Hayley's watch alarm woke her early the next morning. She sat up, yawned, and started to stretch, but the movement was cut short as she felt an angry pull and sting across the skin on the back of her neck. She groaned—sunburn. She'd been sure to slather on plenty of sunscreen before leaving yesterday, but she must have sweated it off. Her pale skin had always burned far too easily.

After a bit of probing, she found that patches of skin across her nose and cheeks had also grown pink and stiff, but that seemed to be the extent of it. She sighed as she reached into her bag for her sunscreen and squeezed a dollop into her hands, applying it liberally and giving special care to the back of her neck. She didn't want to get sunburn on top of sunburn.

Once she was dressed and fully protected from the sun, she unzipped her tent flap and stepped outside. The air was still and cool, and the sun was climbing slowly in the sky, the last bits of pink and orange from the sunrise gradually fading away. She settled onto the ground and unwrapped a granola bar, chewing it silently as she took in the scene. She'd always loved mornings in the wilderness. They were so peaceful.

Well, it couldn't last. After finishing her breakfast and stowing the empty wrapper in the trash compartment of her bag, Hayley plucked Barrett's ball from her belt and lobbed it gently to the ground, bracing herself for the Magby's awful temper. Sure enough, his eyes were narrow and sullen as he materialized, his shoulders stiff with agitation.

"Hey," she said. He snorted. Choosing to ignore his mood, Hayley pulled a small round bowl out of her backpack, along with a bag of dried brown pellets. When she poured out some pellets and offered the bowl to Barrett, though, he just sniffed it and shuffled back a few steps.

"It's food. It's good for you," she said. He put his good hand on his hip and turned away. She started to move closer, but he gave a low growl that froze her in place. She bit her lip. "Look, I know you're upset I had to put you back in your ball last night, but you have to understand. I couldn't leave you out; it wasn't safe." No answer. "You could've gotten hurt, or wandered off, or started a fire…" He was silent as she spoke, but his back and neck twitched with each word she spoke. She sighed. "I'm sorry—"

As the words left her mouth, he sprang to life, pivoting to face her with his mouth twisted into a snarl. The growl he was giving grew deeper, and embers leapt from his mouth and nostrils. Hayley jumped backwards, dropping the bowl on the ground and scrambling to her feet. He watched her go with his beady eyes, the claws on his right hand flexing as he stared her down. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay. Okay. I get it. I'm sor—I'll leave you alone."

She felt his eyes still on her as she walked back to the tents. Dammit; he really was angry at her. It wasn't her fault—it was his fault for being so volatile and wild that she couldn't trust him not to get into trouble when she wasn't looking. But of course, he didn't see it that way.

He'd come around, she told herself. Like Connie said, they just weren't used to each other yet. Once they'd spent some more time together… He'd get better, wouldn't he? He had to.

Anxious for a distraction, Hayley glanced over at Miriam's tent, still zipped up and silent. Miriam was probably still asleep. She wondered briefly if she should find her Pokéball and let her Pokémon out to eat as well, but she didn't know where she'd stashed it—she hadn't been wearing a trainer's belt—and she still didn't know what kind of Pokémon it was. Since she was just a beginning trainer, it probably wasn't an Onix or anything, but…

She settled for waking Miriam up instead. Hayley ambled over to the tent, unzipped it partway, and poked her head inside. Somehow, even though they'd only been here for one night, the floor of the tent was already littered with discarded clothes, cables, and other clutter. Miriam was sprawled on top of her sleeping bag in her tee-shirt and a pair of boxer-style shorts, snoring softly. Bulky headphones rested over her ears; Hayley could hear a few faint strains of music drifting from them.

