Serpent and Wyrm

Ch1: Snakethief

Simon heaved a heavy sigh as he pulled his car into the gravel driveway. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad that Friday evening. After a long shift of trying to keep the water filtering plant running with all the pumps going haywire, he was beyond exhausted.

The old car groaned as the e-brake was applied. The poor thing was falling apart more every week. Did the oil need to be changed? Probably. That’s future Simon’s problem, present day Simon needed to eat before he passed out. The man leaned back in the driver seat, resting his eyes for a second or two before slapping himself awake. Food then sleep. It took Simon a few tries to unlock the door to his modest, one story home. Divine intervention deemed the door unlockable after he tried the third key, and he retreated from the chill of the October evening.

Simon threw his jacket onto the small couch by the door and stretched out a yawn before removing his work boots, the heavier autumn air that snuck its way in settling down along the floor. He always liked autumn, he mused, it felt nostalgic to him. Maybe it was because Halloween was his favorite as a kid, but now he just appreciated being able to wear a light coat without melting or freezing.

Simon stood back up and readjusted the glasses askew on his face. He moved to the kitchen to take stock of the pantry. A half-eaten bag of potato chips, some cereal he was sure was more than two months old, a random assortment of seasoning bottles from the last kitchen experiment, an empty box of pasta he forgot to toss, and finally, the last cup of ramen he had.

Better than chips for dinner, Simon grumbled, before he popped the lid open and added the flavor packet and some water. The man glanced at the packet of desiccated veggies before deciding against their addition. Honestly, they tasted like cardboard and added nothing but a weird, crunchy texture to the noodles.

As the five star course was cooking in the microwave, Simon quickly popped into his bedroom down the hall. Posters from various games and bands along the white walls greeted him as the light was flipped on. He peeled off his work clothes, tossing them onto the small but growing pile by the foot of his dresser before putting on a tee and some shorts.

He briefly glared at the small pile on the ground before turning to a terrarium tucked in the corner of the room. He crouched and gazed in, searching for the little resident who was probably just as hungry as he was. Now where was she? Not on her usual basking rock, so maybe under… Ah! Under the coconut hut, a fiery orange leopard gecko was curled up, snoozing away. Simon gently tapped the glass of the tank until the lizard blinked the vestiges of sleep away. She turned, gazing expectantly at her owner.

“Hey Miirym, you hungry? Got some mealworms with your name on ‘em.” Simon smiled, shaking a small container holding the precious goods. He might eat terribly himself, but he made sure his little dragon ate like a queen.

Simon wasn’t ever sure if the lizard actually recognized him, or just the sound of dinner, not that it really mattered. The sound of a meal got the lizard’s attention nonetheless, and she sauntered out of her den and over to the small dish Simon usually placed her food, a big dumb smile plastered on her face like all other leopard geckos you see posted on the internet.

Uncapping the container, he grimaced as he fished out some worms to coat in nutrient powder. They wriggled and writhed to escape the clutches of looming doom. Completely irrational, but squirmy bugs always gave him the creeps. Still, It was worth it if Miirym was happy, and it was entertaining watching her hunt.

Well, if the embodiment of sloth was a hunter, this might be what it would look like. She’d creep ever so slowly to her prey, like a cat getting into position to pounce, only to lazily grab one into her maw. Half the time she missed. Sometimes she just waited from one to crawl over within her reach before snapping it up, conserving energy for important things such as sleeping on a warm rock or in her hut. It wasn't always a pitiful display, some days when she showed motivation and had more energetic prey to hunt like dubia roaches, she'd bolt after them like they were the last pieces of food on earth.

He never planned to take care of a pet. Hell, he could barely take care of himself. For whatever reason his mom bought him the lizard a few years ago when he moved out. Someone to keep him company is what she said. Simon wasn't too sure about the whole situation at the start, especially factoring the extra costs on his already thin budget, but he was glad that happened in the end. It gave him someone to talk with.

The microwave beeping drew Simon out of his thoughts. Miirym had happily chowed down, so he would too. He grabbed the cup and sat down at his desk, flipping open his laptop to browse around social media as the soup cooled to an edible temperature. Nothing really interesting today, mostly the same deluge of garbage you’d expect on twitter, though it seemed like some trend about ‘pokemon in the real world’ was on the rise. Simon hadn’t really kept up with the series since high school, so he figured it was to generate hype for a new game or show.

He curiously clicked a few posts, one showing an espeon dozing away on a sunny windowsill, with the caption claiming that their tuxedo cat suddenly changed into the pokemon over night. Another was what looked like a video of a pidgey eating out of a bird feeder, with a cardinal jealously swooping the pokemon to try to scare it off. Attached in the comments was a follow up picture of the same feeder with a pidove lazily sitting in the middle, just like a mourning dove would. Simon thought these were pretty cute, but it was obvious to him that they were all using some sort of new AI tool to make these.

Someone in a thread claimed their neighbor turned into a giant aggron. No receipts of course, the guy said he was too scared to snap a picture, but he swore up and down it was real! Apparently the poster heard a loud crash in the middle of the night and saw that the neighbor's wall was completely toppled over, with the beast slowly plodding down the road away from the rubble. The comments all demanded pictures anyways, but they were never delivered. Simon just shook his head before browsing a few more.

Eventually the call of the void that was his bed became too big to ignore with doomscrolling. Simon finished his dinner and left the empty cup on his desk before getting up to brush his teeth. He’d toss it tomorrow.

Feeling a little more hygienic, he gently pat Miirym on the head as he ritually did before bed. His little dragon lazily peered up at him before she licked her lips of whatever remained of her meal and retired back to her coconut den. Turning off the lights and crawling under the comforter, Simon plugged his phone in and turned on the fan sitting on the side table.

“I think I'll order some more roaches for ya tomorrow, my treat. Can't have you fattening up from a lack of exercise," Simon chuckled. "Night Miirym”, Simon yawned before shutting his eyes.

The air was frigid as he felt it whip past his head. Simon began to shiver. Why was his fan blowing so much air? Of course that cheap thing would crap out on him three weeks after getting it. Hopefully it didn't short circuit and start a fire or something.

God, he needed another blanket at this rate.

Simon tried to peel his eyelids open, the crust of sleep desperately trying to keep them glued shut. The man tried to reach over to his left to turn down the desk fan, feeling nothing. Confused, he next tried to sit up, but ended up bumping his nose on something as he twisted slightly to the right. Was he sleeping on his stomach? No, his arm was pinned between himself and the wall, that orientation wouldn't make sense if we wasn't lying on his back.

Speaking of, the mattress was incredibly firm. Honestly it sort of felt like someone was cradling him. Simon yawned, finally managing to open his eyes enough to see what was going on. Huh, since when did he put up a scale pattern wallpaper?

Wait, what?

Simon jolted awake, before hissing as the intense winds dried his eyes. Momentarily blinded, he tried to feel around for his glasses, phone, anything, but instead he was met with either the frigid wind or a smooth, scale-like texture. Simon squinted. No, not scale-like, literal scales, light-orange in color.

He looked up to try to figure out what the hell this thing was. It was too early in the morning for the sun to give anything but a few rays of light over the horizon, but he could barely make out scales of a deeper red-orange coloration. The membranes of this thing’s tiny wings were harder to make out, black maybe? Blue? Definitely a darker color. Speaking of small wings, how was this massive thing even flying with those?

