Days blurred into weeks as the Slowpoke herd remained by the lake, slowly migrating down its shoreline. With each passing day Leo ventured further and further away from the herd, practicing his skills and exploring the world of pokémon in its rawest form. He had seen quite a bit, from herds of Stantler to a lumbering Ursaring, to even a Stunky as it wandered through a patch of wetlands. But most importantly he had started to climb up and over mountains, exploring more territory on a daily basis.

This led him to his current activity – he was going to explore a cave. The six-foot-tall cave entrance situated at the base of a small, twenty foot tall cliff was a solid half day's worth of travel from the lake, and though Leo didn't know all that much about spelunking, he also wasn't planning on going in too deep. But his curiosity had been piqued so he had to check it out.

He'd stumbled across the Tyranitar tracks a couple days ago – unmistakable as they were – and in a moment of insanity had decided to follow them. They led him to this cave not once, but three separate times as the Tyranitar travelled in circles near the entrance. Not once, however, did the behemoth of a pokémon enter the cave. It just…stood outside, if the tracks were anything to go by. It piqued Leo's curiosity, and he decided he had to find out what was in that cave.

Leo double checked his torches, tapping the sticky ends of the three short sticks, and nodding to himself. He was proud of his creations, mostly because it had been quite the process to make them. Normally he'd use a can or something to melt pine sap, thus creating a gummy, flammable material he could put on the end of stick to use as a torch (or use as glue, but that was beside the point), but with a lack of said can or any container that might work, Leo had…struggled. He'd made it work eventually by melting the sap on the flat of his big Skarmory feather, but it was still an annoyingly tedious process.

"Right, let's get in, then back out," Leo said, standing and igniting one of his torches in the small fire he had built off to his left before kicking it out. A small curl of smoke rose from the ashes, but quickly vanished. Gripping his spare torches in his spare hand and rolling his shoulders, his pack shifting to a more comfortable position with the action, Leo boldly delved into the cave.

The entrance quickly narrowed from a six-foot-wide hole in the mountainside to a four-foot-tall and two foot wide passage that left Leo crouching to pass through and immediately worried this cave would turn out to be nothing. The cool air of the cave sent goosebumps running up Leo's arms, his footsteps echoing down the chamber as his torch cast flickering shadows on the wall. He was already lamenting the fact that he didn't have a smokeless light source – the smoke had nowhere to go here, which forced it into Leo's face.

Still, even through watery eyes and the dim, almost unreliable orange glow of his torch, he did manage to spot the Geodude as it sat perfectly still in the middle of the cave floor. For all intents and purposes it looked like three lumps of stone sticking out of the ground, but Leo could see the almost too-uniform curve of its arms and fists, and the evidence of it having moved recently in the form of scrape marks on the ground.

"I see you," Leo grumbled, gingerly stepping around the unmoving pokémon. After his first mishap with getting punched by a geodude, Leo made a point to learn how to identify them from regular rocks. While he wasn't perfect – mistakes which had cost him a few more bruises – he was getting the hang of it.

Grinning to himself, Leo waved his torch back and forth in front of him, almost putting the tiny flame out with the aggressive movement. He panicked as it flickered dangerously, freezing instantly and praying that the flame wouldn't die. At least he could still see the light from the entrance from here, though, as it was just fifty feet back, but he still didn't want to stumble in the dark.

"Just a little further, then I'll head back," Leo whispered to himself, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves as the torch flame settled. Forging ahead once more with only a foot or two of light to guide the way, he swiftly came up on a small bend in the cave, which, when he rounded the corner, came to a dead end. A cave-in was what it looked like, with rocks all piled up on top of each other in a sloping wave.

A wave of disappointment washed over Leo as he stared at the cave in and frowned, shaking his head sadly as he turned to head back the way he came. His foot bumped against something solid and sent it clattering along the floor, and Leo furrowed his brows as he turned to look at it. The sound it made was distinctly…metallic. Crouching down, Leo lowered his torch to the floor, searching for what had made that sound.

