Cynthia was a lot of things: a budding prodigy, a girl on her first journey, and maybe, just maybe, a tad too obsessed with history.

  Really, though, that wasn't her fault.

  It was just how her life had turned out.

  As inevitable as the changing seasons, growing up with her grandmother meant stories, endless stories. Even before she could walk, before she could even talk, her grandmother would regale her with tales of Sinnoh. The myth of creation, their ancient legends shaping space and time, and the origin of the world’s one true God.

  So, of course, she was obsessed. It was natural.

  It wasn't her fault.

  She stood at the entrance of the cave she had just slept in, her face stretched into a grin that was, frankly, a little unsettling.

  It really wasn't her fault.

  She raised her Pokédex and snapped another picture of the entrance, only to be interrupted before she could break into delirious laughter for what had to be the tenth time today.

  A long-suffering growl cut through the air.

  Cynthia turned to see her oldest companion, arms crossed, sharp eyes locked onto her with what could only be described as a look.

  She blinked, lips pursing.

  "Ga—Gabite!" Queenie gestured around them, fins moving wildly, as if to ask why, exactly, they were still wandering this forest a week later.

  It was a fair question.

  The trip was only supposed to last a couple of days. Follow Route 205, get through Eterna Forest, challenge the gym.

  Simple.

  Or at least, it would have been, if she hadn't gone horrendously off-trail trying to take a shortcut.

  Cynthia huffed. "What? You think this is my fault? How was I supposed to know that shortcut only existed on the map? Honestly, if those mapmakers would just mark the place as Vigoroth territory, I never would have tried it!"

  Queenie didn't need to speak. The unimpressed glare on her sharklike face said it all.

  This was, without a doubt, completely your fault.

  Cynthia snorted, shaking her head in mock disgust at her partner's lack of trust.

  Okay, fine. Maybe this was somewhat her fault. And maybe she should have been exhausted and annoyed after nearly a full day of running from an enraged pack of Vigoroth.

  But all of that had been forgotten when they reached the heart of the forest. Because, completely by accident, in the cave where she'd taken shelter from the rain, she'd found carvings.

  Primitive, ancient, historical carvings.

  Everyone knew the deeper parts of Eterna Forest were off-limits for long-term stays. Defacing the land came with extreme fines, ones you wouldn't easily escape when Psychic Pokémon were more than capable of tracking you down.

  So, if no one in modern times would risk it… who had made them?

  The implications.

  Massive.

  It could be proof that people had once lived here, in a place so restricted that even rangers only ventured in sparingly. A place most historians agreed was the one part of Sinnoh nobody had ever settled.

  Cynthia's grin widened, excitement bubbling up all over again. She could already see it: her grandmother's impressed look when she presented a groundbreaking archaeological discovery at fifteen.

  Fifteen!

  Queenie let out a deep, suffering sigh and dragged a fin down her face, as if embarrassed, either by Cynthia herself or by the frankly terrible laugh that had just escaped her trainer.

  Then… a rustle.

  The sound cut through the air, sharp and sudden.

  Cynthia froze, her laughter strangled in her throat. Her hand twitched toward her belt, instinct screaming at her to release another Pokémon, just to be safe, but she forced herself to stay still.

  In most places, calling out another Pokémon meant extra safety. But in Eterna Forest? For the truly powerful Pokémon living here, another Pokémon would mean just another snack, another reason to chase them down.

  And honestly? The last thing she needed after the Vigoroth incident was another chase.

  Queenie shifted her attention from Cynthia, her gaze locking onto a nearby bush at the same time as her trainer's.

  Then the landshark let out a snort.

  Cynthia shot her partner a questioning glance, only to catch Queenie's unimpressed expression as a Wurmple wriggled out from the underbrush.

  It stopped, large, glossy eyes focusing on their unfamiliar figures.

  Cynthia felt herself relaxing at the sight. For any trainer, overconfidence was dangerous, and in Eterna Forest it could be downright deadly. But a lone Wurmple?