So, what, a giant flying lizard is taking him for a ride? He’s had weirder dreams than this, that’s for sure. Did he end up drinking at all before heading to sleep? Usually he had strange dreams after drinking, but he definitely doesn't remember having anything.

Simon’s puzzling was disrupted as his ride began to pitch downward, picking up speed. The wind went from loud to deafening, and he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tuck himself in more in fear of falling off. Falling to your death in a dream was never a fun way to wake up. As the seconds went by and his stomach leapt to his throat, he felt his trajectory slow to a stop, the sound of something heavy landing on the ground reverberating through thick stone. Compared to a plane ride, that was the smoothest landing he's ever been a part of.

Peering around, it seemed like their destination was in the middle of some hilly forest, up on a tall cliffside. Behind them looked to be the opening of some sort of cave. The ocean of trees below waved in the early morning breeze, the cascading greens, oranges and yellows of leaves the only sound to be heard aside from the cries of a few insects yet to go back to slumber. It smelt fresh out there to Simon, like when he went camping miles away from any town or city.

Simon felt himself be lowered by the large hands (claws?) that were holding him. He finally got a clearer picture of what was carrying him as it turned to inspect the mouth of the cave. It was huge, at least seven feet tall. Thick arms and legs on a pear shaped body that tapered to a long tail, tiny wings folded on its back. Round head sprouting long, thin antennae. He attempted as best he could to run his eyes in astonishment, but the task felt strangely difficult for his tiny arms. Was that a dragonite? Like, an actual pokemon?

It was most definitely a dragonite. The dragon cocked its head slightly side to side and hummed to itself as it scrutinized the cave. It leaned forward, probably trying to scent if there was already a resident. It shrugged before stomping into the dark. Seemed like this cave was up for grabs.

While the dragonite did whatever it was doing, Simon tried to pinch himself awake. Maybe a mixture of exhaustion from work and a drink he didn't remember having was why his dream was so messed up. He was grasping at straws for and reasonable explanation for what was happening, but it made the most sense to him. After all, the last thing he was browsing before sleep was pokemon related, so of course that's what he'd dream about.

He paused as he gazed down at his hands. They were stubby little things. Green, with only three fingers each. Gazing lower revealed a body that seemed to curve backwards, verdant green scales descending down over a cream underbelly. He slowly turned his head, spotting a tail tipped with a large three-pronged leaf that seemed to lash about with a mind of its own.

“Am I a goddamn snivy?!” Simon exclaimed in shock. His heart was racing. It was a jack hammer in his chest and he felt like he was on the verge of panic. This was a dream, it had to! A twisted dream fostered by a dumb Simon who can't even remember what he did hours before! The human-turned-snivy began pacing in tiny circles, doing every trick in the book to wake up. Nothing worked.

At that point the rational part of his mind told him to sit down, take some deep breaths, and calm down. If this was real, like actually completely one hundred percent real, freaking out in the middle of nowhere with a literal dragon nearby sounded like turning a bad situation catastrophically worse.

The snivy plopped down. The height difference between standing and sitting was almost non-existent thanks to the little nubs he now called legs. Deep breath in, hold, out. Repeat. After a minute of this exercise Simon felt like he reigned himself back. He muttered to himself to take stock of what was happening.

“Ok. I’m a tiny little bipedal snake-thing. Somehow. I have no clue where I am because a dragonite kidnapped me in my sleep to go play house hunters. I have absolutely nothing with me, there’s no way to get a hold of anyone at all, and there’s zero chance someone knows where I am. Pokemon are real and I turned into one over night."

"Do dragonite eat other pokemon? Is that why I'm here? Am I a snack to that thing?!"

Just as he calmed himself down, that last line of thought brought those feelings right back. He whipped around to face the cavern entrance, wide-eyed and locked in an internal battle of fight-or-flight, when the dragonite stepped back out into the open. Immediately the snivy held up his hands in a submissive gesture and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Look, hey, uh I really think there was a misunderstanding! Yeah I’m not a pokemon, ok? I mean, I look like one now but I promise that I probably taste like gross human! And uh, you’ll get sick? Please tell me you speak english... Oh god please don’t eat me.” Simon struggled with his words as the approaching dragon crossed the threshold into the morning light. He dared take a peak at what would likely be his end. It really was striking, the fiery orange scales that armored its body glinted in the sun like a shower of polished gems. That color was so familiar.

Simon felt a headache begin to take hold as it dawned on him. There was no way. But if he turned into a pokemon, why couldn’t she?

“Miirym?” he whispered.

The dragonite seemed to recognize the name, her small, dopey grin growing to a glowing smile and she reached down to pat Simon on the head, just as he did every night for her.

Ch 2: May I Offer a Wurmple in These Trying Times?

The morning sun’s light filtered through the dense canopy of old oaks and pines in luminous, shimmering shafts. The beams caught the brightly colored leaves midflight as they danced towards the lush forest floor. Detritus littered the ground and covered the dense moss blankets and patches of wildflowers that still defiantly stood against the flux of changing seasons. The air was fresh, with hints of pine and the scent of nutrient rich soil, and felt refreshingly cool to those who felt its kiss.

The birds were the first to awaken, as they always did; their morning orchestra joined the clatter and flutter of branches and leaves caught in the steady but soft breeze, and the hum of the energy that suffused the forest. Their chorus gently brought life to the woodland.

Various squirrels and other rodents began their long task of foraging for the looming winter, and placed their food stock in places they surely would not forget about. A fox poked its head out of the hollow log it called a den. It yawned the vestiges of sleep away, before it slinked off in search of a meal. A skunk and her stunky mate shuffled between bushes on their way to drink from a gently flowing spring.

A harsh voice broke up the melody, one that caused a grating dissonance that threw the other avians off. The boisterous staravia had risen from slumber. It was glad the other residents were hesitant to harmonize with it, as that made the task of finding others of its species to flock with much more feasible. It could survive on its own, of course, but strength in numbers would be important in the future. The weather was still favorable for the moment, but it recalled that the winters were bitter and cold, and having others would improve its chances.

A blue jay tilted its head as it listened to the cacophony; the corvid had not heard a call like this before, but it sounded like a predator. Learning that call could be useful, especially since it cowed the others so easily. Soon it joined into a duet with the pokemon with a mimicry of its own, and the other song seemed emboldened by the addition. A good sign.

Practice time was cut short, however, as something rocketed through the branches of nearby trees, and landed with a loud crash as leaves and sticks plowed into the dirt. The blue jay felt danger as it shut its beak, but curiosity’s grasp got the better of it. The bird hopped onto a lower branch with a clear view of the floor of the forest, its gaze piercing as it stared at the intruder that dared ruin its rehearsal.

Miirym stood tall as she took stock of her landing zone. The trees here were tall and old, and one nearby should be perfect for her task. She carefully inspected various oaks within the clearing, before she spotted one clearly gnarled by the test of time. Its thick trunk grew well past the canopy, and was wider than she could hug. The exposed roots spread like arteries through the earth, plump and healthy. A small blue bird perched on one of the branches; its disgruntled but cautious gaze questioned what the dragon was, and what it wanted.

