Rock clashed against metal and sparks flew, landing in the loosely packed pile of dead grass and pine needles. Smoke began to rise from the set of kindling and Leo scrambled forward onto his hands and knees, his knife and the stone he had been using tossed to the side as he leaned down to gently blow on the budding fire, coaxing the sparks to bloom into a full-blown flame. Soon enough flames started to catch on the tee-pee style formation of twigs settled around the kindling, and Leo began to add bigger sticks to it, feeding the fire but trying not to smother it with too much fuel. It took maybe two minutes for Leo to be satisfied that his fire wouldn't die, and he laughed at the sight of the small, merry flame slowly growing in size before him.

"What do you think of that, huh?" Leo boasted smugly to the Slowpoke not but three feet to his right, its blank eyes staring at the flames.

"Sloooow?" It called, tilting its head to the side, tail slowly wagging back and forth.

"Finally, I have successfully found a replacement for matches – though I should probably still figure out the hand drill method, don't you think?" Leo asked, crossing his arms and sitting back, content to just watch for now.

The Slowpoke made a strange noise in the back of its throat and, with a slow, almost methodical movement, opened its mouth to shoot a jet of water at the flame, successfully dousing it and the pile of sticks Leo had collected behind it. Leo's jaw dropped, the remains of his creation now just a pile of blackened twigs and smoke. His first successful fire without using matches, and a stupid Slowpoke destroyed it.

"Slooow," the Slowpoke said, and Leo could almost see the smug gleam in its eyes as it turned to look at him.

"You little jerk," Leo hissed, resisting the urge to shove the Slowpoke away. With slow, methodical movements the Slowpoke turned around and ambled back to its herd, greeting its fellow Slowpoke with low calls and the occasional nudge. Leo just glared as it left, uncaring about how upset Leo was with it.

He couldn't stay mad though, and slumped forward. At least he knew he could start a fire now, and he hadn't really needed it at the moment. Still, it would have been nice to revel in his victory for a few more moments before the Slowpoke put out the fire.

Stretching and standing, Leo turned his attention to the Slowpoke herd. They had led him to a big lake, he estimated it was probably at least a mile long at its widest, though the Slowpoke had congregated where the river flowed into the lake. The Slowbro swam lazily through the waters, occasionally diving beneath the surface, while the Slowpoke lounged on the shores, tails dangling in the waters. Three Butterfree danced in the air above the lake, glittering scales falling from their wings to land on the surface of the water, which was set to gleaming by the mid-morning sun. To the right side of the lake dense trees grew, following up the entirety of the mountain. More mountains rose in front and to the left of the lake, great behemoths of rock and stone that held untold secrets – or so Leo liked to romanticize it.

"What a beautiful day though, isn't it?" Leo murmured. And truly it was. The air was crisp and cool, the slight breeze rustled the trees, and the buzzing of insects coupled with the occasional cry of a pokémon created a symphony that flowed through Leo's body and touched his very soul.

There could be a lot to complain about his situation, that is true, but Leo would be lying if he said he wasn't having fun. Adventure hadn't been laid at his feet, he had been submerged fully into it – there was no escaping it even if he wanted to, not that he did. He just had to force himself not to think about all that he left behind, all he had left undone. Which at the moment, was hard to do.

Leo let out a breath and looked at the sky, a singular bird pokémon flying high above.

"For of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these: It might have been!" he recited slowly, drawing upon his memories of a poem he had read long ago written by one John Greenleaf Whittier. Leo had enjoyed poetry to some degree, but never really got too into it. There had always been other things to do, but the quote here had always stuck out to him and was just a bit too relevant.

He didn't want to think that he had been given another chance in this…new life, for that is all Leo could really think to call it, because that would be something along the lines of admitting defeat. He had been young, he had found a purpose, and now, all he could dream about his old life was what might have been. He might have been great, or good, or…any number of things. Now he was here, in this world, with no explanation as to why. It had better be a good reason, Leo thought, a bubble of anger worming its way into his stomach.