"Miriam," Hayley tried calling. Her partner didn't even flinch. "Miriam!" No use. She was dead to the world, and probably wouldn't be able to hear her over those headphones anyway. Hayley sighed and unzipped the tent the rest of the way, crawling inside. Balancing precariously around the detritus on the floor, she leaned over and grabbed Miriam's headphones from her ears, then prodded her in the shoulder. "Miriam! Wake up. We need to get going." Still no response. She poked her again, harder, and then a third time. "Miriam!"

Finally, Miriam cracked open her eyes. She squinted blearily around the tent, and when her eyes finally came to rest on Hayley, she let out a loud groan. "What the hell?" she muttered, her voice still heavy with sleep.

"It's morning. We need to get moving." At that, Miriam let out another, louder groan, and rolled over—but instead of getting up, she buried her head into her pillow, yelling a muffled stream of swears.

Okay. Maybe it was best to leave her alone, too. Hayley backed out of the tent and into the early morning sunshine again, settling cross-legged onto the ground.

It took almost an hour for Miriam to sloooowly get ready—she was definitely trying to put off leaving—and for Hayley to pack up the rest of the camp. By then, the sun was climbing higher into the sky, and beads of sweat were already forming on the back of Hayley's sunburned neck. Petalburg Woods loomed tantalizingly in the distance, its promise of shade beckoning her closer. She went back to check on Barrett, only to find that the food she'd left him still hadn't been touched. He sat stubbornly beside the dish, glaring at her with defiant eyes. She chewed her lip. He had to eat—didn't he? It'd been at least four days, and even though he'd been inside his Pokéball for most of it, he still should've worked up an appetite. "Barrett, are you sure you don't want to eat?" she tried. "It'll be a long walk today, and you need your energy." Barrett curled the corner of his lip, a plume of smoke drifting up from his nostrils. He didn't budge. After a minute of waiting, Hayley sighed and picked up his bowl, dumping the pellets back into their bag. Fine. He was fighting her now, but he'd probably be ready to eat after a few more hours of running around. He couldn't hold out forever.

"Well, let's get going." She hefted her bag back onto her shoulders, wincing as it pinched the burned skin on her neck, and took the lead. Barrett glowered, but eventually stood up, shuffling off to her side without so much as a glance in her direction. Miriam plodded along several paces behind her, hunched over and grumbling like she was being marched to her death. They cut a cheery picture along the horizon, two despondent humans and one manic, smoke-spewing Magby. Hayley tried to lift her mood by thinking positive thoughts—strategies for her first gym battle, the next Pokémon she could catch for her team, what Connie would be doing right now—but they were all depressed by a thick, glum haze. So much for getting off to a good start.

After a while, she took a page from Miriam's book and distracted herself with her Pokédex. She pulled up the entry on Magby once again, swiping over to a list of League-recognized moves they could learn as they grew. A blurb above it described the species' capabilities.

"A Magby's primary form of offense is the embers it breathes from its mouth. As a Magby grows stronger, its core temperature burns hotter, allowing these embers to combust into small flames. The range of a Magby's firebreathing will be limited until evolution, but their flames can grow hot enough to melt steel with prolonged application. Magby can also breathe smoke as a byproduct of its internal combustion, which can be manifested as clouds of black soot or as a dense caustic fog that causes respiratory distress and irritation of the mucous membranes. As a Magby nears evolution, it also gains the ability to raise the apparent temperature around its body, allowing it to amplify the power of its fire techniques and confuse its opponent with heat mirages.

She knew he was registered as knowing the ember, cross chop, and smog techniques, and the list said that at his level, he also ought to be able to use smokescreen. She'd seen him use the first two, but but he'd never breathed any smog or smoke against his Pokémon opponents—only against her. Maybe she ought to start training him for real, instead of just letting him torment the wildlife. He wouldn't reach his full potential if he couldn't use all the attacks at his disposal, and he wasn't going to teach himself any new tricks as long as the old tricks kept working. Would he listen to her? Probably not. But she could at least try.