It took a little bit to find, mostly because the metal ball had been completely encased with rust by this point and thus blended in better with the dusty, almost sandy tan ground, but find it he did. The large ball was split open down the middle, revealing a hollow interior and a hinge that connected two sides, almost like a chest. A strange design swirled up the sides and a large button-like appendage resided on top of it. Leo inspected it closely, setting down his spare torches to pick it up. It was heavier than he expected.

"It can't be. This can't be a pokeball, can it?" Leo mused aloud, looking back at the collapsed wall. He could vaguely remember seeing something similar to this ball in one of the old pokémon movies, the one with Celebi and Ash time-travelling, but he wasn't certain.

An idea began to take root in Leo's mind and he sighed, carefully moving forward and sticking his lit torch in between two rocks, so he wouldn't have to hold it. Then he lit another one in the fire of his first torch, and found a new place to put it so it illuminated the wall further. He saved his last torch just in case and took a deep breath, carefully examining the cave-in.

When he found the skeleton hidden off to the right-most side of the cave wall, its bones covered in grey dust and cracked almost beyond recognition, Leo felt neither joy nor surprise. He just sat back on his haunches and stared at the empty eye sockets of the deceased human skull, unsure what to feel.

"Poor sap," he muttered. The lower half of the person's body was crushed beneath a stone easily the size of Leo's torso, and if it hadn't been an instant death, it was most certainly fatal. Glancing at the ancient, opened pokeball, Leo felt something strange bubble up in his stomach, almost like respect. If his suspicion was right, then the person who was killed here had released his pokémon prior to their death and said pokémon might, potentially, be the same Tyranitar that paced in front of the cave.

Leo brushed aside those thoughts and began searching for more items on his hands and knees, feeling bad that he was looting what was essentially a grave, but also knowing that if there was anything else here, it could be a huge help. Even the pokeball, rusted though it was, could be used for a variety of purposes. Creating pine pitch, for example. It'd make a fine substitute for a can.

His hands flew with a desperate fury as he worked, eyeing his torches and praying they would stay alight long enough for him to complete his search.

Though his time was short, he did manage to find two more similarly opened pokeballs and the tattered remains of a backpack, tossed a few feet away from the skeleton and half-crushed by another fallen rock. It was mostly useless, the fabric moldy and decayed and anything potentially useful most likely drug away by scavengers, but Leo did find something interesting. Stashed away in a side pocket that was miraculously intact was a decent sized leather-bound book with yellowing pages and smudged ink.

Excitement coursed through Leo's veins as he gathered up his finds, shoving them in his own backpack and lighting his final torch. The other two were tossed carelessly to the ground, where they fizzled out on the cool ground as Leo hightailed it out of the cave. He accidentally kicked the Geodude on his way out, and though it leapt from its resting place with an angry grunt Leo was already too far gone, all but sprinting out of the cave and stopping next to the smoldering remains of his fire, breathing heavily.

"I don't ever want to go in a cave again," Leo said, shuddering at the thought and putting out his torch. The skeleton only confirmed everything he feared about going underground – the cave could and would collapse and kill him. "But in the meantime, lets get out of here. I don't want to be around if the Tyranitar comes back," With a grunt of effort Leo rose to his feet and double-checked his heading, making sure he was heading back to his camp based on the position of the sun and his relative position to key landmarks on the mountainsides, before heading off at a brisk pace.

Leo rubbed his eyes as he stared at the book, gingerly turning the pages so as not to break the yellowing paper. When he first opened the book – a journal, he had come to realize – he had been more than a little disappointed. Not only was the writing smudged, water having bled through the pack it had been in and ruining a few of the pages, but it had appeared to be in an entirely different language. It wasn't really unexpected, now that Leo thought about it, but it had been disappointing.

That is, until he began to recognize the alphabet.

