Ray woke up covered in a mess of brown leaves. He felt sore and dirty. And thirsty—his throat was so dry that it rattled when he breathed. Dazed, he got up, shook the leaves off, and stumbled his way through the forest.

Then it struck him. Why was he in a forest?

Where was everyone else?

He couldn't be too far from Nimbasa. But the thick forest sprawled out in every direction, with the only living things around being plants. The same rusty-colored leaves littered the ground in every direction; some were crisps from patches of direct sunlight that pierced the treetops, but most of them were just beginning to rot away. They occasionally got poked into by Ray's toe claws—like paper would by a pencil—and he would have to stop and scrape them out.

Ray walked aimlessly through the woods, moving in generally one direction, with his throat killing him the whole time. As he wandered forward, all alone, he went over what had happened last night.

He had lost a Gym battle. He had gone to the Festival thing. And he had passed out from some blue wave thing that didn't do anything to anybody else.

And now he had no clue where he was.

Eventually, Ray came across a stream winding through the woods. Overcome by thirst, he trotted over in a rush and plunged his head into the smooth current, gulping down water. It both sated Ray's thirst and alleviated the pain in his dried-out throat. He drank too fast, though, and he was soon in a coughing fit from inhaling water. Still feeling grimy, Ray waded into the stream and started trying to bathe. He was mostly just rinsing himself with water, but afterwards he felt refreshed and a lot cleaner. As he stood by the edge of the stream, shaking the water off his scales, a weird thought crossed his mind.

Why did he have scales?

And why was he used to them?

Ray was a human, but now he had these scales and claws and spikes. The lack of disorientation in this new body puzzled him.

Apparently, he was a Pokémon. The thought barely registered in his mind. It didn't make any sense.

He went back to the stream, and used the water as a mirror this time. The flowing surface was just smooth enough for him to see his reflection: a dark blue face with tired yellow eyes stared back at him. The reflection opened its mouth in surprise, revealing pairs of sharp teeth. Ray spent some time just standing there, staring at his own reflection. This was not who he was. But he could run and jump as if he had been this Pokémon his whole life.

Ray tried to think of what Pokémon he was, exactly, but he wasn't sure he had ever seen the likes of it before.

Then a thought came that made him let out a hoarse chuckle. This all had to be a dream. That's the only way it would make sense.

Coughing again, Ray dipped his head into the stream and had another drink.

Then, Ray set off again, following the stream downhill. He figured he would alternate between walking and swimming—he had always loved swimming. As the stream became a river, Ray jumped in and found the water deep enough to swim in freely. He noted with amusement that he was still trying to swim like a human—the forward crawl, to no real surprise, didn't work now. He figured out a better way to do it: he wasn't sure, but he thought it was sort of like a streamlined breaststroke. He glided through the water with ease.

The river was now flowing much faster, and some sharp boulders ahead made Ray leave the water. He walked on the riverbank, wondering when he would wake up. But he also wanted to keep exploring. The forest wasn't getting any thinner.

Ray soon turned to idle thoughts. After a while, though, rustling in the background made him stop. He turned from the river and walked through the trees.

He found the source of the rustling noise after a few minutes. A Pokémon was hiking away through the trees, carrying something in its arms. It was still far away, but Ray could see its grayish-azure body and some red and white protrusions running up the neck.

Ray was now aware that he was kind of hungry. Was he supposed to hunt, now that he was a Pokémon? He began to sneak up on the stranger, just so he could see what it was doing. The attempt was futile, though, because leaves were cracking loudly beneath his own feet. The Pokémon, now about fifteen feet away, turned around. It sort of looked like an Anorith—it had the same red and white things, protruding eyes, and armored body. But unlike an Anorith, it was standing on two legs instead of swimming in water. It was probably the evolved form! Big pieces of wood rested in its arms. It was frozen, staring at Ray uncertainly.

"H-hello?" it stuttered, shaking visibly. The woods were silent.

Ray coughed, then cried, "You can talk!"

"You can talk!" the Pokémon said, relieved. "You're not wild."

"I'm not wild?" Ray said, confused. "I haven't seen my... Trainer."

The Pokémon gave Ray a puzzled look. "What's a trainer? Anyway, if you're not wild, then where do you live? I've never seen you around."

"I don't know."

"You don't know...?"

"Yeah, I just woke up here."

"That's... interesting. So you don't remember where were you yesterday, then?"