"Barrett!" She called him over from where he was menacing a Wurmple. He ignored her at first, but she caught his attention with a threatening shake of his ball, and then he shuffled over warily. She crouched down to his height, overlooking the sideways glance and snort he gave her as she did so.

"Barrett," she said again, "if we're going to work together, I need to know what you can do in a fight." He cocked his brow and puffed a small plume of flames from his mouth, as if giving her a demonstration. "Well, yeah, I know you can breathe fire. And you pulled off a great cross chop on Howie's Aron. But what about breathing smoke or smog? It might be useful against Roxanne's Pokémon." He huffed, crossing his good arm across his chest, and made no move to obey her. An awkward silence passed between them.

"Barrett. I'm your trainer. You need to listen to me." No reaction. Now she was really getting frustrated. She put her hands on her knees and pushed herself up, brushing off her pants as she stood. "Okay. I was just wondering, since it says here in your Pokédex entry that you can do it." Her voice came out a little nastier than she intended, but she kept going. "And I thought since you were supposed to be strong, it should be no problem for you. But I guess you can't, which is fine. Maybe you need a little more practice." She caught his eye as she finished talking, and saw his shoulders stiffen. She shrugged and glanced away. "It's okay. I just thought you were better—"

Before she could finish, Barrett inhaled sharply, his stomach ballooning out to twice its normal size. He tilted his head back, and Hayley thought she could hear a soft hissing coming from somewhere. Then, in one quick motion, he threw his head forward and released, belching out a thick cloud of grey-white smoke. The breeze carried it up to her eyes, making them sting and tear up, and when she made the mistake of breathing in, she gagged—it smelled like a cross between a burning match and rotten eggs. She coughed as the smog stung the back of her throat, and she stumbled back, waving a hand in front of her face. But it stayed in her lungs, burning them, and her chest spasmed as she fell into a coughing fit. Barrett watched her struggle for breath with an impassive look on his face, arm folded across his chest. It wasn't until a full painful minute had passed that fresh air began making its way to her lungs again. She struggled to compose herself, wiping away the tears streaking down her cheeks and pulling a long swig from her canteen. Finally, she squared her shoulders and turned to Barrett again, trying to act as though nothing had happened.

"Okay! That was great," she said, her voice coming out in an odd croak. "We can definitely use that. Just, try not to hit me with it next time, okay?"

There was a malevolent gleam in Barrett's eye as he turned back away from her. He'd done it on purpose; she knew it, and he knew she knew it, but it wasn't as though she could prove it. She fingered his Pokéball at her hip, but decided against using it—it would only make him angrier at her.

He really was going to fight her every step of the way. She sighed as she heard the pained yelp of another unfortunate Poochyena, and jogged over to make sure Barrett wasn't getting too rough.

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

They reached the treeline of Petalburg Woods shortly past noon, just as the sun was starting its downswing in the sky. Hayley and Miriam both eagerly made for the refreshing shade of the trees. Having not been in the Taillow Scouts for a while now, Hayley had forgotten how brutal it was to spend a full day under the harsh Hoenn sun. Miriam was in much worse shape than she was, though, bent double under her backpack with sweat pouring from her face. Over the past few hours, she'd once again lost the energy to complain, which was a relief. Even Barrett was flagging; he should have been thriving in the hot weather, but his hunger seemed to be catching up with him. His movements were growing sluggish, his head dipping lower by the hour. It hadn't stopped him from picking fights with every Pokémon he'd seen on the way here, of course.

They broke for lunch in the shade of a huge oak tree. As Hayley pulled out her box of trail bars, she was surprised to see Miriam putting her Gameboy back inside her bag. "Did you beat the game?" she asked.

Miriam grunted. "Out of battery." It was the most they'd spoken all day.