"But there's no point in dwelling on 'might have beens.' You've still got things to do Leo," he told himself, tamping down his anger and pushing away his thoughts. "You've got an alternative fire method down, and you still need to figure out the hand drill method, but right now you need to secure another supply of meat besides mooching off of the Slowpoke. So let's start with tracking, and figuring out traps," he muttered, rubbing his face.

Sure, he could gather edible plants for food, but he had been considering another problem – clothing. He had no idea what time of year it was, and this high in the mountains things were sure to get cold in the winter. Leo was not dressed for winter. All he had was his black, Billy Joel concert t-shirt and plain jeans, which spelled almost certain death during the first snow. So he wanted to find and hunt a furry pokémon that he could potentially tan and turn into a coat or something. Tanning leather was another problem though, but one he'd have to figure out once he got around to successfully hunting things.

"It's a good thing I'm a master of camouflage," Leo joked with a laugh, stripping completely nude and traipsing towards the lake. First he was going to "camouflage" himself, then he would go start tracking and trying to sneak up on things. He'd seen a few Sentret and Rattata around, they should make good practice targets. A wide grin spread across Leo's face as his toes sunk into the mud of the shore. "Who am I kidding? This is just an excuse to play in the mud," he declared proudly, and promptly fell flat on his face to roll about on the muddy shoreline.

He slathered and splashed mud all over himself, sticking blades of grass and twigs into the larger clumps that stuck to him more for his amusement than for any form of camouflage. A part of him wondered how well this would work, another didn't really care. Though that internal debate was settled mostly by the sudden appearance of a Slowpoke, dropping itself onto the ground next to him and thrashing about, covering its pink hide with mud.

It stopped after a brief second and stared blankly at Leo, cocking its head to the side with a smear of dark brown mud on top of its head.

"Slooow?" it called, and Leo laughed.

He laughed hard and long, especially when more Slowpoke came to join him in rolling in the mud, a curious display, he was sure. He could only imagine how it would look to any passersby to see a naked boy slathering himself with mud while Slowpoke rolled all around him. And that thought was nothing short of hilarious, so Leo laughed deeply and fully for the first time since he had arrived here.

Leo crouched low to the ground, a hefty stick held loosely in one hand, and his prey in sight. He crept forward, careful not to step on any breakable twigs, and trying not to rustle the dead grass around him too much. It wasn't very tall, maybe ankle height brown and green grass, but it did make a lot of noise if brushed against. And unfortunately, the Rattata he was stalking seemed to have sensed something was up.

The purple rat paused in its scrabbling in the dirt to sniff the air and Leo froze, casting his eyes downward ever so slightly because the face was the most easily recognizable part of the body. Sweat beaded on Leo's forehead as he waited, stock still in an awkward position with the sun beating down on him from above. After a second of holding his breath Leo looked up, adrenaline surging through his veins when he saw that the Rattata had turned its back to him – and it was in range. Carefully Leo pulled back his arm, fingers clenching around the smooth grooves he had carved into the stick.

His heart hammered in his ears, his blood roared, and his muscles surged as he hurled his stick towards his prey. The stick arced, spinning beautifully through the air at the unmoving Rattata only to sail right over its head and clatter against the ground, startling the Rattata so much it shot a foot in the air and scrambled off into the brush and safety. Leo slumped in defeat, standing up and cursing at his aim. He was so close too. And at least his stalking skills were better than his tracking and trapping skills were. Those were…abysmal, to say the least. His tracking could be remedied with practice, but he wasn't seeing much hope for trapping at the moment.

"Not that I ever got much practice with traps," Leo grumbled to himself, striding over to his designated throwing stick. The occasional sharp rock or thorn poked into the bare soles of his feet, but Leo persevered. He wanted to toughen his feet up, in case he lost his shoes. That, and really, being naked and covered in mud wasn't really the same if he was wearing shoes. If he was going to play the part of the savage wild-man, he might as well really look the part, right?

