that he’s fine in spite of the rough handling. I tear up a little. This has been a grim day but I know Ozzy always has my back.

I prepare to stand up and scurry behind the counter into the bakery since there’s no bell on that door. I’ve no clue what excuses to use to get away from the Martins without worrying them, but I need to think. Alone.

I pick my Holo Caster up from the counter, just to have something to fiddle with while I think of excuses to give to the Martins, but it’s out of charge.

Great, just what I needed.

And then Carrissa or whatever-the-fuck-her-name-is loudly says, “Oh my Gods. Gals, do you think Frankie knows? I mean, she has to, right?” making me stiffen.

“Chantelle-” oh I was never going to guess that. “-you’re a genius!” Emily says, “We can totally ask her for the deets. Liv don’t you have her number?”

“I don't think that’s the best idea, guys…” Olivia nervously replies, but if there’s one thing I know about Olivia, it’s that she can be talked into a lot of things.

Oscar notices I’ve frozen. A growl rumbles in his throat. All-too familiar anger deep in his being boiling up into a rage as he leaps off my lap, spinning the chair with his momentum.

I lunge. Frantically scrambling to grab him midair. The tips of my fingers barely brush the end of his tail before he’s barreling towards the girls.

And now I’m falling out of my chair. Great.

“Fuck-” my hands slap against the tiles, barely stopping me from cracking my chin on the floor. Adrenaline pulses through me and leaves me shaky, but I’m brought back when a high-pitched shriek fills the room.

I scramble up. Oscar is prowling around the girls’ table, fur standing on end as he yowls, embers spilling from his mouth, his decent handle on fire nonexistent in his outrage.

Olivia is standing, back against the wall. Eyes wide in fear for her Sunkern still on the table and visibly considering vaulting over the table to grab it. Gemma is standing behind her chair, hands in a death grip on its back as she screams, and looks to be seconds from brandishing it like a weapon. Emily pushed her chair forward, holding it in front of her to protect herself from the out-of-control pokemon. Chantelle is facing away from me frozen, hands up in a trembling surrender.

This is a catastrophe. My mind’s blank. What the hell do I do? Is there anything I can do?

A familiar red light flashes in the corner of my eye from a pokemon being returned. The Whismur guy rams the pokeball into his pocket and jerkily shoves his things back in his bag, nervously eying the exit.

Fumbling, I grasp Oscar's Luxury Ball. Eyes widen as the embers start to catch on his fur swiftly setting him alight. I shakily click the button twice. Red light envelops him and pulls him back into his ball. The lid snaps shut. The bell above the door chimes as it closes, leaving silence behind in its wake.

“Kern…?” The Sunkern is shivering with residual fear, frantically glancing around.

“Holy shit, Sunkern are you ok?” Olivia scoops up her pokemon, bringing it close to her face, examining every inch of its body for burns. She lets out a sigh of relief when she finds none. Her jaw clenches as she looks up, no doubt about to verbally eviscerate the trainer of that atrociously behaved Litten when she stops short. “Frankie?”

My body freezes.

“I. Um-”

Emily is staring at me, flabbergasted, clearly stunned by this turn of events and shaken by Oscar as Gemma walks up to her and places a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Gemma’s eyebrows are furrowed in concern, her mouth opening to say something but-

“What the hell was that!?” Chantelle bursts to life, her hands thrown up in anger. “Get a tighter leash for your monster, Frankie. Arceus above, did you even think before letting that thing out its ball!?” She spits, disdain dripping from each word.

For some reason, it's her final sentence that breaks me out of my stupor. I can’t even fathom how to start correcting her defamation on Oscar's character, partially because I can, unfortunately, see why she feels that way, but for the latter? “Did I even think? Of course I did! I always worry about how he’ll react to people and ensure I have exit plans. Funny thing is that I don’t plan for people slagging me off in public, which is, apparently, one of his biggest triggers.”