  Even if she was being generous, it still wasn't even remotely a threat.

  She took a step forward, blocking its retreat from Queenie's looming figure, only to pause.

  The Wurmple quivered. It let out the tiniest, most pitiful squeak, like it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be threatening or unthreatening. Then, whole body trembling, it shrank back.

  Her heart clenched.

  Oh no.

  It was cute.

  Ridiculously cute.

  The way its big, glassy eyes darted around for an escape, the nervous little wiggle of its tail, ugh, it was downright precious. Cynthia felt an overwhelming urge to scoop it up right then and there. She resisted, barely, but the way her fingers twitched at her sides wasn't exactly promising.

  Queenie shot her a deadpan look, already sensing what was coming.

  Cynthia, undeterred, slowly crouched down, voice softening into something dangerously close to cooing.

  "Hey there, little guy… No need to be scared."

  The Wurmple shivered.

  Cynthia melted.

  She quickly slung her backpack off her shoulders, rummaging through it under the Wurmple's wary gaze.

  "Aha!" She pulled out exactly what she was looking for. "Here, it's delicious. Consider it payback for scaring you."

  She placed a plump, blue Oran Berry on the ground in front of the Wurmple, her voice just a tad too much like someone speaking to a baby… or a dog.

  It paused.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  For a second, the Wurmple just stared, first at the berry, then at her, then at Queenie, who, by now, had fully resigned herself to whatever ridiculous thing her trainer was doing.

  Cynthia didn't move, watching with barely restrained excitement.

  A long, agonizing second passed. Then, hesitantly, the Wurmple wiggled forward.

  It gave the berry a cautious sniff, its little nose twitching. Another pause. Then, finally, it took a small nibble.

  Cynthia beamed.

  "Oh, look at you! You like it, don't you?" Cynthia whispered, practically vibrating with delight. "You're such a good little guy—"

  It happened between moments.

  One second, Cynthia was reaching for the small, precious, Bug-type.

  The next, Queenie was already in front of her.

  BOOM!

  An explosion echoed through the air, followed by Queenie's sharp grunt of pain. Dust erupted from the impact, swallowing them both whole, only for a single, powerful flick of Queenie's fins to clear it in an instant.

  It was just in time for Cynthia to see a very large Dustox hovering above them, wings flaring. It was also all she had time to register before it fired another Psywave.

  A lot of trainers wouldn't have reacted.

  Cynthia wasn't most trainers.

  "Dragon Rage!"

  Queenie didn't hesitate.

  The Psywave rushed towards them.

  Blue fire roared into the sky.

  The two attacks collided.

  Normally that caused an explosion, evenly matched attacks cancelling each other out.

  Evenly matched.

  The Psywave vanished, absorbed entirely as the Dragon Rage crashed into the Dustox with the force of a sledgehammer.

  The insect shrieked, forced backward by the impact.

  The Dustox barely had time to right itself before Queenie was already moving.

  "Again!" Cynthia snapped, voice firm.

  Queenie surged forward, fangs bared, another Dragon Rage building in her throat. The Dustox flapped its wings furiously, struggling to gain height, its eyes glowing as it gathered another Psywave.

  Too slow.

  Queenie's second blast of Dragon Rage ripped through the air, slamming into the Dustox with brutal force. It screeched, its thin body twisting as it was sent spiraling backward.

  As it attempted to right itself, a faint glow surrounded the Dustox, an ethereal image of the moon shimmering around it.

  Cynthia couldn't help but admire the Dustox's resilience. Few Pokémon could manage a Moonlight while on the defensive like that.

  For a wild Pokémon to do it?

  It was impressive, an honestly great reaction. Enough to call it a strong Pokémon.

  Too bad for the Dustox, though.

  Cynthia was a prodigy.

  And Queenie was just stronger.

  A blur of motion, and Queenie was already there. Her vicious, shark-like grin split her face just before she collided with the Dustox mid-air, her claws crackling with raw energy.

