A Dragon's Ferocity

Finding hunting grounds was a challenge for any dragon, especially one with an appetite as big as yours. Though that came with the territory of being a Pokémon of your kind: one the gods had given the strength to make the world tremble before their three heads, at the cost of them needing to be ever fed. As such, Hydreigon had to have a nose for finding grounds that would sate that hunger, even if it meant looking in unlikely places.

You remembered when you first heard the rumors, of untouched hunting grounds south and west of the shrines to the great dragons. Grounds where prey were plentiful in number and grew fat and sleek from verdant fields. You can see them now as clear as day through three sets of eyes

You look down at the ground at the silhouette of your wings over the treetops to make sure that you're not dreaming: green, rolling plains just beyond the forest. And milling about on top of it, a veritable sea of bleating, yellow wool.

"So the stories really are true…"

Your stomach growls at the sight and your mouths begin to water. Somehow, such rich hunting grounds had gone unclaimed all this time. All yours for the taking. And to think that your peers opted to squabble over competing claims in the mountains for prey that could slip away into caves and crags at a moment's notice!

… Though perhaps things weren't so black-and-white. These fields were supposed to be tended to by humans, and it was said that as balance to the toll of tooth and claw the gods allowed Pokémon to take on humans that interfered in their affairs, that they saw it fit to allow humans to similarly punish Pokémon that interfered with theirs… and of those of the Pokémon that made cause with them. Which those Mareep almost certainly have done.

But they are humans, and you are a Hydreigon. They are said to quake in fear at the sight of your kind, even the ones who left the wild to den among them. Your kind by contrast, has stories in both your and their folklore of your kind's mightier individuals laying waste to their villages.

But there is no need for things to come to that today: you didn't come to hunt humans, so your quarrel isn't with them anyways. If they wished to make it so for the sake of a few unwary Mareep… well, you'll believe they can win that battle when they emerge from hiding from their dens and challenge you themselves. You are the Hydreigon, after all. They are the weak creatures dependent on hiding behind the strength of others.

You bank in the air along the edge of the forest and swoop lower, glancing over your shoulders to make sure another dragon hasn't tailed you. The skies are clear but for clouds, and it's all the encouragement you need to dive out towards the flock of Mareep in the fields, building up bluish, fiery light in your mouths.

A few of the Mareep spot you and freeze, frantically bleating out warnings to their fellows, but it is too late. You spit up a Dragon Pulse, and then another, and another. Three Mareep crumple to the ground, singed with might of your dragonfire. Their peers break away in a panic, but that is just fine by you. Your have already felled your prey before they knew what hit them. When you finish them off, you will be rewarded with a fill of succulent and still-tender meat. The just reward the gods are said to give to hunters that do not revel not in the fear and pain of their prey and quickly finish them off.

A quick swoop down and you are there to seize one of the felled Mareep with your leftmost head, biting down into her wool. You feel a feeble pulse in your jaws, but with the condition she is in, you doubt the sheep will wake up before you can carry her off and dispatch her in a quieter place away from your foes' grasp.

You hastily flap your wings and make your way over to the second and do the same with the rightmost head as a few electric bolts sail in. The Mareep are attempting to close ranks to aid their fallen comrades. But those attacks are from Mareep, while you are a Hydreigon, and they bounce off your hide like little pricks from a Combee. Perhaps less so, since Combee pricks can be surprisingly painful sometimes.

A bellowing roar turns back a good number of the sheep in a panic and a few wingbeats later, you make your way to the third Mareep and open the jaws on your central head. This one wakes up as you approach and flinches with a low whimper after he sees you.

"I suppose my luck was bound to run out," you grumble to yourself. This Mareep's fear will make his meat tough and stringy compared to the other two. Perhaps you'll eat him first to just get it over with so your meal will end on a less disappointing note.

You bare your fangs and prepare to bite down and fly off, when a blinding flash sails in and numb warmth courses through your body. You lose your grip on the other two Mareep and fall back with a pained bellow. You beat your wings and even your body out, turning your heads to see the rest of the Mareep pulling your prey away from your grasp and an Ampharos approaching with a piercing glare, sparks still dancing on his hide.

"You should know better than to prey on Pokémon that trade life under the wild's rhythms for those set by humans. Especially ones that have done you no wrong," the ram bleats. "The gods do not smile on Pokémon that would harm them like this."

You blink incredulously at the Ampharos, before flitting back and coiling your necks. It occurs to you that he would be much bigger and more filling quarry. And without any hint of fear about him, the meat from his body would surely be more pleasing to consume. Even so, the ram struck you harder than you expected, and harder than you'd care to let him know. So you bare your fangs back and unfurl your six wings to their full span, snarling to remind this interloper that you are a Hydreigon, while he is a mere Ampharos.