My chest is heaving, but I’m not done yet. “Do you ever think before you speak, is the better question. The utter shit you lot said about me while I was literally ten feet away was actually horrendous I mean-” My voice is wobbling now and I bite my tongue. Hell if I’m going to let them see me cry. I was clearly wrong assuming they were decent friends considering how they spoke about me behind my back. Olivia especially… I thought we were actually friends… I drag a hand down my face. “Legends, fuck this. I’m leaving.”

Turning on my heel, I stomp towards the door, ripping it open and letting it swing shut behind me. Fucking hell, this has turned into a horrendous day. Staring at the ground as I hurry away, I focus entirely on the cobbles because I categorically refuse to make the day any worse by tripping on them.

What am I going to say to the Martins the next time I see them? I’ve never done this before; those two are always worrying about me, trying their best to help me with my problems, but right now? I can’t even fathom what to tell Dad, I mean- no, ignoring that for now. I need some time by myself, away from people, even if they care.

I mean, it’s actually just ridiculous; three major problems in quick succession that I’d really rather deal with one at a time. The least complicated one is Oscar’s reaction; it sucks, but I’m sure that with the luxury of time we - well, except maybe Chantelle, that was out of line - can laugh over this, even if it’ll be awkward at school for a while.

The cobbles end and I’m in new-town. I still don’t look up for fear of seeing someone I know, who would be - rightly - worried about me hightailing it out of town. Onto the next problem; everyone knows. At least I’m sure that everyone will know that Audrey Davis is my mother, since I know I can’t trust that lot to keep their mouths shut.

That wouldn’t be such a big problem if Mum had just deigned to be less successful, but no. It's ‘go big or go home’ with her, and clearly, she never came home.

Well, except, the thing is, she did, sometimes. But she was just, in some ways… different. Sometimes, I wish-

I walk face first into someone, “Whoa-” a masculine voice quietly exclaims as my arms windmill for balance, but I’m caught by my shoulders before I can fall. Awesome. That's what I get for not watching where I’m going. I hesitantly peer up from the ground and the guy lets go, taking a step back when he sees I’m steady.

He’s wiry, and just a bit taller than me, his skin is pale like he doesn’t get out in the sun often, eyes shaded from the sun by a dark grey paddy cap and fluffy hair a light greyish-brown. He looks to be around my age, but I’ve never seen him around town or in school. Might be staying at the Camphrier Hotel, then; it's always teeming with guests in the summer, wanting to escape the hubbub and air of the city.

He raises an eyebrow at my silence, green eyes playful. “Y’all right there? Nearly bowled me over.” He’s stifling a laugh - which, rude - but at least he sounds kinda concerned.

I blink. “Sorry, I’m just-” desperately thinking of a lie to leave faster, “late.” I end lamely with a shrug. “I’m just gonna,” I gesture ahead and start off again, “go.” I continue at a slightly more sedate pace actually looking where I’m going instead of running like I desperately want to, internally screaming.

Ugh, that was so awkward. Well, at least I’ll never see him again. What self-respecting teenager even wears a paddy cap?

I pull out Oscar's Luxury Ball, rolling it between my fingers, turning it over and over. Sunlight reflects off its black surface, the gold band glinting in the light. Sparkling. It's so pristine. I know exactly how expensive these are, and I know a lot of trainers would give an arm and a leg for one just to show off.

I’m incredibly tempted to sand it down and paint the surface anew; I’m sure it would end up a lumpy mess, but it would be my lumpy mess, not something foisted upon me by my mother.

And the most complicated of them all: Oscar’s reaction. Oscar was in the throes of rage, and I feared for that poor Sunkern’s wellbeing. I’ve never returned him without asking first, I’ve never even seen him this angry. But how’ll he react when I release him?

Hell, if I knew how pokemon experience being in a pokeball I might have some answers, what if it's just a stasis and for him no time has passed? I just don’t know. I pull my phone out as if it might have magically regained charge, nada. Damn, I can’t release him in the house like this, can I?

Arceus, where can I do this? Keeping us both safe is an even taller order. He’ll be confused because he was just taken out of a stressful situation; he might lash out, and I can’t get too close. I’ve managed to avoid most burns throughout our companionship so far, and I’d rather keep that particular streak up.