It was almost funny, Leo thought to himself as he ran his finger along a passage, slowly deciphering it, that the pokémon world even used pokémon as their alphabet. It wasn't that it was a foreign language, rather, the pokémon world had adopted the Unown as a writing system. He recognized most of the capital letters as typical Unown shapes, it was the lower-case letters which were giving him trouble. He was getting it down, slowly but surely, but it was a process.

"…the monsters have…grown aggressive lately. I will have…to…in-vestigate route four soon," Leo parsed out, sounding out each word individually. "Dang, Archibald, you really kept a detailed journal, didn't you?" Leo asked, sticking a blade of grass in-between the pages so he didn't lose his spot and flipping back to the front.

There, written on the inside of the front cover, was the author's first name and a smudge that could have once been his last; Archibald. Leo had only read a few pages, but already it seemed like Archibald had led an interesting life. Seemed to be a fairly powerful trainer, too, though Leo couldn't tell just from the writing. He'd been asked to handle an issue on the routes, and though Archibald had mentioned a few of his pokémon they were nicknamed so he couldn't tell what they were.

"Slooow?" a dopey voice called and Leo smiled, closing the book and setting it to the side as he looked up at the Slowpoke that had come to say goodnight. The pink creature ambled up to Leo's fire, carefully maneuvering around the small blaze to butt its head against Leo's shoulder. The gentle movement still threatened to knock Leo over though, hiding the dopey creature's deceptive strength.

"Heya, King. Coming to say goodnight? Everyone's falling asleep early tonight, must be tired," Leo said, scratching the Slowpoke who Leo had dubbed King behind its round ears. The Slowpoke's skin was still wet from the lake, though Leo didn't really mind much. "You done doing your rounds, making sure everyone's settled?" he continued absently, looking out over the lake. The rest of the Slowpoke herd had already settled in for the night, the dying light of the sun slowly fading, having already hidden itself behind the mountains. Leo probably wouldn't even have enough light to read by soon.

"Slooow," King called, cocking its head to the side and eyeing Leo's fire.

"Don't you dare. You know I need that," Leo chided, gently pushing the Slowpoke's muzzle away from the fire. King didn't respond but also didn't put out his fire again, something he had struggled to teach the Slowpoke about for weeks, so Leo figured he got the gist. "I'll be up for a bit longer, you don't need to worry about me. I'm going to work on my spear a bit then I'll head to bed," Leo told King. The Slowpoke remained still for a few minutes, Leo content to stare at the brilliant orange coals of his fire with some company. Then it turned and trundled off, sound a low call as it once again began to circle the Slowpoke herd.

"You're not ready to sleep either, huh?" Leo asked with a chuckle, watching King as it ambled slowly along, nudging one of the Slowbro as it went. He watched the Slowpoke for a minute before shaking his head and turning his attention to the palm-sized Skarmory feather shard he had found, and the long, straight-ish tree branch he was trying to attach it to, leaning up against the tree next to him.

For a little bit he had used the shard as a sort of hatchet, burying the shard in a thick branch and using it that way until he figured out the sword worked better for that purpose. So he had spent the past few weeks trying to make a spear out of it, with little luck. The primitive and still-not-perfect cordage he'd been making out of grass fibers wasn't strong enough to handle rough impacts, and whenever he tried to fix the tip to the spear in other ways it would, for one reason or another, fail.

It wasn't like he really needed a spear though, he was getting proficient with his atlatl even if he hadn't killed anything with it yet, it would just be fun to have.

Maybe he was getting a little lax, now that he was figuring things out and getting comfortable in his survival. Leo hummed to himself as he worked, trying to wedge the spear tip into a small groove he had carved into the makeshift haft. He wrestled with it, and struggled a bit, trying not to press on the edges so he didn't cut himself, and eventually gave up when the haft started to split. Leo sighed, wresting the spearhead out of the shaft and tossing it to the side in annoyance.

