Brycen's home was a lonely affair, hidden away high above the city below, of plain lacquered pine wood. The inside was much the same, uncarved and unadorned.
It was at odds with what Aidinza had expected of the Gwee'aa of the Tly'an-yeh. Judging by the look Brycen gave him from across the table, the gym leader could tell what Aidinza was thinking.
The tall, pale man smiled, the tight mask around his eyes crinkling as he did so, and made a gesture. Two Tly'an-yeh walked in, one male and one female, carrying plates and drinks, placing them down in front of the two, before retreating out of the house entirely. Leaving the two of them alone.
Brycen picks up his knife, letting his thumb trail up the blunt edge, pausing on the tip. Aidinza picked up his knife and fork, cutting into the beautifully cooked venison to take a single bite. "Dadzólí." His voice breaks the silence, muffled slightly by the meat he was chewing.
The Gym Leader looked pleased and twisted his hand so the knife could cut into the thin skin below his thumbnail. "Akwa' gwikʼinjiindhat." A single bead of blood slid down the cut of the knife, and both men placed their cutlery back onto the table. "It must have been said before, cousin, but it is good to see you away from your home."
"It has been…." Aidinza trails off for a moment, glancing at the empty walls as if they would inspire the right words. "Silent times."
Brycen picks up his cutlery again, and Aidinza copies him, taking another bite of the fantastic meat. But Brycen does not start eating however, just studying Aidinza. "Silent truths can be just as dangerous as loud ideals."
Aidinza slowly nods, unsure what to say. Uncertain of what it was his place to say. A few moments of silent eating pass between the two before Brycen speaks again.
"You were wondering why my walls were bare." It was not a question, simply a statement of fact.
"They are… the murals. The city is beautiful because of them." Aidinza answered, to a proud, loving smile from Brycen, his attention drifting to the air above Aidinza's head as if the gym leader was picturing the city in his mind.
"Do you know why we paint our walls' outside and carve the inside?" The Ya'an-ah youth leans back in his seat, a thoughtful frown crossing his face. It had been a long time since he had been taught of the Tly'an-yeh.
"The murals are… the ideal? What you wish to show the world, and for the world to reflect." Aidinza sneaked a look at Brycen, who gave him an encouraging nod. "The carvings… their truth? Shown only to those who they invite to their hearth?"
"It gladdens me that our cousins inland still teach of us. You are right; the Murals are the ideals the families wish to see in the world, personal to them but shown to the world often; they are repainted as families grow or change. The carvings, however, usually stay the same. It would take a great event for someone to change it, something life-changing." Brycen sips carefully at his drink. "In years past, the home of the Gwee'aa were mighty things, awe-inspiring murals of promised futures. The inside's a tapestry that could teach the tribe exactly who their Gwee'aa was, who would lead them to that promised future. The Ideal and Truth that would lead the tribe."
Aidinza leaned forward in his seat, feeling like a young boy learning the six tales of Bi At Ini for the first time. "Then why…?"
"Because in this day and age, the Tly'an-yeh do not need a guiding ideal, nor an overarching truth. They need the room to blossom and grow into their own ideals and truth. While the Gwee'aa's home was a beautiful thing to behold back then, others would hardly bother with their own. Mimicking the Gwee'aa in all things, or simply leaving it unpainted." He shakes his head, and despite the mask obscuring his face, Aidinza could see the worry on his face as clear as day. "I have travelled the world and the breadth of Unova. I have seen and experienced so much. Enough to realise that my people needed to come into their own identities, rather than come into my identity, and I gave them space to do that."
He gestures towards the unadorned house and then towards the mask covering his pale face.
Aidinza slowly nodded, unsure if he understood what Brycen meant or if he should mention the worry on Brycen's face.
"But those are worries for the Tly'an-yeh and for me. You are challenging the gym circuit, correct?" For a moment, Aidinza was tempted to press Brycen about that; Tly'an-yeh problems were Ya'an-ah problems for much of history, even with the distance between them. But he simply nods instead. "Have you tasted defeat yet?"
"Yes, Honoured Leader Clay, the first time we fought, he… crushed me." Aidinza hung his head slightly; the loss and what followed was not his proudest moment.