The border between route 7 and the town is cut off by a chest-height sliding metal gate that’s always kept unlocked. The first half-mile or so of the route is dubbed as safe, with minimal upkeep by the Rangers to remove obstructions from paths, and the river bank is regularly checked for stability to prevent the path from caving into the water.

When I was younger, my parents and I would often play-pretend at being trainers out in the wild (by ‘wild’, I mean the town wall was still visible) and we’d have a picnic when we found the perfect spot.

We stopped coming as often when a Swanna protecting a flock of Duckletts became aggressive at the intrusion of her territory; a Water Gun to the chest nearly fractured my Dad’s ribs, leaving quite the nasty bruise. We’d hardly been 50 feet from town, but that just goes to show that even the ‘safe’ areas of any route should be approached with caution.

I’ll have to hedge my bets; I really don’t want to burn the walls in our house, and I can hardly use the yard–my Dad’s herb garden is his pride and joy. If something happened to it, he’d be devastated, and Oscar would be wracked with guilt for ages.

Sliding the gate open takes a bit more of a heft than I expected; must be meant to deter children from escaping. I veer off the path once I can no longer see town, heading away from the sound of the river rushing. I don’t want to risk Oscar falling in since he really hates getting his fur wet. Unfortunately, for me, that means more walking, and these boots aren’t exactly made for hiking out in the wild. Arceus these are going to need polished when we get back.

The only sounds I can hear are my own panting long grass swishing as I push it out of the way, and leaves rustling in the wind. Otherwise, it’s disturbingly quiet–I can’t hear any of the Fletchling chirping, or the distant quacks of Ducklett interspersed with the trumpeting of Swanna. The lack sets me further on edge, and I feel like I’m constantly checking over my shoulder.

I can make out a small clearing between the trees, the space afforded by one of the birch trees having long since fallen over. I hesitantly put my foot on it, checking if the wood is rotten, but it holds my weight so I sit. The grass is wet from recent rain, and even though I’m a mess from wading through it all, I’d still rather not sit in it.

There’s a patch of yorkshire-fog grass right next to the felled tree trunk. I pick up a piece and start to peel it, and the feel of the velveteen texture of the leafy cover for its seeds slightly calms me down. It’s been a while since we managed to make it out here, though I have to say it’s a lot creepier without my Dad to chat with, or Oscar racing up a tree but never out of sight.

I take a deep breath in, and hold it for a few seconds before releasing it in a puff of air. All right then. Show time.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

There is a patch of moss right at the edge of the clearing, so I grab Oscar’s pokeball from my pocket and point it towards the moss. I press the button. The Luxury Ball snaps open on its hinges, hissing as red light shoots out, swirls, tightening and coalesces into a white shape with red-tinged edges, the brief flash casting the trees in an eerie light. It shuts with a quiet, metallic tink. The light dies down.

Oscar immediately starts yowling, practically screeching in his rage. His fur bursts alight, fire crackling and popping, cinders moving erratically in the air around him, the sound of sparks travelling through the air with startling clarity.

The grass around Oscar begins to look scorched, wilting from the heat, black smoke rising from somewhere behind him. Flames drip from his mouth, teeth bared as he jerks his head, wildly taking in his surroundings. A rumbling growl building in his throat. His eyes are glazed over, fury having stripped him of his wits; I doubt he can even see where he is right now.

“Oscar!” I yell, urgency tinging my voice with a frantic edge. At this rate, he’s going to start a forest fire. “Come on, Oscar, please snap out of it. I’m fine! They’re gone now, see? We can talk about this. Please… it’ll be ok-”

I shriek as the fire sputters, embers wildly flying from his body shooting out in all directions, and through the smoke, thick and dark with wet plants used as fuel, Oscar freezes. His whiskers twitch as he sniffs the air around him. Tail lashing, he flinches as it hits the grass, and spins around to smack the offending object.

The fire on his fur goes out. He’s just burned through the built-up stock of looser fur he uses as tinder; it takes a lot out of him even when in a controlled setting. I try again, standing to see over the smoke that’s been building at a concerning rate.