Angry chittering drew Leo's attention, his gaze falling upon the Rattata he had missed. It crouched not far in the budding brush to Leo's right, its fur blending in rather well with the shadows and densely packed branches, its overlarge teeth gnashing at Leo angrily. Leo narrowed his eyes at the creature. Did it really want to play that game? Fine. He'd play that game.

Leo dropped his stick and picked up a hefty rock, hurling it at the Rattata and missing it by inches, mostly because it dodged out of the way and continued to chitter at him, pacing back and forth.

"You little – you're taunting me, aren't you?" Leo demanded, picking up his stick. "Fine, let's go buddy boy," he said, advancing towards the brush. The Rattata retreated further into the bush, but still chittered at Leo. For a brief moment, Leo considered pushing into the brush. It was taller than he was, with dense, albeit thin branches that would poke and prod him to no end. It would be difficult, but was getting the rattata worth it…? He poked experimentally at the bush, pressing against it and testing its resistance.

With blinding speed the Rattata darted forward, white light sparking off its little rat paws. Leo yelped and jumped backwards in surprise, his quick reaction the only thing that saved him from the loud snap! Of the Rattata's jaws slamming shut where his feet had been but moments before. Leo's eyes widened and he hyper-focused, all thought fleeing his mind in lieu of one reaction – fight.

"Yaaaah!" Leo cried, kicking at the Rattata, who scrambled away and back into the bush, still chattering angrily. Leo scowled at it and backpedaled away, locking himself into a stare down with the little creature. The rat gnashed its teeth one more time, its curled tail waving back and forth, and Leo decided then and there that it wasn't worth it to continue this fight. He sighed and turned away, trudging back to his temporary home next to the lake, glancing down at his throwing stick. He needed a better hunting method if traps were out, and his aim sucked. It would be great if he could make a bow, but he had no idea where to even start there…But, Leo thought, looking down at his stick as he sorted through his memories. I might be able to get the next best thing. All I need is to figure out how to make cordage.

It took Leo three days to finally figure out the proper method of making cord or rope from plant fibers, and even then it wasn't perfect. Dead grasses seemed to work the best for his purposes, but he still thought he was missing a step or two somewhere – he was thinking he might have to figure out how to separate the fibers themselves from the plants. How he would go about this he didn't exactly know, but that was a step for another day. Mainly because he had found a way to circumvent the need for cordage for the moment, a rather simple solution that had him feeling a little stupid. But for now he had a working prototype weapon to test out.

Leo gripped the short, stiff length of wood with one hand, his index finger stretching up to hold a longer, more flexible length against a sharpened nub on the end of the short branch. The longer piece of wood he had sharpened to a fine point and hardened in the fire, and was aimed into the wide open meadow Leo currently stood on the edge of.

"Atlatl test one, let's see how this thing works," Leo said to no one in particular. He did a little hop-skip step and threw his arm forward like he was throwing a baseball, flicking the shorter length of wood as hard as he could, and sending his thin, impromptu "spear" through the air. Leo whistled as he watched it fly, going at least fifty feet before embedding itself in the ground. He glanced appreciatively at the base of his weapon, weighing it in one hand. "That went better than expected. I've got distance, now I just need to focus on how much power I'm getting, and my accuracy,"

That, however, would just take practice. And, the way Leo saw it, he would be getting a lot of practice. Mostly because he was dumb, and hadn't realized what time of year it was when it was quite literally staring him in the face.

He tried hard not to acknowledge the budding flowers his spear – or dart, whatever it was called – had landed next to, pulling the ammunition out of the ground and looking at the sky. The flowers hadn't fully budded yet, not all of them, at least, which meant this was early to late spring. Even the bush that the rattata had hid in wasn't fully bloomed yet, and for that, Leo felt like a right idiot. Here he was feeling all smart and proud for remembering about the atlatl, the ancient precursor to the bow that was stupid easy to make in the wild, and for finding a rock suitable for the flint-and-steel method of fire making, when he couldn't even figure out what time of year it was based on freaking plant growth.

