~(S)~

From beneath a wide and rugged oak tree, a young Snivy reclined in the shade.

The long hours he had spent walking through the forest all morning and afternoon gave him a thirst for something other than simple water. Though he wasn't in the habit of taking a tea break so late in the day, he decided upon a whim that he would make an exception this time. His thermos was already laden with hot water and his tea cup was already laden with a bag of Persim tea. Lazily, he added the water to the cup and set his thermos aside, letting the shingles of bark scratch and massage his back as he readjusted himself. Waiting for his tea to cool and steep, he took a deep breath...and observed.

Chesto Forest had a unique beauty to it, Snivy thought. It was a shame he hadn't been able to observe the intricacy of it yet. But once he had, he began to discover all the little details that set it apart from most woodlands. When blooming, the pink leaves of the Chesto trees transformed the deep green foliage into a vivid mixture of lavender and jade. Even after the trees had matured with their fruit, the dots of pink remained until the trees shed their leaves for the winter.

He took his first sip of tea and closed his eyes as he took in the sounds of the woods. He observed the soft rustling of leaves dancing gently with the wind. The chirping of the exotic birds that inhabited the location; tailows, swablu, and starlys; all created a calming harmony. He took notice of the juxtaposition contained in the forest's noises. The soft swaying sounds of the leaves contrasted the sharp chirping of the birds. Likewise, the songs of the bug Pokémon produced dissonance with the chattering of the mankeys hanging by the high tree-tops. And they all came together to produce an ambiance that helped define the forest.

As he inhaled, he took notice of the subtle scents that the trees and bushes and flowers had to offer him. The pollen of the Chesto trees' late bloomers produced an aroma that harmonized with the fragrance of Snivy's tea. The organic smell of the woods reminded Snivy of his life back home; he always enjoyed taking a stroll in the nearby Lunar Woods whenever he couldn't sleep or wanted to take a break from life.

When he thought about it, Chesto Forest felt very homely. The somber and serene setting that resided here was so much like his favorite spots in the Woods back home….

Home. It had been, what, two weeks since he left? The semblance of his neighborhood he left behind still lingered in his mind. Lingering next to it was the sneering voice of guilt reminding him of the potential consequences of his choice. You chose to run away, it told him. You only left because of your ambitions, and now everyone is going to feel the effect of it. You should too.

Snivy finished the last of his tea and stood up. "Yes, I ran away," he said aloud to the voice. He brushed himself off and approached the path he was following. "And I'm going to abide by that decision, so I ought to keep running. It's not as if I was of much use to them anyway."

Along the way, he realized that he had forgotten the direction in which he was going. He reached for his backpack and pulled out his map and compass. While Chesto Forest was certainly easy on his eyes, it was also certainly not easy on the brain. The paths diverged, converged, split apart, narrowed away, and criss-crossed like a broken and mangled maze. Snivy liked to think he had a decent sense of direction, but following the outlined path within this massive forest proved to be a major challenge, even with the tools he had at his disposal. Nonetheless, he racked his brain and looked at his compass. After working out which direction North was, he turned to his map to pinpoint where he was, and determined that he should be going left. He put the items back into his backpack and continued along the path.

He walked for perhaps another half an hour before the dimming of the sky told him that he had lost track of time. I suppose I've covered enough ground for today, he thought. If I don't unpack now, I'll lose the light that I need to set up camp. Briskly walking along the path, he searched the area for a flat spot to place his belongings. Within a minute, he had found one: a small treeless grassy hill located not too far from the path. Snivy grinned at his good fortune and paced over to the spot. He set down his backpack and prepared to set up camp.

Snivy didn't remember the process of setting up his tent to be so difficult, and it had only been a day since he last tried it. After a long twenty minutes of getting the supports and stakes properly placed, and ten more minutes of setting up the tarp, the result was a crooked and somewhat unstable mess of shelter. Unsatisfied with the results, Snivy took down the whole thing and tried building it again. It must be the new environment, he thought as he aligned the poles for the tent once more. It's been nothing but plains and grasslands up to this point. The shrubs and roots are probably just getting in the way.

By the time he was satisfied with the tent, the sun vanished completely from the sky, leaving behind the image of night. The stars sparkled brightly through the clear atmosphere, shedding a faint light over the terrain. Quickly, Snivy grabbed the lamp he packed and turned it on. He searched the surrounding ground for twigs and sticks that he could use to make a fire. Some autonomous scanning later, he returned to camp with a bundle of branches of varying shapes and sizes. He organized the smaller sticks into a conic structure, surrounded it with stones he found lying about in the woods, and lit the wood with the aid of his match box. Soon a blazing fire had taken place of the twigs that were once there.

As he stared at the fluttering ribbons of the flames, memories of home came rushing back to him, just as they always did every time he set up camp each night. But here, the memories seemed to come more potently. Lunar Woods, in addition to being his favorite night time walking place, was also the hosting site of the campfire concerts he'd have with his brother. Servine often came rushing into the woods from their home shouting with contagious glee that he had finished writing his latest song. He'd give the lyrics and melody to Snivy and ask him to play along, and he would, pulling out his lute and performing with his brother. The songs that followed would draw up a crowd, and the neighbors would be angry on account of them having not being invited.