“Ozzy?” His constant caterwauling quiets down to a single distressed mewl, sounding tired and confused.

He goes silent for a moment and I can see the light dim from within the smoke; he must have gotten control over spitting fire from his mouth. I stay back at first, but I keep starting to step forward, stopping myself, and putting my foot back on the floor like some stupid stuttering dance move. I just know my eyes would be burning from the smoke if I were to be any closer, and he might lash out at an unexpected movement.

“Litten…?”

His feet drag as he slinks through the grass, unbothered by the smoke, his eyes sharper and his ears constantly swivelling. He sees me and starts to scamper over, so I crouch down before he reaches me and offer my hand out.

“You ok?” Oscar rubs his muzzle on my hand, a light purr starting in his throat.

He tilts his head back and takes me in, eyes regretful but hard. He’s still breathing heavily from the display; he’s not used to using fire in that way. Or in any way at all, since he never feels the need to at home.

I pick him up into my arms, turning him over so his paws are up and tucking him close to my chest, he buries closer still once I’ve sat down on the log, staring at the smouldering pile ahead of us. I should probably put it out, but first, Oscar and I need to talk.

“You’re definitely alright? Nothing you're hiding from me?” Frowning in concern, I study him closely, stroking the soft fur on his tummy still hot from the flames. “I’ve never seen you use so much fire, Ozzy.” I try to not sound shaken but it's difficult.

I pause, considering skipping over this entire conversation, but I steel myself. Some things need to be said even if they’re difficult.

“Oscar, I know you just wanted to protect me. I know that’s always been why you act out. For us people, you know it can be dangerous in this world, and I appreciate you're worried.”

I let out a puff of air. This is hard, and I think over my words before speaking again.

“But dude, danger isn’t behind every corner. Not every new person we meet is secretly evil. I know you see what you did in the cafe as helpful, even necessary. But sometimes, things that scare us aren’t physical threats and you can not keep responding like they are. Sure, what they said upset me, but that doesn’t mean you can set them on fire. The girls were terrified you’d burn them or bite them or any number of things.”

His ears flatten and he frowns, breaking eye contact in shame.

“Oscar, you can be dangerous. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up hurting someone. You could have seriously hurt that Sunkern.”

I can see fledgling protests building in his eyes, but a stern glare makes him hold back from voicing them.

“I know it’s a fellow pokemon and you lot are far hardier than us humans, but it's a Sunkern, dude. They’re known for their frailty. Hell, that guy’s Whismur could have woken up and ruptured our eardrums in its distress. You have got to be more aware of your surroundings and think about what is an appropriate reaction.”

I feel terrible for speaking to him this way, but I can’t let this stand any longer. This has been the worst incident so far. What if this is just the start of an uphill battle?

If it is this easy for him to fly off the handle and become a threat… maybe I haven’t been doing what’s best for him. I feel like I’ve made no progress on handling his emotions in public, and I just don’t know what to do anymore. Am I not strict enough? Should I have tried harder to socialise him when I first got him? Maybe I’m not the best person for him anymore, maybe I never was.

He appears abashed, tail flickering. “Itten, ten itte. Litten. En lit, ten ten.”

Oscar paws at my face lightly, but when it’s clear I’m still trying to figure out what he means - he certainly sounds regretful, and apologetic, but I’m missing some of the nuance and there’s another detail entirely which I can’t quite get- he huffs in frustration and squirms to get out of my arms. As I gently put him on the ground, side-eyeing the fire which doesn’t want to go out without intervention, it clicks.

I slap a hand to my forehead, “Oh, Ozzy. Right, I think I get it. When the problem was purely verbal, it stressed you out even more than usual because you can’t defend me from that, right? You felt like you were failing me because even if you understand everything, you can’t speak.”

He perks up and chirps at me, rubbing his face on my knee, “Arceus, that must suck, I’m sorry dude. Still doesn’t excuse how you reacted.”

