"Continue with Fury Swipes." Morgan instructed.

  Pan was hard at work, white energy flickering to life around her paws, forming into sharp, glowing claws. She slashed again and again at the stump of a fallen tree, her breathless cries of ‘Pan.’ echoing through the clearing. Each strike rang with effort, a clear sign she was giving it everything she had. Pan was pushing herself to the limit, working not just to sharpen her moves, but to build her stamina

  ‘Swing. Swing. Swing.’

  Art stood beside her, practicing his Fury Cutter on another stump. Each slice was deliberate, focused, he was working on maintaining momentum without sacrificing the move’s accuracy. The more power it gave, the harder it became to control. He glanced sideways at Pan, who was still furiously swiping at her own stump, and let out a sharp, confident ‘Swing!’

  Pan froze mid-strike, narrowing her eyes. She turned, smirked, and then doubled down, her claws flaring brighter as she dug into the wood with renewed determination.

  Art let out an amused hum. He wasn’t about to be outdone.

  Back and forth they went, taking turns pushing harder, faster, sharper. It wasn’t a contest, but neither one wanted to be the first to stop.

  Morgan and I exchanged amused glances. “Think we should stop ‘em?”

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "This is good for them. Rivalry sparks growth." I explained.

  But, in Pan’s rush to outpace Art’s relentless slices, she misjudged her footing. Her paw slipped on loose bark, and she stumbled forward, falling face-first into the dirt. Morgan gasped before breaking into a fit of giggles.

  Art, ever the gentleman, floats over to the fallen Panpour, letting out a soft ‘Shwing.’ He unwound his long, flowing sash and gently looped it around Pan like a soft hug. With a firm but careful pull, he lifted his friend back onto her feet.

  Pan dusted herself off, cheeks puffed out in embarrassment, while Art simply gave a proud ‘Swing!’—no judgment, just encouragement.

  ‘Pour.’ Pan muttered shyly, scratching the back of her neck, clearly grateful for the encouragement but trying to play it cool. She huffs, turning back to the stump with renewed vigor. With a sharp cry of ‘Pan!’ She launches into another flurry of Fury Swipes.

  Morgan and I shared a grin, this was exactly the kind of spirit we’d need for the journey ahead.

  We continued with our training a little longer, Pan and Art trading playful jabs and strikes, each sharpening the other. We decided to set up camp here. The sun was beginning to dip below the trees, casting long, golden shadows over the worn dirt road. Morgan and I picked a spot just off the trail, a small clearing sheltered by tall grass and a few sturdy trees. It was perfect for a quiet night.

  We set to work, pitching our tents side by side while Art and Pan played nearby, their energy finally starting to wane after the long day. The sound of Kricketot and the rustle of leaves filled the air as night slowly crept in around us.

  I started a fire with the wood that Art had cut from a fallen tree earlier. Thanks to the survival lessons back at Trainer School, it was relatively easy.

  Morgan plopped down across from me with a satisfied sigh, while Pan snuggled close to the warmth. Art hovered nearby, his single eye reflecting the flickering flames.

  For a little while, we just enjoyed the simple peace, the silence occasionally being broken by the crackles of fire. Morgan sat by the fire, humming a soft lullaby I didn’t recognize, her fingers gently running through Pan’s fur as the little Pokémon dozed peacefully in her lap, while Art kept a lazy, slow patrol around the camp’s edge. He hadn’t looked fazed from training earlier.

  I should have been relaxed, too. But instead, my mind started to spiral. Tomorrow, we’d be in Sandgem Town. The day after that, signing up for the League. Reporting Cyrus. Diving headfirst into something that felt so much bigger than anything I’d ever faced. I thought about the weight of my family’s expectations, about the battles we’d have to win, about what would happen if I wasn’t strong enough. ‘What if I died on this journey?’

  A knot twisted in my chest. My hands trembled slightly, hidden in my lap. I tried to steady my breathing, but it felt like the walls were closing in, even though we were out here, under the open sky.

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  Morgan must have noticed. She sat up straighter, her green eyes narrowing in concern.

  "Tristan," she asked gently, one eyebrow raised, her usual playful expression softened with real concern. “You okay there?”

  I opened my mouth to say I was fine, it was a lie, but I’d lie to preserve this peaceful atmosphere, but the words were stuck in my mouth. The fire cackled again, The fire popped loudly, causing me to jump slightly and come crashing back to reality. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been clenching my fists until now.