Miirym nodded to herself; this tree would do. The dragonite took a step back as she raised her paw. The thick claws swathed in a metallic sheen before she drove three deep gouges into the old bark. The tree shook violently but stood, and the little bird squawked in surprise and fear before it retreated away from the monster below. Miirym smiled to herself as she claimed yet another stake of territory.

This pattern took most of her morning as she explored their new home. Miirym marked where she could on trees and stone that could survive her indelible warning; a warning that this forest was hers. With the dragonite’s powerful wings, she made quick time as she obtained the lay of the land on the close region that surrounded her small mountain, and she mentally noted a few landmarks she had crossed thus far.

To the east was an old tower of rotted wood and rust that rose above the forest canopy as if it stood in silent vigil. Miirym was not sure as to what purpose it served, but that time had clearly long passed since its last use. The forest had already reclaimed its struts and platform with creeping vines and lichen.

Various creeks gurgled lazily between bushes and boulders, serving as crucial lifelines to all that lived near. Great for a drink, but Miirym wished to find a suitable lake to swim and hunt within, an instinctual desire demanded it.

Most interesting though was the scar on the base of the mountain a short northward flight from the tower, almost on the opposite side of her den. Strange steel that twisted like ivy slumped around the artificial clearing, more gap than barrier. Old, rusted metal claws and other relics stood abandoned, their yellow and black coloration faded to corrosion. A strange repeating pattern of wood and iron peeked from below the dirt here and there, and led to a gash into the earth that had long since collapsed on itself, heavy timbers pinned under rock.

A curiosity to behold and possibly related to the decayed tower. There was something past the collapse, deep within that called out to the dragonite’s blood. Miirym felt the allure of its secrets but staved off the curiosity to save for another time. She had more pressing tasks to complete.

She marked more ancient oaks, gouges deep and rough. The previous lords of the forest had been usurped. Miirym stepped back to gaze at her handiwork and idly licked her claws clean of the tree’s vital fluid. Yet as a moment passed, she felt a shift in the forest. Something was wrong; the woodland was deathly silent, as if all life was simultaneously snuffed out in an instant. The wind that had been a constant companion on her journey had suddenly abandoned the dragon. A strange feeling that the shadows seemed to darken and elongate, as if reaching out to snatch her.

A feeling that she was being watched by something powerful.

Miirym turned around, her usual happy face suddenly torn into a vicious, brutal snarl. Her muzzle peeled back taut and angry, muscles twitched and strained to reveal a maw of jagged, cruel fangs. Her antennae laid dangerously low against her skull, dangerous arcs of electricity danced between.

Someone dared to challenge her in this coward’s way just seconds after she claimed this area? Her snarl took on a goading tone, as if to say ‘come and face me if you dare, meek creature’. But accepted her provocation, much to her disappointment. Slowly the strange happenings melted away, and everything returned to normal. Powerful the entity may be, it was a coward all the same.

Miirym let out a steady breath as the combat cocktail of adrenaline and dragon energy simmered in her blood. She stood tall and passed a penetrating gaze across the clearing once more before she moved on. If it wanted her attention, a proper challenge should be issued. She would not waste her time on a rat’s game.

The dragonite’s stomach eventually rumbled and reminded her of the next and final mission of the morning. Surely there would be some body of water around here that wasn’t completely pathetic; biting into the flesh of fish sounded absolutely divine right now. She would also need to hunt something for the youngling; something easy to digest and nutrient rich to encourage his growth. She pondered this as she lazily flew, thinking back to when she was a hatchling herself, and of the succulent, plump worms she was fed.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miirym spotted a lone wurmple.

Up on the cliff a snivy basked in the sunlight, his brow furrowed in concentration. He held his breath as he searched for a specific feeling, the one he felt when his tail involuntarily moved of its own free will. It was like trying to exercise a muscle you just discovered, atrophied from extreme neglect. Well, it literally was that in Simon’s case. He knew he could control what was essentially just an extension of his spine, but the feeling eluded him.

Simon roughly exhaled and drooped his shoulders in frustration. He figured trying to get to know this new body would help soothe the dizzying mental divide that warred within his brain. Something about this form screamed unnatural to him, that everything was in the wrong place. It was a constant, heavy feeling that swam in his chest. Yet he simultaneously felt that this was normal, that nothing was wrong, and that his mental fortitude being tested by this was absolutely pathetic. Maybe his psyche was trying to cope with, well, everything that happened in the span of a few hours.

This was reality, huh? He really was a pokemon. He felt as though he should be going through the stages of grief right now, but Simon just felt exhausted at every philosophical perplexity that bubbled up from his subconscious.

Was he even the same person? Was this his body, transmuted into the shape of a fantasy creature? Was his heart, his lungs, his brain, all the bits and pieces that made him Simon still Simon? Or was everything replaced and his memories and sense of self copied into a new body? He was like some messed up Ship of Theseus paradox.

Not that thinking about any of that really mattered, or changed anything about his current situation other than make him miserable. Those thoughts would rear their ugly heads, and he would shove them back down as he distracted himself to take his mind off the subjects.

He tried to focus on the bright side. The sun felt really nice. Like a nice, warm hug that felt so refreshing. Was that because he was a grass type now? Was he photosynthesizing? He didn’t know what that felt like, but maybe it was like this. Plants had it nice. Maybe everything wasn’t so doom and gloom.

Simon resumed his task of figuring out the tail while his idle musings continued.

Staying on the topic of positives, one thing he noticed before Miirym left to do who knows what was the fact that he could actually see more than a foot in front of him. In fact, he could see far better than he remembered he could before his eyesight went kaput. Gazing down at the forest below a few minutes earlier was so vibrant and clear; minute details like various insects and other animals that would have been far too small to see without binoculars were sharp to Simon. Becoming a snivy fixed his eyes and improved them. Or were these completely new eyes that replaced the original ones? Whatever, it didn’t matter.

He didn’t find any sign of civilization on his second search, just an endless sea of big, leafy plants. He knew that already from earlier in the morning, but he held hope that maybe, in his semi-delirious state, he passed over something. Nope, just mother nature. Finding his way home seemed a herculean, nigh-impossible task.

He did spot other pokemon though, here and there. A burmy, a budew, even what he thought was a leafeon. They were just doing normal things you’d expect forest animals to do, as if they weren’t fictional characters from a video game. A vulture and a mandibuzz both circled the same, probably dead animal in hopes of scavenging some scraps. A wild boar led a pack of piglets in search of truffles, completely oblivious to the fact that one of her offspring was now a fire breathing tepig.

How long has this been going on? He and Miirym clearly weren’t the only ones who got changed, so this must be a recent phenomenon as he recalled social media hadn’t gone nuclear last night. Maybe the digital storm was happening right now.

Why did he change into a snivy specifically? Were there factors that affected what pokemon someone would turn into? Miirym’s change made some sense; she was a lizard, and now she was a flying lizard. Simon turning into a leaf-snake? He had zero clue.

He thought about other pokemon he could have become. He hadn’t really played the games since Sun and Moon released, and only had cursory knowledge of the entries of the series afterwards. Lucario was a fairly common choice. Chances were some guy out there was probably living out a childhood fantasy of being a super hero as the titular aura jackal of justice. Simon would have laughed at the thought of it had it not made him strangely bitter.

