This time as she moves forward it is with her ghost in tow. The banette seems quite content to keep her company, the ghostly shadows that vibrate around the doll feet of his body warding off most unwanted guests.

On dares tread close still, and though she recognizes the coloring of the pokemon as something unusual she has no interest really to spare for it. Choosing instead to move on and past the pokemon.

They do so with little trouble.

>>Passing

There is water glistening still on the leaves of the tree in front of her. Isra watches the last rays of sun light twinkling turn them into moon drops as evening set. She watches as the water falls in patterns. The pokemon of the safari are undeniably the cause. There is a beauty in it that captures her attention in much the same way the leaves capture the water.

And just as easily they set her free when the time comes. Eyes fall from the leaves to the damp ground, finding footplaces to tread across and she moves further in. Her search is not over.

>>passing

She stumbles upon it focusing on a rock, or the tree behind it. She's not sure which, it seems to be centering itself, certainly a move in motion. Practice is something she imagines many of the pokemon in safari spend their time on. It's a valiant decision, one she does not blame them for in the slightest.

Isra does not linger to see the fruits of the pokemon's labor. After all they are not something she gives a rattata's tail about. It's not worthy waiting for.

>>passing

It is the tree that clues her in to the pokemon's presence. Something has infested the fallen log, crawling with too many legs and little bodies and perhaps if she were any other she might find it off putting. Instead she finds it rather fascinating. Isra finds herself seeking the source and soon the source finds her.

The dreepy is staring at her already when she makes eye contact with it in the bushes. The pokemon seems unwilling to move away completely, she is equally unlikely to back down. Especially at this point.

With a snap of her fingers the ghostly hands of her banette emerges in the underbrush, wrapping around the pokemonand making it easy pickings for her safari ball. Another will make its way home with her.

Isra is sure to steer clear of the fallen tree.

>>capping

It is the chittering and chattering of the pokemon that breaks through the brush and reaches her ears. She tilts her head to the side and listens for a moment. She cannot say she recognizes it as well as she like but she can say one thing for certain.

It is not a dragon, and she moves on as always.

>>passing

She finds it gnawing on... something. She's not actually sure what, she can't see it clearly from the angle she spots the pokemon from and with time decides it doesn't really matter to her. What matters is finding the last of her quarry.

Isra skirts around the edge of the clearing before tapping the pokemon of her own dragon, the hydreigon seems eager to scuffle and instigates battle without hesitation. He's feeling particularly worked up tonight even, his fireblast strikes true and hard.

Isra throws the ball, plucking up the last of the little dragons she had been seeking.

>>capturing