The songs came swimming back to his mind, and Snivy couldn't help but sing aloud. The Roses of Redshire called to Snivy the loudest (again), and he found himself chanting the lyrics.

I have seen places of dark mellow tone,

I have seen sights that have dazzled and glown,

But through sea and through sky,

Nothing stretches so high

As the beauty of Redshire and roses They've grown.

I've traveled through villages, traveled through towns,

Traveled through canopies, crevices, crowns,

But the time's wearing thin

before times become grim,

So I'll stay here in Redshire to set those woes down.

It was at the second verse that Snivy stopped and realized he was singing like an absolute buffoon. He figured it didn't matter anyway; no one was there to hear him.

Snivy just accidentally sent a pang of loneliness through his heart. That song was always more fun when someone was singing harmony along with him. It was Snivy's decision to travel independently; that way, he could have more freedom and not burden anyone. And up until now, he was fine. But…now that he thought about it, the lack of company really began to get to him. He only had himself and the foliage around him to keep himself entertained. No one was there to talk to. No one was there to listen to….Hopefully this feeling would go away once he arrived at Machoke's Training Camp and met new Pokémon.

He walked over to his pack and grabbed the pamphlet he had received long before leaving home, reflecting over why he decided to head out in the first place. Everything had changed so quickly. Ever since the Arashi showed up, the world has been slowly falling into chaos. Snivy wanted to help stop them.

But he wanted more out of it, too. He wanted answers. Why were they so evil? What caused these Pokémon to raid villages and attack the innocent? Snivy wanted to find that out.

But above all, Snivy wanted change. He wanted to create a new life by himself, for himself. He did not want to get caught in a life guided by those around him. He wanted to go out and look at the world: see new places, meet new friends. He didn't want to live isolated from the rest of the world like he had been when he was with his family.

Still, though…he wished they were okay. The village wasn't exactly in the best shape when he left. There weren't any immediate threats of attack—thank the gods—but that didn't keep worry from entering the hearts and minds of everybody around him. He couldn't help but imagine that leaving them behind only made them feel like things were getting worse.

To put his mind off the topic, Snivy grabbed his hunting knife and went out into the woods to find something to eat.

He had a bit of trouble traversing through the terrain. He was never as agile during the night as he was during the day, therefore it was a bit more difficult to maintain stealth. Every now and then he'd find a sleeping rattata or minccino, but they always woke up and ran away before Snivy could do anything even remotely threatening. I wasn't designed to hunt under these conditions, Snivy thought with frustration.

After what felt like an irksome twenty or thirty minutes of searching, Snivy decided that he wouldn't catch anything and headed back for camp. But as he turned around, he spotted out of the corner of his eye a sleeping sentret about ten yards from him. Well, there's a possible dinner. And a pretty big gamble. Snivy knew about wild sentrets well: they emitted an alarming cry whenever they were threatened. That cry would send every Pokémon within a half-mile radius running for their lives. If that happened, then he'd really have no chance at snagging something to eat. He was going to have to be quick about it...and accurate. Snivy weighed his options. If I keep walking through, I'll return safely to camp but I'll probably have no food. If I try to attack, it's pretty likely that I won't be successful. But...there's still the possibility that I manage to snag it. I suppose I don't really have much to lose but time.

Snivy decided. He adjusted his stance so that he could get a clear shot of his target, and held his breath. In the blink of an eye, the end of Snivy's left vine wrapped around the sentret's mouth and neck, muting it from its screams. The vine's grip tightened as Snivy pulled the sentret towards him. As it was being launched, Snivy extended his right vine and lashed his prey's torso region. Snivy stopped sentret right in front of him, left vine still restraining his mouth and throat. A large gash began to appear where Snivy had whipped it. He gently set the sentret on the ground, and assessed its condition. The Pokémon was young: still a child. Snivy suspected that the mother may return soon. He quickly checked the sentret for consciousness. There was no movement, so it most likely fainted. He let go and retracted his left vine. There was still breathing and circulation, so it was still in stable condition. That had to be fixed.

Snivy pulled out the knife he brought with him and solemnly looked at the fallen prey. This was the worst part of hunting every time. "Sorry, kid," he gently said to it as he brought his knife up to the Sentret's throat, which had grown swollen from his vine grip. He looked away as he scored the animal's neck.

The worst part every time….

After sighing deeply, Snivy dragged his dinner back to camp.

When he returned, he set the sentret down near the still burning fire. He added another large branch and began to set up his cooking stand, which was really nothing more than a thick metal mesh and a pot to be placed above it. He went to the sentret corpse and began skinning it. Once all of the fur had been removed, Snivy tore at its back and tail for the meat. Sentrets weren't the most muscle high creatures. They had small legs and arms, and primarily used their back and tail muscles to help balance themselves on their tails. The only locations with a relatively large amount of edible meat were those places. Nevertheless, Snivy cooked up the raw food on the stovetop and it made for a satisfying supper.

