The air at the Old Tree Stump carried an oddly tranquil energy, a mix of the earthy scent of the forest and faint traces of ash from distant volcanic activity. Isabelle approached cautiously, Azzy bouncing at her side, her tail swinging like a cheerful metronome. Rotom buzzed excitedly, zipping around her shoulder.

  “Ah, the Old Tree Stump!” Rotom chirped, its screen lighting up with exaggerated flair. “Fascinating! Traces of residual energy here… could it be a forgotten shrine? The mystery! The intrigue!”

  “Rotom,” Isabelle said, her tone flat. “You’ve been doing this non-stop since we got here.”

  “And yet, you’re still entertained!” it quipped back, darting ahead to scan the stump. “Look at these carvings! Ancient marks! Oh, I’m documenting the hell out of this.”

  Isabelle shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips despite herself. “Great. Maybe you’ll discover something that doesn’t involve getting me attacked by wild Pokémon for once.”

  “Define ‘attack,’” Rotom replied cheekily.

  As Isabelle approached the stump, she noticed a figure sitting cross-legged on a weathered blanket spread across the grass. A camera, a small sketchpad, and a mess of colored pencils lay scattered around them, their placement haphazard but deliberate, like the tools of someone who had long since perfected the balance between chaos and artistry. The person’s wide-brimmed hat cast a shadow over their face, but as they sketched, the subtle rise and fall of their shoulders suggested an air of complete ease—like they had nowhere else to be, nothing pressing them forward.

  They wore a loose tan vest over a plain white shirt, the fabric slightly wrinkled, as if it had been worn all day without much care. Cargo pants, sturdy and worn, were covered in pockets, no doubt filled with more supplies. Their skin had a warm, sun-kissed tone, suggesting someone who spent more time outside than in, their life dictated by the rhythm of nature rather than the ticking of a clock.

  “Hello there!” the artist called without looking up, their voice carrying a laid-back, melodic quality, as if every word was meant to be savored rather than rushed. “You’re the third Trainer I’ve seen here this week. Popular spot.”

  “I guess so,” Isabelle replied, stepping closer. Azzy chirped a greeting, her tiny tail thumping against Isabelle’s leg.

  The naturalist finally looked up, pushing their hat back slightly to reveal a friendly face framed by a few stray strands of auburn hair, tucked mostly out of sight beneath the brim. Their green eyes sparkled with quiet amusement, studying Isabelle with the same easy curiosity they’d likely give a newly bloomed flower or an unfamiliar Pokémon.

  “I’m River,” they said, gesturing lazily to the work in front of them. “Local artist, occasional photographer, and frequent loiterer. What brings you here?”

  Isabelle glanced at Rotom, who was busy spinning in circles around the stump, muttering about “energy signatures” and “primal resonance.” She shrugged. “Passing through, I guess. And dealing with that.”

  River chuckled, tucking their pencil behind their ear. “Your companion’s got quite the personality. You exploring, battling, or just letting it drag you into every interesting spot?”

  “Little of everything,” Isabelle admitted. “Mostly it drags me.”

  Azzy chirped indignantly, and Isabelle laughed, patting her head. “Fine. You help, too.”

  River grinned, leaning back on their hands, their hat slipping slightly with the motion. “Well, if you’re looking for something interesting, you’re in the right place. Rumor has it that wild Pokémon bring stuff here—items they swipe from Trainers, berries, random junk. Kind of like offerings.”

  “Offerings?” Isabelle echoed, her brows furrowing.

  River nodded, shifting slightly so the sun caught their face just enough to highlight the sharpness of their features, softened only by the glint of amusement never far from their expression. “Supposedly, this stump used to be a shrine to some ancient Fire Pokémon. Don’t know which one. The stories are all over the place—Moltres, Entei, even Ho-Oh. Whatever it was, it’s been forgotten for a long time.”

  Rotom zipped over, buzzing with excitement. “Did you hear that? Forgotten shrine! Offering site! This is big! HUGE! We’re talking ancient history here!”

  “I heard,” Isabelle said dryly. “I’m standing right here.”

  River chuckled again, motioning toward the stump with a flourish. “Feel free to poke around. Maybe you’ll find something cool. But my work here is done for today.” They carefully tucked their sketchpad into their satchel, slinging it over one shoulder. Their movements were smooth, unhurried—like someone who had never been in a rush a day in their life.