Flygon would have also been awesome. Oh, and scizor too, they were always cool. Heck, anything with wings if he was being honest. Being able to fly anywhere he wanted sounded like a dream right now. Psychic types would have also been welcome considering they could teleport. It seemed hard to beat the practicality of that. Plus, they could move things around with telekinesis, so he wouldn’t have to worry about being short or not having hands. Anything was better than these stumpy arms and legs.

Well, maybe not everything. Being a sentient pinecone would really suck. Another plus one for his new snivy body.

What special thing did snivy even do? Something with vines, right? How would he figure that out when he couldn’t even get his tail to do what he wanted? Simon groaned in exacerbation as his meek hands clenched. ‘Come on you stupid tail, listen to me!’ he mentally screamed at himself. The snivy scowled as he pushed every bit of willpower to make it twitch at the very least. A moment later he felt something, a tingling down his spine. Yes! This was it!

Nope, false alarm, he was just itchy. Much to his chagrin he failed again, just like he had for the past few hours. Simon deflated like the world's most pitiful balloon and flopped onto the rough, stoney ground. Something in the back of his mind was greatly amused at his self pity party. He pushed it down like everything else, swallowed the bleak, bitter pill of disillusionment, and allowed it to fester in his chest.

His eyes burned as he gazed into a partly cloudy sky that seemed far too large. He bit down on his tongue as he felt the corner of his mouth waver. No, he wouldn’t cry. He was a grown man and he would figure this out.

Maybe this was all temporary and it wouldn’t even matter. He hoped that maybe in a few days he would close his eyes to rest and wake up in his normal, regular human body. That would be nice. He would still need to figure out how to get home, but at least he wouldn’t be a two foot tall walking spinach monster that could get plucked up by a hawk. It would be easier if he could convince Miirym to take them back.

Simon felt like he would have coped with his pokemon situation better if he still had the comfort of his own home. Why in the world did she take them here? He understood that caves and dragons were kind of a standard fantasy stereotype, but weren’t dragonite aquatic or something? It would have made more sense to find some coastal region than a forest. Maybe her brain was all mushed up like his.

How smart was she? He knew dragonite had near human-like intelligence in the series. Was she more on that side of the scale, or closer to a nuclear powered lizard that was a slave to instinct? She most definitely knew her name and seemed to know who he was. Simon wasn’t sure if that was similar to how a dog ‘knew’ its name in the sense that they recognized the sound of it, but not the actual language. Her other actions like claiming a den and leaving a territorial marking could be attributed to instinct, but again he couldn't be completely sure.

Seeing her gouge the side of the entrance of the cave with her bare claws was something to behold. There was real power behind that strike, and he somehow could tell that the cold stone only felt a fraction of her might. Would he be able to do something like that? Cut through rock with his vines like a knife through butter? Yeah right, he couldn’t even make his tail move on command.

Dumb Simon, stupid Simon. Stop thinking like that. Really, he doubted things could get worse from here as long as he didn't mentally berate himself every other minute. Sure, being lost really sucked, and not intuitively understanding how his new limbs worked double sucked, but at least he had a giant dragon to keep him safe.

As if on cue, the sound of beating wings caused him to lazily shift his gaze to the approaching individual. Miirym landed on the outcropping next to him as she happily crunched and munched on what looked to be some sort of fish. Its tail briefly stuck out from her maw before disappearing behind bone-splintering teeth.

As she swallowed her meal, she crouched down to gently pat him before she pressed a slightly charred, red and cream worm-like insect into his hands. He gazed down as a slight frown formed on his snout. What was this, a wurmple? It was almost the size of his arm. Why did she give this to-

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Simon’s eyes snapped back up to the dragonite, her cheery disposition and sunny smile told him everything. This was his food, gathered with love and care. He had never felt so appalled in his entire life. His phobia surged to the forefront of his mind as he glanced back down. Did it just twitch? Oh dear lord, please don’t still be alive. The strangest feeling of intense nausea and hunger took charge. His mind refused to even consider eating the caterpillar pokemon, yet his body acted like it hadn’t eaten in days.

Miirym still stood at his side as this internal feud raged within Simon. He tried to voice his refusal, but his voice died in his throat as he saw that expectant look in her eyes. She wasn’t going to leave without making sure he actually ate. It was just like a mother that made sure her child ate all of their vegetables. He had no choice in the matter.

Swallowing whatever shred of dignity and pride he had left, Simon slowly raised the insect to his mouth, and after a beat, took a bite. The strange crunch of charred exoskeleton and uncomfortable mouth-feel of rubbery insides made his stomach do flips. It tasted both earthy and savory mixed with the acidic bile that leapt up his throat. Simon slowly and painfully chewed, eyes narrowing in complete disgust, before he swallowed. It sat in his gut like a rock, yet his body kicked in and continued to eat in complete disregard for his feelings.

Miirym cheered and gave a small clap as he finished the last bit before she scooped him up into a hug and nuzzled her chin against his head. She hummed as she turned around to plod into the cave for a well earned nap. Rest and digest, or some such. Simon’s thousand-yard stare threatened to burn the rocky ground as a shudder wracked his limp body.

Becoming a snivy had officially been dethroned as the worst thing he’d ever experienced.

Ch3: By Royal Decree

“Miirym, please just take me with you, I’m going to go crazy if I stay cooped up here all the time!”

Simon’s exacerbated voice filled the midday mountainside as he pleaded with the Dragonite, gesturing between himself and the forest below. She was about to head back down to the forest, most likely to gather food for the two of them and do whatever else dragon pokemon do in their freetime. After two days of being left in the relative safety of the isolated cave without the distractions of modern living, Simon was maddeningly bored and felt the creeping onset of cabin fever.

She paused at the cliffside edge and seemed to contemplate his request, brow furrowed as she rubbed her chin and paced around the cliffside, like how a normal human would. She hummed to herself in thought, glancing between the Snivy and the forest below. It was a struggle for Simon to keep a serious expression on his face at the sight of her exaggerated pondering, but he felt he had to keep the theatrics up to get a favorable outcome.

Eventually Miirym nodded to herself and relented to the Snivy’s petition. Her contemplative expression melted back to her normal, nonchalant grin. She padded back over and scooped Simon up, where he rested in her sturdy grasp against her chest. He barely had time to yelp in surprise as a strong pump of her wings launched the two rapidly into the open air. He covered his face against the abrupt gales as best he could to try to take a peak at forest below, but the speed at which they traveled made it difficult to single out any one thing.

As quickly as the ride began, Miirym descended down to her new favorite slice of the old woods. Simon peered at a substantial lake that had cut away a large swathe of the vegetation, the shimmering of the mellow waves acted as a beacon to guide them to their destination. Mirrym’s talons drew furrows into the soft earth as she adjusted her glide and landed on the grassy shoreline.

She looked down at her little passenger, giving Simon a wide smile before she placed him down beside her. Simon wobbly stood up, still disoriented from their brisk pace in the sky. He slowly regained his balance and glanced to his left and right, before he returned his attention to the dragon.

“A little warning next time, but… thanks. Feels nice to not be on that stuffy rock.”

Miirym gave a happy chirp and a goofy thumbs up, then crouched next to Simon. She gestured to him, then pointed to herself, and finally mimed a shout with her paws to either side of her snout. Simon was confused as he puzzled out what she attempted to convey, but eventually understood her meaning.

“Shout if I need you, I think,” he nodded in confirmation.

