well, he wasn’t sure how he felt.
Nostalgic?
Sentimental?
Like he wanted to cry because he had left his entire world behind?
Like death was a very real possibility right now?
All of the above and more, most likely.
…
A cool wind blew through the tall pines, whistling through the valley floor and making Leo shiver, his hair standing on end and goosebumps crawling up his arms.
The small copse of trees he had chosen to take shelter in blocked the most of the wind, but nights up here got real cold real quick, and, if the brilliant orange in the sky and how the sun had already hidden itself behind the mountains were anything to go by, night was coming soon.
Leo shuddered and glanced at the Magikarp off to his left, sighing.
He’d told himself that if he didn’t get a fire started with the hand drill, he wouldn’t eat fish tonight, even if the fish was far smaller than the anime and games had portrayed.
The red, crowned fish was maybe the size of a trout, six to eight inches long, but he supposed that made sense.
There was no way a river a foot deep could support entire schools of massive Magikarp.
So, with a heavy heart, Leo picked up the fish, stood, and tossed it as hard as he could, barely getting it into the river a dozen or so feet away.
“Stupid kid arms,” Leo grumbled, lamenting not for the first time his sudden lack of strength.
He was pretty sure that was the reason he couldn’t get the hand drill to work, the strength in his arms weren’t letting him get enough friction.
But that could also just be an excuse.
With a sigh, Leo pushed his makeshift fire starter to the side – maybe he made it wrong, that could be the problem – and looked out over the Slowpoke herd.
His hand absently reached to the side, picking at the pile of pine nuts he had set on a small rock to his right.
They were tiny things, almost inedible and definitely out of season, but pinecones were plentiful, and calories were calories.
He had to keep his strength up, even if he was punishing himself for failure.
Plus, he’d eaten a ton of Magikarp and Goldeen over the past few days, that was part of the reason he felt comfortable forgoing a meal.
The Slowpoke herd, on the other hand, felt no qualms about skimping on meals.
Leo watched as a Slowbro that had been slowly ambling through the shallow waters of the river moved over to pick up Leo’s discarded fish and swallowed it in one gulp.
The massive creature was at least five feet tall, and it fixated its dopey eyes on Leo for a brief moment before turning and wading back into the river.
It was the biggest one of the herd, the other Slowbro being a mere four feet tall and the Slowpoke ranging between standing at two to three feet, and Leo had taken to calling him Derp.
Not the most flattering of names, but that was all Leo could use to describe the big, dopey creature.
It just didn’t seem to be altogether there.
“Slooooow,” it called, pushing on down the river, prompting similar calls from the rest of the herd.
Leo counted exactly twenty three Slowpoke and two Slowbro in the herd, and they were, for the most part, pleasant company.
Yes, they were slow moving, only covering a couple miles in a day as they migrated downriver, and they reminded him of cows in a way, but they didn’t even seem to register his presence either.
He could walk among them without earning their ire, though a few did watch him warily the first few times he’d stolen their fish.
It was also kind of fun to observe their habits.
Most Slowpoke didn’t really seem to care where they slept during the day, so long as it was in the sun, but at night they took their time picking out the softest parts of the riverbank.
Whether that entailed digging into the silt and soil, or stamping down grass to make a bed of sorts, they spent at least an hour every night just settling down.
They even got in arguments over who got the best spot sometimes, that was what caused the first pokémon battle Leo had ever seen in this world.
All it consisted of was two short water guns, one which missed and the second hitting the other Slowpoke in the face, but still!
It was amazing to see water shoot out of a Slowpoke’s mouth at great speed.
Still, it did remind him that Slowpoke were pokemon, and had abilities.
They were potentially dangerous and, if his memory serves him correctly, part psychic type.
Whatever that entailed or how it worked, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t like he could worry too much about it either.
The Slowpoke were his food source and, thankfully, the river had clean water.
It wasn’t like he could just skedaddle on out of the mountains when he had no idea where to go, or what might be or not be food.
He needed to secure his future first, then he could explore.
Another cold breeze broke Leo out of his musings, and he shivered, deciding it was time for bed.
He’d forgo a fire tonight, since he couldn’t get it started the primitive way, and instead turned to the pile of pine needles, leaves, and the one fairly big and bushy pine bough he had picked up off of a fallen tree.
That was his bed for the night, and though it was by no means comfortable – Leo would have to resituate himself several times throughout the night – it would keep him warm even without a fire.
Thankfully he still had his backpack to use as a pillow.
“Goodnight, Slowpoke,” Leo whispered, sliding into his pile and struggling to not itch himself as the pine needles poked through his clothes.
The Slowpoke did not reply, and Leo watch the sky fade from orange to grey to black, a brilliant sky of stars coming into being through the treetops, as he lay there trying to sleep.
It was going to be a long, restless night.
…
Leo muttered to himself as he shifted through the pile of shale, tossing the flat rocks to the side as he searched through them.
It had been a solid week since his arrival in this valley, and the Slowpoke were slow movers.
They had travelled maybe ten miles in the past four days, which at least did allow Leo enough time to practice his survival skills and try to get them back up to snuff.
He still hadn’t gotten the hand drill fire starting method down, so now he was searching for another solution; flint.
His knife – which had been invaluable over the past few days, and he needed to find a good whetstone for it to keep it sharp – was made of carbon steel, which would work well to create sparks if he could find a good rock to bash against it.
Heck, he was pretty sure he didn’t even need flint, just something hard and with an edge to strike against the back of his knife.
“You’d think I’d be able to find something in this big old pile of rocks, but no,” Leo grumbled, halting his search to look around.
The pile was at least a hundred feet tall and twenty five feet across, and consisted largely of squared, black stones.
“These rocks are all useless,”
To prove his point, Leo struck the back of his knife against one of the rocks, chipping off a piece of stone the rock and producing no sparks, nearly losing his grip on his knife in the process.
With a sigh Leo shoved his knife back in his pocket and began shifting through the stones once more.
That is, until one of the rocks he grabbed began to move.
“What in the – ” Was all the managed to get out when the head-sized rock opened its eyes and glared at him.
Shale flew as the Geodude burst forth from its hiding spot, one fist barreling forward and planting itself directly into Leo’s chest.
His breath left him with a whoosh and, briefly, Leo found himself falling through the air.
Then he was tumbling head over heels down the mountainside, slamming into rocks.
Pain rocketed through him as stone dug into his skin, and suddenly he was lying flat on his back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky with grass beneath him.
Leo groaned, trying to ignore the pain all over as he craned his head to look back at the shale pile.
He could still see the Geodude, clambering its way up the mountain as it fled.
It would have looked funny to see a ball of rock powering it’s way up a mountain on two oversized arms, were it not for the pain he was in.
Though he should probably consider it a small blessing that it didn’t chase after him.
“Ugly, goofy little creature,” Leo grumbled as he slowly sat up, checking to see if anything was broken.
Thankfully it didn’t seem like it, but he was sure to be sore and bruised, and he was certainly bleeding.
So Leo sat there for a few minutes, catching his breath and calming his nerves as he stared at the shale pile.
He needed another way to create fire, other than matches.
Flint and steel would be easier than the hand drill method, too.
And, now that he thought about it, he may be able to find a rock that might serve as a platter for cooking so he wasn’t roasting whole fish on a stick like you’d see in a cartoon, or even one that could be turned into bowl of sorts.
He had to keep looking.
But first he was just going to sit here and hurt.