It wasn't long before his fire began to die out and, with a little bit of reluctance, Leo turned and crawled into his bed. He had really lucked out with this find – a medium sized hole had been dug beneath the roots of a particularly tall pine and Leo had literally stumbled upon it. All it took was a little bit of digging and Leo had a decent little hidey hole, and sure he had to curl up into a ball in order to fit, but there was very little chance he would be seen and he would be kept warm when he crawled into it. It had been his bed for the past two days, in fact, and worked beautifully.

Leo shuddered a bit as the temperature continued to drop, sharper than he expected, and eyed the dull orange glow of the remains of his fire. If it rained hard he could be in for a rough night, especially if his hole started to fill with water. But sleepiness overtook his concern and, after crawling inside and pulling his backpack in front of the hole to add another layer of protection, he soon drifted off to sleep.

A chill ran down Leo's spine, his eyes snapping wide open to stare at the dirt wall in front of him. It was so dark he almost couldn't see directly in front of him. Yet, as he let out a short, silent breath, his breath came out in a white puff. Adrenaline was already spiking through his system when he woke, the cold that embraced him largely ignored thanks to that, but now it quickly settled into an icy calm. Something was wrong.

The forest was dead silent. Not a sound could be heard, and when Leo slowly turned his head to peer out of his hole past his backpack, he could see the layer of white that covered his fire pit. His eyes narrowed. He dared not move, even the sound of his heart beating seemed too loud as he strained his senses, searching for anything that might give him a clue as to what was going on.

A dark shape skittered past the entrance, soft chitters reaching Leo's ears in the near-silence. He nearly flinched when something skittered over the top of his den, landing softly in front of the entrance. A singular sleek, black leg was visible through Leo's peep hole, red feathers stretching down to brush the ground behind it. Leo tensed, pressing his feet against the dirt wall behind him and preparing to leap out if the pokémon noticed him.

For a moment, nothing happened, and it seemed like it would just move on. The creature stood there, then slowly turned and began to shuffle around, messing around with Leo's backpack. It paused, and Leo held his breath one clawed hand reached around the edge of the pack, its head lowering to look in at Leo with piercing red eyes.

"HAAAAAH!" Leo roared, launching himself out of his hole and slamming into his backpack, which in turn hit the pokémon. It yelped in surprise as it was tossed away, skittering off into the darkness as Leo scrambled to his feet, his head whipping back and forth wildly in search of the pokémon. His mind quickly processed what he'd seen – black fur, red feathers, bipedal, ice on the firepit – a mild curse left his lips as he snatched up the spear haft. He could only think of one pokémon that fit that description.

"Sneasel," he ground out, taking a fighting stance and levelling his weapon at the dark forest. He dared not risk crossing the firepit to reach the Skarmory sword – it was too unwieldy for him anyway – as he searched for the pokémon. The trees and bushes that had made up this part of the forest were nothing more than dark blobs to his eyes, a white mist filling the air and making visibility even worse. Every once in a while dark shapes flitted between trees and around bushes, chittering and hissing to each other ominously through the trees.

A sudden burst of freezing wind sent Leo to shivering, ice forming on his t-shirt and in his hair, his eyes narrowing as he sought out his aggressor. Red eyes flashed at him, and claws scratched on trees as multiple Sneasel darted about through the trees.

Leo's blood ran cold. Sneasel were pack pokémon, and as a young, defenseless human without any pokémon to defend himself with, Leo was prime prey. Perhaps even better than the Slowpoke herd behind him – at least they had methods to fight back with. Another blast of icy cold wind was shot at him but this time Leo moved out of the way, only able to detect it from the sound of leaves rustling. It left a fine sheen of white on the ground, and basked the trunk of a tree in a layer of white.