"There is no shame in defeat, nor in how you have to handle it, Cousin of my land. You kept moving forward, and that is what matters, no matter how you ended up there." Aidinza sat up straighter, the slight sting of shame falling away. "I asked because you will taste it again soon."
Aidinza could not help the shock of offence the words gave him, green eyes hardening as they met cool blue.
"There is no offence intended, Aidinza. You're stronger than I would have expected of a three-badge trainer, probably better than I'd expect some five-badge trainers to be. But Drayden has never cared how many badges his opponents have, he will treat you like you are an eight badge trainer, and his dragons will crush through you." Aidinza breathes out slowly, reigning in the flare of pride. "Challenge him if you don't believe me. Challenge him even if you do believe me. Drayden may not care about how many badges his opponents have, but he is careful to avoid hurting them. Many of my people challenge him first and learn first-hand what one of the pinnacles of Unova can do. Or perhaps they just like wasting the Pheyan'atho's time." He gives a wiry grin, and Aidinza finds himself sharing it before the conversation once more falls into silence.
Aidinza finishes his meal, picking through a small salad of mostly berries, before placing his cutlery on the right side of his plate. He glances at Brycen, studying the pale man, eyes tracing along the mantle that marked him as the Gwee'aa of his people.
A people not far removed from his own.
"It has been thirty-one years since a volcarona has blessed the ritual of the Sun. Well over fifty since a larvesta has joined our own." His words took even himself off guard, but the way that Brycen calmly placed his cutlery down on the left side of his plate made him suspect the Gym Leader had been expecting them. "It's a mark of shame for our people. One most tribes… cannot face anymore."
"So your people do not face it." Brycen finishes for him. Aidinza's eyes flash, his back straightening.
"The Naisho'h remember their roots. Silence does not break us." Nor would it, and that was one of the problems. As blood drifted out of the Naisho'h and left behind only the young and the elderly. "But for many Ya'an-ah…."
He can not bring himself to finish the sentence, just letting it hang in the air.
"My starter… During my ritual of the Sun, he appeared on the Relic Castle's steps, falling down them, even. Maybe it's a sign." He sighs, running a hand through thick red hair. "Maybe it is just a coincidence. But either way, I have to do something."
"But you don't know what." Brycen finishes for him, and Aidinza falls silent. "And you see what the Tly'an-yeh have built… and wonder how it could be your people." Brycen's eyes were distant, lost in the past as if he was seeing an entirely different person in Aidinza's seat. "What the Tly'an-yeh have built… it was not done in a lifetime Al-..." he catches himself, seemingly realising who he was talking to. "It was not done in a lifetime, Aidinza." He repeats.
Aidinza's head hangs. "If I just find something to prove myself to the Sun or my people. Maybe it could be done in a lifetime." Brycen breathed in harshly, but Aidinza did not look up to meet his eyes.
"Oh old friend, oh new blood… I wish I had the words to say to you." Brycen coughed, a harsh wracking sound, before the sound of wood scraping against flooring filled the house, and he stood up. "Change… change like that." He runs his own hand through his tightly tied cyan hair, frustration in his eyes. Before he deflated. "Challenge Drayden, and open your eyes to look. Maybe in that, you could see what you need to see."
"I'm sor-" Aidinza tries to apologise; he had not wanted to burden his cousin like this. But a sharp look cuts him off.
"There is nothing you need to say sorry for Aidinza. The only shame here is that I still don't know what to say after all this time." Brycen gathers his utensils, placing them on the right side of his plate. "Yee ooʼan gwahaadlii, your presence has honoured me, and I wish I could give you more. But I must go."
Aidinza stands and gives Brycen a respectful nod. Then he takes the jacket off his shoulders. "Gwi'geh told me to leave this with you, Honoured Leader." He placed the jacket on the chair back, exposing the clothes that Nah'aa had gifted to him, and then insisted he cover up with the jacket.
He turns to leave, knowing that he had been dismissed, but before he could pass through the doorway, he hears Brycen call. "Aidinza, Vizhee Valak, cousin of my land. Come back after you fight Drayden the second time." Maybe he'll have something more to give Aidinza then, sits unsaid in the air. Aidinza nods and leaves.