"Well, at least it keeps me humble," Leo told himself, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. He let out a breath and looked around the meadow, eyes fixating themselves on a small patch of grass that was much shorter than the rest of the knee-high foliage. This meadow was one he frequented because he found out the longer, yellow grasses helped make decent rope, but that one spot always worried him. When he had investigated it a few days prior he had found evidence of ash and soot – which led him to think of a fire-type pokémon. It wasn't uniform enough to be a human's work, and there was no evidence of a camp that he could find, so the only reasonable solution was a fire type.

Which could be both good and bad. Mostly bad though, the majority of fire-type pokémon either seemed to live in volcanoes, or were predatory. Charizard, Pyroar, and Houndoom all came to mind. Leo shuddered and forced that idea out of his head. He hadn't run into any real predators yet, and he wasn't prepared for an up-close and personal encounter. Leo didn't like his chances of winning a fight against a flying, fire-breathing dragon, or a fire breathing dog.

"Don't get me wrong, it'd be so cool to see one, but let's keep them at a distance for now," Leo said to himself, swinging his atlatl spear, which was about half as tall as he was, around carelessly. A gust of wind roared through the trees, whipping the grasses to the side as they slapped at Leo's bare thigh. Pine needles fell from the trees and waves of green pollen followed suit, filling the air to the point it looked like a fire was raging somewhere. Leo sneezed and rubbed his nose, shielding his face as he looked up at the sky. The sun was really harsh, and all this walking around naked or covered in mud was starting to annoy him. He didn't want to get even more sunburned than he already was.

"Yep, it's time to make a hat," Leo decided. "And to put my clothes back on. Now it's getting a little silly," he said, and laughed to himself, turning on his heel and marching off towards his temporary camp, singing the tune of Joy to the World by Three Dog Night as loudly as he could. Today was a good day.

Leo crouched low in the bushes, eyes fixated on the truly magical sight before him. Two Sunflora stood in a large, open meadow on the far end of the lake, surrounded by at least a half dozen Bellossom that danced and spun around them, their little flower-petal dresses spinning around as they danced to the mystical music. An odd ringing sound rang through the meadow, accompanied by the soothing, almost flute-like sound of the grass whistles the Sunflora were blowing on.

The Bellossom laughed and twirled, jumping into the air as they danced about, the tinkling, ringing sounds only seeming to intensify as they did so. Petals floated through the air gaily, spinning and swirling around the musicians and their dancers, intense rays of sunlight beating down on the meadow like a beacon. They danced and swayed and even sang in small, lilting cries that somehow fit together perfectly with the tune, which in turn harmonized with the wind and the rustling of the grass and the groaning of trees. Leo found himself humming along and did nothing to resist the urge, swaying to the tune and drumming the soil with his fingers.

The beat picked up, the whistling of the Sunflora sharpened, and the Bellossom leapt into the air. Green light sprang forth on the ground, the grass growing visibly healthier and more wild beneath the Bellossoms' feet. Then the beat slowed, and the Bellossom ceased their erratic jumping, standing in place and swaying side-to-side, the petals that flew through the air slowing to a gentle drifting pattern, swirling around the meadow like a protective veil.

Leo doubted he'd ever forget this sight, and for the next hour that was all he did. Sit in the shadows, and watch the flowers dance.

That night, Leo did something he hadn't thought about doing since he landed here in this world. With his filleted Magikarp dinner roasting on a flat rock over the fire, a ring of pine nuts and the potato-esque plants he had found around it as a garnish, Leo pulled out one of the many notebooks he had in his backpack and a mechanical pencil that had been in his pocket, and began to write a poem. It wasn't anything special really, he'd never gotten into poetry writing the way some of his fellow classmates had, mostly because he preferred to write stories over poetry, but he wasn't in the mood to write a story and watching the Bellossom today had stirred something within him.

It was a strange, esoteric side of him that looked at the world in a lens of rose color and metaphor – the same one that had taken the Bellossom and Sunflora dance as a blessing and admired its beauty, but left whatever it might mean metaphorically alone because, quite frankly, to try and capture that sight into words was doing it an injustice.