What could only be described as snickers echoed from all around – above, in front, behind – and Leo shuddered as terror began to grip him, his heart hammering and breathing coming in short, ragged bursts. Then one Sneasel revealed itself, black fur blending in so well with the dark night that it was only ten feet away when Leo noticed it. The bipedal 'mon stared at him with piercing red eyes, the red feathers on top of its head twitching in anticipation as it rubbed its claws together menacingly. The yellow dot on its forehead was almost bewitching as it slowly, methodically advanced. Leo let out a long, slow breath, accepting what was about to happen.

The fear he had been feeling drained from his body as he settled, fixing his posture slightly and shifting his attention away from the visible Sneasel. He could already hear footsteps running up behind him and Leo tensed, whirling around with his staff swinging, catching the leaping Sneasel in the side and sending it hurling away with a yowl of surprise. In the next second he was swinging back around, forcing the other Sneasel to back off to avoid the swing. It snarled at him, and Leo did the only logical response.

He snarled back.

"Get back here!" He snapped, advancing on the Sneasel with sharp thrusts from his staff, not unlike how he would use a spear. The Sneasel hissed at him and scampered off, well out of Leo's reach but remained visible, eyeing him carefully.

Leo huffed and glanced around, keeping his eyes on the ground and trees above him, slowly backing up towards the lake. If he could get his back to the water, at least that way the Sneasel wouldn't be able to gang up on him from all sides, and he might even be able to draw the help of the Slowpoke herd.

The Sneasel seemingly did not follow, and Leo didn't understand why until one of them dropped onto his back from the trees above. Sharp claws dug into his shoulders and Leo howled in pain, dropping his staff when icy coldness began to flood through his bloodstream. The rest of the Sneasel howled in unison, charging forward to attack, abandoning stealth. The large creature on his back hissed and rumbled, looking far larger than its brethren as it reared back in preparation for another attack, its maw wide open to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth.

Leo moved then, ignoring the pain simply moving his arms brought as he reached over his right shoulder and shoved as much of his hand as he could into his aggressor's mouth, curling it into a fist around its tongue. Pain flashed through Leo once more as it retracted its claws and leapt off, its teeth leaving scratch marks on his fist as it choked and spluttered, the slimy tongue slipping out of Leo's grasp. The rest of the Sneasel skidded to a halt and Leo risked a glance over his shoulder to get a good look at the Sneasel – no, the freaking Weavile – that had wounded him.

It was tall, shoulder-height at least, with sharp claws covered in a black-ish substance and red eyes that promised death as it glared at Leo. Leo's shoulders sagged as he stood there, his arms dropping to his sides as warmth spread down his shoulders. He growled at the Weavile, who growled back and once more began to advance. Leo whirled on it and charged, the Weavile's eyes growing wide in surprise as Leo kicked it in the chest, putting all his strength into the blow. The Weavile wheezed as it stumbled backward, eyes flashing and claws further unsheathing as it growled hatefully, feet digging into the ground, ready to attack once more –

Only to be sent flying as a pink mass crashed into it, heralded by a furious "SLOOOOW!" The Weavile hissed furiously as it landed, eyes narrowing as it glared at who Leo recognized as King, the Slowpoke livelier now than he had ever seen it. A blue glow radiated from its eyes, sticks and rocks hurtling from some unseen force at the Weavile, who batted the projectiles away with its claws and breathed out a vicious wave of ice. King weathered it unfalteringly, growling in the back of its throat.

Jets of water blasted through the trees as the Slowpoke herd advanced, catching a few of the Sneasel off-guard if their yowls of pain were anything to go by. Leo gulped in relief and fear, glad that the Slowpoke herd had decided to attack, but both afraid for them and for the pain that echoed deep in his shoulders. The latter he could ignore for now thanks to adrenaline – which Leo hoped meant it wasn't too bad – but the Slowpoke were another matter. Sneasel were part dark-type, which meant they had the advantage over the psychic-type Slowpoke.