Hayley filled Barrett's bowl with pellets and tried offering it to him again, but just as before, he refused it. She shook her head. "You can't just not eat," she said, practically pleading with him by now. He grunted, and though he cracked an eye to give the bowl a sideways glance, he stayed seated on the ground. What was this, a hunger strike? "I know you don't like me, but you have to eat something," she tried again. "If you don't eat, you won't grow. You want to get stronger, don't you?" Still nothing. Hayley stepped back a few paces to give him some space, but when she and Miriam had both finished eating, the pellets remained untouched. Frustrated, she climbed a nearby oran tree and tried to offer him some slices of the fruit, but he wouldn't so much as look at them. She chewed her lip again, feeling blisters start to peel under her teeth. Was she really so angry at her that he'd starve himself just to prove a point?

Eventually, they had to set off again. Hayley packed Barrett's food back into her bag and repeated the words that were becoming her mantra: they'd be fine; he had to eat eventually; he'd come around. Right now, it was time to tackle her first forest as a trainer.

Petalburg Woods was huge, sprawling across a good chunk of the southern segment of Hoenn, and it would take weeks to fully explore on foot, but since they were only beginner trainers, they would be sticking to the comparatively short trail where the Route 104 footpath cut through. The path was maintained by rangers and beaten down by countless other travelers before them, so it would be easy enough to traverse. They could probably get to the other side in a day—maybe two, with Miriam slowing them down.

Their way was fairly clear, though they still had to dodge around low-hanging tree branches and bushes that crept onto the dirt. Pokémon were far more abundant here than in the open plain—Taillow chirped from treetops, Zigzagoon darted around the undergrowth, and Wurmple crawled on tree trunks and hung from silk threads spun into the branches. There were even a few Cascoon and Silcoon nestled into some of the leaves. Barrett's head twisted this way and that as he eyed every last one of them, bright sparks leaping from his mouth. Somewhere in the distance, a Poochyena howled. Barrett stiffened at the sound and began rushing into the undergrowth. Hayley sprang forward and cut him off, shaking her head.

"Barrett." He backed up and glared at her, a frown spreading across his snout. "You can't run off here. You'll get lost, and you might start a fire."

"You think he might burn the forest down?" Miriam asked. Hayley didn't miss the hopeful note that crept into her voice. She shrugged.

"It's pretty green, but there'll be lots of dead leaves and stuff… I don't want to risk it." Barrett snorted, spitting a clump of embers that sizzled and went out on the grass. "Sorry. But you can still fight Pokémon that show up along the path."

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

That apparently wasn't good enough for him. Barrett crossed his good arm across his chest and went into a sulk, plodding sullenly ahead of her. He kept his head down and refused to look at her, even after she called his name again. Hayley gave a long exhale and rubbed the bridge of her nose. It was for his own good! Of course, he didn't care about that, did he?

As they went forward, Hayley busied herself with studying the plethora of Pokémon rushing to and fro between the trees. She had to start planning out her next catch. It was a little early to catch another Pokémon now, seeing as she still hadn't gotten Barret under control, but—no harm in thinking about it, right? She flipped open her Pokédex again and checked the habitat list for low-level Pokémon in the area. Zigzagoon, Poochyena, Wurmple, Taillow—too common and too weak. Yeah, sure, she knew that any Pokémon could be trained to grow strong, and that even the weakest and dullest Pokémon could be trained to be a great fighter down the line. She'd heard all the lectures and PSAs about that, but she still didn't want some boring species that any ten-year-old could buy from a pet store. She wanted to show other people she was serious about training, and for that, she'd need something better. Further down the list—Silcoon and Cascoon. Not bad, but she didn't want to be stuck with a Pokémon that couldn't even move until it evolved. And then there were Shroomish and Slakoth. Both of them could learn some pretty amazing fighting moves after they evolved, and Shroomish's grass techniques would balance out Barrett's weakness against water, ground, and rock types. And with a grass-type, beating Roxanne would be a walk in the park.

She knew that if she looked long enough she could also find Vigoroth, Linoone, Swellow, Beautifly, and Dustox, but as tempting as the thought of having an evolved Pokémon on her team was, there was no way she'd be able to control them. The last thing she needed was to have two overpowered Pokémon who liked making her life miserable.