So Leo wrote and rewrote and stared at the flames of his fire, at the dying light of the sun, and the Slowpoke as they settled in to bed – funnily enough, the herd had taken to rolling in the mud just like he had taught them when he tried to camouflage himself. He watched, for a moment, one Slowpoke as it wandered through the herd, nudging a fellow herd member every once in a while. Leo took inspiration from these sights and scratched away at the paper, putting his feelings to form.

After a few moments the smell of something burning reached his nose and Leo cursed, setting aside his pencil and scrambling to remove his dinner from the heat. The cooking rock he had used was longer than it was wide and was fairly thin, allowing for it to heat up well. That also meant he had "handles" to grab onto in the form of the excess rock that stuck out over the fire pit he had dug – propped up as it was on a "stand," in the form of two smaller, albeit squarish, rocks.

That didn't mean it wasn't hot though, and Leo cursed as he grabbed the sides, the heat very uncomfortable. The moment he set it down, away from the fire, Leo leapt to his feet and did a dance of pain, hopping about and waving his hands as if to cool them off.

"Ow, ow, ow that's hot," he hissed, clenching and unclenching his fists. Smoke rose from the nuts and potato-things as they lay on the rock, and Leo cursed his short attention span. Couldn't writing have waited until he was done with dinner? Of course not, he had to go and lose focus, and now his dinner was burned. Gingerly, Leo poked at the fish fillet to ensure it was done and, satisfied that it was, he popped a chunk of white fish meat into his mouth.

Unfortunately, the bottom of the fillet was burned. Fortunately, a little bit of burned food never hurt anyone, and though it wasn't a good taste at least it was a different flavor than the rather bland, basic taste of a Magikarp fillet. Muttering to himself Leo settled back down, peeling his food off of his impromptu plate and looking back out over at the Slowpoke herd. The sun had set by now and the darkness of the night settled, and thanks to the light from the fire Leo's night vision hadn't adjusted yet. But he could still see the lumps that formed the Slowpoke herd, and that same Slowpoke that had been wandering about earlier, finishing a complete circuit before settling in itself.

Leo hummed and polished off his meal, flipping his cooking rock upside down over the fire to clean off whatever had stuck to it and settling back contentedly against a tree. The small grove he had settled his camp in was enough to keep the wind and rain off, but if the Slowpoke decided to stick around this lake for a while then he'd need to find something more permanent.

When his eyelids began to droop and the fire began to die, Leo stood and stretched, determined not to sleep yet. If he fell asleep this early then he'd wake up well before dawn, so, to keep himself awake for a little longer yet Leo headed away from his fire and toward the lake.

Somewhere in the distance a Hoothoot hooted (and wasn't that a funny phrase) as Leo came to stop next to the shoreline, hands in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The moon was a half-crescent, and the myriad of stars above shone with such brilliance Leo's breath was taken away even after having seen the same sight practically every night since he arrived here. There were so many stars, it made even the mountains of his home seem polluted. It wasn't even hard to pick out the "milky way," or whatever galaxy this was, that stretched as a band of densely gleaming stars in the sky.

The Hoothoot hooted again somewhere to Leo's right, followed by a sharp flapping of wings that carried the round-ish bird from the tree it had been in into the sky, visible only as a black blob that quickly vanished. After a few more minutes, life returned to the forest as the nocturnal creatures came fully to life – though it was still far calmer than any point during the day. Leo yawned and shrugged off the melancholy he'd been feeling.

Maybe he would go to bed soon. Staying awake wasn't doing him any good, he was just thinking too much.

"Night, Slowpoke," Leo murmured, turning his back to the lake.