-
Aidinza had entered Icirrus city with only two sets of clothes and his poncho. The morning he woke up to leave Icirrus, he had four sets of clothes, including a thick snow jacket, his own rather than borrowed, and thick cotton pyjamas.
He had tried to tell Da'zhoh that she did not need to give him so much; her home, food, and company had been more than enough for the Ya'an-ah boy. But every time she would bring up that she had to look after 'their little snow gooses' friend or tell Aidinza that if he really did not want them, he could return them when he returned.
She was not particularly subtle.
But if AIdinza was being honest, it made a difference having the ability to wake up and put on actual dry clothes. Or going to sleep snug and warm in his pyjamas. Really, few things on his journey so far had physically matched how pleasant it was to lay down in his thick tent at the end of a long day's walk and be warm on this freezing route.
The young nomad let a sleepy smile across his face as he rolled onto his back and stretched out his legs. His skin brushed pleasantly against the soft fabric as the sound of frozen midnight touched his ears.
Even the slightly chill wind as one of Aidinza's pokémon rumpled the tent's entrance hardly stirred the boy. Not enough to get through the pleasant crispness.
The heavy weight that cracked his ribs, however, was more than enough to rip him out of the pleasant warmth-lulled doze he was experiencing. Aidinza felt the stew he made for himself earlier that night rush to his mouth as he was all but folded in half.
Then came the cold. His thick cotton clothes that laughed at route eight's chill were utterly worthless in the face of the sheer cold of the crushing weight pinning him down.
Aidinza was not really a tempestuous person. He preferred to remain outwardly calm in most things, the product of being raised by strict elders and a sharp sister. He was slow to anger and quick to let go of it, usually only getting mildly annoyed.
Aidinza was enjoying his sleep.
Aidinza was pissed.
The noise he lets out is more like an enraged hippodon than an understandable word as his eyes snapped open, and he desperately tried to roll the weight off him - a fucking ice cube of all things - managing to push it one way as he moved the other, curling around his bruised rib with a groan. He was going to make whoever just did that to him pay.
The culprit wasted no time in making it exactly clear who they were. Astazhei's victorious, piercing cry split the silent winter midnight, quelling the few chirps of the bugs brave enough to risk the frozen north.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
While only fanning Aidinza's anger since the bird did that right next to his Sun-blasted head. With great pain, Aidinza sat up and turned his ire-filled eyes onto the rufflet, proudly preening in front of the ice cube he had just dropped on Aidinza's chest, which was nearly twice his size.
It was difficult to stay angry in front of Astazhei's sheer prideful bearing, looking to all the world like he had achieved something worthy of incredible praise, and while having the frankly ridiculous thought of just how the flying-type managed to move something twice his size any reasonable distance.
Aidinza managed it as his hand fumbled at his side, and he grabbed his half-full water bottle, unscrewing it with a violent motion. Astazhei's proud, beaming features were soaked as Aidinza's freezing cold drinking water was thrown in his face, his fuzzy white plume drooping as his eyes widened in shock.
"Astazhei, I'm going to ask this once. What the fuck?" He'd say a prayer to cleanse his tongue of foul words later, but for now, nothing else felt like it conveyed exactly what he wanted to say.
The eaglet, for his part, let out a sad crow and, with hunched shoulders, gestured at the ice cube with a talon.
"Yes, the ice cube that you dropped on my chest." He rubs at his bruised ribs, and when he turns back to Astazhei, he feels his anger slink away as the corner of the flying-types white pupiled eyes begin to water. "Look, I know you're proud of them. But they really don't need to be dropped on me. Leave them outside. They're not going anywhere."
Of course, that was the moment that the ice cube decided to wriggle. Aidinza's head slowly turned to it, then back towards the snivelling bird.
Realisation struck him only a moment later, and he took a moment to curse Skyla. The cute gym leader was almost more trouble than she was worth.
The confirmation came a moment later as a short, stubby leg cracked through the ice, waving in the air. "Astazhei, have you been looking for an Ice-type this entire time?"
