The second day started colder. The kind of chill that doesn't sting but seeps. Everything felt damp—my boots, my pack straps, the edge of my breath.
I didn't wake the others right away. There was no schedule breathing down our backs, no appointment to miss. But I still checked the map by firelight and mentally ran the math for the sixth time since yesterday.
Three and a half days to Hearthome. Maybe four if we lost time to terrain or some wild type with a chip on its shoulder. No shortcuts unless I was suddenly okay with trying to hike through half of Mt. Coronet, which I wasn't. Not with this team. Not yet.
The fire had burned low. Just enough embers left to throw faint gold across the rock shelf. Luxio twitched in his sleep, half-curled beside my boots, tail flicking like he was chasing something in a dream. Grotle hadn't moved all night—just a quiet, slow mass of breath and shell. Tyrunt had shifted positions three times, from curled to sprawled to upright-while-snoring.
I gave them five more minutes before stirring.
Luxio opened one eye before I said anything.
"You gonna pretend you weren't dreaming about shocking something?"
He yawned. Didn't answer. But I saw his teeth twitch like he wanted to deny it and couldn't be bothered.
"Tyrunt," I said next. "Up. If you're gonna wake up every hour anyway, you're training first."
He groaned like a moody toddler, then unfolded from his resting position with a grunt and a shake. His tail immediately cracked a twig behind him.
"Don't test it today," I muttered. "I'm not in the mood to fix terrain damage at breakfast."
He snorted. Perfect.
Grotle finally shifted next, slow and deliberate like he needed the sunlight to fully animate. I tossed a half-ration at Luxio, then dropped two for the other two. I watched Grotle chew like a lumbering machine. Luxio sniffed his and carried it five feet away like it might have fleas. Tyrunt tried to swallow his without chewing. I flicked him on the snout before he could choke himself again.
"Eat like a sentient life form. You're not a blender."
Once breakfast was in progress, I stepped back and glanced at the slight incline we'd walked yesterday. Not much of a hill, but the loose stone patches and wild growth made it perfect for what I had in mind.
"All right," I said. "We're reinforcing today. Luxio—you're working Fire Fang on moving targets. You nailed it once in a clean session. Now I want accuracy while moving, mid-approach."
He flicked his tail again, like that was beneath him, then got up anyway.
"Grotle, you're combining Leech Seed and Absorb. You've got both down separately, but I want to see how fast you can plant and pull. We'll escalate to recovery drills once I know you can loop them."
Grotle dipped his head once. Classic. Minimal effort, maximum efficiency.
"Tyrunt," I said last. "You're continuing Rock Slide. I want directional launches this time. Not ground smashes. We're in sloped terrain, so you're learning how to use terrain tilt to your advantage. No more throwing dirt just because it moves. Shape it. Pressure it. Release."
He growled in a low tone. Not irritation—focus.
I couldn't help but smirk.
"Don't act like that doesn't sound fun to you."
We split into stations.
Grotle took to the slope. I scattered some weighted dummy bags across it and gave him targets. He didn't move quickly—he never did—but he rooted fast. When the Leech Seed fired, it latched. The Absorb came slower, like siphoning energy through a kinked hose.
"Faster," I called. "If you take three seconds to pull, that's three seconds someone's smashing you while you try to eat."
He adjusted. Vines recoiled, twisted, wrapped again. The second attempt came quicker. Still not immediate, but better.
Luxio was pacing near a boulder field below. I set up suspended targets using loose rope and thin branches. He liked the movement challenge, even if he refused to show it. He darted left, circled wide, then lunged—Fang lighting up halfway through the leap.
The first target burst into flame.
The second got clipped and singed.
"Don't flash it before you strike," I said. "The glow's a tell. Commit when your jaws close."
He shook himself off and reset his posture.
Then again—this time cleaner. More subtle. The strike looked like a Spark until the fire flared at the last second.
Tyrunt, meanwhile, was being Tyrunt.