A blinding white flash suddenly lit up the night sky, illuminating the forest for miles around. Leo whirled back around as a thunderous roar buffeted him, his eyes catching the last fleeting glimpse of a beam of white light streaking off into the sky. A metallic shriek rang through the air, stilling the forest and sending fearful chills down Leo's spine. He remained perfectly still as he stared in the direction of the flash, the only sound he heard being the hammering of his heart and the swiftness of his breath. Around him the Slowpoke stirred, raising their heads to look at the direction of the disturbance. Time stretched on, but no further noise was made, and after fifteen minutes of silence the forest began to move again. Bugs buzzed about, and Leo even spotted a few Zubat flying about in the open air, hunting for food.

The Slowpoke grunted and laid back down, closing their eyes and falling into a slumber, which prompted Leo to move back over to the embers of his fire and sit down next to his "bed," a pile of leaves and pine needles. He sat there for a long time before he lay down, watching the direction the beam of light had come from. Only one other creature seemed to care about it anymore; a Slowpoke, whose head remained raised and looking off into the distance even as its brethren slept.

"You too, huh, buddy?" Leo asked it in a whisper, more talking to himself than the Slowpoke. "Looks like I won't be getting much sleep tonight," he murmured, rolling onto his back. He wondered what caused that, and what the shriek was, as he lay there. A small part of him wanted to go check out what it was, to find out what caused all that, while the rest of him screamed danger.

Leo sighed, already knowing which part of himself would win the contest of wills.

"Looks like I'm going tracking tomorrow," he muttered, and closed his eyes.

Leo dusted his fingers along the divot in the ground, eyes easily picking up the features of the track. Whatever had left this was incredibly heavy and large, as the three-toed track sunk deep into the soil. Amazingly though, it doesn't seem to leave much trace on the surroundings, Leo thought, glancing around the forest. True, the trees here weren't very densely packed, and there weren't many bushes or anything for the creature to smash with its feet, but there weren't even any broken branches or gnawed on grass that could suggest what kind of creature left this.

Leo's first thought was a golem – he'd seen the unevolved forms around so he knew Graveller and Geodude were in the area, but he also wasn't certain that golem could use what he could only assume to be a hyper beam. Maybe an Ursaring? He knew what bear tracks looked like, and this wasn't a bear, but then again maybe the pokémon Ursaring had different tracks than what Leo was used to seeing from bears. Standing up, Leo grabbed his atlatl and continued forward, the extra darts he had crafted held in his other hand.

He moved as silently as he could, following the clear trail the monster had left in its wake and keeping his eyes and ears open. Most importantly he was listening to the noise of the forest, and the sound of the bugs. Right now flies buzzed, grasshoppers chirped, and the forest was just alive. If all that fell silent, then it meant there was something else in the woods, something dangerous. But things were good now, and Leo could afford to relax a little.

He followed the tracks for at least a mile, long enough for him to begin to doubt that he was, in fact, following the right trail, when he came across the scar of the short battle he had only seen the after effects of. A hole had been blasted through the trees at an upward angle, branches and even entire tree trunks snapped in half from the force of whatever hit it. Leo whistled as he surveyed the damage. The beam hadn't just blown through a few of the trees, it had seemingly evaporated entire chunks of what had been in the way. One tree in particular had an almost perfectly round, semi-circular hole on the side of its trunk. It was a miracle it was even standing upright.

Pausing to examine the tracks, Leo situated himself where he thoughts the creature had positioned itself to fire its attack. Both feet were planted firmly on the ground parallel to each other, evidenced by the divots about three feet apart in the ground, and what Leo could only assume was a tail had slammed against the ground far behind it. A small shrub was even crushed by it.

"What were you shooting at?" Leo murmured, squinting in the direction the beam had been fired. Frowning, Leo moved forward, looking at the sky, the ground, the trees, anything that might give him a hint. It surprisingly didn't take him long, as he spotted what he was looking for as it lay in a bush, shining in the sunlight Leo furrowed his brows in confusion as he knelt and plucked the large, oblong metal…thing, out of the bush.