Astazhei nodded, eyes still downcast. Aidinza groans, feeling terrible for lambasting the bird. He rolls over onto his side and slides a hand under Sandile, picking the lazy reptile up from where he had slept through the entirety of what had just happened.
"Bwaa?" The ground-type drools out sleepily as he is twisted through the air and placed down in front of the ice cube. Aidinza, knowing he's going to have to make it up to Astazhei, and feeling too guilty to look at the chastised bird, focuses on the new, strange pokémon in his tent, though when he put it like that, it lessened the sting of guilt towards Astazhei. The sound of banging filled the tent as they watched another stubby limb tap against the ice encasing the pokémon.
It seemed like it was at least somewhat trapped.
"Sandile, dig it out." He orders and turns to Astazhei, reaching over to lift his first flying-type into his lap, despite the freezing cold water that soaked through his nice PJs. He runs a hand through the bird's soaked feathers, feeling it drip away under his grooming. "I shouldn't have thrown water into your face." He sighs out, feeling uncomfortable, as he spruces up the bird's red-white crowning feather. "But you should not have brought a strange pokémon into my tent and certainly shouldn't have dropped it on me. What if it was hostile and attacked me? Or if it was heavy enough to do serious damage?" More severe than the bruising that Aidinza could feel throbbing beneath his skin every time he moved.
Astazhei cooed softly, apologetically bumping his head against Aidinza's hand, his eyes brightening. Satisfied that he's at least done right by his pokémon, Aidinza turns to face his starter, and the wild pokémon dropped on his chest.
It was going to take him some time to properly let that go.
Sandile was half lying on his side, sleepily scratching at the ice cube without much success, his sharp claws barely making a scratch on the frozen surface.
"Hone Claw," Aidinza ordered; they would be there all night if Sandile kept limply scratching at the ice.
"Bwuu." Sandile groaned, and Aidinza heard a clumsy clack of claw on claw. He glances down at his starter, who looked like he was going to fall asleep halfway through his move.
So he fell back on an old, faithful technique, and a low growl, filled with as much residual frustration as he could manage, rumbled from his chest. If there was anything that would wake Sandile up, it was his territorial instincts.
Aidinza was proven right moments later when the malicious rasp of keratin on keratin sent a shiver up his spine, and a deep chest growl rattled his bones.
"Dig the ice out." He orders again, and this time ice parted like water, cracking away as three stubby limbs were freed from their prison. Then, the pokémon that had been dropped onto his chest, inside his tent while he was sleeping, used Sandile's claws to scratch away at its middle with a pleased groan.
Soon enough, an actually defined form had been chipped away.
The ice-type was a quadruped, the tiny stubby limbs that had struggled to smash their way through the ice engulfing it leading up into a smooth white body. The Pokémon's upper half, despite Sandile's best attempts, was still covered in a layer of ice that was built into two powerful spikes. But this ice was thicker, more compact.
More akin to armour than a trap around its body.
It had calm, yellow eyes framed by purple sclerae, protected by a layer of translucent ice, and its confusion was extremely evident.
It twisted on its nubby legs, glancing around the dark tent as best as possible, exposing a third spike jutting out its back. It turned towards Sandile as his territorial alertness drifted away, and his snout cracked open into a wide yawn. Then towards where Astazhei had hopped off Aidinza's lap to examine the Ice Type he had caught.
There was a moment as Astazhei stared down the ice-type before he lifted a massive claw and slapped the top of the new pokémon's head with the same force that Aidinza had seen crack rocks. Despite Astazhei's strength, the new pokémon did not react, the exact opposite in fact, not even acknowledging the attack as it turned to face the only human in the tent.
The only issue was that Astazhei's claw, in its brief contact, had stuck to the ice shell. With a squawk, the bird finds himself unwillingly along for the ride as the pokémon turns, his wings rustling the tent's air into a burgeoning whirlwind as he desperately attempts to keep balance.
Aidinza grabbed Astazhei's pokéball from where it rested against his bag, returning the bird before he could hurt himself or start a fight in the middle of Aidinza's tent.