  "I'm just... thinking," I half-lied, forcing a small smile. "Don't worry about me."

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed slightly. She didn’t buy it for a second. She cocked her head slightly, one eyebrow arched, giving me a look that said plain as day. ‘You’re full of Trubbish.’

  “You’re a terrible liar, Tris.” she said, her voice low and easy. "C'mon now. We’re partners now, spill it.” I felt my chest tighten. Morgan waited patiently for a response.

  I sighed, letting the breath slip out slow, trying to calm the tightness in my chest. “It’s just-” I started, carefully maneuvering the words in my head. “I’m still afraid.” I admitted, staring at my clenched fists. Morgan didn’t say a word, she just stayed quiet. Her silence wasn’t heavy or impatient. It was patient, steady.

  After a long pause, I found myself talking before I could stop it. "I'm not just scared of failing," I muttered, my voice shaking. "I'm scared of dying out here. Of—" I swallowed hard, the firelight blurring in my eyes, "—of my family never knowing what happened to me. I know we’re in a safe route, one of the safest in Sinnoh. But what of Eterna Forest… or Mount Coronet. One mistake, one miscalculation. Ones all you get."

  Morgan stayed silent, her expression softening, encouraging me to go on.

  "And after what Cyrus said..." I trailed off, shivering despite the fire’s warmth. "That he'd remember us,” I gulped at the many implications of what those words meant. “I-I-I’m- It’s not just me who pays the price.”

  I finally looked up at her. Morgan's green eyes were steady, serious in a way they rarely were. She shifted Pan gently off her lap, stood up, and crossed around fire toward me.

  Without a word, she plopped down beside me and enveloped me in a warm, comforting hug, one that had me reminiscing of my mother’s. I froze for a second, not sure what to do with the sudden surge of emotion. But then my body relaxed on instinct, leaning into the embrace.

  “You ain't gotta carry all that weight by yourself,” Morgan said softly against my shoulder. “Ain’t no shame in being scared.”

  Art had come back from his lazy patrolling of the area. Seeing the scene before him, he floated closer, his single eye wide with concern. Without hesitation, he gently wrapped his long, silken sash around my arm. A slow, melodic "Swing..." hummed from him.

  I let out a shaky breath, feeling the gentle tug of his presence anchoring me. Morgan squeezed my shoulder firmly, grounding me even further.

  “I know it ain’t easy to let go of fear.” She said, tightening her hug, her head resting lightly against my shoulder. “But we’re here for ya, every step of the way.”

  I felt her words sink into me, like a weight being lifted, just a little at a time. Morgan’s warmth wrapped around me, easing the tightness in my chest that had been building.

  I try to push the dark thoughts away, but it was hard. The idea of dying without anyone knowing, of never getting to tell them how much they meant to me, gnawed at my mind. Also, the words Cyrus had spoken still echoed, and the uncertainty of it all was terrifying.

  The tension in my chest eased, just a little, but it was enough for now. I didn’t have to worry about any of that as of this moment, I reassured myself that the L.O.P would handle Cyrus and his schemes, and that, for now, we could focus on our journey. The Gym Challenge was just around the corner. We were only rookies, after all.

  I glanced at Morgan, who was still smiling softly, her head resting against my shoulder, humming a gentle song. I couldn’t help but feel a grateful she was here.

  Pan’s soft snoring broke the moment of silence, She had curled up into a ball from where Morgan had left her, the warmth of the campfire making her drift into a deep sleep. The sound was quiet, but undeniably adorable.

  Morgan and I exchanged amused glances, both of us breaking into quiet laughter. “That’s our cue to get to sleep.” She said, standing up, scooping Pan up gently in her arms, and walking toward their tent. Before she ducked inside, she paused, looking over her shoulder at me with a soft but sincere expression.

  “Remember, Tris. We’re in this together now,” she added, her voice steady but filled with meaning.

  The weight of her words settled in, and I couldn’t help but nod, feeling a sense of reassurance wash over me. The fear from earlier, the worry about what lay ahead—it was still so heavy. But we were a team, and that meant something.

  “Yeah. We’re in this together.” I replied, my voice was still shaky but was more steady now than it had been.

  With a final, quiet smile, Morgan disappeared into the tent, and I sat back, looking up at the stars. The night was still, and for the first time in a while, I felt that nothing could break the peace I had now.