Morning came like a thief in the night, silently, and with absolutely no warning. The little dragon slept fitfully the night before, his body growing slightly but his mind remaining largely the same. He sat up in the shed, his meat cave, and tried to think. Thinking was something that came to him recently. Previously he acted more in instinct than anything, but now he was slowly regaining his ability to reason.

This slow recognition of reason allowed him to understand the inkling of an idea. The warm meat might not like it if he was in their small meat cave. He was torn. Did he care whether or not the meat would like to give up their small meat cave? That inkling of rationality told him they would be angry. He did not wish to harm the warmth-giving meat.

Determined not to harm the warm meat, the little dragon slipped out of his cave and scurried quickly into the nearby bushes. Those bushes were thick, but far from perfect cover. In a desire not to be seen, he pressed further against the hedge wall beyond. It was then that something happened which he’d rarely managed to do without being exhausted. His body shifted into an amorphous mass of shadows.

Merged into the shadows, he watched as the first signs of life in the meat cave began to reveal its inhabitants. A creature, tall for the warm meat, exited the cave. He walked off toward a strange rock. Soon he ripped open the side of the rock, then crawled inside. Perhaps it was a smaller cave.

The entrance to the larger cave burst open. A small meat raced out, its head fur streaming behind it as it ran. In its paws it carried something that he could not quite comprehend.

“Dad! You forgot it again!” cried the small meat.

The little shadow watched curiously as the small meat, so much smaller than the other meats of her kind which he had seen, handed the strange thing to the bigger meat. The ‘Dad’ meat seemed pleased at the actions of the small meat. He placed his hand to her head fur and spoke of her in a proprietary manner ‘That’s my girl,’ then thanked her for bringing him the thing.

If a shadow might show surprise, this one did so. The small meat cave suddenly belched black smoke from the rear and rumbled to life with a mighty roar. It began to back away and soon turned then moved down the weird black dirt.

A cave that moves? He was in awe of the moving meat cave. If he had such a cave, he could eat anything, anywhere!

The small meat watched the moving cave for a while, her forelimbs waving around in the air. The shadow paused for a time and simply watched her. There was a strange sensation, a buzzing inside his mass. It was the buzz of familiarity. It seemed as though she were a creature familiar to him.

The shadow considered the small meat. Hair the color of the sun, and less than half the size of the big meat, and in possession of a high-pitched voice, he could not stop thinking that she was familiar in some way.

Eventually, the small meat ceased waving her limbs around then pranced back into her meat dwelling. No longer enraptured by the sight of the small meat, he soon grew bored of the meat cave and its inhabitants.

His stomach rumbled. It was time to feed.

The dragon returned to the forest and fell upon the few tidbits of prey that he found. The hunting in the area had grown slim. Eventually, he found his way to the river and captured another large fish. Though, this fish was not as large as the meat that he had claimed before.

Strangely, he found himself drawn back to the meat cave. He did not wish to feast on the meat there, but there was something curious about them. As he had wandered in search of food, his thoughts continually returned to the small meat. He could not help but think that she reminded him of something.

Long before sundown, he returned to the meat cave. The small meat was in the strange flat area behind her cave. It was the place of the shorn grass that smelled strongly of its recent mutilation.

He became a shadow and merged with the hedge bush. The small meat was in the place of plant mutilation, but she was not alone. She had with her another meat. It was a furry meat that walked on four legs. It had a shiny coat of fur and sharp teeth.

The small meat threw herself sideways then pointed one her of her digits forward. “Pickles! Use roar!”

The furred meat barked furiously. In a nearby tree a squirrel danced around nervously then threw an acorn down toward the ground and ran away.

“It was super effective, Pickles! You’re the best Pokémon, ever!” cried the small meat.

She leaned down and hugged the fur-meat tightly. The shadow watched curiously, as these two different types of meat acted perfectly happy to be in each other’s presence. It was a thing he could not remember having seen before. Most meats did not like meats of another type. Yet, the small meat and the fur-meat seemed to enjoy being near each other.

“Alright! Let’s go on another Pokémon adventure, Pickles,” said the small meat.

The fur-meat, which was now known to be a Pickles meat, released its mighty roar once more. It was a loud sharp roar that did not last long. Yet, it was clearly mighty.

The so-called Pokémon adventure was apparently a trip to the far side of the place of mutilated grass. The small meat and the pickles began to work once more. She called out for her meat to roar, and the Pickles released a serious of sharp loud roars that spooked a bird and sent it flying out of its bushy home.

“Good job, Pickles! You beat that pidgeot!” The small meat embraced the Pickles once more.

A curious shadow drifted around the perimeter of the area and watched their adventure for the remainder of the day. Each time the small meat embraced the mighty Pickles, a wave of energy tickled the shadow. It was warm. Life sustaining. It did not require him to steal it, only to be in its presence. Though, admittedly he could use a bite to eat.