  “Good luck, Trainer. And keep an eye out—this place is full of surprises.”

  “Thanks,” Isabelle said, offering a polite wave.

  River tipped their hat with a smile, giving Azzy a small pat on the head before heading off toward the main trail. They moved with the same unhurried ease they had spoken with, steps measured but relaxed, their presence almost blending into the landscape as if they had always belonged there.

  Isabelle watched them disappear into the trees, then turned back to the stump.

  “Alright,” she muttered. “Let’s see what this place is hiding.”

  What Isabelle didn’t know—what no one could have guessed at a glance—was that River’s roots stretched far beyond the easy going demeanor they carried like a second skin. They had left the world of Western Virelia behind, a world steeped in deep tradition, where heritage, honor, and discipline were not just values, but expectations carved into the very foundation of life.

  They had left that world behind, or at least, that’s what they liked to tell themselves. They had traded structured formalities for lazy afternoons with a sketchpad.

  River wasn’t just here to sketch and photograph, to find the best spots. They were looking for something—though whether it was lost or had to be discovered, even they weren’t sure.

  Isabelle crouched near the stump, brushing away loose leaves and dirt. The carvings Rotom had mentioned were clearer up close—swirling flames and jagged lines etched into the aged wood. The grooves were worn, barely visible in some places, but there was something almost deliberate about the way time had faded them. Whatever they once depicted had been important, though the meaning was now lost.

  “Okay, Azzy,” Isabelle said, tapping her knee. “You sniff around here. I’ll check the other side.”

  Azzy chirped and bounded off, her nose to the ground as she sniffed intently at the grass and roots. Isabelle moved around the stump, crouching low to examine every crevice and hollow.

  “Anything yet?” she called over to Azzy.

  Azzy paused, looking back at Isabelle with a shake of her head before returning to her sniffing.

  “Ugh, this feels like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Isabelle groaned.

  “Correction!” Rotom buzzed in, zipping around her shoulder. “A needle in a very old, possibly haunted haystack. But don’t worry—I’ll document your failure for the history books!”

  “Rotom,” Isabelle said, narrowing her eyes. “Do you ever take a break from being annoying?”

  “Annoying?!” Rotom gasped dramatically, spinning in a circle. “I’m enhancing the experience with commentary!”

  “You’re enhancing my desire to find your off switch,” Isabelle shot back, smirking despite herself.

  Azzy chirped triumphantly, bounding back to Isabelle with something clutched in her tiny paws. Isabelle knelt, her irritation fading as she gently pried it loose. It was… a slightly chewed Berry.

  “Not exactly a treasure, but good effort,” Isabelle said with a small laugh, patting Azzy’s head.

  Rotom zoomed closer, scanning the berry with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Behold! A rare artifact of immense… snack potential! Azzy, you are a genius among Pokémon!”

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  Azzy puffed out her chest, her tail wagging proudly. Isabelle shook her head, tossing the Berry aside. “Alright, let’s keep looking.”

  Just as Isabelle was reaching behind the stump to check a hollow, Rotom’s screen blinked red, and a shrill alarm noise blared.

  “Warning! Warning! Incoming hostiles!”

  “What?!” Isabelle yelped, pulling her hand back just in time as a Weedle dropped from an overhanging branch, landing with a soft thud in front of her. It chittered angrily, its sharp tail glinting in the light.

  “Oh, come on,” Isabelle groaned. “Really? Azzy, get ready!”

  Azzy chirped, bouncing forward with determination.

  Before Isabelle could give a command, two Kakuna tumbled down from nearby branches, their hard shells reflecting the sunlight.

  “This is great!” Rotom cheered. “Wild Pokémon encounter at a historical site! The drama! The stakes! The—oh, wait, they look mad. Never mind.”

  “Rotom!” Isabelle snapped, stepping back.

  Azzy squared off against the Weedle, dodging its tail stinger with surprising agility. “Bubble, Azzy!” Isabelle called.

  Azzy unleashed a flurry of bubbles, pelting the Weedle and forcing it to retreat slightly. The Kakuna remained motionless, their shells unyielding. Isabelle’s confidence was starting to rise—until she heard the low, menacing hum.

  The buzzing grew louder, cutting through the air like a vibrating wire against her skull. Isabelle froze, her stomach twisting as a shadow passed overhead.