Sneasel launched themselves with indignant shrieks at the Slowpoke, who retaliated with headbutts and jets of water as they engaged, King duking it out with the Weavile while the Slowbro stayed back, observing the battle with watchful eyes. Then one fixated its gaze on Leo, its eyes glowing blue, and cocked its head to the side.

This distraction cost Leo, as he mistakenly assumed the Sneasel would ignore him in favor of taking out the Slowpoke. A dark blur leapt through the air, sharp claws raking across his chest and drawing a scream from him as he stumbled backward, falling flat on the ground. The Sneasel leapt upon him but Leo, with pure instinct guiding his movements, shoved his feet upward in a kick, catching the little monster in the chest and sending it stumbling away, where a fierce blast of water sent it sprawling.

A Slowbro suddenly loomed over Leo, staring down at him curiously as a wave of pink energy burst from its body, washing over Leo and the nearby Slowpoke. His chest and shoulders tightened, pain dulling significantly but strength escaping him as the energy soothed him. Leo let out a breath as the Slowbro moved back once more, its massive spiked tail nearly smacking Leo as he tried to sit up.

Whatever the Slowbro had done hadn't fully healed him – he still hurt, and the wound on his chest was now a massive scab – but now he could at least defend himself. Leo looked up, glancing around the battlefield. There were only a dozen or so Sneasel in the pack – merely half of the twenty or so Slowpoke – but they did have the upper hand. King was still duking it out with the Weavile, keeping the agile monster at bay for now as they tested each other's defenses, while the other Slowpoke attempted to gang up on the remaining Sneasel. The Sneasel, however, had the same idea, and were ganging up on the Slowpoke with a minimum of two per Slowpoke attacked.

Anger flared in Leo's chest as he stood, charging at the nearest Sneasel – who just so happened to be latched onto a Slowpoke's back, slashing away – and full-body tackled it. The furry creature yowled in surprise, claws raking at Leo's arms as he pinned it to the ground and punched it in the face. The Slowpoke bellowed and bodily shoved Leo out of the way, looming over the Sneasel before smashing the prone creature with its head.

This seemed to set off the Sneasel pack, a collective hiss echoing out in the night as they scrambled away – the Sneasel Leo had attacked slashing the Slowpoke's muzzle with its claws, blasting Leo with a point-black wave of icy-cold wind from its maw, and scrambling off into the darkness. Leo fell over from the attack, teeth immediately set to chattering and ice crawling on his skin. The Weavile was the last to leave, snarling at King as the Slowpoke stared at it unblinking, and breathed a blast of freezing cold air at the herd as a parting gift.

For a moment nothing moved, the Slowpoke staring off into the night, uncaring of their wounds as they made sure the pack was gone. After a few minutes they relaxed, one by one ambling towards the Slowbro, who stood unharmed in the back. Leo remained where he was, breathing heavily as he lay flat on his back. Pain slowly crept up on him, stabbing deep into his shoulders and radiating in waves across his chest, which was bleeding again.

Then waves of pink energy blasted out from the Slowbro, washing over the Slowpoke herd and even catching Leo, as he lay on the edge of their range.

His skin crawled as it stitched itself back together, feeling far weaker with each successive burst of energy, but the pain was lessening and, when he touched his chest tentatively, Leo's wounds were healing. He let out a long, slow breath, feeling dangerously close to passing out. Well, he thought as he lay there, another wave of energy washing over him. At least I survived. But now I need to get a fire started before I freeze to death. He thought with a shudder, sitting up and dusting the snow off of his arms and now-ruined shirt.

The skin on his shoulders and chest pulled angrily as Leo stood, wincing at the sensation, and moved over to his small wood pile, miraculously untouched by the battle. It took a hot minute for Leo to assemble the kindling and fumble with his matches, not trusting his shaking hands enough to properly use flint and steel, but eventually he got the fire started. Soon enough a small blaze licked at the wood, the warmth from the flames soaking into Leo's skin as he fed it. Satisfied with the size of the fire he lay sidewise, exposing as much of himself as he could to the warmth that slowly chased away the biting cold.

