Will-O-Wisp inflicts a burn on the target. It has no effect on Fire-type Pokémon.

7

I came to wrapped in thick, beach sized towels and Chevy wrapped tightly around me. I had been set on the carpet of what looked to be Carlos's living room at the foot of a plush, worn red couch. Carlos paced before an empty fireplace, his cell phone to his ear. I traced the lines in the wood of the picture frames above the mantle without seeing much of the people inside them. Dimples, mostly. Dimples and curly hair.

"—always so mild mannered, are you sure none of his moves could confuse her? What do you mean he can't learn Confuse Ray? What about Swagger? Huh? No, she just ran from him."

I sighed. "I'm fine."

"You are not fine," said Chevy, his tone with brick-like finality.

"I meant to jump into the pond. I thought it would help—"

"No fire poke'mon in their right mind just jumps into a pond."

I groaned, aching more than I ever wanted to. "I was burning up."

"You passed out!"

"I'm a weak-ass poke'mon."

"—well, I guess she's a little off…she doesn't clean herself." Carlos was saying, a bit of his surety lost.

"You're not weak," said Chevy.

But the aching in my bones and the raspy rawness of my throat said otherwise. The fact I'd run like a terrified mouse being chased by a cat said otherwise. The fact I passed out just by taking a dip in a shallow pond said otherwise.

The fact I was even in this place, readying to be more or less raped, said otherwise.

I bit back the whine building up in my throat and dug my paws under me. My legs trembled like reeds in the wind when I stood.

Carlos spun around at Chevy's bark of alarm.

"Oh! No, girl! Stay down, you need rest." His big, soft hands pushed down on my shoulders. Although gentle, my weak legs were forced to oblige. "Don't worry, you'll be just fine. I got some medicines for you that will—what?" The person on the other end of the line reminded him he still had his cell to his ear. "She's trying to get up…no, she's—I have to make sure she's okay. She's one of a kind and really docile, it practically oozes off her. You'd be treating her the same way if you were here...that's because I knew him! He's always been good with others, which is why I called!"

Chevy had curled back around me, this time draping his head across my shoulders with a small growl, daring me to move again. His black mane had once more been combed down to silken smoothness.

Carlos sighed. "Yeah, I...I guess you're right. Maybe if you could…yeah…yeah that'd help a lot. And if not, I guess there's…we can talk about it later….yeah….yeah…thanks, buddy. Okay. Bye."

He hung up and let loose a heavy sigh, the kind only a very, very long day can illicit.

I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about being the source of that. He had who knew how many other poke'mon to take care of, and here I was, little miss problem child because I'd completely lost my mind when a Houndoom barked at me. Blaze had even said he planned on helping me. If my brain had just stopped to think for a moment…

Carlos dropped down in front of us to rub a hand over my damp ears.

"I'm so sorry, you poor girl. Blaze has always been really nice for a Houndoom. I didn't think he'd bully you like that."

I just sighed in return. He hadn't been bullying me. He'd actually been doing more to help me than anyone else had since this whole debacle had begun.

And with that thought, a steely determination came over me.

I looked over Carlos as he pet my mane, finding the small bulge in his pocket.

"Chevy," I said, softly. "I need your help."

He huffed his stinky Mightyena smell in my face. "That much is obvious."

"No. I need to get Blaze back."

In the corner of my vision, I saw his yellow eyes narrow. "Don't tell me you…actually like him?"

"Not in the least." I tried to give Carlos's hand a thank you nuzzle as he pulled away, hoping to relieve a little of my guilt. "I need him to train me."

"Seriously? Now you feel like fighting? Look, Mayleen, not ever poke'mon is made for combat—"

"Will you stop preaching and just listen? You heard him, he was helping me, it was my fault for being so stupid weak that I freaked out—"

"He was biting you! He made you run past your limit!"

"And that's what I need to get stronger!"

Carlos, who had turned to text something on his phone, looked over at us in consternation as our growls and yips of "Nine-nine tales!" and "Wurfs!" grew louder.

"You guys okay?" he asked cautiously.

"Then I'll train you," said Mightyena with a puff.

"You're not a fire poke'mon. And what he did teach me, it was good and dumbed down, I need that. I'm retarded as Swallow poop."

"You are not retarded. You are one of the most intelligent poke'mon I've ever met."

"You've only known me for a few days."

"And yet not only can you keep up with me, but you keep up with everything Carlos says and what's going around you," he said, his head raised, eyes hard on me. "There are other poke'mon you can ask for help. You don't need some—some heartless, flirty bully to chase you crazy to get strong."

I couldn't fully understand where all this concern was coming from. We hardly knew each other, and yet here he was guarding me like something important. But, then, he was the guard dog of the ranch and seemed to grasp just how important I was for his owner's career.

While I was grateful for the mothering, it irritated me, because in no way could it be real. They were being paid. This is what they did to survive.

I got back to my feet again, my legs a fraction stronger this time. Carlos bit his lip at my shaking knees.

"I'll get that medicine. Chevy, keep her inside," he strode off to what I assumed was the kitchen.

Chevy just watched as I limped across the carpet to the empty fireplace, where a pile of wood had been set up. It was early autumn, yet the night still held that tinge of summer musk. I had only caught the whiff of fall at dawn, when the dew still hung off the drowsy leaves.

I dug deep, calling forth every warm feeling I could think of: anger, determination, irritation, even the shock of fear I knew so well.

Heat burbled up like sleepy coals among ash in my gut. I coaxed it up, breathing deep, hoping to get it more oxygen. Faster than I expected, I felt it crawl up my throat, following the air till I could taste fire on my tongue.

I leaned over the wood and let my jaw drop, dripping blue flames. Blue light leapt over the dry bark, outshining the yellow cadence of the living room lamps and bringing out the dusty details of the fireplace's stone work.

I sucked in my breath to quell the fire back to my gut and smiled when Carlos came back in with a yelp.

"B-blue fire? Crap, the shoot!"

He ran forward to pull across a metal bar, opening the shoot to the chimney, though there had been no smoke to speak of.

"Bad girl! Don't just go setting things on fire! It's not even cold yet. Wait, are you cold? Is that why?"

But, being human, he wouldn't have understood even if I had responded. Instead, I looked back at Chevy, whose canine face had one of the many indecipherable expressions I had yet to learn about.

Then I eyed the bulge once more in Carlos's right pocket.

Author's note: Yes, I know the chapters short. If I get enough interest I'll work hard to get the next chapter up before next week. But the promise was AT LEAST one chapter per week. Nar Nar. Fo shizzle.