Miirym looked pleased that he understood, giving him a pat on the head which he begrudgingly accepted, before she took a deep breath and dove into the depths of the lake. Simon let out a small sigh as he sat down and took a look at his new surroundings. The sight was truly a wonder to behold, and a much needed reprieve from his previous vista.

The lake gently lapped against the grassy shoreline, reflecting the pale blue of the late October sky. Hints of mist hung low over the water and lazily flickered in the sunlight like waltzing spirits. Old pines and birch trees listed over the water's precipice, their fiery leaves and evergreen needles rustling softly as they idly fell to join the bright collage stuck on the shallows.

A crane, tall and stoic, lingered beside the reeds and cattails. Its shadow stretched long and oscillated faintly as it hunted for the many minnows and tadpoles darting to and fro in search of a meal of their own. It was interrupted by a duo of Psyduck as they splashed through the shallows, grumbling to one another about the relentless headache they both endured.

A Bidoof and a beaver both munched contentedly on a stump near the river that fed the sizable body of water. Occasionally they paused their gnawing to steal a glance at a passing Lotad floating serenely by with a mouse that snoozed away precariously atop its large lilypad.

Across the river came the faraway snap of twig. Perhaps it was a deer, or perhaps a Sawsbuck in its autumn guise. From this distance atop the dirt and clay beach Simon couldn’t tell, though he imagined the crown of fall leaves the pokemon might have been adorned with.

Life teemed beneath the surface of the lake, which Simon could get glimpses of if he looked hard enough. Feebas flashed through a jungle gym of fallen branches where rainbow trout zipped, glints of iridescence in the dim, murky light. A lone Relicanth stood vigil in the center of the activity, the ancient pokemon just a piece of the backdrop, and various other bass and catfish mingled with one another in an amorphous mob.

In the distance above the Snivy, a murder of crows soared against the sky, cawing and screeching as they chased a few startled Pidgey out of the treetop canopy. The bird Pokémon may have been stronger than the corvids, but their menacing calls still spooked them all the same.

Simon took a deep breath and stretched the leaf of his tail as wide as it could spread to catch the sun’s light. The air was cool and crisp, filled with the fresh scent of pine and that damp, somewhat fishy smell bodies of fresh water had. There was also that familiar crispness that was a harbinger of incoming colder weather. Here, deep within the forest, the world felt timeless, undisturbed, and peacefully still.

Simon gazed down at the water, at the Snivy that gazed right back. He felt the smile from his face slip into a melancholy frown. It had been two days since he changed, yet only now, seeing his own reflection, did it finally register within his mind that it had truly occurred. Call it stubborn denial, but he had hoped that it was all still a strange, vivid nightmare that he would wake from. Those large crimson eyes staring back told him the truth.

The once comforting atmosphere now felt icy and alien against his scales.

He wondered if anyone knew that he was gone. Work was probably wondering why he wasn’t returning any calls. He was pretty sure he had a shift today, so they would definitely be attempting to reach him. Surely some of his few friends would have tried to ping him on social media as well; it would be unusual for Simon to not send some picture or video to one of them for an extended period of time. Maybe they would assume his silence was caused by something else, like power or internet issues.

Did his parents try to get in touch with him at all? Surely they would have called to check in by now if news was spreading about the pokefications. His mom was always one to worry about these sorts of things, and the previous pandemic definitely shook her up something fierce.

All these people worried and it was his fault, like always.

Simon grit his teeth and jerked his head in an attempt to shake off the negative thoughts that clawed at his psyche. He promised himself that this wallowing and self pity would end; they served no purpose other than to perpetuate stagnation and misery. This could be seen as a new lease in life, and perhaps it was time to take advantage of that rare occurrence and move on from the pathetic Simon of yesterday. A part of himself delighted at the bravado of this new conviction.

He shut his eyes and slapped his cheeks to wake himself up from that stupor, taking a deep cleansing breath, and reached down to grab one of the numerous small pebbles on the ground. Simon inspected the stone, taking note of its smoothness and how flat it was. Satisfied, he attempted to recapture the memories of skipping rocks as a youngster. A record of seven skips if he remembered correctly. The Snivy followed the motions as best he could.

He could immediately tell the combination of being rusty and having an unfamiliar body wasn’t beneficial to proper form. The rock glided above the aquatic weeds before unceremoniously dipping into the water with a tiny splash. His tail lashed in frustration as he crouched back down for another rock, before he stood up to muse about his earlier observations of the area.

It was honestly amazing how integrated the pokemon were with the previous, non-fantastical residents of the forest. He supposed it made some sense given that they themselves were just normal animals not too long ago, so whatever drove their actions now was most likely the same. After all, he changed, yet he felt like himself… Mostly.

There were strange urges that he had noticed; subtle observations and actions he normally wouldn't make or do. Like right now, with his tail. At first he thought it was just acting on its own, but after figuring out how to control the appendage yesterday, he realized he was just subconsciously directing it towards the great fireball in the sky. Plants needed sunlight after all.

Now he actively took note of the sun’s position in the sky to make adjustments. He glanced back as he wagged his tail side to side before letting it rest back to the spot that was favorable to the sun’s rays. He was glad he solved that mystery; not being able to control your tail seemed like a failure on a fundamental level for a Pokémon.

Another toss, this time the stone hopped once against the blue water before submerging. Progress. A nice yellowish rock was chosen next, somewhat larger than the others. Simon dusted the clay off to reveal a pristine surface that felt like silk against his leafy hands.

His eyes were bizarre compared to his previous human experience of sight. They were on the sides of his head, which led to a much larger field of view than he was used to, and he found he could almost gaze behind himself without having to turn around. The process felt like crossing his eyes as a human, just in the opposite direction as they shifted back to neutral position.

It wasn’t perfect, and there was definitely a blindspot still present directly behind his head, but it was rather impressive. He heard that in prey animals this usually came at the cost of depth perception, but as he figured out on day one his vision was even better than it was as a human.

Simon cocked his arm back to toss the pebble before a small splash from the shoreline distracted the Snivy. He snapped his gaze back to regard whoever approached his little spot on the beach. A large, dark green and lumpy bullfrog paused as it noted the bipedal snake, letting out a gruff ribbit as it sat in a neutral position.

“Uh, hello, little frog? Can… Can I help you?” Simon awkwardly asked the amphibian, tilting his head to the side. The only reply he received was a dull expression, its stare unnaturally devoid of any hint of emotion. Something about it sent a chill of unease down Simon’s spine. Why was it just staring at him? More strange, however, was how suddenly grating its incessant stare had become.

Simon’s eyes sharpened into a glower as an icy presence washed over his mind. The pebble left his grasp to join its brethren on the ground. He sneered down at the creature. Was this little pest mocking him? Had it approached to gawk like he was some circus freakshow? It was! That would not do. No prey-beast dullard would dare jest at a princeling if it knew its proper place in the forest. Simon felt himself go deathly still as his surroundings evaporated from sight and mind. It was just him and a fool that needed to learn an important lesson.

The Snivy slowly dropped low to the ground, curling on himself like a spring, his pupils razor thin slits against a sea of angry red and trained on his prey. The frog remained steadfast, not moving an inch even when faced with a proper threat. This would be child’s play.

Simon snapped forward at the frog with jaws open wide, fangs ravenous, and eyes that smouldered with murderous intent, before he slipped on the soft clay he had been standing on. He tumbled harshly to the ground before the amphibian, who slowly blinked each empty eye, lazily hopping back into the lake without so much as a farewell.

