With a groan Leo sat up, wincing as his muscles pulled and his sides ached, a pounding reverberating around his skull as he leaned forward, gripping his head in his hands.
“Lets not do that again,” he muttered grumpily, just sitting there for a while.
“Stupid evolution, stupid tyrogue.
Why’d you have to go and attack me?
I’m going to be hurting for days now,” he groused, rubbing his face and looking up, then freezing as he locked eyes with another pokemon.
…
The tyranitar stared at him from where it stood between two trees, the coloration of its belly standing out as it watched him.
It snorted, shooting dust from its nostrils, and cracked its jaws open in a yawn as it turned away, lumbering off into the forest.
Leo stood after a moment, choosing not to think about the tyranitar as he took a deep breath.
A groan escaped him on the exhale, his ribs and stomach aching and head throbbing.
“I just…can’t today,” Leo said, pushing the thought of the tyranitar out of his mind and stumbling back to the slowpoke herd.
It would take a good hour or two normally, but with how gingerly he was moving now that time would probably increase a good amount.
Pressing a hand to his forehead and glancing at the horizon, where dark stormclouds were looming, Leo sighed once more.
Either his luck was really good or really terrible, and usually Leo couldn’t decide which it was.
Today?
Today, it felt like the latter.
…
Leo shuddered and shook as he crouched over his tiny fire, the flames barely catching on the slightly damp wood, other pieces of fuel laying about the firepit to dry.
The rain had only stopped a half-hour ago, having persisted well into the night, and leaving Leo absolutely miserable.
He was cold, wet, aching, and exhausted, yet unable to sleep because he was cold, wet, and aching.
Thunder rumbled and Leo sneezed, rubbing his bare shoulders futilely.
He had taken his shirt off once the fire had started, the damp cloth doing more harm than good once it had been fully soaked.
Normally he loved rain, he loved the sight and sounds of storms rolling in, he loved the smell it left and how everything just looked and felt clean afterwards.
When he was alone in the wilderness, however, with no real form of cover, as he had been unable to find proper shelter beyond crouching behind a rock to avoid the worst of the wind, Leo found himself hating it.
“Stupid storm,” Leo grumbled.
“Broooo,” one of the slowbro called, yawning.
“Shut up, Bob.
No one asked you,” Leo snapped.
Then he sighed, and held his face in his shaking hands.
“Sorry, that was uncalled for.
I love you, Bob,” he amended.
“Slooow,” one of the slowpoke said.
“Hush, Steve, I already apologized didn’t I?” Leo muttered, sighing once more and rocking back away from the fire.
“What am I even doing?
Here I am, having a conversation with slowpoke and slowly freezing to death,”
He wasn’t actually dying, not really, but that was the way Leo felt.
Even when more wood had dried out and the small flame grew to a merry blaze, steam rolling off of larger sticks set next to the fire to dry, Leo still shivered, the bone-deep cold not fading any quicker.
His eyes flicked away from the fire, glancing at the slowpoke herd a few dozen feet away, next to the lake and hidden in patches of tall grass.
Leo found himself envious of them.
They hadn’t even really cared that it rained, or was cold.
The slowpoke had all the heat they needed, and could find food far easier than Leo could.
He still relied heavily on them for the main source of his nutrients, after all.
Most of them were even asleep now, something Leo probably wouldn’t accomplish until morning, and the ground dried up.
“Alright, focus on something else, Leo.
Find something to do, thinking about your misery isn’t going to get you anywhere,” Leo chided himself, slapping his cheeks and rising, heading over to his backpack.
He silently thanked the heavens for the waterproofed canvas as he flicked it open, pulling out one of his notebooks, a pencil, and gingerly withdrawing the leaf the bellossom had given him from a side pocket.
It was still perfectly healthy and vibrant, surprisingly, despite it having been a few days since his meeting with the bellossom.
“Wait, how long has it been?” Leo muttered to himself, scratching his cheek.
It’d been a couple days, he knew…maybe four or five?
He was losing track of time.
All he knew was that the days were getting hotter and the forest had been in full bloom for a while now.
“Should probably keep track of the days, and prepare to head down the mountains actually.
I don’t want to be here when winter hits,” he muttered, rubbing his face.
But, that was a problem for future Leo to figure out – the Leo of today just wanted to relax and stop hurting for a minute.
After writing and doodling for a few minutes, his hands slowly warming up as he used them, Leo began to play with the leaf.
He pulled the leaf taut and blew on it, the soft ringing sound it created coming in short, discordant bursts.
Leo scowled at it and huffed, trying a few more times.
He never really had much musical talent in the first place, but at least the leaf was fun to play with.
It only took few minutes of disjointed playing for Leo set the leaf off to the side, though, as he looked up at the stars.
A part of him wondered how Jack – the friend he was certain had travelled to this world with – was doing, and what kind of a situation he was in.
Leo hoped it he had been deposited closer to civilization – he wasn’t certain Jack could survive for too long in the wilds.
“I shall admit, I did not expect to see a human child attempt to play a song on a bellossom’s leaf,” a new, deep and tired-sounding voice called.
It was distinctly male and distinctly inhuman, and that definitely creeped Leo out.
He jumped and whirled, his heart racing and finding himself thoroughly disappointed and confused to see the pink creature standing behind him, just outside the light of his fire.
“Uh,” Leo said eloquently, staring at the slowking.
He observed Leo with sharp, intelligent eyes and a small smile on his face, its hands held behind his back as he stood there regally.
Shadows danced across its features, the pink gem in the middle of his crown reflecting the firelight in its smooth surface.
The slowking’s eyes held Leo’s gaze, the expression on his face never faltering.
“Worry not, I am not here to cause you trouble,” he said regally, the words coming out slowly and with a lot of forced enunciation.
When Leo didn’t respond, the slowking frowned, cocking his head to the side.
“I am speaking the language of your people, yes?
It has been so long since I have last spoke in this tongue, I am afraid I might be a little rusty.”
“Uh, no, I mean yes, I can understand you, I’m just…surprised,” Leo stammered out, trying to collect himself.
The slowking smiled.
“I cannot say I am not surprised at that.
It is not an everyday occurrence you meet a talking pokemon.
May I sit?
I do wish to converse with you for a time,” he said.
Leo nodded slowly, rubbing his forehead and sitting down on the opposite side of the fire from the slowking, the regal creature gingerly falling onto his backside with a groan.
“Ah, I am getting too old,” he muttered.
“Slooow,” one of the slowpoke called, which Leo ignored in favor of staring at the slowking.
“Now first of all, I do have one question that must be answered – what is a child like you doing out in the woods like this?” the slowking asked.
Leo frowned, but decided he was a little too tired to try to play any mind games.
Besides, it was a slowking.
What was the point of lying to a pokemon?
…
A/ N: The Story Needs More Power Stones 😉