Even a few Slowpoke joined him, ambling over and flopping down next to the fire with low groans.

"I agree," Leo murmured in response, eyes fluttering shut. He was coming down from the adrenaline high, and probably was woozy from blood loss or something, but right now he was too tired to rationalize anything. His last thought before he fell asleep before the fire, was of pokémon. "I need a pokémon," he muttered, and slipped into dreamland.

The next day Leo and the Slowpoke gorged themselves. The healing move the Slowbro had used, which Leo could only assume was heal pulse, had left Leo and the Slowpoke herd noticeably thinner and weaker. He could only assume that was because the wounds had to use something to fix themselves up with, and it wasn't raw "magic healing power" heal pulse used. This led to the routine feasting of fish, insects, and edible plants for both Leo and the Slowpoke, the Slowpoke surprising Leo by showing that they did, in fact, know about the potato plant, as they dug up the tubers in mass quantities.

By midday, basking in the warmth of the sun by laying on a rock, Leo felt almost human again. If one didn't count the torn, blood-soaked shirt that clothed him, and the pervasive weakness in his limbs. It'd take more than just one day of good eating to get back up to tip-top shape, Leo was sure.

Still, as he lay on a large rock by the edge of the lake, two Slowpoke laying below him in the mud as they all basked in the sun, Beedrill buzzing on the far edge of the water and Murkrow cawing as they flew through the air, Leo turned his thoughts to the previous night. The slash on his chest was an angry red line, sure to leave a scar, same as the two holes on his shoulders. He shuddered at the memory, and how lucky he'd been with that. Had he not been near the Slowpoke, or had they chosen not to come battle the Sneasel, he would have been dinner. It was plain and simple.

Honestly, Leo had prepared himself for the possibility of being attacked by a predator. He'd imagined fighting an Ursaring, a Persian or Luxray, and even had notions on how to fight off massive birds of prey, like Pidgeot or Staraptor. Nothing had prepared him for a pack of ice-wielding creatures of the dark, and it drove home one simple fact – he was not in the world he once knew. Pokemon could do things he normally wouldn't expect, and all his survival knowledge would only get him so far in a battle against creatures who could spit literal waves of snow. This was something he knew academically before, but only now really understood.

Leo sighed and sat up, grabbing his atlatl from where it lay next to him and fitting a dart to the end as he stood, turning his back to the lake. A circle of rocks was set up twenty five or so feet away from the boulder and Leo, after aiming for a second, hurled his dart at it. It stabbed into the ground two feet to the left of the circle, making Leo frown.

"Way I see it, there are two solutions here, guys," Leo said to the Slowpoke down below as he sat back down, propping his chin up on his fist. "Either I figure out how to fight and hide myself better, or I somehow find a partner pokémon to help me out. What do you think?" he asked. The two Slowpoke looked up at him and, after a delay that stretched minutes, responded in low calls.

"Sloooow," they rumbled.

"Both? Well yeah, doing both is a good idea, but I don't really know where to start with taming a pokémon. No offense guys, but I'm not sure I want to rely on you in times of trouble. Besides, I don't really want to take any of you from your herd yet," Leo reasoned with them.

"Sloooooooow,"

"Yeah, I know, but really, as much as I love you as pokémon now, I think I need something that can hide with me and travel with me. You Slowpoke seem mostly confined to the river," Leo argued. "Don't get me wrong, if I ever do become a trainer I'll absolutely seek you all out and see if anyone wants to join me on whatever journey, but until then I'm going to keep mooching off of you, and mostly leave you be. Hey, I'll even be your early warning system, like I was with the Sneasel. Because I'm pretty sure they were coming to prey on you all originally, what with the type advantage and how fat you all are."

"Slow," the Slowpoke said. Leo sighed and rubbed his face, nodding.