Simon fumed at the humiliating fumble before his eyes snapped wide in horror. What the hell was that?! He seriously tried to eat that little frog because… It looked at him funny? Where did that even come from? He felt completely normal one moment, and the next it was like a switch flipped and he was an entirely different person! A shiver, not of cold, but of existential dread, ran down his spine.

He took a shaky breath as he untangled himself back into a seated position. It was moments like that Simon had been terrified about. Moments where someone else seemed to pilot his body without him realizing what was happening. It never happened to this degree though, only incredibly mundane things in comparison. He curled his small hands into fists, the digits digging into his palms. He had to be more aware of his sense of self in the future if that was going to become commonplace.

He wasn’t some animal, he was human.

Now what was he thinking about before he was so rudely interrupted? Oh right, behavioral changes. Simon lamented at how ironically topical that was. He grabbed the pebble he dropped and gave it a toss. Three skips this go around.

A new thing over the past two days he noticed was that he loathed the night. Human Simon was a night owl through and through. He often slept in well past noon and stayed up late into the night. It was why he preferred to work the nightshift at his job. But now the thought of being active in the dark, without the benevolent sun gazing down onto the land, was utterly undesirable. The woes of becoming a grass-type, he supposed, though it was most likely conducive to a healthier lifestyle than what he was previously leading.

Speaking of nights, they were critically cold here, and it wasn’t even halfway through autumn yet. Simon shivered slightly at the memories of the previous two nights nipping at his verdant scales. He felt like they shouldn’t be this harsh yet, but perhaps he was much more susceptible to the frigid climate due to his typing. Grass was weak to ice after all.

Another pebble, another toss. He had to wait as a group of ducks swam past his shooting range, each quaking at each other as they took turns diving down to snap up food. He felt good about this toss, and it didn’t disappoint with four skips. Perhaps he didn’t lose his touch after all.

Luckily for Simon, he had Miirym to keep the cold at bay. You would think that a reptile would lack the capability to generate body heat, but she was no ordinary lizard. No, she was a winged lizard that could summon bolts of lightning from the heavens. As such, as long as Simon shared space with her, the cold was tolerable.

Unfortunately for Simon, he had Miirym to keep the cold at bay. The dragonite, bless her heart, was a hugger and cuddler, and the Snivy was conveniently plushy-sized to the mighty dragon. She was also incredibly strong, and had very little in the ‘holding back’ department. Simon felt a small frown tug at the corners of his mouth as he gently rubbed his slightly aching ribs.

If that wasn't bad enough, she also snored. He struggled to even describe it as just a snore, it was more like a seismic event. Every deep, sputtering inhale, already loud and resonant on its own, was amplified by the echo of the cavern. It was a rhythmic, oppressive vibration that rattled Simon’s chest throughout the night. He was impressed she didn’t wake herself up at all. He’d be able to tell if she did, considering he woke up every twenty or so minutes. Perhaps he could find something out here to use as ear plugs.

He considered asking Miirym to make a fire for them, just to save himself from her death grip and deep sleep rumblings. It probably wouldn’t be hard to explain to the Dragonite what he wanted, and a cakewalk for her to gather enough wood for the night and just spit an ember into the pile. Something about the thought of open flames dancing away in close proximity to his sleeping form was rather discomforting to Simon though, so he never pulled the cord on that one. He’d have to suffer from murder hugs, he relented.

The fire idea, as much as it bothered him, still might be something he forced himself to try. At least have something burning during the day. Maybe someone out there in a plane or helicopter would spot the smoke and come investigate. Not that he’s seen any flying around so far, but it's a better idea than nothing.

Simon glanced back out over the lake in time for a bright red-orange figure to shoot from the depths, a catfish desperately attempting to wriggle out of her jaws. Miirym spiraled up in the air, snapping her wings out to the side at the apex, before she gently drifted back down to the water’s surface, where she turned to float on her back as she enjoyed a meal. Her jubilant expression was rather contagious, and Simon couldn’t help the wide smile forming on his snout.

She was still a mystery to him. One one hand, she seemed to remember little pieces of her past. Her unfortunate obsession of feeding Simon bugs similar to what he fed her, and her delicate head pats before bed proved she recalled those. But outside of that, she acted like she was a Dragonite her entire life, exhibiting mastery over her new body as if nothing ever changed.

She was clearly more intelligent; Simon was able to get her to understand what he said most of the time, sometimes it just took a little bit of explaining and miming. Likewise, while she couldn’t speak outside of gruff draconic vocalizations, she understood how to try to get her point across with gestures.

The sight of Miirym enjoying lunch made his stomach growl. Simon’s face grew aghast as he was haunted by recent memories. He would have to tell Miirym he was hungry. She would go get more bugs. He would have to eat those bugs, and she would make sure he ate it all. Simon shuddered. Even his subconscious writhed at the thought of eating such undignified food. No, there had to be a better way…

He could get his own food now that he was in the forest proper! Yes, an excellent idea.

The Snivy stood up and took stock of the options presented before him. He watched the various insects dance through the air, such as the dragonflies that zipped across the water’s surface in search of flies to hunt, or various Cutieflies visiting the last remaining wildflowers of the season to gather precious nectar. Most of the animals, aside from the lake dwellers, had vacated the area after Miirym’s display in fear of being her next meal. Occasionally Simon would spot a squirrel or a Zigzagoon as it crept towards the water for a sip or two before making a mad dash back into the underbrush.

Only one issue to the plan. Hunting was absolutely out of the question. Simon’s cheeks flushed at the thought of that mortifying failure from just a few minutes before. He doubted he could catch something, and even if he did, he wasn’t sure he had the guts to actually do the deed and finish the poor creature. The serpent in his mind would have to take the honors, and he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of letting it do what it wanted without his input.

That left foraging then. Simon wasn’t much of a boy scout in his youth, so identifying edible plants was basically gambling. Surely there had to be something obviously edible that grew around here, like an apple tree, or some sort of berry! The more he thought about it, though, the dumber he felt about the idea.

“Gah! No more Wurmples or Caterpies or any other wormy things! Please God, or Arceus I guess, or whatever’s pulling the strings, just let me have this one win,” Simon cried to the heavens, arms outstretched towards the empty sky. His pleas were met with the sound of rustling leaves and the song of a nuthatch. No divine intervention today.

Simon slowly sagged and resigned himself to his insect-consuming fate. He was moments from calling out to the dragon before a flash of rusty red across the river caught his attention.

It looked like a fox; its maroon fur accented with black tipped ears and paws. A mask-like motif surrounded its yellow eyes, and its large tail tufted outwards like a sack tied closed. A Nickit! More interesting to Simon, however, was the large yellow fruit patterned with green circles. He recalled that Pokémon liked to steal their food rather than gather it themselves, so it was surely edible. While he doubted he’d be able to stumble into the plant that fruit grew from, the fox Pokémon already did the hard work for him.

An idea slowly formed in his mind. Maybe he could follow it and see if it stashed any of its other pilferings? If there was some sort of food deposit in or near its den, maybe he could snag a few once the fox pokemon made its way back into the forest. He felt slightly bad for stealing food from it, but he was hungry, and the laws of nature cared not for fairness. At least this seemed more feasible for him to accomplish.