Shroomish was probably her best bet for taking on the Rustboro gym. If she did try to capture one, she'd have to do it carefully—she only had seven Pokéballs to use. She could buy more in Rustboro, but Pokéballs were expensive, and she had food and medicine to think about too. If she didn't win enough battles, she wouldn't have the money to buy spare balls for a while. And running out of Pokéballs before she had a second Pokémon to battle with would make it harder to win battles to make money to buy more Pokéballs…

"Halt!" Hayley jumped and spun around. Behind her was a boy, probably several years older than her, standing in the road. He was wearing baggy khaki shorts and a blue button-down shirt, and his sunburned face was half-hidden behind a straw hat and thick round glasses. He drew a long-hafted net from his shoulder and pointed at her like a knight might brandish his sword.

"Um. Who are you?"

He dropped his net to his side and thumped his spare hand against his chest. "I am Lyle, sentinel of the Petalburg Woods. It is my duty to test all new trainers who enter this forest and ensure you are equipped to face the challenges that lie ahead." He dipped the brim of his straw hat lower and eyed her from beneath it. "After all, it can be dangerous for two young lasses to travel these woods alone, with only a single Pokémon each for company."

"Uhh." Hayley turned back to Miriam who just shrugged. What was this guy's deal? "Are you challenging me to a battle?" Behind her, Hayley heard a hiss and a patter of feet as Barrett hurried back to stand between them. Like before, his eyes were alight at the mention of battle, sparks already leaping from his mouth.

"What better way to prove one's strength?" He swept a hand across his belt, which she noticed contained six gleaming Pokéballs. "This is my proposition: three of my children against your Magby. Should you win, you may continue on with the confidence that you are strong enough to combat what lies in these woods."

"Three on one isn't fair," Hayley stammered out. Inside, her heart was thudding. This guy was obviously experienced if he had a full team—what did he really want with her? Her mind turned to cautionary stories she'd heard of older trainers who preyed on newbies, stealing their equipment and money and sometimes even their Pokémon after destroying them in battle.

"Rest assured, my lady, I fight fairly." He was still speaking in a smooth and commanding voice that clashed badly with his geekish appearance. "These are hatchlings that have hardly tasted battle. Three of them should prove a satisfactory match for your Magby."

Hayley glanced back at Barrett, who was impatiently spewing smoke and grinding one heel into the dirt. It was probably fine, she thought, trying to reassure herself. Barrett had fought and beaten way more than three Pokémon on the way here. If he couldn't, then Miriam had her own mysterious Pokémon as a backup. And what were the odds that the first trainer she met on this route would be out to attack her, anyway? "…All right," she said at last, stepping back several paces to make room for a makeshift battlefield on the dirt road. "Three on one. Barrett, are you ready?"

He snorted in response, huffing a flame towards the ground. Of course he was ready.

"Then let us begin!" The strange boy unclipped the first Pokéball from his belt and threw it to the ground. When it burst open, Hayley felt all her anxiety rush from her in one big wave. It was a red, spiny worm, barely big enough to reach her calf, with yellow spikes on its head and rear and ten tiny, squirming feet. A Wurmple—that was all he had? She felt stupid for worrying at all.

"Barrett… Uh, get it!" The vaguer she was, the better. If she gave him a specific command, he'd probably ignore her out of spite, and she didn't want to look stupid in front of this weird, fancy-talking bug catcher. Anyway, Barrett knew how to fight Wurmple; he'd been tormenting them all of yesterday and all of today. Sure enough, he lunged forward without any further prompting from her, closing in on the Wurmple in seconds and spitting a barrage of embers that landed squarely on its back. The bug gave a shriek and shrank back, recoiling from the heat.

