We fought two more pokemon throughout the day, a zangoose and an angry furret, but thankfully mimikyu was up to the task. The normal versus ghost matchup was always an interesting one, since both sides were immune to the others' primary moves now that Hobbes had his disguise broken, and we were able to take advantage of our opponents' inexperience to win easy victories. It would have been much closer had either of the pokemon been led by trainers, but as wild pokemon, they couldn't seem to comprehend why their normal attacks were so ineffective against Hobbes, who exploited mimic to great effect.

Luckily, most of the other pokemon were fine ignoring our presence, and we made sure to walk quietly to keep that presence to a minimum. We saw a large arbok lounging in the branches of a tree, but it went back to its nap after a lazy glance toward us. We even saw some tracks in the road that I believed belonged to a nidoqueen. Thankfully, we saw no further evidence of that pokemon, and the tracks were old enough that it was hopefully long gone. Pokemon like nidoqueen were extremely rare and powerful, rulers of whatever route they frequented and more akin to forces of nature than mere opponents in a pokemon battle. It would take a ranger or perhaps even an ace trainer to have any hope of fighting one off; Hobbes wouldn't have had a chance. I was doubly happy that we'd decided against using a repel that might have drawn the dangerous pokemon's ire.

Eventually, though, the sun started to set and we set up a camp for the evening. Hobbes wasted no time fixing up his disguise while I prepared dinner for the both of us -- a sandwich for me and a specialized blend of pokechow for Hobbes -- and was much happier when his covering was back to its pristine state. I quietly cuddled with him for a bit, his shadowy claws cold to the touch, before settling in for bed. Normally, we'd spend the evening training moves or strategies, but this wasn't the time or place for something like that. Even in a secluded campsite, we needed to be ready for a wild pokemon battle, and we couldn't afford for Hobbes to be tired out from training.

It took a bit longer to get everything set up for the night than I'd thought it would, but that would hopefully change as I got more familiar with my supplies and how I had everything organized. I was sleeping in a hammock strung up between two trees with only a sleeping bag to keep warm; a tent would have been more comfortable, but I wanted us to be ready to react if a wandering pokemon stumbled upon our campsite. Hobbes perched on my stomach on top of the sleeping bag, keeping a careful lookout for any dangerous pokemon.

"Ready for lights out?" I asked.

"Mi Mii."

I flicked off my headlamp and stowed it in the hammock's pocket, then settled in to find a comfortable position. As a ghost pokemon, Hobbes didn't technically need sleep like most others, but he enjoyed resting in a trance-like state or further fixing up his disguise while I was sleeping. Tonight, though, he would be keeping watch.

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the forest around me: branches rustled in a gentle breeze, the trunk my hammock was tied to groaned as I shifted my weight, and somewhere in the distance nincada buzzed. Some might find it peaceful -- yet for me, it took a full thirty minutes of lying still for my nerves to settle. The only illumination was what little moonlight managed to make its way from the waning crescent through the canopy, and I was reminded of another experience in the dark with wild pokemon. And as I slowly drifted off to sleep, I remembered...

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Three Years Earlier...

I ran through the maze-like hallway, pushing through the lethargy that sapped my strength and begged me to rest, to sit down and close my eyes for just a few seconds. I doggedly pushed aside that desire, knowing that humoring it would likely be the last thing I'd ever do.

I'd been so confident. So sure of myself, that I knew better than the advice told to this body's previous owner. After all, I had so much more experience than them, knowledge gained directly from the source rather than simple anecdotal wisdom from their own lives. I knew how pokemon worked -- in the game, in the anime, everywhere.

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I was so, so wrong.

I took another turn to a new hallway, hoping to find stairs leading back down, but was instead greeted with stairs traveling upwards -- further from the exit that would be my salvation from this labyrinth. What kind of maniac designed this place? Who put the stairs going up and down in different locations?! I turned to go back the way I had come, but a duskull popped out of the wall behind me, shadowy arms flapping and eye-sockets glowing in preparation for a move. I didn't wait around to find out what move it might be, instead turning and sprinting up the stairs.

