The road narrowed again.
Not dramatically—just enough to be annoying. Roots clawed through the trail like grasping fingers, and the trees leaned too close together, throwing awkward shadows across everything. The air was warm, wet, and smelled like the forest had been sweating all night.
Orion didn't complain.
Out loud.
But he definitely composed a full mental list of curses as his pack strap chewed into his collarbone and the back of his knee started twitching from the incline.
Turtwig trudged beside him, completely unbothered. Tyrunt was ahead, tail flicking in short, irritable bursts. And somewhere in Orion's belt pouch, a shiny electric cat was pretending not to exist.
Orion grunted and stopped at the top of the rise.
"Alright. Break."
Turtwig sat down immediately. Tyrunt didn't.
Orion unclipped the newest addition to his self-inflicted problems and tossed the Ball forward.
"Go on. You've been cooped up for hours. You've got thirty minutes to pee, eat, and electrocute something that isn't me."
The shiny Shinx emerged in a flash of red.
He blinked twice, yawned, and immediately walked over to Orion like he hadn't just spent the last half-day in a capture field. Then he flopped against Orion's boot and rubbed his face on it.
Orion looked down at him.
"You know you're a taser, right?"
The Shinx purred.
"You're literally a portable police weapon with fur."
More purring. Then a paw on Orion's shin.
"I should name you 'Liability.'"
Turtwig snorted. Orion didn't ask if it was a laugh.
The Shinx kept rubbing, then wandered off to chase a leaf like this was a family picnic.
Orion sat down and massaged his shoulder.
"This is insane," he said to no one. "I've seen grown trainers tased into unconsciousness by one of these things, and mine acts like a lap cat from a Saturday morning cartoon."
Tyrunt wandered back, sniffed Shinx once, and gave Orion a look that clearly said: You adopted this.
"I didn't adopt anything," Orion muttered. "He was in a murder kid's Ball. I just inherited him."
Shinx caught the leaf, sat on it, and looked proud.
Orion sighed and pulled out his journal.
Training – Day Eight
Tyrunt: no stealth drills. Keep building Rock energy tracking.
Turtwig: prep for post-evolution weight shift. Leaf control is getting uneven.
Shinx: no. Just no. Stop trying to lick my boots and bite something.
The morning training was light.
Too much terrain. Not enough space.
Turtwig worked Razor Leaf drills while walking—Orion had him fire every ten steps at a moving mark on the trail. Accuracy was good. Spread was tightening.
Tyrunt practiced muscle control—short-burst Rock Throw from a jogging pace. His aim wavered when distracted, but the energy anchoring was starting to click.
Shinx… chased shadows.
Not helpful.
But also, somehow, not totally useless.
At one point, a wild Ekans slithered onto the trail.
Shinx zapped it.
No command.
Just walked up and tasered it.
Orion blinked.
"…Okay. Maybe you're not useless."
Shinx trotted back like he wanted praise.
Orion gave him a deadpan stare.
"You are still not mine."
Shinx headbutted his shin and kept walking.
Around midday, the trail opened into a long stretch of rocky slope.
They took the high ground—Orion didn't like how the terrain funneled below. Too easy to trap. Too many places for ambush.
Tyrunt paused halfway up and sniffed the wind.
Orion caught it a second later.
Blood.
And something… familiar.
He held up a hand.
Turtwig stopped. Shinx kept moving—until Tyrunt growled.
Then all three froze.
Orion stepped forward and peered around a jagged boulder.
The body was fresh.
Mightyena.
The same one.
He recognized the bite scar behind its left eye—the one from their scuffle days ago.
It had limped off after the fight.
Now it was dead.
Throat ripped out. Body slashed. Steam still rising.
Orion crouched low.
Not Tyrunt's kill.
Not recent.
Something else had gotten it.
Big.
Clean.
Efficient.
He stood slowly.
Then checked the ground around them.
Burn marks.
Just faint ones.
Like embers had touched the soil and died.
Orion's chest tightened.
He whispered, "We're too close."
Turtwig looked at him.
"Charizard," Orion said. "Wild. Former Champion's. Went rogue about five years ago. Lives around here."
He gestured at the tree line.
"Territorial. Kills anything it doesn't like."
Tyrunt growled.
Orion shook his head.
"No. We don't fight it. Not even close. If that thing wants us gone, we're gone."
Shinx yawned.
Orion picked him up without asking and dropped him gently into the crook of his arm.
"We're moving."
They traveled fast for the next hour, keeping low, quiet.
No talking.
No sarcasm.
Even Shinx didn't make a sound.
Eventually, the burn marks vanished.
The air got lighter.
But Orion didn't relax.
He'd heard stories. That Charizard was half-wild, half-myth. The kind of creature you didn't beat. You survived it—if it let you.
Some Pokémon weren't just strong.
They were events.
Forces of nature.
Not trainers. Not allies.
Just kill zones with wings.
By the time the sun dipped low, Orion found a shallow hollow in the hillside to camp.
He didn't light a fire.
Just leaned back against his pack and let the tension ease from his spine.
Turtwig fed quietly on moss near the edge. Tyrunt dug a shallow trench and curled up inside.
Shinx wandered once, sniffed around, then headbutted Orion's side and curled up on his lap.
Orion stared down at him.
"You're electric. You could vaporize a grown man's heart."
Shinx licked his wrist and purred.
"And you want cuddles."
Orion sighed.
"I'm in hell."
But he didn't push him off.