  Too loud. Too close. Too fast.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered.

  From the treetops emerged a Beedrill, its sharp stingers gleaming and its red eyes locked onto Isabelle and Azzy. Its wings beat furiously, sending a rush of wind through the clearing, whipping Isabelle’s hair into her face.

  “Big problem! Big, angry problem!” Rotom shrieked, zipping around in panicked circles. “It’s a Beedrill! It’s mad! It’s—you’re on your own!”

  “Rotom, you’re supposed to be helpful!” Isabelle snapped, her voice rising with panic.

  Azzy let out a defiant chirp, her tiny body bristling with determination. Her tail puffed up slightly, stiff and alert, but even as small as she was, she refused to back down. She dug her tiny paws into the dirt, standing firm against the looming insect.

  Is she really going to fight that thing?

  The Beedrill’s wings let out a rapid whirr, its body twitching with the promise of speed. Isabelle felt her pulse hammer in her throat, every instinct in her body screaming to move, to run—but she was locked in place.

  Then, for a second—just a second—her mind betrayed her.

  She imagined the sting.

  It was too easy to see. The way the gleaming black stinger would lance forward, burying itself into her shoulder. The sharp, splitting pain of venom flooding her veins. Her arms growing numb, legs buckling beneath her as she collapsed into the dirt, breath coming short, helpless as the buzzing filled her ears—

  A sharp crack! of electricity snapped her back into the present.

  Beedrill jerked mid-air, its wings faltering for just a moment as a tiny burst of sparks danced around its carapace. Isabelle blinked, Rotom floating beside her with the faintest flicker of static still clinging to its form.

  “I am helpful, thank you very much!” Rotom huffed. “Now, RUN!”

  Beedrill let out an enraged screech, already shaking off the stun.

  No hesitation.

  Isabelle lunged forward, scooping up Azzy and bolting toward the trees. She didn't look back—she didn’t need to. She could feel the air shift, hear the piercing buzz, every nerve in her body screaming go, go, go!

  Branches whipped past her face as she tore through the underbrush, Azzy trembling but clinging tightly to her jacket.

  She didn’t stop running until the buzzing faded behind her. Until her chest burned and her legs threatened to give out. Until she knew—for sure—that they had escaped.

  Isabelle turned on her heel and bolted, clutching Azzy tightly against her chest. The Beedrill’s furious buzzing was deafening, growing louder with each beat of its wings as it pursued them through the clearing. Isabelle’s breath came in ragged gasps, her boots pounding against the uneven ground. The scent of crushed grass mixed with the sharp tang of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  Azzy trembled slightly in her grip but kept her eyes locked on their pursuer, her tiny tail stiff and bristling. Even in the midst of panic, she let out a tiny growl, as if daring the Beedrill to try and get closer.

  “What the hell is wrong with that thing?!” Isabelle panted, daring a glance over her shoulder. The Beedrill was gaining on them, weaving effortlessly through the air like a heat-seeking missile. “It’s just a stump! Go terrorize someone else, you oversized freak!”

  Azzy squeaked indignantly, ears flattened against her head. Meanwhile, Rotom zipped alongside Isabelle, its screen flashing erratically. “Correction: Beedrill are very territorial and very hostile when provoked. And guess what? We’re definitely in its territory!”

  “No shit, Sherlock!” Isabelle snapped, ducking under a low-hanging branch and stumbling slightly as she pushed herself forward. Azzy squeaked in alarm as her grip momentarily loosened, but Isabelle quickly secured her again. “Maybe you could be useful and distract it or something?”

  “I would,” Rotom said with mock indignation, “but I prefer my circuits intact, thank you very much.”

  “Useless piece of tech,” Isabelle muttered under her breath, her heart pounding as she pushed forward.

  The scenery began to change—the open meadow of the Verdant Slopes giving way to dense, looming trees. Shadows stretched across the forest floor as thick branches closed in overhead, blotting out the late afternoon light. The lively hum of the meadow was replaced by an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional crackle of unseen embers in the underbrush.

  A sharp gust from Beedrill’s wings sent a shower of leaves spiraling around her, and Isabelle tightened her hold on Azzy, pressing her closer to her chest. She could feel the little Pokémon’s heartbeat hammering against her fingers, but Azzy never once looked away from the enemy behind them, her eyes locked onto Beedrill with a fierce defiance.