  "Dragon Claw," Cynthia commanded.

  Queenie's clawlike hands blurred.

  And the Dustox smashed into the ground.

  Hard.

  Dust exploded up from its landing area and when it cleared the Dustox twitched feebly once.

  Didn’t get back up.

  Silence.

  Cynthia exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

  "Huh, that was actua—"

  She didn’t get to finish her sentence.

  A buzzing sound cut through the air, followed by another.

  Then two. Then three. Then four.

  Soon, the air was alive with the sound of wings, a cacophony of buzzing that sent chills down her spine.

  What had once been a lone Dustox became ten, then twenty, and soon, a swarm of them filled the forest. Cynthia's heart leapt into her throat as the realization hit her.

  This wasn't a solitary Wurmple with its lone parent.

  This was a colony.

  And they were about to discover her presence, and her actions, any second now.

  Cynthia was a prodigy, a trainer hardened on her journey, and a budding archaeologist on the verge of a career-defining discovery.

  But above all else?

  She was smart.

  "Queenie." Cynthia's voice cut through the buzzing, sharp and urgent.

  Queenie's head snapped around, eyes meeting her trainer's with unspoken understanding.

  "RUN!"

  Cynthia didn’t wait another second. She took off, her heart pounding in her chest.

  Without hesitation, Queenie followed, her tail lashing behind her as she surged forward, the two of them racing deeper into the heart of the forest.

  ….

  Cynthia hated to admit it, but she might just be in way over her head.

  She pulled herself from the icy waters, shivering uncontrollably as the freezing chill crept through her clothes, sinking into her bones. The idea of jumping into the river had seemed like a good one, a quick way to escape the growing swarm of Dustox that had been tailing them.

  But now, soaked to the bone and frantically dripping cold water onto the forest floor, Cynthia slowly realized it might have been a mistake.

  It had gotten them away from the Dustox, sure, but the water had been ice cold. She had powered through during the swim, but after getting out?

  She tried to still her trembling body, but it was impossible. When her teeth stopped chattering, her arms shook uncontrollably. When she forced her arms still, her legs took over.

  With a miserable groan, she glanced at the river. Her reflection stared back, scuffed and disheveled. Blonde hair stuck out in all directions, strands plastered to her face.

  For a moment she let her eyes roam over her appearance.

  Then she froze.

  A beat went by before she grabbed toward her hair, only to find… well, hair.

  Gone.

  Her favorite hair ties were gone.

  Cynthia's eye twitched. With a fiery glare, she looked upstream, fists clenching as the thought of revenge burned hot enough to stop her shivering, if only for a second.

  A splash broke her out of her thoughts.

  A blue figure soared out of the river.

  Queenie, drenched and dramatic as always, landed gracefully beside her. Unlike Cynthia, the Gabite looked entirely unbothered. She shook herself off like a cat, her smooth blue scales shimmering faintly in the dimming light.

  Cynthia narrowed her eyes. "Must be nice."

  Queenie chuffed, and did the rough Pokémon equivalent of a shrug. Her smooth, thick scales meant the cold barely affected her. Meanwhile, Cynthia was one stiff breeze away from turning into a human popsicle.

  Cynthia glared at her for a second before squeezing more water from her jacket, her breath misting in the air. The chill burrowed deeper.

  The next half an hour passed in a shivering blur.

  With Queenie's help, Cynthia gathered as much dry wood as she could find. Her fingers trembled as she stacked it into a makeshift campfire and turned to her partner. Somehow, Queenie had already managed to get out the flint and steel from the backpack and was holding it in her mouth, looking more than a little proud of herself.

  Cynthia grabbed it and struck once. Then again. And again.

  Sparks flew, but the wood stayed stubbornly dark.

  She gritted her teeth. “Why won’t you—”

  Flames flickered to life, casting a warm glow against the creeping darkness. Cynthia sighed in relief and inched closer, soaking in the heat.

