The Robust
He/Him/His
Twenty-Eight
October 30th
Bevaridge Town
Biomesexual
Pokemon Educator/Vlogger/Biome Enthusiast
Avatar/Gym Leader/Elite Ranger
See ya later, Feraligatr!
"So what are you thinking?" Zac asked as they walked along the edge of the forest. The warden raised a hand to silence him. The pair stopped, listening, and the old man peered into the blackness between the trees. The gap in the conversation stretched as wide as the sky, until Zac felt like he was lost under a blanket of black, cotton wool. The warden started walking again. "It's something from the sky." The warden said, quickly stepping up and over a fallen tree. He was moving faster than before, and pointedly not looking back the way they had come. "The hill up ahead is where I found the crashed one." Zac said, and the old man grunted noncommittally. "Want me to show you the spot?" "No time," the warden said. He was almost jogging now, puffing hard whenever his left leg hit the ground. Zac kept up without trouble, resisting the urge to look back. "We're stopping up ahead. Do as I do," the warden said, and a moment later he stopped cold and kicked the nearest tree, alternating feet twice, three times. Then he pulled off his boots, tied the laces together, and hurled the pair up into the tree. Zac followed suit. His massive trekking boots punched through the twigs and leaves and tangling around a thick bough. The warden nodded once and set off again, angling sharply back into the rocky grassland that bounded the forest. After ten minutes of fast walking over jagged rocks the warden stopped beside a shallow stream. "Whatever has been hunting those Minior is out tonight. The stars are dimmer." He pulled out a Pokeball and cracked it open. A Ponyta materialized on the bank, its bright colors dulled to grayscale. "It's eating their light."
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