As the bird disappeared in a red flash, it left unobstructed the unconcerned yellow eyes of the Ice-type peering up at Aidinza, and the pokéball in his hand, with curiosity. The young nomad waved at it, not knowing what else to do. He then watched slightly incredulously as the Ice type lifted its body to rest on its back spike and waved its stubby front leg right back.
The ice type might have been confused about where it was, but it seemed like it had no concern for its safety.
Aidinza, still lost on what to do, glanced down at Sandile, who had already slumped down to sleep, and longed to join him. It had been a long day, and it was quickly turning into a long night; he was tired.
It seemed that the ice-type was on the same page, and after a heavy thump, Aidinza glanced over to see that it had lain down, facing Sandile with closed eyes.
Rather than questioning things or wondering if it was safe to just let a wild pokémon sleep next to him, Aidinza just laid back and joined the two pokémon.
He was gone in moments.
-
Aidinza was half sure that when he woke up, everything that had happened the night before would turn out to be some sort of weird cold-induced fever dream. Much like his nightmare a few days ago.
The other half was pretty sure that the ice type would have wandered off in the morning, leaving him cold from an open tent flap.
No part of him was sure that when he woke up, not only would the ice-type still be there but that the Ice-Type would have frozen over during the night, leaving it coated with the same thick ice that Sandile had dug it out of.
But, lo and behold, off to the side of his broad leather tent, half a metre from a confused Sandile, was a large Ice Cube that sent phantom pains through Aidinza's ribs.
Or maybe it was just actual pain, he thought with sleepy sardonicism as he rubbed at the massive bruise on his chest.
A yawn cracks his jaw as he sits up and gropes for Astazhei's ball, only remembering that he had already returned the bird when he appeared in a flash of red light and a greeting cry. Deciding that it could hardly hurt if Astazhei was flapping around, Aidinza lets the ball drop back down to his side and turns to face the ice cube.
It was not exactly the same as last night; the ice was much thinner in several places. But it still encased the pokémon completely, and just like last night, the sound of thumping filled the air as its stubby limbs cracked into the ice from the inside.
Aidinza shared a glance with Sandile and was unsure if the reptile was confused or hungry. Deciding that leaving that alone would probably end poorly, Aidinza took control. "Hone Claw. Dig the ice-type out."
The familiar rasp of claw on claw fills the air, echoed by the sound of someone else also using Hone Claw. Aidinza watched as Astazhei landed heavily in front of the ice cube and started cutting away. Before shrugging, the job was getting done, he supposed.
Soon enough, the Ice-Type had been freed from its encasement, and happy yellow eyes trailed over everyone in the tent as it leaned back on its back spike and waved. Aidinza and Sandile waved back.
Unsure of what to really say to a strange pokémon in his tent, Aidinza fell onto an old faithful when there was someone strange in your home. "Do you want to join us for breakfast?" Be a decent host.
There was the sound of cracking ice and followed by a high-pitched sound that reminded him of walking underneath swaying electrical lines in Driftveil, almost like a taut wire being plucked that warbled strangely and crackled like the static in Chargestone Cave. It was the sort of sound that Aidinza never thought he would hear come from a pokémon, much less an ice type.
But there was no mistaking the hungry look in its eyes, so Aidinza shrugged and stepped outside; Icirrus had left him flush with more supplies than he knew what to do with.
One more mouth for the morning would hardly be an issue.
-
Aidinza was not exactly sure what he expected to happen after he fed the Ice-type and packed up his camp.
He had not expected the spikey pokémon to follow him down the road. But he was not going to complain about the company; if they were heading the same direction, they were heading the same direction. Besides, Astazhei had stayed in his ball today, and Shandíín had flown off somewhere above the surrounding forests. He would have been left all alone without the ice-type plodding along behind him.
That's why, when it had stopped plodding alongside him, it came with a sense of resigned sadness, like meeting a new person and never learning how to keep in contact. He sighs into the frigid air, his breath forming a cloud in front of him.
Maybe instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, he should have caught the ice-type, even if a fight would have ruined his tent.