He shrinks down in response, meekly nodding. He must feel awful, but hopefully this feeling will push him to think before he acts in future. Though I don’t want him to stew in regret.

I bap him on the nose. “None of that, now. We can move past this. Technically, no one was hurt, so you can just use this as a learning experience, right?” He stands up straighter, though he is rather small so it doesn’t make much of a difference, nodding with a little more confidence.

“Ten itten,” he adds, then scrutinises the fire - is it bigger than it was before? - and hesitates, turning back at me for directions.

“Right, course you can’t help. Your specialty is creating fires, not extinguishing them.”

I walk up to the small fire, coughing as the smoke swirls in my lungs, my eyes tearing up at its thickness. I wave a hand in front of my face trying to clear the air of smoke, but it doesn’t work very well. Oh man, alright, it's not as bad as I first thought, just a hell of a lot of thick smoke.

I stamp down on the moss until I see the fire stop eating away at the plant matter, the final embers burning themselves out. The smoke still stings my eyes, but I persevere and peer at the moss suspiciously, as if it might spontaneously combust at any moment.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to relight, I give the pile a final stomp and a stern look as if it will scare it into behaving. Arceus I must be tired, that doesn’t even make sense.

“Ten?” Oscar is supportive, albeit confused, about what I’m doing. Makes sense, since stamping out a fire would be a foreign concept to him.

“Yeah, let's go, dude. I don’t think we’ll have started any forest fires today.” I hope it rains this evening anyway, just in case.

Oscar trots ahead, instantly lost under the tall, swaying grass. I’m stuck searching for him between it all; it shouldn’t be this hard to find him, I know he’s not gone far. A black and red shape blurs out the grass and climbs a tree in front of me and I yelp, jumping back a little. He turns to me and meows in apology from up in the branches, but I wave him off. What’s a little intense momentary fear between friends?

I try to listen for the river; the path runs alongside it so it's a pretty safe bet to get back to town, but I can’t tell what direction it's coming from.

I frown and stop, calling for Oscar to come back. He lands on my shoulder and stands at attention, having noticed the slight tension in my posture. I frown and close my eyes, tilting my head in the direction I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be heading in.

The sound of the river recedes further, muffling more and more until I realise I can’t hear anything. My eyes snap open, my chin jerks up, and I squint. The branches have gone completely still, and none of the leaves are shivering at even the slightest breeze. There are still no audible pokemon. No, the only sounds I can hear are my own shifting feet and the slight squeak of Oscar’s paws sliding against the leather of my jacket.

Fuck this is bad, why have they shown up now? It’s not as if I’ve done anything against the forest like-

Oh.

Maybe something like burning some of it down?

Not properly atoning for it in their eyes?

“Oscar?” I speak quietly. Cautious. “Stay on guard, we might have company.” He quietly trills in response, eyes scanning ahead before turning around to check behind us.

I pick up the pace, jogging as well as I can in heeled boots in this hellishly long grass. Arceus, I didn’t even realise I had gone into their section of the forest - I must’ve been really out of it to not realise how far from town I was.

I can hear faint echoes of noise now, the sound still slipping through my fingers before I can truly ascertain where it is. We must be getting further from the centre of their territory if the effects are getting weaker. I’m breathing heavily - whether from the panic or the jogging I’m unsure - when Oscar yowls, swiping a paw out behind me.

Fear spikes when I feel his weight leave my shoulder, and I turn around to make sure he’s ok.

A Floette is hovering above the grass before me, flower pointed down towards Oscar ejecting some kind of pollen that makes him sneeze. Two Flabebe flank their comrade. They seem perfectly happy to be here, floating serenely in place and twirling slowly on their flowers, but I know we’re in trouble now.

These fairies are a dangerous part of any route with greenery; they congregate together protecting sects of the forest from those they deem harmful, altering the environment around them in subtle unsettling ways to encourage outsiders to leave. Sometimes, they gather in high enough numbers they become a known hazard, just as they have in route 7.

But I’m a fool who didn’t notice the signs - of course I wouldn’t hear any sounds of life if I was this close to them.