"My dear Wurmple, stay focused. Bind its mouth." The Wurmple shook itself and clicked its mandibles, firing a jet of silk string towards Barrett—but the attack was too slow, and Barrett leaned out of the way easily. The silk landed uselessly on the grass behind him. Barrett responded with another ember attack, pulling another cry from the worm as the flames singed its chitinous body.

"String shot again," her opponent called, unperturbed. "Slow it down." Barrett tried to lean out of the way again as the Wurmple fired for a second time, but this time the bug went for his legs, not his head. The sticky string hit the side of Barrett's knee, gluing itself to the joint and locking it in place. Barrett growled and shook his leg, trying to dislodge it.

"Barrett, ignore it and go for another ember!" The Wurmple was looking pretty battered, and another hit would probably take it down. But Barrett ignored her, instead bending down and clawing at the string.

"Now poison sting." Hayley stiffened as the Wurmple stood on its forelegs and raised its hindquarters into the air, spiny yellow stingers pointed right at the distracted Barrett. Before she could even order a dodge, it fired a barrage of tiny venomous barbs. Barrett stumbled back, nearly tripping on his bound leg, and hissed as the barbs embedded themselves in the smooth red scales of his chest. It looked painful, but Barrett was more surprised and angry than hurt—without hesitation, he snapped his head back up and shot another series of embers. They were brighter than before, burning yellow instead of their usual soft red. Hayley cringed and looked away as the Wurmple gave another sharp scream, its exoskeleton sizzling under the flames. When she brought her eyes back to the battlefield, it was crumpled and quivering on the ground, black scorch marks marring its body. Barrett stood over it, panting heavily.

The Wurmple's trainer brought up his ball to recall it. "Return, my loyal companion. You served me well." As the Wurmple dematerialized into red light, he threw his second ball to the ground, where it burst open to reveal…

…Another Wurmple? Well, at least he was consistent. "Barrett, ember!" More out of inertia than obedience, Barrett lumbered towards the second Wurmple, but his steps were slow and clumsy. His right leg had gone completely stiff; the string must have hardened and tightened around it.

"Poison sting." The Wurmple did a handstand much like the first and launched a barrage of its own spines at Barrett. Barrett didn't bother dodging, and he barely grunted as the spines bit into his left shoulder. He gave a futile swipe of his claws at the Wurmple before hitting it with another series of embers, still burning hot and yellow. The Wurmple toppled over and shrieked, rolling out of the way of the fire. Once it was clear of the attack, it spat a silken jet at Barrett, wrapping up his other leg. Barrett growled and spat, firing a clump of embers at the bug. They hit its soft underbelly, and with another scream, the Wurmple curled up and went still.

Nearly there, Hayley thought. The trainer's last Pokémon was—surprise, surprise—another Wurmple. For this one, he tossed the Pokéball in a long, gentle arc, making it land across the field near Hayley's feet. The bug glanced up at her when it popped out, chittering curiously. Hayley realized what he was doing—the positioning put the Wurmple safely on the other side of the field from Barrett, who was struggling to move with both his legs tied. It would give the Wurmple plenty of time to attack him from afar. The wheels in her head spun. "Barrett, long-range ember," she called out, remembering how he'd spat clumps of cinders at Zigzagoon to torment them from several strides away. But Barrett ignored her and instead lumbered forward, nearly toppling over as his bound knees refused to bend. She grimaced. "Barrett—"

"My lovely Wurmple, take cover." Take cover where? Hayley's question was answered when the Wurmple wiggled its rear and shot a line of silk skyward, tacking it on to one of the tree branches hanging over the path. It then turned and began pulling itself up, tiny nub feet working furiously as it inched its way up the string.

"Barrett, burn down the string before it can escape!" she shouted. No good. Barrett was still limping forward, his face contorted in an expression of pure rage. By the time he got to where the Wurmple had been standing, the bug had nearly reached the tree branch. Barrett growled and spat a puff of flame that died out before it could reach it. The Wurmple finished its climb unhindered, wrapping itself around the thin branch and twitching its mandibles as it looked down on its opponent.