"I think that I'm more familiar with the ways of the gods than a human pet," you sneer. "And what do you think a mere grazer like you can do to me?"

The Ampharos narrows his eyes, letting static crackle on his body before he glares daggers at you and speaks in a calm, unfazed tone.

"Kill you. With the very power that you wield as your own," he answers. "We Ampharos have the strength of dragons coursing through our veins, and as the Lead Ram of the Floccesy Ranch Flock, I have come far along enough to be able to use it."

At this, you burst into laughter, struggling with all your might not to fall out of the air and bowl over onto the grass. This Ampharos… the creature that should be quailing in his tracks and begging for his life right now, is threatening you? You'd heard that being in the care of humans went to the heads of some Pokémon, but this was just too much.

Just then, a weak jolt of electricity courses through your body and you stop laughing as your limbs lock up and grow stiff. Your eyes widen briefly, but you recompose yourself and turn with a snarl. After all, you are the Hydreigon, and he is a mere Ampharos. Your kind eats Pokémon stronger than him on a regular basis.

"Burn!"

You disgorge a blue pulse of dragonfire, which makes the Ampharos stagger back much to your satisfaction. You let out a bellowing roar and fight against your stiff wings to fly at the ram as smoke swirls, opening your jaws wide to tear into him. It is then that the smoke clears and much to your alarm, the Ampharos is still standing, with an orb of bluish dragonfire in his mouth.

A sharp yelp comes from your throats, one that catches you off-guard with how much it sounds like the frightened bleating of the Mareep from earlier. Something that you will make a point of never telling another soul about in your life. You hurriedly try to pull up, when burning pain shoots through your belly. The world spins about you as you lose altitude and crash onto your side on the ground with a loud thud.

You lie there in a daze briefly as you struggle to make out swirling colors and shapes that won't stay still. H-How on earth had this happened? You are the Hydreigon, he is the Ampharos! Th-This was completely backwards from how things were supposed to go!

You yelp after a sharp kick strikes your stomach and rolls you over onto your back. Something presses down on your central throat and you start to have trouble breathing through it. You look up, and there is the Ampharos standing over you, static dancing on his hide. Your ears pick up bleating jeers from all around you, as the Mareep aren't afraid of you anymore and are eager to make sure you know it.

This is it. You're going to die here. You want to face the end with bravery and dignity, like a dragon is supposed to in such situations, defiant even against the final blow. Contrary to all your expectations, the Ampharos has emerged the victor from your struggle after all, and you know he has every right to claim you.

… It proves harder than you thought, and waiting for death is a more frightening experience than you expected. You screw all six of your eyes shut as a shiver runs down your body. Things begin to grow a bit hazy, and while you'll never admit it if you somehow survive this, but you're pretty sure you're whimpering right now. It's lower and rougher, but it's not wholly unlike the sounds the last Mareep from earlier was making after he came to.

But the killing blow doesn't come. You still hear the Mareep's bleating all around you, and you still feel the aching pains wracking your body, so you're not dead yet. You crack your eyes open warily, and see the Ampharos' foot still on your central throat. The static has died down on his hide, and in its place, he looks down at you with a piercing glare.

"I would just like to remind you that I warned you this would happen," the Ampharos huffed. "Fortunately for you, we 'pets' don't live by the rules you do in the wild and there is no blood to be avenged. Go and hunt elsewhere."

The Ampharos lets his foot off your throat. You roll over onto your stomach and wheeze for air out of fright. You had no idea that Ampharos could become this fierce, this powerful. You look back at the sheep, who is beginning to have impatient sparks dance on his hide again.

"And don't come back here," he warns you. "If I see you in these fields a second time, I'll see to it that you won't live to tell others about losing twice to an old ram."

There is nothing left to be said between you two. You yelp and scrabble onto your stubby legs. After pitching startledly to the ground from a failed attempt at taking off, you leap into the air and fly off as fast as your wings and your wounds from battle will let you.

Somewhere south and west of the shrines to the great dragons, there are untouched hunting grounds where prey are plentiful in number and grow fat and sleek in verdant fields. Someday, a dragon with great strength might claim it for his own.

But that dragon is not you. You're not going to tempt fate and you're going to put a healthy distance between you and that accursed Ampharos. There was a lake you spotted north of here about fifteen minutes ago by flying: you're going to go there, lick your wounds, and try your luck fishing for Basculin.