It turned out Ducky could cook a killer stew, and apart from the stuff she got from us, most of the ingredients she had foraged herself. In her opinion, it was an essential skill for Pokémon trainers going on a journey. Only using food bought from towns would limit us to using dried or otherwise preserved food items which, she said, did not make for a satisfying meal. Aside from that, if you included Pokémon food, it would weigh far too much, especially once you caught your full team of six. I was lucky in that aspect; Mareep was perfectly satisfied eating grass for the moment, but once she evolved, her diet would need to become more varied.

  Ducky was also a fantastic storyteller. As we ate, she regaled us with tales of her adventures all over the Silín region and beyond. She went to Unova specifically to catch Ducky Jr because, as she said, “If you have a name like mine, you kind of have to.” She also caught Cheeks while she was over there because apparently, she was the cutest thing she’d ever laid eyes on. I didn’t see the appeal.

  “I’ve a question,” said Darren. “Have you ever qualified for the Nocturne Championship?”

  “About that,” replied Ducky. “This is actually my first year participating in the circuit. Pops said it would be good to explore a bit first and build up a solid team. The circuit happens every year, there’s no rush to compete. Though obviously, it is a good experience, just don’t expect to get very far on your first year.”

  “Elaine did,” I said.

  “I disagree,” said Ducky. “Yes, the story is she won on her first year, but remember, her dad is a Pokémon professor in Rondo. I’d bet half my salary she was at the very least familiar with most of her team before she was ten. Probably had hundreds of unofficial ‘practice’ battles with them before ever receiving her licence. I know I did with Crest and Down. Point is, she was never a new trainer, even when she was a new trainer.”

  The topic drifted on to something else and I admit I zoned out a bit. I wanted to win this year. It was such a silly thought. I’m not sure what I wanted to prove, exactly. But I wanted it.

  I finished my stew, collected the dishes, and Hector and I washed them thoroughly. We returned to where Ducky was telling more stories around the campfire. She had an entertaining lilt and a constant laugh that meshed her words together that made her pleasant to listen to, whether she was talking about when she faced off against a wild Druddigon, or the time she took five hours to buy bread because things just kept getting in her way. Eventually, Sunny and Darren went to bed, along with most of the Pokémon. I was getting sleepy too.

  “Where are you going to sleep?” I asked, when I realised Ducky didn’t have a tent.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ll nest with Crest or Down, I forget whose turn it is. Once you get used to feathers, you’ll never want anything else.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks. Can I ask, and I’m sorry if this is rude, but why do you keep Hawlucha? Does he not want to leave?”

  “You misunderstand,” said Ducky. “Just because he doesn’t listen to me doesn’t mean he doesn’t like me. We get along fine, he’s just as stubborn as a Mudbray when it comes to battling. He thinks the only victory worth achieving is one you win alone. Until he sees that’s not true, we’re not going to win a lot. But I can wait.

  “Still, if he did want to leave, he could do so anytime. It’s a common misconception that Pokémon are bound to their trainers. Those pokeball? They’ll never contain a Pokémon that truly wants to get out, at least, unless you waste your money on really fancy ones. Even then, a Pokémon that stays with a trainer is usually one that wants to stay. Of course, there are all sorts of trainers out there and some use, let’s say, unpleasant methods to keep their Pokémon subservient. Those cases don’t usually end well for anyone involved. Anyone with a bit of sense or a shred of moral fibre will make sure their team want to be a team. Anyway, even if a Pokémon doesn’t exactly vibe with their trainer, a guaranteed meal a day is a fairly convincing argument to stay. It’s rough, hunting out there in the wild, for both the predator and prey. A few battles between trainers is nothing compared to that. Now go to bed, sleep is important.”

  ***

  Ducky left early next morning, saying a quick goodbye to us and flying off into the sky. We had a slower start. Tidying up the campsite took us far too long, simply because we weren’t used to doing it. It was close to midday by the time we were on the road again.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The Sonata Coast Road began high on the cliffs of Nocturne City and gradually descended into the grassy meadows surrounding Crescent Town. The first couple of days were by far the hardest. Walking was both tiring and boring, camping was hard, and neither Sunny nor Darren were practiced at cooking. I could cook, but working with limited ingredients, worn down by tiredness, and annoyed by being the one in charge of cooking by default, the meals were dry and bland. As the days went on, the fatigue disappeared from my body, as if by magic. The hike became enjoyable, and I was able to appreciate the view as the stoney land turned into lush grasses. Pokémon became more plentiful too. Spotting small, human friendly species like Zigzagoon and Flabébé became a frequent occurrence. Sunny started a game of who could count more Flabébé flowers of their colour. I was blue, and losing to Sunny and Darren’s much more sensible choices of red and yellow respectively by a significant margin.