"Dusssskkk, dussskk," I heard behind me as a fled, the noise sounding like mocking laughter to my ears. My feet stomped on the wood as I climbed, the creaking of the stairs drowning out the raspy pokemon calls.

Hopefully, there'd be an exit at the top of the tower. I had no idea how that might work, but at this point it was my only hope, and I clung to it with everything I had.

I had thought it would be so easy. I had thought it would be like the anime or the games -- where catching the first pokemon was as simple as saying the right words to the right person or pokemon, and then you'd be fast friends for life. But somehow, in my hazy recollections, I had forgotten exactly how hard Ash had had it in that first episode. And even worse, I had failed to realize something much more important: this wasn't a game.

I rounded the corner of a hallway on this new floor when my sprint was interrupted by a ghost pokemon rising from the floor, and my blood ran cold. I was going too fast to stop, so I tried to dodge around it instead. But the pokemon was much faster, and my path was interrupted by a long, gaseous tongue.

My knees almost collapsed beneath me as the haunter licked my leg, but I managed to stay upright through sheer force of will. But now I was even more exhausted than before, and each step felt like a marathon. But I couldn't stop. Even the smallest pause would give the haunter the time it needed to catch up again, and lick me one more time.

And I didn't know if I had one more in me.

As I ran, I saw numerous other ghost pokemon floating through the walls and floors of the tower: ghastly, drifblim, litwicks, and a shy mimikyu that hid as soon as we'd made eye contact. I'd even seen a number of fusions that I didn't yet have the experience to identify from a quick glance, but none of that mattered; I'd already wasted my single pokeball in an attempt to capture the haunter that was now pursuing me, and I couldn't afford to get close to any of the other ghosts in case they turned out to also be malicious.

So instead I ran. What felt like hours, but surely was no more than a few minutes, I dashed around the mazelike tower. Up and down stairways, constantly on the lookout for something I recognized from my less frantic initial entrance to the tower, and always only a few steps ahead of the pursuing haunter. But it couldn't last forever, and eventually, the inevitable happened.

I tripped.

I'm not sure what I tripped over. The tower was old, so it could have been a loose or uneven floorboard. Or possibly it was a mischievous ghost pokemon grabbing my ankle through the floor. Or -- and this is probably the most likely -- it was simply my lick-induced exhaustion finally catching up to me, and I tripped on nothing.

Either way, it didn't matter what tripped me, because the end result was the same: I was on the floor without the strength to pull myself back up, while the haunter slowly floated down the hallway toward me, its prey.

I stared at the pokemon in resignation. Such a stupid, stupid decision -- I'd been given such an amazing opportunity, an opportunity so many others would kill for, and I'd managed to get myself killed and squander it in just a few days. Without even catching a pokemon. I closed my eyes in preparation for what was to come -- which is why I missed what happened next.

All I heard was what sounded like the rushing of wind and a squeaky cry of "miiiiiiiiiii!!" And by the time my eyes were open again, the haunter was gone, and only a floppy, slightly-rumpled cloth with a drawn-on smile remained.

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It took hours for me to find my way back out of the tower, struggling down the hallways with the half-paralysis leftover from the haunter's attacks. But the mimikyu stayed by my side every step of the way, squeaking cutely at any ghost pokemon that approached and attacking any that tried anything further.

That night I gained three things: the longest and strictest grounding I had ever received in two lifetimes. A new appreciation for the dangers of this world.

And my first pokemon.

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Present...

I never completely got over the scarring from that first experience with pokemon, always a little bit more scared of the dark than I had ever previously been -- but honestly, I saw that as a good thing. It was a reminder of the very real consequences that could come from my choices.

But even through my fear and apprehension from starting my journey, I eventually managed to fall asleep, the comforting weight of my pokemon on my chest reassuring me that -- despite all the dangers -- I would be just fine.