He glances over his shoulder, hoping to catch one final glimpse of his temporary friend before he pauses. In the middle of the road, straining and struggling, surrounded by snow, was the Ice-Type.
Aidinza felt a flush of embarrassment warm his face. He was getting dramatic. A hand fell to Sandile's pokéball as he approached the struggling Ice-Type, kneeling down on the snowy road next to it.
It seemed the Pokémon's ice issue was not just limited to its sleep time. Aidinza brushes some of the snow out of the way, hissing as the freezing cold burns at his fingers. That was far colder than any other snow that Aidinza had touched.
"What's going on with you, little buddy?" He murmurs to himself, eyeing the ice he exposed, sticking the Ice-Type to the ground. The pokémon pauses its struggling as it hears Aidinza's voice, looking up at him with happy yellow eyes. A flash of red heralds Sandile's appearance, followed by a whine as the cold snow irritated the reptile's sensitive scales. "Sorry, Sandile, but we need to dig this Pokémon out again. Hone Claw."
Sandile shuddered before the rasp of his claws filled the air again before making quick work of the ice freezing the Ice-Type to the road.
The creature let out a chirp that seemed to bounce and echo at several different pitches, shaking snowflakes off its body as it looked up at Aidinza eagerly. But already Aidinza could see the snow that was touching it was starting to build up into frigid ice. Whatever this pokémon was, it seemed to attract the cold and wet like an Oasis attracted scraggy.
Luckily, Aidinza had just the thing for that. In his hand, a pokéball expanded, and he proffered it toward the pokémon. "Not sure if you know what this is, but this is a Pokéball. If you want to come with me, it'll stop you from getting frozen to the road."
The Ice-Type examined it with open curiosity, letting out a low keening warble mixed with a sound like hundreds of marbles clacking together. Sandile, for his part, gave a rumbling chirp as he circled Aidinza's legs, trying to get away from the snow. Seeing that it did not move away, Aidinza tapped the pokémon on its biggest spike, and it disappeared in a flash of red.
The ball in his hand only shook once before the familiar ding of a capture filled the air. "Bergmite, Female Captured!" Well, that answered those questions, he supposed.
He straightens up from his squat, glancing down the road and then at the pokéball in his hand. An ice type that struggled to live in this frozen forest seemed… strange to him. He'd have to make sure that he talked to the Honoured Healer Joy when he arrived at Opulucid just to ensure there were no issues with his new pokémon.
Though that probably meant he should get a move on, there were still several days between him and the next city, and waiting around was not going to change that.
He let out a piercing whistle in the frigid air and a few moments later there was an answering whistle from Shandíín in the distance. If he left the fire-type behind because he picked up his pace, he would be paying for it for days.
He turned to the road, and as he returned Sandile, he stepped off once more.
-
Bergmite slid into the team with casual ease, and no matter what was happening, she just seemed happy to be there. Whether that was dealing with Astazhei's attempts at roughhousing - and attempts all most of them were, attacks against the Ice-Type were more likely to freeze you to the pokémon than hurt it - or hanging around a napping Naazin. She even enjoyed playing along with Shandíín's japperies.
For Aidinza's part, he came to appreciate the odd quirk that meant whatever cold and moisture was in the area coalesced around her. Ironically, it meant that having the Ice-Type out inside his tent would make the tent dryer and warmer.
All at the low cost of having Astazhei or Sandile carve the poor girl out of the shell that grew to encase her whenever she spent… any amount of time doing anything. Whatever was causing the ice shell around her was highly active, working at all times at full tilt.
At least, that's what it seemed like to Aidinza. But that was fine; both Astazhei and Sandile were happy enough to help out the new capture. More than happy even, Aidinza might not be able to understand Pokémon beyond guesses at their intent, but he was pretty sure that Astazhei had challenged Sandile to see who could free the bergmite fastest.
It made for some decent training, as the two of them pushed Hone Claw as far as they could to get whatever edge they could manage.
Speaking of training, Bergmite proved that she was no slouch in a fight. Part of that was how bulky she was. The ice shell that remained after her being carved out was ridiculously tough, able to take full force blows from any one of Aidinza's team without much issue. A lot of that was that even when she did take damage from a move, her body's natural cryo-magnetism or whatever you would call it would freeze over any injuries in moments.
