Disclaimer – I do not own Pokémon or any of its characters. This is purely a work of fan fiction and will not be used for monetary gains.
Note – This story mostly takes place in the Kanto and Johto regions, but includes Pokémon from all regions and generations. I have taken inspiration from the anime and game and will be taking quite a few liberties with battle mechanics.
I hope you enjoy it.
The Real Wildling
Part 2 – First Steps
It was a beautiful summer day. The sky above Mount Silver was a clear blue with only a few wisps of pure white clouds on the horizon. A light breeze blew down a deep lush green valley filled with trees and cut through by a slowly flowing river. The breeze ruffled the long golden hair of a young boy that sat crouched on a rock in the center of the river.
Though the boy didn't know it, today was a special day, a day that many other children set off on their journey to become a Pokémon trainer. Today was his tenth birthday.
The boy suddenly tensed. Then with the grace of a Dragonair, he dove through the air and with barely a splash disappeared under the water. Moments later he broke the surface of the water, a frantically struggling Magikarp clutched between his arms and his chest.
He tossed the bright red fish up high. A Spearow flew through the air like a flash of lightning, smacked into the Magikarp and sent it flying onto the bank of the river. With a thud a Machop finished of the fish. Together with the Machop, a Bulbasaur dropped twigs, sticks, and dried leaves around the dead Magikarp. A Growlithe joined the other Pokemon and used ember to set the gathered kindling alight. By the time the boy clambered out of the river the delicious smell of cooking fish already filled the air.
After they finished eating, the boy and his Pokémon friends strolled over to a small copse of trees near the valley wall. The trees served as their home and a place for the boy's belongings, a few things he had collected during his ten years living in the mountains among the wild Pokémon.
A few years back, when the boy was eight years old, an old hiker named River had visited the mountains. He was the first person the boy could remember meeting. He taught the boy about people. He gave him a name, Dale. He also gave him his first belongings. Before Dale had met River he had never felt the need for things like tools, or clothes, or names. But after the old man left he realized just how useful manmade things could be.
The best thing that River gave Dale was a photograph of the two of them with some lines scribbled above their heads. Dale sat down under his favorite tree, a gnarly old maple tree with a split trunk that grew in two different directions like two strange arms reaching for the heavens. He took out the now very worn photograph from where it was stored under a rock and inspected it.
The thing that always amused him most was how he stood there clothed only in a pair of blue swim shorts that the old man insisted he wear, while River was covered from head to toe in the second skin he called clothes. Now that River was gone, Dale mostly went around naked like his Pokémon friends. Though, he had to admit, the coat and shorts River had gifted him came in very handy in the cold winter months.
Dale looked up at the old maple tree. Its leaves were changing color, like it did every year. Dale knew this meant that winter and the biting snow was coming. Usually he and his Pokémon friends would join up with the Kangaskhan and huddle down with them for warmth. But, the herd had migrated away from the valley after the previous winter and Dale had no idea when they would be back.
He had heard from some migrating bird Pokémon that it was much warmer down at the foot of the mountains during winter. He had also heard that that was where other people made their homes. He had never concerned himself with other people before. But ever since River's visit he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to live among his own kind, even if it was just for a little while.
Right there and then Dale decided that he would travel down the mountain. At the very least he would see other places and meet other Pokémon. And who knew, he might even find some other people. He might even be lucky enough to see his old friend, River.
Dale pulled on his blue shorts. He knew wearing the second skin made people like River more comfortable. He pulled on his jacket. It was already a little cold and the jacket had pockets for his belongings.
Dale roared at Bulbasaur and Growlithe. He grunted at Machop and screeched at Spearow to follow him. Then he set off out of the valley. He hoped his friends would follow him. The journey would be much harder without them.
To an outside observer, Dale and his Pokémon would have made a very strange site as they traveled down the mountain. Spearow didn't always want to fly. She made a tangled nest in Dale's long blonde hair and sat comfortably on top of Dale's head.
Bulbasaur walked on Dale's left. The boy had a large brown scar on his left side from the day he saved Bulbasaur from a pack of Houndoom. Bulbasaur liked to think he was protecting Dale's injured left side.
Growlithe was full of energy. He bounded along seemingly on his own journey. Sometimes he was ahead of Dale, sometimes behind him, but in the end he was always close by.
Machop liked to practice his strength by breaking branches from trees and whacking rocks as he went. This irritated the other Pokémon, so Machop always hung back a bit when they were strolling through the mountains.
The group saw many things as they walked. Higher in the mountains they saw Geodude, Graveler, and Golem rolling down the mountainsides. The rock Pokémon rumbled and roared like thunder as they smashed into each other and shaped the landscapes with their movements.
On the flatter plateaus they saw great herds of Tauros and Rhyhorn. They saw swift Doduo and Dodrio dashing among the pine forests and grasslands that covered the mountainsides. And they hid from packs of Arcanine and Mightyena as they stalked their grass eating prey.
They drank from rivers and streams and watched Goldeen streak through the water like flashes of light while pale blue Poliwag splashed about in the shallows.
As they neared the foot of the mountains the landscape began to change. The forests became thicker, the ground became less rocky, and grass often grew higher than even Machop stood. Dale and his Pokémon walked close together since other wild Pokémon would often pop out of the tall grass ready to defend their territory aggressively. During these fights, Dale always stood with his Pokémon and fought just as hard as they did to drive the wild Pokémon off.
On the twelfth day, as they were walking through a thick pine forest they came upon something they had never seen before. A wide path broke the wildness of the forest. It was straighter than any Pokémon could make in their wanderings. It was flatter and smoother as well and barely a sapling grew upon it.
Warily, Dale and his friends followed the strange path. It barely changed as it cut through the forest. It barely wound or bent and Dale decided that people must have made it. No Pokémon would waste their time making anything so unnatural.
They walked the path for nearly half a day without incident. Other Pokémon seemed to avoid it, and other than a few Spinarak and Ledyba resting against the trunks of trees they didn't see any Pokémon at all. But, as night fell they did see something else they had never seen before.
Dale stopped in his tracks. His friends stopped as well. They stared at a monstrosity made out of perfectly flat pieces of wood. It had painfully straight sides, holes that stared at you like eyes, a mouth closed with a solid piece of wood, and a perfectly pointed head. From what River tried to tell him, back when the old man lived in the valley for a while, Dale knew that this was a house. And if what he knew about houses were true, he would definitely find people inside.
The End of Part 2