Reaching into my pocket for Oscar’s pokeball - maybe I can return him and make a break for it?

I try for a subtle retreat, only to snap a twig underfoot. I cringe at the noise, desperately wanting to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend this isn’t happening, but that would be a god-awful idea.

The crack pulls their attention to me. Fuck.

It’s not as though I want Oscar to be the centre of their attention - far from it, as he’s never been in a battle before, never mind at a numerical disadvantage like this. It is, however, ten times worse to be the sole receiver of their gaze.

Oscar is rubbing his nose roughly with a paw, sneezing having subsided. His tail, lashing from side to side in agitation, has practically tripled in size, the rest of his fur following suit. Finally, he sets his paws in a more solid stance, holding firm in front of me even. He sharply shakes his head side to side and sneezes one last time.

Tilting its head to the side, the Floette studies us for a moment. A storm of leaves surge down from the trees around us, swirling at its command.

For a second, the leaves simply dance behind it silently, a beautifully chaotic pattern emerging. I feel rooted to the spot, my breathing becoming more unsteady.

And then The Floette slashes its flower in a graceful arc, the leaves rush towards us in a cacophony of flutters with edges honing into what looks like Razor Leaf.

Oscar's wince of pain, bordering on a yowl, forces me to move. I shield my face with my sleeve and scoop him up, the leaves cutting into my skin before I book it but the leaves whistling through the air track us. Some shallowly slice my legs. I clamp my mouth shut.

Adrenaline dulls the pain allowing me to keep running, but the asinine thought that I’ve been meaning to get some ripped jeans comes to mind.

Not helpful right now, brain.

Oscar squirms in my hands and I mean to briefly glance down at him, but do a double take at how much blood is on his face. A notch has been taken out of his perfect little triangular ear, a lump of flesh hanging on by a thread and swinging in time to my stride. It’s bleeding so much-

I can feel bile coming up my throat. I quickly check behind us, flinching at the sight - two vines lashing through the air towards me. I throw myself to the side, the wind getting knocked out of me in a violent whoosh, causing me to wheeze as I struggle to breathe.

Oscar jumps out my arms and lands in front of me, growling with a flame igniting in his throat. The Floette is slowly building up another volley of leaves. One Flabebe turns to its partner, twisting its head strangely, eyes unblinking. The other twirls on their flower gracefully, more vines glide through the grass, shooting towards me and curling around my ankles before cinching painfully tight.

I claw at the tree closest to me. My nails dig into the flaky bark as they begin pulling me. Terrified screams reach my ears and I realise I’m sobbing, crying for help. Tears blur my vision but I see Oscar spit out a weak stream of fire up at them, missing by a hair.

The vines slither up my legs, wrapping tighter, pulling harder. Nails bending back, my arms protesting under the strain. My grip slips on the wet tree trunk. I scream as I’m yanked through the grass. Desperately trying to hold the grass to anchor myself, but I just end up with a handful of torn up grass.

For a brief moment, I can see Oscar tries to chase after us. I lose sight of him just as quickly.

Grass flattens as I’m swiftly pulled through the forest. Stones dig into my back. My stomach jolts as I sharply veer to the right.

Where are they taking me?

Or a better question, what are they going to do to me?

I bite my tongue to keep my mouth shut, bile returning at the thought. Bedtime stories to keep us out of the wild seem terribly realistic instead of an exaggeration.

A root catches at my heel. Pain jolts up my leg at the stop, and I cry out in agony as they yank the vines up, freeing my foot roughly.

Fuck it, I’m not leaving my life in those sadistic bastards weird-looking hands.

I grasp onto the root with both hands. Bark digs into the skin. My shoulders lurch in their sockets at the impact. I bite my tongue to keep the scream that wants to be released. The vines are writhing around me, methodically slithering up my torso for a better grip.

I kick my legs, the effort making me pant. My grip slips on the root slightly, desperation forcing my hand to tighten further. I gasp for breath. The vines tighten around my legs until I’m forced to stop moving.