Which meant he was trying to cause a landslide instead of a Rock Slide.
"Too much lift," I said. "Stop thinking height. You want drag. Let gravity do half the work."
He huffed and stomped again. A line of dirt and stones rumbled down the slope but didn't cohere.
"Back it up. Try again. Use the momentum of the incline. No brute force—leverage."
He snarled at the ground like it had betrayed him.
"Stop growling at the earth. It doesn't care. Just move it."
He tried again.
This time the line of boulders rolled more tightly. Still uncontrolled, but closer.
We ran rotations like that for an hour.
Then came the interruption.
Not big. Just a flicker of motion in the trees. A rustle that didn't belong. I paused, raised a hand.
Grotle froze mid-vine. Luxio stopped mid-prowl. Tyrunt lifted his head slowly.
Another movement. Behind the higher brush. Something fast. Low to the ground.
I stepped up.
"Tyrunt. In front."
He moved instantly, planting himself between me and the sound.
Luxio took right flank. Grotle shifted slightly left but didn't advance. He wasn't built for fast reaction, but his vines were already twitching.
The shape burst from the brush before I could get a full view.
Not big. Not armored. Not hostile.
Just fast.
A young Floatzel—low-level, probably a scavenger. Thin, underfed, but twitchy. The eyes locked onto our food satchel and didn't even hesitate.
"Luxio, block!"
The electric blur darted in front just as the Floatzel lunged. Fangs met fur. Sparks flew. The Floatzel yelped and twisted, bouncing backward off a rock.
It staggered, hissed, then bolted.
Luxio growled and almost chased—but I snapped my fingers twice.
"No."
He froze.
The wind shifted.
Then we were alone again.
I walked over, picked up the ration bag it had nearly grabbed. Small tear on the corner. Salvageable.
"That's the second food encounter this week," I muttered. "We're getting too close to wild borderlines."
Tyrunt huffed and stamped once. His tail cracked the dirt.
I nodded. "Yeah. I know. We're getting noticed."
We didn't go back to full drills after that. I shifted us to walking formations and light movement patterns. Kept everyone limbered, but alert. One eye on the trail, one ear in the brush.
By the time we stopped for water again, I was already recalculating the route.
Hearthome was still days away. But it wasn't just distance anymore.
We were stronger. But not unknown.
The more power we showed, the more we'd attract attention.
Predators. Thieves. Wilds. Maybe even worse.
I sat on a low rock while Grotle drank and Luxio prowled the perimeter. Tyrunt had decided to chew on a chunk of granite like it might teach him something.
I pulled out the notebook I'd used for battle mapping. Scrawled down the names of the moves we'd gained recently. Then started sketching a theoretical team spread for the Hearthome Gym.
I didn't know the Leader yet. Didn't know the strategy or layout or badge conditions.
But I knew Ghost-types.
I knew what they were good at.
And what I wasn't ready for.
I circled Luxio's name. Underlined it.
Dark coverage. Spark for chip. Fire Fang if they weren't immune.
Then Grotle.
Could tank. Could stall. Might need Protect if we could afford it. Maybe even a recovery strategy with Synthesis if he could draw Ghost attacks toward himself.
Tyrunt.
Not ideal. Too physical. Too aggressive. Ghost-types would phase him, bait him, humiliate him. But if we could give him pressure terrain—Rock Slide from cover, maybe—he could still add momentum.
I scratched a note next to his name.
"Teach restraint or bench him."
It felt heavy.
But not wrong.
We made camp near a rocky outcrop an hour before sunset. This time no fire—too close to wild territory. The temperature dropped fast without it, but the shadows stayed deeper. Luxio curled tight against the tree roots, eyes glowing faintly.
Grotle rooted down again, half-asleep before I finished laying out the perimeter signals.
Tyrunt stayed up longest, chewing another rock.
I didn't tell him to stop.
If it kept him calm, it was worth the noise.
I sat down last. Pack still heavy. Mind heavier.