Chapter 1

Ace pokemon trainer Dakota Ryder knew it wasn't polite to stare, but the unquestionably unusual pokemon that presented itself before her couldn't be ignored. A bellsprout, of unknown origin, lay sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of her, totally oblivious to the fact that he was roasting faster than a cracked execute in the middle of a slugma summer.

With a pair of stringy legs, a bulbous head, and two beady little eyes that didn't blink, he was the most pathetic pokemon she had ever seen in her entire life. Never before had a pokemon been so out of habitat. Bellsprout laid on his back in the middle of the concrete pad on full shameless display for the whole world to see. As Dakota continued to watch the spectacle, she remembered the stick figures she used to draw in the dirt as a kid. They paled in comparison to Bellsprout's current twiggy outline.

She might have to trace a chalk line around him because when the sun reached high noon, there'd be nothing left of his figure but ashes. A master chef might be able to make a sundried herb out of him. A good steak burger always tasted better with a little garnish. It made her hungry just thinking about it.

Dakota cocked her head to the side just a little. There was a chance the bellsprout put himself in that position on purpose. Limbs outstretched and head pointed at the sky, he had an air of sunbathing about him that put regular photosynthesis to shame. Give him a set of sunglasses and even the most renowned celebrities would have struggled to surpass his ignorance. Dakota scrunched up her nose.

It was a crowd she actively tried to avoid.

The ace promptly stepped over the spindly speed bump and continued walking down the sidewalk. It wasn't her place to meddle in the affairs of wild pokemon anymore. "If it ain't in a ball, it ain't worth the haul," wise old grandma Ryder used to say. It was a staple motto back on the dude ranches where she was from. On the other side of the mountains, the line between people and pokemon crossed on a frequent, if not daily basis. Out there, a life of tolerance and respect made the difference between giving the pokemon their due and getting trampled by a herd of wild ponyta while your harvest burned to the ground underneath their hooves.

Nature was going to do what nature wanted to do no matter how hard you fought or thought against it. The same had to be true for the untamed gardens of modern suburbia. It wasn't her place to get involved. There had to be some sort of reason as to why the bellsprout was located where he was. Maybe he was waiting for something, taking a break, or participating in some sort of flower dance that required SPF 5,000. Who was she to come between him and his ritual?

A digital ping diverted Dakota's thoughts from the subject. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a cellphone, tapping it awake to see the most recent weather notification. It read: "UV Alert – Extreme risk of harm from sun exposure if unprotected. Rating 11/12." Dakota stopped and quickly shook her head. Bellsprouts liked the sun. They couldn't live without it. Sprout still had one ranking to go before maxing out.

The ace began walking again, but her knees locked up and her elbows straightened out, stiffening the stroll into a march with every step of the way. Her brow broke out in a sweat and it wasn't because of another well timed ping! Even under a hat and glasses, T-shirt and pants, she felt the heat of the sun saturating the melatonin in her skin. Were plants capable of getting sunburned? Even if they were, she shouldn't be so concerned with a pokemon that wasn't hers. Bellsprout lived short violent lives anyway growing up amidst the raging elements, grazing pokemon, and lawn mowers of the world.

Sprout wasn't her problem. It's not like he asked her for help or anything. And then it hit her. What if casting himself on the sidewalk was his way of seeking sanctuary? Out of the fire and into the frying pan in one last desperate attempt at mercy from a stranger. Dakota marched faster, imitating a toy soldier on an adrenaline high. Surely, if that were the case, some sad sap would have stopped to help by now. Then again, what if everyone who walked past the pokemon thought the same thing?

What if she was the last person to see the little flower alive?

Dakota turned around so sharply that she almost clipped a passing bicyclist. He veered off to the side, chinking his bell at her with the haunting reminder of the bell that might never chime again because of her indifference. The ace quickly returned to the pad and stopped at the head of her ethical dilemma, but the bellsprout's noggin didn't move upon her arrival. In fact, the flower pokemon continued to stare up at the sun as if to say:

"Shoo, shoo, human. You're standing in my light."

Immediately insulted and embarrassed, Dakota spun on her heels again with the hopes of burying that weed in the concrete dust. How incredibly rude of him to toy with her feelings like that? And to think she had even carried a measure of guilt. That poor excuse of a sprout had an ego the size of a League Champion. He'd be a celebrity alright. First prize winner of the next Darwin award.

Dakota scoffed. That's why she didn't like specialty type pokemon. Too many pampered pre-madonnas. She'd take a normal type any day over those showboating pollinators. Normal was normal for a reason. Bellsprout could self-combust for all she cared. What was one less bellsprout in the whole wide world of pokemon?

Dakota scratched the bottom of her tennis shoes to a stop, looked down at her feet, and sighed. Life was so much simpler without pokemon in it. She whirled around again, determined to put an end to this ridiculous moral line dance once and for all. The frustration of it all ruffled her feathers, spurring her hands to land high on her hips when she returned to the crossroads of condemnation.

Bellsprout shifted his head as the looming shadow of intervention fell over him. Good, the little cretin wasn't dead yet. Dakota crouched down above him and debated the best method of relocation. One wrong move and she could snap off a brittle limb. Pick up his body and not his head and the two might just disconnect under the weight. Grass types were so needy. Dakota fingered the piece of cellulosic jerky into position and lightly tossed him in the grass nearby.

There, now he was out of the way. It was more than anyone else had done for him. Dakota cleaned her hands of the deed with a few brushing claps and took a moment to examine the fruits of her generosity. Bellsprout lay face down in the grass. His body was so light that the prickly un-watered blades held him up better than a bed of spikes. He made no move to move at all. Not a single twitch or disagreement to her touch.

Pitiful. Absolutely pitiful.

Dakota snatched up the flower pokemon again. Leaving him alone was one thing, throwing him onto a torture device another. She glanced around for a more suitable location to put him to rest because at this rate, the wind might just blow him away. A mailbox with a flower bed seemed appropriate, but the closest one was located right next to the street, and given the pokemon's clueless disposition, if he managed to recover his strength, he'd probably wander into traffic. Getting run over was more merciful than mummification, but Dakota was invested at this point, so she kept looking until she found a decent patch of shrubbery far enough from the street to satisfy her expectations.

It was a shady spot with healthy dark looking dirt so Dakota brushed aside the leaf litter and planted the flower beneath the bushes. Bellsprout continued to lay there, motionless, with no intention of sitting up or acting even remotely alive. That miserable little husk didn't know when to quit. Dakota pawed out a hole, tucked him in with the loose dirt, and pulled out a water bottle from her bag.

She poured the contents over the flower pokemon, making sure to douse his rubbery head down to his thread thin toes. Bellsprout blinked a few times and gently rolled his head to the side in a series of light headed chimes. Dakota smirked, but quickly hid the expression. Wouldn't want to admit defeat in the face of the enemy. Sprout would be just fine.

Guilt thoroughly satisfied, the ace returned to the sidewalk and looked down the road. The path ahead of her was sunny, clear, and free from all manner of precarious tumbleweeds. With a flick of her finger, she knocked a pair of sunglasses over her eyes.

The little bellsprout had gotten one thing right. A nice set of shades was one way to stay cool in the summer.

Especially for a celebrity.