  But her clothes…

  She looked down at herself. Then at the fire. Then back again. The wet fabric clung to her skin, heavy with the cold. The air only got sharper with the setting sun.

  With a quiet groan, she peeled off her sopping wet jacket, pants, and shoes—each movement agonizingly slow in the frigid air. Her teeth chattered as she dug through her bag, hoping, praying, for dry clothes.

  No such luck.

  Her spare set was just as soaked as everything else.

  Cynthia stared at them for a long moment, as if sheer resentment would make them dry faster.

  Then she moved her gaze to her bag, like it had personally betrayed her.

  Like it would help.

  It didn't, and so, with a deep breath, she laid them out near the fire, hoping they'd warm up before nightfall.

  ‘At least it could be worse,’ Cynthia thought bitterly. ‘If this had been saltwater, I'd never get the feeling out of my skin.’

  A breeze stirred the trees overhead, but for now, the fire held the worst of the cold at bay. Cynthia curled her arms around her knees, watching the flames as she waited for the night to pass.

  At least nobody could see her like this.

  So much for being a prodigy.

  ……

  A twig snapped.

  Cynthia tensed, but before she could even think to react, a voice cut through the stillness.

  "Holy shit. You're human?"

  For a second, she thought she'd imagined it, a trick of exhaustion, of the cold, of her rapidly deteriorating sanity.

  But then she turned.

  No, unfortunately this entire situation wasn't a dream.

  Standing just a few feet away, partially hidden between the trees, was a boy.

  He looked about her age, maybe a little older, with messy dark hair and wide blue eyes that reflected the firelight.

  And he was dressed in… well, almost nothing.

  Rags. Scraps of fabric that might have once been clothes.

  Cynthia blinked at him, her brain still sluggish. "What?"

  The boy's eyebrows shot up. "I mean, I honestly thought you were a Ghost-type or a hallucination or something." He gestured vaguely at her. "But nope. Just some girl. Naked, in the middle of nowhere."

  For a second she just stared at him, trying to figure out—

  Her brain caught up to his words.

  She looked down at her—

  Heat rushed to Cynthia's face.

  She wasn’t naked. Just mostly naked!

  "…"

  Which was still bad!

  With a strangled sound, she yanked her wet jacket over herself like a makeshift blanket. Queenie lifted her head from the ground, sensing her distress, and let out a low warning growl.

  "Whoa, whoa!" He lifted his hands, laughing nervously. "No offense! I just, look, I haven't seen people in a while, alright? Saw the light and figured it was a flock of Ponyta or something."

  Cynthia scowled, still clutching her damp clothes around herself. "And who exactly are you?"

  He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "That is… honestly an excellent question." A pause. "I’ll get back to you on that the second I have that answer."

  Cynthia raised an eyebrow.

  Truly reassuring.

  For a brief moment, she considered just telling Queenie to chase him off. Then she sighed. She was too kind for her own good.

  "I'm Cynthia," she managed with another sigh.

  The boy nodded to himself, rocking back on his heels. "Well, Cynthia…"

  He froze.

  His brow furrowed.

  "…Why does that name sound so ominous?"

  She barely caught the first part of the sentence, but as he continued to speak, she only made out something about pianos.

  Cynthia raised an eyebrow at his mumbling, but before she could even begin to think about questioning him, he shook it off and refocused.

  Giving her a once-over, he took in the soaked clothes, the dying fire, the entire miserable state of her. Slowly, a lopsided grin tugged at his lips.

  "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say things aren't going great for you right now, considering this entire situation."

  Cynthia lifted her chin, determined to argue that she absolutely had things under control, thank you very much.

  Then a gust of wind swept through the clearing.

  The fire instantly vanished.

  She kept her face neutral.

  "Everything is going great," she lied… like a liar.

  Another gust swept over the area, and her pants flew straight into the water.

  The boy moved his eyes over to the river, and the pants, now being retrieved by Queenie.

  Cynthia buried her face in her knees.

  "Actually, you have no idea."