The grass felt like wet whips across his legs; running in the way that only humans can, the young boy leapt easily over a small creek and dashed over an open area, skilfully dodging behind trees and pausing until the stream of poisonous darts fired past. He breathed hard, eyes bright and face flushed; but this was good. He felt the power in his veins, the strength that came from battle. His hand tightened around the wooden handle of his stone axe and he waited; the hunter would look for him soon.
And it did.
It stomped over the soggy grass, impatient that its prey had to be so fast and small. The purple horned menace sniffed and snuffled at nearby fallen logs; the boy swallowed as he saw it stab straight through a tree that he had been considering using as his hiding-place.
The poison gleamed on the nidorino's horn, secreting on the tree trunk and making it sizzle with a spicy, fresh smell that burned the boy's nose. He ignored the unsettling sensation and waited, holding his breath in fear that the predator would smell it.
It wasn't a very smart pokémon; none of the creatures were, not in the way that humans were smart. The nidorino was completely unaware as it stepped into a noose and was yanked off its feet, dragged by a heavy stone into a niche between two rocks. The purple hunter roared in agony as its leg popped and dislocated from the extreme weight, but the trap was too cleverly set to be escaped with pure force.
The boy approached his prey, quietly satisfied.
The nidorino glared up at the boy with eyes of fire, trying to frighten him away. It knew what was coming. He had seen this happen, if not with such a clever trap, to his brothers and relatives. The boy raised the stone axe and swung it at the fallen pokémon's face. It squeezed its eyes shut at the last moment.
Thunk.
"RAAaaaaaaaarrGHH!" the nidorino cried.
The purple horn that had glistened with poison was lying on the ground. The boy knew it was safe; none of the creatures would dare attack in such a vulnerable position. For being animals, these beasts were far more intelligent than the livestock humans bred and fed upon during cold month.
"Mine. Mine," the boy repeated in a grunting language. The nidorino hissed, but the fire was gone from his eyes. He didn't resist the primitive rope that tied his neck to the boy's hand. He stood silently as the boy untied the rock from his leg and pulled on his end of the rope.
"Come."
And the nidorino went.