It dawned on Snivy after he finished his meal how exhausted he was. Even though he liked to consider himself agile, Chesto Forest was proving to be a challenge. Without hesitation, Snivy crawled into his tent without even bothering to put out the fire. He grabbed his pack and set it down inside the tent right before retiring to his bed. He was asleep the moment he enveloped himself in his blanket.

~(S)~

Snivy woke to find that it had been a lot colder than when he had fallen asleep. At first, he thought it was just the morning dew keeping the ground cold, but once his memory whirred back on, he realized that it couldn't have simply been that. Every morning had lingering dew keeping the ground cold, and yet it was particularly chilly now. Snivy shrugged it off and assumed that it was just because the forest was more humid. Whatever the reason, the cold was still the cold, and Snivy didn't like the cold. He curled tighter into his sleeping bag and tried to go back to rest. It was bound to get warmer as the morning passed.

But Snivy couldn't sleep. The light and coolness were too overpowering, so he just rested there for a while, doing nothing.

Deciding that a bit of exercise would warm him up for the time being, Snivy shook off his funk and ripped off his sleeping bag. Immediately, a chill ran over him, and he curled back up. C'mon, Snivy, you're stronger than this. What's a little cold air to you? he thought. With quick and clumsy movements, he swung himself to his feet, opened his tent, and marched outside.

As it turned out, the grass wasn't wet: it was soaked. Rather than beads of dew lying on the blades of grass which massaged your feet with a cool, misty touch, the soil was utterly waterlogged, and it formed a shallow pool around Snivy's foot when he stepped forth. Interesting. Snivy quickly walked over to the fire. The pot had been filled with water and the fire was completely extinguished. It must've rained. That would explain the coldness. He looked around and noticed that a few of the branches had cracked and fallen. Apparently it had more than rained. Wow, Snivy thought. I must've slept through a storm...and a large one at that.

Snivy walked back over to the tent and wrapped up his sleeping bag and pillow. Thankfully, he decided to place his backpack inside of the tent after he set it up. He brought the pack and the transportable bed outside of the tent and placed both on the pile of sticks he had collected last night. The bed of branches suspended everything from the drenched ground. He then went over to disassemble his tent, which naturally took much less time than it did to construct.

As he went over to pack up his tent, he spotted a small colony of mankeys running across the forest terrain. Snivy blinked. Wait, running? He kept staring, probably with a bit more confusion than he should have felt. Mankeys live in treetop colonies, he pondered. Seeing one alone on the ground is not too uncommon, but they never leave the trees in groups, let alone whole colonies. Something strange is going on….

Curiosity got the best of him, and Snivy decided to follow them. He brought his backpack with him in case he got lost and followed the direction of the mankeys.

They were fast for tree-dwelling creatures. Snivy was barely able to keep up with them. Hopefully he wasn't wandering too far from camp. Getting lost would not be fun. It's not too risky, Snivy thought to himself as he tried to keep up his pursuit. I know the direction I'm going. Plus, the trail's right next to where I'm running. I'll just follow it should I lose my way.

Snivy continued to follow the mankeys. They began to pick up the pace, as if they knew they were being followed and tried to escape from their pursuer. On his left, Snivy noticed out of the corner of his eye a strange orange blur. He glanced over to see what it was, and instantly fell over a large root and slid face-first across the muddy ground.

Oh, the grief that his short attention span always brought him! He looked up and sighed, confirming that he had lost sight of the mankeys. He stood up in defeat and scraped off the mud from his face. He then turned around and headed over to the orange thing that caused him to lose his focus. Perhaps one defeat may lead to a different victory for his curious mind.

He was expecting it to be some sort of large exotic flower that a passerby planted long ago, or the carcass of a wild stantler whose skin was brightened by a patch of sunlight, but the shape and size told him otherwise. What also caught his eye was a small crater directly surrounding the object. Several of the surrounding trees had fallen away from it as well. He also thought he saw a few sparks of static around the object. Was it a meteorite? No, no, of course not: meteorites aren't orange.

At some point, it hit him, and his stomach turned over when it did: it was a Pokémon! And not a wild Pokémon either—nothing of that shape and color resided in any woods he knew of. It was civilized and sentient...and it got caught in the storm. Snivy immediately drew himself into a sprint, rushing to the creature's aid.

He set down his backpack and got up next to the fallen Pokémon. The body structure and flamed tail confirmed that the Pokémon was a Charmander. Snivy rolled it on its back and began to shake it thoroughly.

"Hey! Wake up! Are you alright?!" Snivy shouted at the passed out Charmander. No response. Remembering his basic training for situations like this, Snivy checked it for a pulse and breath. It was obviously still alive, but that didn't mean it wasn't in critical condition. This, fortunately, wasn't the case, though: the creature was still breathing and its heart was still pumping. Maybe it had just passed out from exhaustion. If so, it needed warmth.

Snivy headed over to grab his blanket to wrap around the Charmander. However, he had to stop himself and turn back around: the creature suddenly began rustling itself awake.