"Now poison sting!" Barrett's aim might have been mediocre, but the Wurmple's was dead-on. It fired a series of stingers that landed in his stomach, burying deeply into the soft yellow skin. Barrett snarled and retorted with a blast of flame that once again only made it a short distance before sizzling out. By now, Hayley could see that something was wrong—his flames were dying back down from blazing yellow to a glowing red, and acrid black smoke was streaming from his mouth and nostrils. His breathing was turning from heavy to labored, and his limbs were trembling even as he glared up at his opponent. The poison, she realized—it was weak, but it had had all this time to build up. She winced as the Wurmple launched another barrage, the spines landing higher in Barrett's chest. Barrett growled again and bent over, letting out another smoke-filled breath. Her fingers toyed with Barrett's Pokéball, turning it round and round. She didn't want to lose in her first real, official trainer battle but… Barrett was looking pretty bad, and they were at least a day out from the nearest Pokémon center. She couldn't let him get seriously hurt. And there was no way he could win this with the Wurmple still up in that tree. Hesitantly, she held out his Pokéball. "Barrett, return—"

Before her thumb could hit the recall button, Barrett rounded on her and hissed, spitting a ball of flame that missed her face by inches. Startled, she jumped back, dropping his ball to the ground. He'd attacked her again—for real this time, not just a couple of embers. As she struggled to collect herself, Barrett turned back to his opponent and snarled a challenge, spitting another smoke-filled burst of red flame. The Wurmple was unperturbed, only looking back to its trainer for instruction. At the boy's nod, the Wurmple shot a thick glob of string that hit Barrett square in the chest, finally knocking him to the ground.

"Barrett!" Hayley rushed onto the battlefield and knelt down, gingerly lifting the Magby into her arms. His skin was clammy and felt almost cool to the touch, compared to the warmth it usually gave off. His body was peppered with small yellow spines, and her stomach twisted upon seeing them up close—had he really been hit that many times? He swiped feebly at her as she peeled the silk thread from his chest, struggling to get back onto his feet. She bit her lip. "No, Barrett, it's over. You can't fight anymore."

"You put up a commendable battle." Hayley looked up to see the strange bug trainer standing over her. He was holding out what she recognized as a potion spray and a vial of antidote, already prepped for injection. She took it from him without meeting his eyes, her face burning red. How could she have lost to a bunch of Wurmple? "You should be capable of fending off the dangers that lurk deeper within this forest once your teammate is rested and recovered, but should you desire, I can escort you back to the entrance."

"No… That's okay." She knew that was stupid, and that she shouldn't be going further into the woods with an injured Pokémon, but she felt sick at the thought of having to be around someone who had beaten her like that—especially someone as weird as this guy.

"Then I will leave you to your task. Good fortune in your travels." He tipped his wide-brimmed straw hat again and turned around, disappearing down the twisting path.

In the ensuing silence, Miriam was the first to speak up. "What a creep."

"Yeah… It wasn't fair. He had so many…" Hayley shook her head and trailed off, dropping her backpack to the ground. She rooted around inside and came up with her first aid kits, from which she drew a small pair of tweezers. The antidote would heal the poison that was already in Barrett's system, but she knew that if she didn't pull out the stingers, they could keep leaking more venom and poison him all over again.

Barrett squirmed in her lap as she touched the tip of the tweezers against one of the stingers. "This might hurt, but you have to stay still, okay?" she said, keeping her voice as gentle as she could. She gave a tug with the tweezers, wincing as the barbed end of the needle emerged through his scales, rupturing the surface with a jagged hole and a small trickle of blood. Immediately Barrett convulsed and jerked away, scratching her arm with his claws and leaving a thin red mark on her skin. Hayley shut her eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't mean it; he was just hurt and lashing out. He would pick up on how she was feeling, so she had to stay calm. "It's not that bad," she said, moving towards another barb near his shoulder. "Just a few more…"

The second her tweezers touched the needle Barrett recoiled with a forceful hiss, and his entire body glowed red-hot. She yelped and pushed him off her legs before he could burn her, just as he released a breath full of smoke and embers aimed right at where her head had been seconds before. She scrambled to her feet and watched stiffly as he lay on the ground, panting heavily, his half-lidded eyes still focused on her.