Aidinza, curious as to the limit, coaxed Bergmite into a series of battles against his older pokémon. He learned that the limit of the ability was less a limit and more a suggestion. Bergmite would never stop her incredibly fast healing, constantly building up more Ice no matter how much damage she had already taken. But it did tire her out, grinding away at her Stamina until the Ice-Type would decide she was tired enough and just go to sleep for a while. Then the rate of ice growth would only double rather than slow down.
It made her an insanely defensive fighter that could just keep going and going until she absolutely had to stop, something that could take several pokémon to force her.
But on other fronts, she was less impressive. Her speed, most of all, was an issue; Bergmite was Aidinza's slowest pokémon by a significant margin. Her sheer weight - nearly a hundred kilograms if Aidinza was a decent judge - combined with her stubby legs meant that she was just not meant to move at any significant speed, and attempting to reach a pokémon playing keep away would exhaust her faster than sitting there tanking one attack after another.
She also had a limited move pool. Beyond the standard tackle, she could manage this strange bouncing move that spun her around and used the force of the spin to smash into an opponent, and a freezing cold icy breath tinged with powdery snow.
It was an issue that Aidinza was struggling to work around. He had been researching as many different things as he could whenever he stopped off at a pokécentre, collecting more than a few pamphlets and other reading material on just about any topic presented to him. But he had yet to do any significant research into Ice-Types, maybe if he had stayed at the pokécentre in Iriccus he would have, but right now, he was, plainly speaking, blind when it came to moves for Bergmite.
But that was alright, the two of them could still work on the foundational fundamentals of combat. Another thing that Bergmite was also not as up to speed on as the rest of his pokémon. Which he supposed made sense; there was little reason to properly fight when you could take a pokémon like Astazhei's crush claw with barely a flinch and would be entirely healed of any damage in minutes at most.
Aidinza would not be surprised to learn that most of Bergmite's wild battles consisted of the Ice-Type being attacked and both sides getting bored before any significant damage had happened.
So it meant that Aidinza was trying to get Bergmite used to actual combat, which meant that as Aidinza travelled through route eight - and across a massive bridge the size of Driftveil's bridge, though this one did not move - he let Bergmite take the lead on most battles, switching her out for a rotating schedule of his other pokémon when she grew too tired to continue.
Something that gave Aidinza plenty of time to try and come up with a name for his newest friend. Not that his latest friend made it easy on him. Despite Bergmite being willing to go with the flow on nearly anything, it seemed that she wanted to be very picky regarding her identity.
It led to entire days of walking where Aidinza would just be tossing ideas Bergmite's way as she plodded along beside him, distracted as he wracked his brain for something that both fit and Bergmite would like.
It led to more than a few situations where Aidinza had tripped over some obstacle he had not seen or tripped into a trainer, who he usually had to battle in recompense.
"How about Nihanlo?'' There's a moment of considering silence, before Bergmite lets out a quivering warble that Aidinza was pretty sure was agreement. "Nihanlo then, it fits. Means Gift of hai-" He grunts as something whips around his leg, pulling it to the side violently, sending him crashing to the ground. Before whatever was grabbing him could drag him away, he flails towards Bergmite, catching his hands on her painfully cold shell, anchoring himself. Naazin appeared in a flash of red by his feet, and the Water-Type took only a moment to realise something was wrong, cutting whatever was grabbing Aidinza the very next moment.
Harshly panting, Aidinza rips his hand from Bergmite's frozen skin, wincing as it leaves behind a layer of skin. It was better than being dragged off, but it was far from pleasant. He stands back up and, after a moment of deliberation, goes to investigate. If there was some grass-type or whatever attacking humans on the road, then he should probably deal with it.
But he found no sign of it being a pokémon. The opposite, in fact, and Aidinza's mouth curled into a frown as he took in the remnants of a rope trap that would have dragged an unsuspecting victim across a second net trap.
Disgust bubbled up inside the Ya'an-ah nomad; he knew exactly the kind of person to do something like this.
Poachers.