The forest felt empty.
Not quiet—Orion knew the difference—but hollow. As if something had moved through just moments before and left the trees holding their breath.
He moved carefully, bow slung over his back, pack secured at his hip. No fire today. No trail markers. He didn't want anyone knowing where he'd gone.
Especially not today.
Reid had stayed behind to repair the water catchment system. Orion had volunteered to hunt.
Volunteered so Reid would stay safe.
Tyrunt padded behind him. Light on his feet despite his size. His head was low, eyes sharp, tail twitching every few steps. He was restless.
So was Orion.
They weren't hunting deer or Bidoof.
They were watching for something else.
And it didn't take long to find it.
The ambush didn't come with shouting.
There was no challenge call. No warning.
Just the sound of rustling leaves behind him—and the brief, unmistakable snap of a Pokéball being activated.
Orion dropped instantly, rolling sideways.
A flash of light split the clearing, and a blur of motion hit the spot where he'd been standing.
He hit the ground hard, twisted, and came up in a crouch.
A Nidorino stood where he'd been, horn low, pawing the ground.
Across the clearing, the man from the trail was already releasing a second ball.
No words.
No rules.
Just attack.
Tyrunt was already moving.
He didn't need Orion's command.
The dragon barreled forward, claws tearing into the earth, eyes locked on the Nidorino like a predator seeing prey that had dared to challenge it.
Nidorino lunged.
Tyrunt didn't dodge.
He met the charge.
There was a wet, cracking sound as his jaw clamped down—not on the horn, but on the side of the creature's neck.
Nidorino shrieked once.
Then went limp.
The man didn't stop.
He didn't look surprised either.
He threw the second Pokéball.
Another flash—this time a Fearow, already airborne, screeching as it dove from above with talons forward.
Orion grabbed his bow, notched an arrow, and aimed—not at the bird, but at the man.
"Call it off."
The man didn't move.
Fearow dived.
Tyrunt twisted, dropped the Nidorino like a sack of meat, and leapt.
It wasn't graceful.
It wasn't fast.
But when his jaws closed on the bird mid-dive, the sound of bones shattering echoed across the clearing.
The Fearow didn't get a second dive.
Orion kept his arrow trained on the man.
"Next one dies, it'll be you."
The man raised both hands slowly.
No words.
He didn't try to run.
Didn't try to fight.
He just stood there, staring at the body of the Fearow.
Then at Tyrunt.
Then at Orion.
"Didn't think he'd be that strong."
Orion didn't lower the bow.
"Then you're an idiot."
The man shifted slightly.
No Pokéballs left.
No cover.
Just the growing realization that he was in real danger.
"I just wanted to see what it was worth."
Orion's grip tightened.
"He's not for sale."
"Didn't say he was."
"But you came with two Pokémon and no backup. You were expecting to take him."
The man didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Tyrunt stood over the Nidorino's body.
He didn't growl.
Didn't roar.
He just looked back at Orion with something unreadable in his eyes.
Not regret.
Not rage.
Just confirmation.
Orion nodded once.
Then looked back at the man.
"Leave."
He did.
Or limped, really.
He walked backward for a few steps, eyes darting from Tyrunt to Orion, then turned and disappeared into the trees.
No last words.
No promise of revenge.
Just retreat.
They didn't move for several minutes.
Tyrunt eventually wandered back to Orion's side, blood staining his jaw.
He didn't seem shaken.
Or proud.
He just looked tired.
Orion reached out and touched his head.
Tyrunt didn't flinch.
They buried the Fearow and Nidorino a hundred meters from the clearing.
Orion didn't enjoy it.
But he did it.
Because someone had to.
Because this world still pretended it had rules.
Even when it didn't.
Back at the cabin, Reid didn't ask many questions.
He looked at Tyrunt. Looked at Orion. Looked at the blood that still stained the pack Orion hadn't changed yet.
Then nodded once.
"You did what you had to."
Orion didn't answer.
He just sat by the fire that night, Tyrunt curled nearby.
And thought about what came next.
Because next time…
There'd be more than one.