  We also got more used to the camping routine, and quickly found we had lots of time to spare which we spent on training. I took Ducky’s advice to heart and began working with Mareep on honing her fighting instincts, building up a repertoire of strategies to use depending on the type and build of her opponent. She took the instructions well and knew what to do but wasn’t a natural fighter. She hesitated during spars with my companions Pokémon, and tended towards softer hitting moves such as using Tackle instead of Take Down, not due to the recoil, but to hurt her rivals less. She had a kind heart that needed to be set aside during battles. Practice was the only solution, and she needed little input from me other than encouragement. I took to drawing during practice and let her work through the issues herself for the most part.

  By the sixth day, the road flattened out. We had reached sea level and were no more than two days from Crescent Town. The cliffs had given way to the vast stretches of rockpools the town was famous for. Trainers came from all over the region to catch Staryu which were said to be particularly strong in the area.

  On the other side of the road, the meadow grasses came up to my waist. More than once, I was startled by a Pokémon appearing out of nowhere and dashing across the trail. We set up camp in an area sheltered by a tree where the grass didn’t grow as high. Mareep was in a strangely motivated mood during training and was showing some signs of improvement. She was sparring against Hector, the two had become close and loved to show their companionship through playful violence. Hector won more often than not, but today Mareep had him on the backfoot. I rested the pencil on the page and called out to Mareep that she could do it.

  “Don’t give up, Hector!” yelled Sunny from where she was working with Caviar some distance away.

  Hector avoided a Take Down and created a mud patch between them. The fight would go on another while. I went back to drawing, trying to capture the battlers among the flowers and muck. It was one of the last good days of summer, the sun was warm on my skin even late in the evening. The temperature had risen harshly and beads of sweat rolled down my arm. I was down to my t-shirt and my last water bottle. Worst case, one of Sunny’s Pokémon could create some to drink, but that wasn’t the healthiest and hopefully we would come across a source of potable water before then. The grass tickled my elbows as I drew, and the scent of lavendar permeated the air. The aroma strengthened quite suddenly and a small weight landed on my shoulder. Startled, I looked down to find a small ball of green fluff and a yellow face. Trailing behind the creature was a string of blue flowers attached to a vine.

  “Hello there,” I said. It replied by opening a small mouth and making an airy sound, similar to that of a wooden flute. It jumped down to my notebook and framed the page with its flowers.

  “Do you like it?” I asked, to which I would swear it giggled. “You’re a Comfey, aren’t you? I haven’t seen one of you before.”

  It hopped up my arm and spooked me by giving me a tiny kiss on the cheek. Unlike Mareep’s nuzzles, which were more sloppy licks than anything else, the humanness of the action deeply unnerved me.

  “Please don’t do that,” I said, though with none of the heat I would expect from myself. It, I suspected she, hopped back down to the page and cooed all over my art.

  “Do you want me to draw you? I can draw you if you want.”

  I turned a new page and began to sketch. She soon figured out what I was doing and whistled happily, energetically posing in front of me.

  “I can’t draw you if you move so much,” I said, though she made me laugh. She wasn’t hard to sketch, a ball with a tuft of fur on top, and of course, the flowers, which she made a loop out of by holding the end of the string. It was pretty rough, but I finished quickly and judging by her hyperactive reactions she loved it. She was cute enough that I tore the page out to give to her. She twirled, scrunched the page into a flower shape and tied it to her vine. The smell of lavendar was joined by the smell of fresh paper. The Comfey puffed up proudly.

  “Yes, yes,” I said. “You’re really cool.”

  At that moment, Mareep cried out from receiving a Mud Shot to the face. I reached for a potion – we had plenty, Grandma had made sure we were stocked up with her best - but before I could get up, Comfey was beside Mareep, raining petals down upon her. Walking over, I wiped the mud off. There were no traces of an injury. Comfey settled as a wreath on Mareep’s head.

  “Thank you, Comfey,” I said. She cooed again, twirled around my neck, and disappeared into the long grass.

  “Wait.”

  I tried to follow, but the tiny Pokémon was nowhere to be seen.