"I'm trying to help you," she said, more pleading than reassuring at this point. He grunted. Hayley gritted her teeth. "Miriam, help me hold me down."

"No way. I'm not going near that thing."

"He's not a thing, he's…" A living creature. One who hated her and would probably fight her with his dying breath. Why, she didn't know.

What she did know was that she had had enough.

She crouched down to where her backpack lay on the ground, unzipped it all the way, and overturned it, all her carefully-packed supplies falling to the ground in a heap. She rummaged through until she found what she was looking for: a pair of heavy leather-palmed work gloves. They were meant for climbing ropes, clearing debris, that sort of thing; she doubted they were meant to hold down a belligerent Magby for medical treatment, but, well, she was going to improvise. She slipped them on and flexed her fingers, trying to work away the feeling of their stiffness and bulk. Then, bedside manner forgotten, she moved over to Barrett and grabbed him by his side. Her sudden forwardness seemed to surprise him, as he froze just long enough for her to turn him so he was on his side, facing away from her. "Look," she hissed, her voice quavering with adrenaline. "I know you hate me, but I have to do this. You're hurt, and I'm your trainer, and it's my job to make sure you're okay. So deal with it, stop fighting, and let's get this over with, okay?"

He struggled under her grip as she fumbled with the tweezers in her other gloved hand, finally managing to grasp another stinger after a few failed tries. She yanked it out, and Barrett grunted and thrashed, spitting a glob of embers onto the dirt ahead of him—but he couldn't twist his head far enough around to hit her, and so his protests were useless as she clumsily honed in on another barb. She kept her hold tight, and gradually his struggles grew weaker and weaker as his exhaustion got the better of him. By the time she had finished his left side, he finally lay still, only giving a token jerk and grumble every time she pulled out another barb. When she finished and rolled him over to do his right, his narrowed eyes met hers again, and she tensed up, wondering if he would attack her again. But he just huffed tiredly, letting out a plume of smoke that made her eyes water, and let her roll him the rest of the way over.

The second half of the operation went much more smoothly, now that Barrett didn't have the energy to protest. When she'd finally pulled out the last of the barbs, she finished off the operation by injecting the hypospray of antidote into his upper arm and spraying the canister of healing potion over his scratches and punctures to help them heal up. At last, she released her hold on him and stood up, pulling off her gloves—the palms were a little charred and smelled funny, but on the whole they'd held up well. She looked down at Barrett, who was still scowling, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "There," she said. "It's done. Next time try staying still, and maybe it'll hurt less, okay?" He barely had the strength to grumble at her. She drew his Pokéball from her belt and called him back inside; he would hate her all over again for it, but he would be too exhausted to keep walking, and he needed time to cool down. The tiny, exhausted, Magby-shaped ball of rage diffused into red light and disappeared.

Hayley turned around to see Miriam looking at her with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow. She scowled. "What?" she snapped, bending over to begin shoving her things back into her bag. Miriam shrugged her shoulders and unfolded her arms, holding her hands up defensively.

"Nothing. Whatever." Fine. If she didn't want to say anything, then Hayley could just keep fuming to herself. She cursed between clenched teeth, berating both herself and her Pokémon under her breath. All she wanted was to lock herself in a room and scream until her lungs gave out. But she couldn't. The day was young, and they were in the middle of nowhere with an entire forest to get through.

And unbeknownst to her, the worst part of the trip was still to come.