Simon glanced back at the red-orange Dragonite. She seemingly dozed in the water. Simon felt his brows raise in mild shock and wanted to laugh at the apparent carelessness on display, but decided that it provided the best opportunity for this to work. He grabbed one final pebble from the beach. Perhaps it could serve as a distraction if he needed one.

The Snivy jogged over to the river and hopped onto a fallen log that bridged the gap. The beaver from earlier popped its head above the water’s surface to take a look at who had clambered over his dam-in-progress. Simon waved, shouting a quick ‘sorry!’ as he continued towards where he last saw the Nickit.

His tiny legs scurried as fast as he could manage in an attempt to not lose the trail, leaves crunching and twigs snapping underfoot. He felt himself tilt forward, snout on point and chest almost parallel to the ground. His tail snapped this way and that, acting as a counter weight to prevent him from slipping.

His heart was pounding in his chest, but he felt… Good. More excitement than exhaustion. Simon wasn’t the most fit individual as a human, and especially let himself somewhat rot after getting a sedentary desk job. If he had his old body right now, he was sure he’d be huffing and puffing.

But now? He felt stronger and faster, even though he was one-third the size. It shouldn’t have been this much of a surprise considering he was a Pokémon. His speed currently might have been absolutely laughable compared to a ‘mon that was more experienced, but he was much further ahead of himself in terms of physical capability than he was two days ago.

Simon slid to a halt atop the fallen leaves in front of the clearing that the Nickit trotted into. He paused in search of any trail that the Pokémon might have left. It would be hard to tell with the colorful tapestry of fallen foliage that smothered the ground, but it surely left some sign of where it was heading.

He felt that presence, the serpent, stir in the back of his mind, admonishing him for yet another blunder. Simon cursed softly to himself. Of course there wouldn’t be any tracks - Nickit use their tails as brushes to remove their prints. Realizing he was wasting precious time, he dashed into the forest in hopes of catching a glimpse of the creature.

Being in the forest proper was both breathtaking and profoundly disorienting to Simon. The cascade of vibrant colors caused the landscape to blend together, the rustle of leaves was a potential threat waiting to strike, and every breath brought a myriad of scents that flooded him with information incomprehensible to the human mind. His leafy scales prickled with a sense of unease. Perhaps this was a mistake, maybe he should turn around…

The serpent, however, became agitated at the hint of the human giving up. Enamored by the prospect of this hunt, it urged Simon forward with fervor in his blood.

The Snivy continued to search for his quarry as he ducked under branches and leapt over stones, his eyes darted this way and that in an attempt to catch a glimpse. His efforts eventually paid off when he spotted the fox Pokémon. The Nickit’s bushy tail was a beacon of red and black against the forest, and it bobbed rhythmically as it deftly and effortlessly navigated the underbrush. A flash of yellow and green in its jaws confirmed that he wasn’t too late to find its den.

The serpent demanded Simon to slow; to creep and slither up on their target undetected. Learn from the Nickit, how its grace lets it dance through the woodlands as naturally as breathing, it demanded in a cold whisper. Simon wanted to learn, to adapt, but the sheer animalistic drive that threatened to swallow his mind felt too disturbing, too alien. He attempted to push it back down to the deep recesses of his subconscious, a frustrated hiss escaping his lips.

This internal feud would prove costly. He tried to mimic the soundless movements of the Nickit, but in the battle with himself Simon failed to spot a divot in the earth. The Snivy crashed into the ground and the desiccated leaves crunched and crinkled under his form like thunder.

The Nickit froze, its head cocked towards Simon’s direction. Its sharp ears twitched and masked eyes searched, but eventually found nothing. It huffed past the fruit in its mouth and turned back to continue down its path. Simon heaved a relieved sigh that he hadn’t messed the entire operation up.

His body had acted in the blink of an eye before he could fully process his tumble. He found himself frozen, flat against a moss-covered stump and instinctively relaxed to allow his verdant scales to camouflage with the environment. The serpent gloated in his mind as if to say ‘you’re welcome’, to which Simon begrudgingly conceded as he brushed bits of autumn detritus off himself.

Simon returned to tracking. He allowed the serpent to guide his steps, but remained hyper vigilant of any attempt to extract him from the driver’s seat. A fragile balance to hold, but hold it did as he caught up to the fox Pokémon again in time to watch it disappear into the base of an old, gnarled oak. Simon ducked into a bush to catch his breath and attempted to assuage his heart that hammered against his chest. He finally found the den, nestled under the roots of the massive tree, now to wait.

After minutes of excruciating anticipation, Simon saw the fox Pokémon poke its snout out from the depths of the den before it hopped out. Its head swiveled as it observed its surroundings before it stretched its limbs and lumbered back out into the forest, luckily in the opposite direction of where they had come from. Towards the looming mountain that Simon had not realized had become so close, as a matter of fact. Simon wanted to creep towards the den, but the serpent demanded he remain and wait before doing so.

The Nickit did not return, and the serpent let Simon go, satisfied that the human would not screw this up more than he already had. He tiptoed towards the opening and peered inside. It was rather small, though considering his short stature he could easily slip inside. The dirt was cool beneath his feet as he invaded the sanctity of the other Pokémon’s home.

Immediately the stench of animal struck his nose, and Simon scrunched up his snout. Inside he spotted what seemed to be some sort of nest constructed with various sticks, plants, loose fur and dirt. Scraps of food were left here and there, mostly fruit, though some small rodent remains were spotted. Eventually he found a sort of covering made from weaved vines and leaves that was placed over a small hole in the corner. Jackpot, a cluster of stolen fruit.

The serpent’s greed wanted Simon to take it all. The human, however, only grabbed the yellow-green fruit that the Nickit just stored. It was the freshest, he figured, and he did honestly feel somewhat bad about this. It was too large to just carry in his hand, he had to cradle it in his free arm. Enough food to fill his belly for today.

Simon exited the hole in the ground and beamed at his successful heist. He began to walk in the direction of the lake, but failed to hear the rapidly approaching footfalls behind him. Simon felt as if he was struck by a charging bull as he flew through the air. He tumbled into the ground, rolling over himself twice before skidding to a stop. His entire body ached, and the back of his left ribs screamed when he tried to move.

Fearfully, he glanced back. The Nickit wore a baleful expression and bared its fangs at the Snivy in a low, dangerous growl. Streams of silvery mist seemed to evaporate from its fur as it began stalking towards the thief. The serpent writhed in rage as it demanded blood in kind, but Simon chose flight.

He staggered to his feet and gripped tightly to the food. He groaned in pain as he dashed into the woods as fast as he could. The serpent screamed at him to turn around, calling him a coward. Simon was a coward indeed, but he wanted no part of the serpent’s bloody plan. He kept running.

The Nickit wouldn’t let him slip away so easily. It caught up to the stumbling Pokémon in mere moments and pounced through the air, claws outstretched and maw wide. Simon, in complete and utter desperation, spun around and rocketed the pebble he had been holding onto towards the lunging figure. It screamed through the air as if pitched by a professional baseball player, and through sheer, dumb luck it landed directly in the Nickit’s eye.

It was the fox’s turn to take a tumble. It squealed and yowled in agony as it rolled onto the forest floor and pawed its face. Simon wasted no time pitying the creature and returned to his mad dash, chest heaving in pain and panic.