“Oscar!” I desperately shout. My fingers slipping and shoulders creaking, seconds away from popping out the joints. It’s a gamble, I don’t even know if he’s nearby, but–

“Ignore everything I just said, violence is the answer now! Cut the vines, use your claws!”

A blur of red and black bursts from the grass, claws extended scratching the vine. He stares at me in panic when it doesn’t break apart, but I just nod stiffly at him, gritting my teeth.

Oscar yowls in fury. Scratching them again and again, swiping faster and faster. His claws glow white, extending further and further until they slice clean through the vines.

Relief floods me and I let go of the root, heaving. I tear the rapidly shrivelling vines from my body in disgust.

Oscar jumps on me, distraught and worry mingling in his eyes. I press my forehead against his. For a second, I close my eyes.

“I’m ok, Ozzy.” I whisper, and I can feel him relax in my hands, “You did it, dude. Thank you.”

I pull away from him, kissing the space between his ears quickly. Slowly staggering to my feet, tears stinging the corner of my eyes. I feel like I’ve been run over.

Or, perhaps more accurately, I feel like I’ve been dragged through a forest. I roll my shoulders, sucking in a breath through my teeth at the accompanying burn.

Shaking out my hands, I look around us. Where did they go? A wave of Razor Leaves catches my eye to my right. I curse, throwing myself to the ground moments before the leaves slice through the air overhead, embedding themselves into trees with dull thumps.

Well then. Looks like they didn’t go far.

I get on my hands and knees, and Oscar and I make eye contact. I raise my eyebrows and point to the flattened grass, the path I’ve unintentionally carved. If we follow it, then keep going after it ends, we should get to the river and then easily get out of this damned route. He nods, staring intently at our ticket out of here, his eyes gleam with excitement.

I scan above us, the leaves on the trees thick and swaying. I can’t see the tell-tale bright colourful flowers they covet. Pushing myself off the ground, my arms protesting as I start to run, I don’t need to check for Oscar since I know he’ll be right there with me.

With grass slick and flattened it's a fight to stay on my feet.

The path curves sharply to the left. I loosely grab a tree to swing around to compensate. That manoeuvre costs me and I slide, stumbling over my feet.

Mist gathers ahead of us, pink swirls thinly. Its pearlescent sheen glittering dangerously. I skid to a stop, clenching my teeth as the grass pokes into my cuts and irritates them. Oscar flinches at the sight, dropping onto his front. He leaps back up, carefully circling me, his ears swivelling to pick up even the smallest sound.

The Fairy Wind churns, spreading out further before closing in, encircling us. Trapping us.

I feel like a rubber band stretched until it's about to snap. I lower into a more stable stance with my hands out in front of me, turning slowly, eyes flicking everywhere trying to get a visual on at least one of the damned fairies.

A distinct slicing sound comes from behind me. Paws push me to the ground as I shriek. Leaves whizz overhead. Oscar bounces off my back as I roll over, propping myself up on my elbows. Floette raises its flower, the Razor Leaves stop midair. Shivering for an instant, then double backing towards me. I squeak and scramble up, the leaves chase after me.

“Oscar- shit!” I duck down as they zoom overhead. “Use Ember, distract it!” I call out as I run behind a tree, leaves slamming into the bark.

Oscar hisses at the pokemon, vicious glee on his face then spits Ember at it.

Heat sizzles the petals as Floette dodges a touch too slow to protect its flower, the leaves’ gleaming edges dimming as they fall to the ground. For the first time, it’s finally something other than happy.

Anger mars the Floette’s childlike face as it narrows its eyes at Oscar. Lowering itself to the ground it angrily flies and Tackles him. Oscar takes it head on, using his claws and teeth relishing at any opportunity to fight back.

I tear my eyes away from the two of them scrapping, focusing on the Fairy Wind surrounding us. It’s thinner in some spots, enough so that I can actually see the two Flabebe holding it up.

They’re slowly bobbing in the air, eyes closed in concentration. I have an idea! It might be terrible, but it's an idea.