It was surprisingly light and was patterned much like a feather would be, with a long, thin tube running along the spine of the curved object, providing support. The edges were even fairly thin, and though it had the same sort of multifaceted texture as a normal feather, despite its size, it was solid and made entirely of metal. Realization dawned upon Leo as he hefted the object in one hand, fitting the stalk of it in his palm. This was a feather, a metal feather. Which left two options for what could have left it – either a Skarmory or a Corviknight, the only two steel and flying type pokémon Leo could remember. But he doubted it was a Corviknight, this feather was polished to a high sheen and the edges were sharp – not razor sharp, no, in that respect it was duller than his knife, but it still held a noticeable edge. He was pretty certain Corviknight didn't have sharp feathers, and had a darker coloration.

"Then what picked a fight with a Skarmory?" Leo mused, swinging the feather experimentally. It was long, at least three feet long and too large for his small body, and had a few dents in it, but it was a solid weapon. He'd find a use for it somehow. He was pretty sure the lore of Skarmory indicated their feathers could be used as swords, which Leo could see why, though he wouldn't be using it as such. Unless the wielder was very skilled it wasn't likely a sword would do a lot of good against a powerful wild pokémon.

Leo's immediate instinct was to go back to tracking, but something told him to have a further look around, see if he could find any more feathers. They would be incredibly useful, he was sure, and after a few minutes of searching Leo had found two more feathers. Well, more like a small, palm sized shard of one and a slightly longer, twisted and bent feather. Shoving both of his smaller finds in his backpack, as well as his atlatl, the ends of the darts sticking out of the pack, Leo headed back towards the tracks and continued to follow his prey, toying with his newest find.

He was so distracted by the large feather, in fact, that he almost missed the quieting of the forest before it was too late. Bugs still buzzed in the distance, and Pidgey cried somewhere out to his left, but in his immediate vicinity it was dead silent. Leo froze and swiveled his head, adrenaline spiking through his veins as he scanned the trees above and the forest around him. To his left was a large outcropping of rocks, patches of light green moss growing on the white boulders, while to his front and his right the forest grew densely together and headed downhill – small, shrub-like plants with light yellow leaves covering the ground. Nothing moved and neither did Leo for a moment, when he slowly began to back up, heading the way he came.

A scraping sound to his left, from the direction of the rock outcropping, had Leo freezing in his tracks, eyes widening as he saw the stones move. Boulders that easily weighed more than a few tons were rolled to the side as a Tyranitar, in all its glory, revealed itself. It stretched to its full height of over seven feet, craning its neck to look at the sky and unleashing a yawn that revealed four sharp fangs and rows of dull, flat teeth. Yet as Leo stared down its ominously black gullet, he found himself eerily calm. If he did anything rash he could very well earn the creature's ire, so all he could do was stand there, and pray it paid him no mind.

The Tyranitar's faded green hide was littered with cracks and scars, tips of the spikes that adorned its spine shattered or broken off completely, while its tail thrashed to and fro, casually sliding the boulders in its way with its immense strength. Leo could not help but admire the beauty of the creature. It did not look young – its hide was far too faded and scarred for what could reasonably be considered young (not that he knew how evolution worked here, this was all conjecture), but its regal might was not to be denied.

Stone ground on stone as the Tyranitar shook itself, small pebbles falling from its back and head when, quite suddenly, it finally caught sight of Leo. It didn't make a move, and Leo found time stretching as he and the Tyranitar just looked at each other, its large charcoal colored iris just…looking at him. Slowly, Leo laid his skarmory feather on the ground, and held up his hands.

"I mean no harm," he said softly, calmly. The Tyranitar regarded him for a moment, then snorted and shook of its entire body again, rock dust flying into the air, before lumbering off up the hill to the left, each footstep thudding against the ground.

Leo didn't move until well after the Tyranitar had left and the sounds of the forest returned to the area. In fact, he didn't move at all until his legs involuntarily gave out, and the sudden tenseness of the situation he had just survived washed over him. So that was a Tyranitar, a pseudo-legendary. Leo laughed shakily, licking his lips and flopping onto his back, staring at the sky and well aware of the stupid grin on his face. His pack made the action of lying on his back very uncomfortable, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

"I think," Leo muttered, "I'm going to need a change of pants."