  “Oh, perfect,” Isabelle muttered, her sarcasm cutting through the terror as she sprinted deeper into the unknown. “Welcome to hell’s arboretum.”

  The air was heavier here, tinged with the faint, acrid smell of smoke. Patches of ash clung to the ground like scattered snow, and glowing embers occasionally winked from the underbrush. The thick canopy above muted the sunlight, draping the forest in shifting shadows that twisted with every step Isabelle took.

  Her lungs burned, her legs ached, but she didn't stop. Azzy was pressed tightly against her chest, the little Pokémon trembling but silent, her tail stiff with unease.

  “This thing has the stamina of a marathon runner,” Isabelle wheezed. “How the fuck do you lose a giant bug?!”

  Rotom zipped ahead, its screen flickering as a map overlay loaded. “This is bad! Really bad! The terrain here is complicated—lots of dead ends and narrow paths. Running might not be our best strategy!”

  “Oh, great timing on that suggestion, Rotom,” Isabelle said through gritted teeth, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. “Tell me something useful for once!”

  Azzy let out a sharp, urgent chirp, twisting slightly in Isabelle’s arms to point with her tiny tail. Ahead, through the tangled branches, an ancient, towering tree stump loomed in a small clearing.

  A flicker of hope surged through Isabelle—it was marked on the Ranger’s map as a potential refuge. Maybe they could—

  Her thoughts were cut off by the furious screech of wings slicing through the air. The Beedrill burst into the clearing right behind them, its crimson eyes locking onto them with unrelenting fury. Isabelle barely had time to react before a powerful gust from its wings sent a rush of hot wind past her, rustling the embers in the underbrush.

  The forest itself felt alive with tension. Every rustling leaf, every snapping twig only amplified the erratic pounding of Isabelle’s heart. The acrid scent of ash mixed with the metallic tang of fear in her mouth.

  “Rotom!” Isabelle shouted as she sprinted through the clearing, dodging another swipe from Beedrill’s stingers. “Anything useful, NOW?”

  Rotom’s screen flashed wildly. “Uh—We’re in trouble, partner! Big trouble! Dead ends everywhere! And, uh, FYI, that thing looks really pissed!”

  “Gee, thanks for the insight, Captain Obvious!” Isabelle snapped.

  Her foot snagged on an exposed root.

  She barely had time to register it before the ground was rushing up to meet her.

  The impact knocked the wind out of her. Pain jolted up her arms as she hit the dirt hard, Azzy yelping as she was jostled in Isabelle’s grasp. She tightened her hold on the little Pokémon, rolling onto her side just as a shadow loomed overhead.

  Beedrill hovered above them, stingers gleaming like polished obsidian. Isabelle’s breath hitched, a wave of panic locking her limbs in place.

  Azzy squirmed free, puffing up her tiny body as much as she could, standing protectively in front of Isabelle despite the overwhelming size difference. Her tail bristled, her ears flattened in defiance, but she would not run.

  “Azzy, don’t—” Isabelle began, her voice tight with fear.

  A sudden sharp voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

  “Pancham, Arm Thrust—now!”

  Isabelle’s head snapped toward the sound just as a small, scrappy figure lunged from the treeline. A Pancham charged forward, its paw glowing with raw energy as it launched itself at Beedrill.

  The Beedrill shrieked, twisting mid-air to face its new opponent, but the Pancham was faster than it looked. A series of sharp, calculated strikes landed in rapid succession, forcing the Beedrill back, its furious buzzing turning into something more defensive.

  “Keep it moving! Don’t let it get its rhythm!” the same voice commanded—steady, firm.

  Isabelle, still half on the ground, turned toward the source. Through the dim light, she caught a glimpse of a figure emerging from the trees—a boy, lean and wiry, with dark brown hair sticking out messily from beneath a worn cap. His jacket was patched and practical, his hands steady as he guided his Pokémon with practiced ease. His eyes, sharp and focused, were locked on the battle in front of him.

  “Who the—?” Isabelle muttered, scrambling to her feet, still clutching Azzy close.

  Azzy’s wide eyes flickered between the Beedrill and the newcomer’s Pancham, her tiny paws gripping Isabelle’s jacket like she was caught between awe and uncertainty.

  Isabelle exhaled sharply, pushing aside the lingering panic. Whoever this guy was—he had just saved their asses.