The lizard padded through the dark alley of the city. The night air was chilly, due in no small part to the winter season, and he pulled his hood tighter around his face as a blast of freezing wind hit him head on.
"Goddamn, it's cold." He said to nobody in particular, and he rolled the words around in his mind. It's cold, goddamn. It's goddamn cold. Goddamn, it's cold. These thoughts continued as he made his way down the street, occasionally letting his gaze follow trash that was buffeted by the gusts. He trembled, letting out a sigh, and as his warm breath hit the open air it immediately became mist. He pulled his hood off and slipped it on straight over his head, stretching the odd skin enough so that it could act as a hooded sweater. The covering immediately helped, and as he sat against a wall, huddled up for warm, he began to feel better.
Before he heard a sniffle coming from right beside him.
He turned his head to look at his neighbor, a little Zuruggu. It was small and yellow, like other Zuruggu, but this one seemed smaller than most, like he was little more than a recent hatchling. The thing shuddered quite violently, and it let out another sniffle, obviously trying not to embarrass himself by showing weakness in front of his evolved senior. That was how it was with Zuruggu and Zuruzukin - the strong were the stoic and the weak were the obvious. Or at least, that's what most little Zuruggu kiddos thought (and, to the regret of most elderly Pokemon, most trainers were under this negative impression as well).
Zuruzukin grunted, and the little kid hopped a couple feet in the air in a sudden panic. He shivered violently again as he turned to look at the Zuruzukin, and he let out a long sniffle, trying to endure the wind. Zuruzukin sighed and slipped his sweater off, roughly shoving it over the body of the smaller Pokemon. The Zuruggu yelped in surprise before helping by pushing his arms through the "sleeves" of the sweater, and the Zuruzukin watched as the face of the Zuruggu peeked out from under the hood. It let out a short "Zu!" of happiness and stuck out his fist. Letting a small smile onto his face, the Zuruzukin bumped his fist against the other Pokemon's before the two huddled up again, braving the continuing winter wind.
The first thing the little turtle could see was a bright light that engulfed his entire vision. He had remembered seeing sort of the same thing back when he had gotten hit by a nasty tidal wave... how long ago was that? He didn't remember. He'd have to ask how long he'd been out when he saw another Pokemon.
Anyway, he saw a bright, all-consuming light. Or at least, he thought it was all consuming, until it suddenly moved out of the way. His little eyes adjusted to the room, and he felt a pair of hands pick him up and hold him in place. As his eyes finally began to work properly again, he found himself looking into the face of a young human boy in a backwards blue cap. The excited grin plastered on his mug could have stretched from wall to wall, and the Purotoga let out a quiet cry as he was whirled in a half circle.
"Wow! He's so cool!" The youngster's gaze went from the Pokemon to something above him, and Puratoga squirmed to try and see if he could look too. The turtle felt himself get placed on a cold surface, and he fidgeted, eventually succeeding at turning around. Straining his neck to look, all he could see was a large white coat.
"That's a Puratoga. Can you pronounce that?" The kid made a face, but then opened his mouth.
"Pu-ra-to-ga." He said, and the turtle wriggled excitedly. This human knew what he was! In his joy, he let out a cry of ecstacy. 'Pura! Puratoga!' was all that the humans would hear, though, and the little kid gasped at the sudden, strange noise, while the white-coat person began to laugh.
"Maybe you ought to learn how to say the name from your own Pokemon!" The youngster smiled good-naturedly at the white-coat man, and he knelt down to give him an awkward hug.
"Pu-ra-to-ga? I think we're going to be great friends!"
The turtle slapped a flipper against the cold floor in agreement, and he soon found himself wrapped snugly in the child's arms, wind rushing past him as he and his new trainer exited the museum's back room and ran into the thick of Shippou City.
The young man sat, his legs hanging off the edge of the cliff, and stared through a small black object that he had taken from his backpack. A slight gust of wind blew over him, causing a few strands of hair to drift onto his face. He didn't remove them, thought, as that would require movement, and movement might scare off the birds.
Through his binoculars, he watched as he saw a majestic, red-blue-and-yellow eagle swoop from tree to tree, stopping at each to peck at them, no doubt collecting food for his children. He had watched this particular Wargle before, but he had never been able to figure out where his nest had been... but he was determined to find out today! After all, why waste such a perfect coincidence such as bird-watching during feeding time? Of course, he didn't realize the fact that a small troop of baby birds were waddling around him until one of them let out a 'Washi!' in his direction.
Feeling himself beginning to sweat despite the cold temperature, he lowered his binoculars and looked all around him. From his left to his right, all around him he could see tiny Washibons, pecking at gravel, walking around the cliff, screeching out contentedly. He noticed one braver bird get particularly close and hop onto his leg, and he winced as the talons pierced his jeans and poke into his skin. The bird poked tentatively at the pantleg before attempting to hop onto the man's shoulder and failing, flopping onto its back and letting out a cry of surprise. The man watched it flail in the dust before forgetting his predicament for a moment and quickly lifting the bird back onto its feet. It blinked and looked at his hand before quickly jumping onto his arm. The man let out a yelp as the tiny clawed foot grabbed him, and he froze in place as so not to alert the father Wargle. The bird slowly but surely made its way to his shoulder... where it immediately dug its head into his backpack.
"Hey! Get outta there!" The man was thrust back into reality as the bird shuffled through his stuff, and he swatted at the Washibon's tiny tail to try and deter it from any more snooping. However, he was too late, as the bird jumped off his shoulder, a plastic baggie held firmly in its beak. He swiveled around, and would have attempted to get his lunch back, but he noticed too late that the Wargle was standing proudly behind him.
He stared, wide-eyed, at the father bird before letting out an audible gulp. The Wargle looked to his child, who still held the baggie, and he opened his beak, letting a whole Oran Berry drop in front of the baby bird. The Washibon chirped happily at the treat and let go of the sandwich, pecking at the blue fruit with gusto. The Wargle went over to the baggie, picked it up with his beak, and stomped over to the man, who closed his eyes and awaited the unhappy conclusion. But all he felt was something drop into his lap.
"Huh?" The man looked down to see his sandwich baggie, slightly soggy, but still perfectly intact, in between his legs. He glanced at it, then turned back to the Wargle, who had a noticeable glint of humor in his eye. "Um... thank you? I guess?"
The Wargle and Washibon only chirped.