Ray paused. He was going to sound like a psycho. "I was a human."

The Pokémon blinked. "You know, you should probably follow me back. It's not good to live in these woods by yourself, even if it's called the Empty Forest. Besides, I don't think you're out to make me your next meal. Right? As long as you aren't a wildie, I'm fine."

So Ray began to follow him through the woods. He even carried a few pieces of wood for him. The Pokémon showed him how to carry them, because they both had claws instead of hands.

"Thanks," the Pokémon said. "I'm Trace, by the way. The only Armaldo in Asunder—the town where I live. It's not really a town, because it's still new, but yeah."

"I'm Ray. I'm from Hoenn," he said, unsure if Hoenn still existed.

"No clue where that is," Trace said. "You know, I think you just have memory loss. Nobody has ever seen any humans. Ever. I mean, there are some legends about humans turning into Pokémon, but I don't believe them. It makes more sense if you just smashed your head and forgot everything. And then you made up these memories so that you had something to hold on to."

"You think I could have made up all that?"

"I don't know, but you're handling being a Gabite just fine. If I were a human, and all of a sudden I was an Armaldo, I wouldn't be able to walk around the way I am now. I would be all stumbling everywhere."

"So it was all a fake memory?"

"It's just a guess of mine." Trace paused in thought, then said, "I have an idea. Since you're here, and not a human, I think you should just forget all that stuff. You can have a new name and everything, to start off your new life."

The next hour or so was spent thinking of a good new name for Ray. His stomach growled—and to his relief, Trace didn't hear it.

All of a sudden, Trace said, "I know! How does Slight sound?"

"It sounds slightly off," Ray said, grinning toothily.

Trace laughed. "Yeah, I thought so. You know, you're the only Gabite around. You could just go by the name Gabite."

"No, I want a real name." Ray couldn't think of a name for himself. Trace's idea was good, though. It would help put his old life behind him.

"How about Lare?" Trace suggested.

"I guess," Lare said. He didn't really care that much, because at the moment he was entertaining the idea that it was all still a vivid dream. "How did you come up with that?"

"Randomly. I was thinking of Pare, and Fare, and Tare, and stuff. All of which, coincidentally, are already words. Oh, and so is Lare."

"Wow." Lare thought one last time about the world he had left behind. He decided that, for all intents and purposes, it wasn't real. Until he woke up, at least. "What am I again?" he asked.

"Whadda you mean? A Gabite?"

"Yeah, a Gabite." Whatever that was. "You know what? You can call me Lysander."

"Why Lysander?"

"It's my middle name. I don't think it'll trigger memories or whatever."

"What are middle names?" Trace asked. "Actually, I think we should stop talking about your dream world. So. I'm bringing this wood for Horizon, the only group of explorers at our town. I get paid. A little."

"Paid in what?"

"Food, of course. Sometimes I trade food for stuff, like for people to help me build my house."

"And what's there for them to explore?"

"Oh, just about everything. Our little town is like an island in the sea. And the explorers are like explorers on a boat? Nah, I don't think that works. They're the ones who go out far and wide, despite all the wildies. Yeah, and they come back with treasure sometimes, too."

Treasure. "So there's just a town and explorers?" Lysander asked. Life must be simple.

"Well, people in town do stuff," Trace said. "Er, they will, once everybody's settled in. I mean, it's almost done."

"Can I live there?"

"Yeah, of course. I can't just leave you—all memory-lost and confused—with the wildies, now can I?"

"What are wildies?" Lysander asked, stopping to get some leaves off his feet.

Trace kept walking. "They're like us, but they don't talk. They just attack us."

Lysander caught up. "So there are Pokémon that talk, and some that don't talk?" he asked.

"There are a lot more wildies than people, but yeah," Trace confirmed. "Look, it's the edge of the forest." The tall trees were quickly replaced with short, wavy grass. "Asunder's on the other side of these plains."

So Ray—now called Lysander—walked on, mentally exhausted. He was in some crazy world where the people were Pokémon. What's worse was that it was all real. Despite this faint anxiety that he had lost something priceless, Lysander was glad that Trace had accepted him. If only everyone could be like that!

Maybe everyone was, in this world.

But then Lysander remembered that it wasn't a dream. Oh well.

From that point onward, Lysander promised himself to put away his human life for good. He was a Gabite, not a human, and that's what mattered.