"Yes, that is assuming I actually get back to civilization in the first place, I know. But let's get back to the matter at hand; finding a partner and befriending it through the power of anime. It's not like I have any pokeballs, those ancient ones are busted through and through, nor do I really think I have some superpower to befriend any pokémon I come across. I've got to be reasonable here, but befriending a pokémon might be my only option. Beyond that, I don't know the first thing about training. It's not like I have a manual or any –" Leo cut himself off and straightened his back so quickly it cracked, his eyes widening.

"Waitaminute. I may just have a training manual. Stay here guys, I'll be back," Leo said, ending his imaginary conversation with the Slowpoke and jumping off the boulder, running back toward his camp. He largely ignored the splashes of blood and obvious signs of a scuffle as he searched for Archibald's book, and laughed triumphantly when he found it, safely tucked away in his backpack which had been largely left alone.

Returning to the rock and clambering up it, Leo flipped open the pages and grinned down at the words. "Now, lets see what secrets you hold, hmm?"

Wood cracked against wood as Leo danced around the tree, ignoring the way his chest and shoulder muscles pulled tightly with each movement. His staff – for it was just a staff now, as long as it didn't have a spear head – was held loosely in front of him, levelled at his target as he focused. He swept and twirled his staff, practicing motions he hadn't used in far too long with a body far too small, striking firmly at the tree and working out his aggression.

Sweat beaded down his forehead from the exertion and Leo let out a breath, relaxing slightly and dropping his shoulders. He hadn't even been working that hard, but he was still light-headed from the Sneasel attack and healing two days ago, so any exercise was a bit harder on him. Which really only served to irritate him further, as he took a deep breath and glared at the book set next to his backpack to the right.

It wasn't the fact that it wasn't really a training diary, and that Leo had to infer how to train and tame pokémon based on how Archibald described soothing other pokémon – discounting the idea of using one pokémon to beat up another – that had Leo worked up. Nor was it that the book was so dry and boring it had taken a full two days just to get through. That he hadn't been sleeping well out of paranoia and fear didn't help either, but right now that wasn't the big issue. No, what really worked him up was the name that had popped up on the very last page of the book and what it signified.

Grunting, Leo moved over to the journal and, after dropping his staff, flipped it open to the last filled-in page, about three quarters of the way through. He had to read it again, for the fifteenth time, just to make sure he read it right.

Its been three weeks since I reached the Silver Mountains, and I think I'm getting close. A nearby cave system holds some promise – serious seismic activity indicates onix activity below, which could be the cause of the mass agitation of pokemon in the area. With any luck I'll be in and out in a reasonable period of time. I'd hate to be here when that blizzard hits. Plus, I want to see Sam's first Elite Four battle. At the rate he's going, it won't be a surprise if there's another Oak claiming the title of champion by the end of next year. Guess the shadow I cast wasn't that intimidating, huh?

And that was it. No follow up, no nothing, but based on context from the rest of the journal it was clear that Archibald was the father of Sam. Samuel Oak to be precise, which was too coincidental of a name to be anyone but the original pokémon professor himself.

Leo ground his teeth, unsure whether to scream in rage or laugh. This was all just…way too coincidental. Of course he would find the journal of Professor Oak's deceased father.

"Where you're meant to be," Leo muttered mockingly, glaring up at the sky. "I see what you're doing, and I'm unamused!" he shouted, clenching his fists.

"Sloooow," one of the Slowpoke called in answer. Leo rolled his eyes and sat down, rubbing his face. He sighed and moaned and groaned for a bit before standing and heading off in search of more food, wiping away all of his thoughts. The problem with the journal could come later. There were other problems to solve first, mostly revolving around his continued survival, and Leo intended to work on rectifying them.

So, whistling and singing a merry tune that wasn't mirrored by his actual feelings, Leo headed off into the forest, his goal set. Food, and then a pokémon.