“Oscar, try to stun it. I have a plan.” I wrench a branch off the tree nearest me, the Flabebes twitching in unison at the harm to the tree.

“Litten!”

I study the Flabebe closest to me, quickly glancing down and checking how far the trail I left is from me. I take a deep breath, eyes flicking to Oscar where I can see him clawing at the rapidly flagging Floette, its shredded flower lying next to it.

Slowly, I breathe out.

All right then, here goes nothing.

I chuck the branch at the Flabebe. It sails through the air spinning around. Smacking right into its face.

Yes, thank fuck! The Fairy Wind surrounding us fizzles out.

“Let's go Ozzy, run!”

I’m on high alert as we run, barely managing to not trip. Oscar sticks close even though we both know he could easily outpace me. I wipe sweat from my brow, panting as my lungs burn. My legs ache, I can’t check on them right now even though I really should, I mean what if the cuts get infected and-

Nope. Not thinking about it now. Keep running.

Every time my feet thump on the ground I can feel a dull ache in my ankles where the vines grabbed me. Legends I hope I haven’t sprained anything. I glance at Oscar, his torn up ear bleeding less but still a mess of blood and flesh.

The notch is entirely missing now, instead of hanging on and swinging grotesquely as it was before. Other than that, he’s just covered in grass stains and more ruffled than usual. My heart aches, I wish I could wrap him in bubble wrap, protect him from all this.

I slow down to avoid smacking face first into the branch, and despite everything, I can’t help but smile as I think about how I had the balls to hit a Flabebe - with a stick, no less! The irony is sweet.

We worked together, and got out of something most new trainers would have fallen to. The rates of trainer deaths - well, they say they’re missing, but we all know what it actually means once it hits a week - has been steadily rising in recent years. The wild pokemon are becoming more agitated and trainer skill is slowly decreasing on average every year. And yet, we made it through.

Oscar perks up and chirps at me, so I peer ahead and see we’re at the end of the ‘path’. Grinning, I pick up the pace, Oscar matching me. We’re almost out. I can hear the river.

From out of nowhere, a sudden thought comes to me. This lot of fairies in route 7 specifically have messed up more than its fair share of trainers. If we came out the other side of this, maybe my unrealistic fantasy of becoming a trainer is more attainable than I realised. I never even imagined I might have the knack for it.

This could help Oscar’s aggression, if he had an outlet, then… maybe I can be the right person for him after all.

Plus, then I won’t have to deal with the incessant questions at school I’m dreading. I doubt it would spread enough that random people would know I’m her daughter, why would they even care? As long as we are skilled enough at battling, that should be more interesting.

“Ten, itten!” Oscar races ahead of me, breaking me out of my thoughts.

Through the trees I can see the river and the path following it leading right back to town. Oscar rolls on the dirt path, giving himself a dust bath and kicking his paws into the air. I laugh and sit next to him, ignoring the aches in my body.

I’m smiling so much my face hurts. Oscar jumps into my lap and I cuddle him, uncaring that he’s dusty as I press my face into his fur.

I need to ask Oscar if he might be interested. If he isn’t, then I can deal with school, but there is something more important to say right now.

“Thank you, Oscar.”

He butts his face against mine, purring.

“You’re amazing dude, I couldn’t have done any of that without you.”

I sigh holding his face, his injured ear twitching slightly under my stare.

“I wish you didn’t get hurt though...It was my fault, anyway. I shouldn’t have taken us so deep in the forest.”

Fiery determination back in his eyes and gently bats my nose. “Ten, itte lit. ten.” It feels like he’s telling me to stop being silly, that it's not my fault.

He’s always looked out for me, even though he wasn’t doing me any favours most of the time. He’s never given up on protecting me, even if I had a less than positive response to it. To him, it didn’t matter, as long as I was safe. I’m thankful for his commitment now, and even if he’s a pain in the ass to manage, he’s a damned loyal pokemon.

“Oh Ozzy.” voice breaking, I tighten my hold on him, careful to avoid his bad ear, his purr just rumbling louder in response.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

We can walk back home later, but for now we comfort each other.