“So, let me get this straight.” Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to parse through everything that had happened. “You’re telling me that every farm here was hit on the same day? In the middle of the day? And Sammy managed to fend off a pack with a Nidoran that he had just met. That very same day?”

“That’s the rub, I reckon.”

By this point both men were seated at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee each. Dean stared down at the black brew in his hands and frowned into its depths. He could make out the wobbly reflection hovering there and forced himself to relax his jaw.

“This is concerning. Normally, Pokemon aren’t capable of tactics like that. The only exception is if they were trained.” Dean took a quaff of his drink before continuing. “Rattata were used for disrupting supply lines during The War. Their small bodies could fit through tiny gaps which allowed them to remain largely undetected until the damage was done. Destroying food stores, biting through tethers and power cables…” As Dean trailed off, a faraway look came into his gaze.

“What does that have to do with our situation now, Dean?”

Shaking the memories loose, Dean refocused on the man before him. “It means, Mr. Oak, that your Rattata problem just got a whole lot more complex. Seems to me that a couple of war releases moved into the area, evolved, and are now organizing hit and runs on your farms.”

Dean pulled out his notebook and pen and began to sketch a rough outline of the Oak residence. “Let’s say this is your home. Seeing that it’s harvest season most of your ‘forces’, so to speak, are out here in the fields.” He paused to draw some wavy lines to represent his point. “If your farm’s layout is any indication of the others, they’re set a ways out from your silos. While you all are ‘distracted’ taking in your harvest, the Rattata can assault your backline…just like during The War.”

Dean watched the elder Oak nod along as Dean finished his description.

“There’s some good news, however. If we can convince the Rattata that you are not ‘the enemy’, then they’ll likely leave your farms be. There’s enough resources out there in the woods to keep ‘em well fed. Plenty of wild berry bushes, seeds, and whatnot.”

“Hold on a moment.” Roger gave Dean a quizzical look. “Are you suggesting we negotiate with them? They attacked my farmhand and my grandson!”

Dean held up a hand. “From what you were telling me the Rattata were already in the middle of a territory dispute with your grandson’s Nidoran when Paul and Sammy showed up and started beating them back. Perhaps from their perspective…you all attacked them first.”

“What does it matter what they think? They’re vermin! They’ll eat our entire stores!”

“Mr. Oak. I understand that in most cases, Rattata are seen as nothing but a nuisance, but the fact of the matter is that these are different. They’re used to humans and understand the difference between friend and foe. Once you establish that you are allies they’ll probably be more of a boon.”

“How the hell is having an entire pack of Rattata nearby a boon!?”

“Rattata are omnivorous. They’ll eat just about anything. Sure they prefer seeds and grains, but given the opportunity they’d be just as happy chowing down on a juicy Caterpie or Weedle. Refocus their enmity on the other pests in the area and you’ll probably see an overall improvement in farming conditions.”

The heat in Roger Oak’s voice was beginning to dwindle. “What about population control, then?”

Dean sighed even as he began to feel some hope. “Where there’s Rattata, there are undoubtedly HootHoot, Noctowl, and Pidgeotto. They’ll take care of controlling the population for you.”

Roger Oak grumbled. “Not sure if I’m entirely convinced, but you sure seem to be.”

Dean steepled his fingers and gave a pensive nod. “May come as a bit of a surprise to you, but when possible I try to go with the less violent solution. Could I go crashing about the woods and take out the Raticate? Sure. But I can almost guarantee that I won’t be able to take out the whole nest without taking drastic measures. Some of them would run, and your problem would just come back again in a year once the survivors have had enough time to regroup and repopulate.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Humph. And I suppose the only way to be sure that you got the whole nest would involve excessive collateral damage.”

“Precisely.”

Roger pushed away from the table and leaned a hand over towards the Trainer. “Alright. I’ll take care of convincing the townsfolk. You can get started on your…negotiations.”

Dean smiled and eagerly stood up to meet the proffered handshake with a chuckle. “I’ll do that. Rare to have someone actually take my advice for once.”

“What usually happens?”

Dean’s smile grew bitter. “A lot of blood and collateral damage.”

----------------------------------------

Sammy darted down the hallway and out the back door as he heard the sounds of chairs being scraped across the kitchen floor. His ears burned with the information that he had just listened in on.

Less violent solution?

Sammy could hardly believe it. All the Trainers he had seen in Viridian City seemed to relish in throwing their weight around and threatening anyone who dared to question them. Same thing went for the ones he had heard on the radio when Paul listened to the league tournaments. “Gonna kick your face in” this, “tear your team apart” that.

No, it’s got to be a trick.

Sammy shook his head. This Dean guy may have been able to use his guile to trick Grandpa into believing him, but Sammy wouldn’t be fooled. He’d have to watch this Dean person more closely and figure out what his real goals were.

Can’t trust him.

Resting his head on his arm, Sammy leaned against the tractor. Shoot. The Tractor! He should have been finished with changing the oil by now! Sammy looked around for the can they used to store the old oil but was surprised to see the purple Pokemon nosing it under the engine already.

“Huh. Thanks.”

The Pokemon chittered in response while Sammy knelt down and unscrewed the drain plug. The blackish brown fluid splattered into the can. Sammy sat back on his heels as he regarded the purple rabbit-eared creature. It had only been a few days, but it shadowed him in such a way that Sammy wondered just how smart it actually was. From retrieving his socks, alerting him when the woodpile was threatening to tip over yesterday, and now preparing the drain can.

“Were you one of those ‘trained Pokemon’ too, boy?”

The Nidoran just glared up with one brown eye, but Sammy noted that its nose twitched in such a way that made it wink into almost a smirk.

“How long are you gonna stick around for, anyhow?”

There was a long pause, the only sound was the waterfall of oil crashing into the can. Then the Nidoran sighed and pressed itself against Sammy’s leg. Its eyes closed and the spines on its back lay flat as it splayed its legs out and plopped itself into the dirt. Sammy forced himself not to burst out laughing, only allowing a smile.

“Guess that is supposed to mean you’re staying with me then.”

The Nidoran chuffed, but its eyes remained closed.

“If you’re staying, maybe I should give you a name.”

One eye crept open a fraction.

“How about…Ned?”

The spines on its back flicked upright.

“That’s a no then. Then how about Spike?”

The crest of spines rattled.

“Kidding…kidding…how about…Thorn?”

The Nidoran flopped onto its side and fully opened its eyes, giving them a dramatic roll.

“Fine, fine, I’ll do something less obvious then.”

Another chuff as the Nidoran stretched out to its full length with a squeak before it began to scrub at its cheeks with one paw. Its soft underbelly was fully exposed with this maneuver and Sammy noticed one of its scars was nearly a perfect semicircle.

A crescent.

“Your name is Crescent.”

The Nidoran ceased its preening, its tongue still stuck to the fur on its foreleg. Sammy tensed for the reaction, but none came.

I guess he likes it.

If the satisfied rumbles and resumed grooming were any indication, Crescent found its new name acceptable.