He staggered through the foliage, his one-track mind focusing only on the escape. Luckily he was cognizant enough to recognize some landmarks, and soon he heard the faint gurgling of the river. Simon glanced back, relieved to not see any signs of the Nickit. He shouted for Miirym with all the breath he could muster.

He saw a flash of ruddy red from the tree line above and his heart soared in alleviation, only to receive a powerful kick in the head. The fruit flew into a nearby tree as Simon found himself in a desperate grapple with the fox Pokémon. It snarled and snapped towards his throat, its breath hot against his face as he held it back with his last remaining strength. Deathly black energy seeped from its fangs, and its furious expression promised that this matter was now personal, that it would not be satisfied with just taking its food back. The Nickit’s remaining eye blazed with rage while the other was still screwed shut in agony.

Even with the serpent’s desperate determination, Simon felt his strength rapidly waning. The jaws of this predator grew closer to his throat as he felt its fangs glance off his scales. His heart dropped and he shut his eyes as he resigned himself to his fate.

And suddenly, he felt the fox’s oppressive weight lift. He took a shuddering breath and dared to peek. Miirym’s large form stood before Simon, imposing like a malevolent mountain. She held the Nickit by the tail in one paw, dangling it so that its face met hers. The look of pure, raw fury on the normally playful Dragonite made Simon’s heart skip a beat. Her muzzle twisted back in a disgusting snarl as flames that desperately wished to be released flickered between her fangs. The atmosphere became thick with an oppressive, physical pressure that promised violence.

The Nickit, who had struggled briefly upon being snatched, became deathly still. Had it no fur, it would have looked like a ghost as all the coloration of its skin drained away. Simon staggered to his feet as Miirym drew the fox closer, snorting smoke into the petrified creature’s face.

A part of him wanted this to just play out. Eye for an eye. That’s what the serpent wanted. Hell, even Simon felt some vindication from the possibility of it getting torched. But Simon knew the Pokémon wouldn’t be in this situation if not for his own actions. That wasn't fair to his human sensibilities.

He gently pat Miirym’s leg. The dragon slowly ceased her snarling as she glanced down at the small Snivy. He gave her a worried, but disarming look, both hands pushing downward in a ‘calm down’ gesture.

“Miirym, it’s ok, I’m ok. Just put the Nickit down, the poor thing looks like it’s about to have a heart attack.”

Miirym frowned at Simon, brows furrowed in confusion, but she relented and not-so-gently tossed the fox onto the ground, crossing her arms and glaring. The Pokémon dared not move, wide eyes trained on the Dragonite as if she would change her mind and grind him into dust.

Simon limped over to the fruit and grasped it in both hands, gritting his teeth with every heavy step. It was fairly bruised on the side that collided with the hard bark, but was luckily still in one piece. The serpent fumed at his earlier decision, but he would end this in a way that would satisfy them both. The serpent seemed confused as to what he meant, but quickly caught on, mildly impressed the human was capable of concocting a plan such as this. It offered to lend a metaphorical hand, which Simon accepted.

He turned back around to regard the two. Miirym still with her death stare, and the Nickit still frozen in terror. Simon cleared his throat which caused him to wince at the sharp pain in his side, but remained steadfast. He stood above the Nickit, snout held high in the air and glowered at the fox from the corner of his eye, as if it was barely worth his time. His tone of voice filled with the steely authority and pompousness of a monarch.

“You impress me with your tenacity. However, you made the grave mistake of raising a claw against a prince. Given the circumstances of our meeting, I will let this slide once, but I doubt my associate here would be satisfied with just a metaphorical slap on the wrist. Your den is within the shadow of the mountain, therefore you are within our kingdom. You seem the intelligent sort, so I’ll give you a proposition, which I strongly suggest you accept considering I spared your life.

“Put your skills to use and provide tribute in the form of fruit such as this at the great rock’s base. One by sundown each day. Don’t worry about specifics, we will find it, but do try to make it consistent for your own sake. Accept, and you may continue to enjoy my benevolence. Refuse, and well… I’m sure Miirym here has room for seconds.”

Miirym gawked at Simon in curiosity. The Nickit stared like a deer stuck in headlights. Simon bent down and snapped a finger in front of its face.

“Do you accept?”

The fox snapped out of its reverie and ever so slowly nodded.

“Good. You may take your leave now. Be quick, I doubt Miirym has any remaining patience. But, as a show of good faith, take this first.”

Simon grasped the fruit back in both hands and pulled. The fruit split into jagged halves, juice dripping down his digits onto the ground. Notes of sour tickled Simon’s nose as he handed one of the halves to the Pokémon. It gently grabbed the half in its mouth so as to not make any sudden movements, before it shakily got to its feet. It looked between the Snivy and the Dragonite before it turned around and walked into the underbrush, pausing to take one last bewildered glance before disappearing.

Simon deflated as the icy tendrils of the serpent receded to the back of his mind, satisfied. The dull throbbing of his bruises sharpened as the adrenaline in his system faded which caused the Snivy to cringe. Miirym gazed down at Simon, claw scratching her chin and face scrunched up as she pondered at what just happened, but he just gave her a sad smile.

“Thanks for the, uh, save…” he panted out. He gingerly sat down and continued, “I’m sorry I ran off, that was really, really stupid of me. Totally understand if you’re upset. I just… I don’t know, I felt like I had to prove to myself that I wasn’t completely helpless, you know?”

Simon barked a laugh and shook his head in disbelief, “And look where that got me. Almost six feet under with my throat torn out, and I still needed you to bail me out. I'm sorry, I keep making these same mistakes like always,” he murmured.

The ground shook as Miirym sat next to the dejected Snivy. She reached around him and pulled him close in a comforting hug, before she lifted him up and placed him onto her lap. Simon peered up into the Dragonite’s large eyes. She didn’t look upset, rather a mixture of worry and… pride? She smiled down at him, before gesturing between the two and punching into her palm, a universal sign of ‘combat’.

“You want us to fight each other? No offense, but after today I don’t think I’m willing to put myself in the meat grinder again,” Simon dubiously chuckled.

Miirym rolled her eyes and shook her head no, before mimicking the same set of gestures. She added a tilt to her palm side to side and a tap to her temple. Simon raised a brow before he took a guess.

“You want to… sort of fight… so I learn something? Oh, you want to train me how to fight! That would, uh, be good, yeah.”

Miirym smiled and nodded, glad that he parsed what she tried to convey. Her expression then hardened as she jabbed a claw at Simon, then in the direction of his adventure, and shook her head no. Oops, he was still in trouble. He sighed and accepted his looming fate.

She scooped him back up and sauntered over to the lake. For as much that seemed to happen today, the sun had only barely moved across the sky, marking it as around early afternoon. Simon looked down at the sticky fruit half he held, his prize. His stomach, as if it remembered what that entire quest was for, rumbled in anticipation. He brought the half to his snout and took a large, decisive bite. Immediately his mouth puckered as an intense tart flavor smothered his tastebuds. It was like he ate the world’s sourest candy. He stifled a cough as he chewed and screwed his eyes shut as they watered.

I might have tasted like battery acid, but that was the taste of victory to Simon.

Edit

Pub: 10 Oct 2025 14:56 UTC

Edit: 28 Oct 2025 12:33 UTC

Views: 129