The road to Fallcreek started cold.
Not that the weather had changed. The whole region was still stuck in its eternal half-winter, the kind where the snow didn't quite stick but refused to melt either. But Orion had expected... something different. Maybe the warmth of change. Anticipation, even.
Instead, it was wind, frostbite, and silence.
Reid said they'd reach Fallcreek in two days. They packed light—just preserved meat, water flasks, a sealed bundle of pelts to trade, and Reid's usual arsenal. Orion carried his own pack now. It wasn't much, but it was his, and that felt important.
The path out of the valley narrowed into a deep forest pass. The first day was all uphill. Rocks slick with frost. Branches clawing at them like the forest didn't want to let go.
"Stick to the trail," Reid said over his shoulder, not for the first time.
Orion didn't respond. He was too focused on placing his steps just right. Too much weight on the wrong patch of ice and he'd slide.
Nothing says 'thrilling adventure' like risking a broken neck just to reach a town with plumbing.
They made camp in a hollow behind a ridge. No fire—Reid said it would draw attention. Instead, they curled under layers of canvas and fur, sharing body heat with Houndoom curled nearby like a smoldering space heater.
"Biggest thing I need to know about Fallcreek?" Orion asked as they finished eating cold meat and root strips.
Reid chewed for a second before answering. "Don't act like you're new."
Orion raised an eyebrow. "I am new."
"Doesn't matter. Don't look soft. Don't talk too much. Let them assume you're with me."
"Wow. So I'm your scary sidekick."
Reid's silence was either agreement or dismissal.
Houndoom grumbled in its sleep, pressing closer to Orion's legs.
They reached the outskirts of town by midday.
There was no sign. No gate. Just a shift—trees thinning, paths turning to gravel, and smoke curling through the trees like a scent trail.
Fallcreek wasn't built into the forest. It had been carved out of it. Rough log cabins and stone foundations huddled together, forming a U-shaped sprawl around the bend of a fast-moving river. The buildings looked reinforced, not decorative. Walls had claw marks. Some roofs had nets thrown over them—anti-bird measures, maybe?
Orion stopped at the edge of the first property line and stared.
People moved through the muddy main road like it was just another day. Traders with wagons. Locals with satchels. Pokémon mixed in—smaller ones, mostly. A Herdier barked near a stall. A Delibird waddled past dragging a half-frozen bag of something that reeked like raw fish.
Reid glanced at him. "Don't stare."
"I'm like ten . I can stare."
"You're with me. You act like it."
Orion adjusted his pack. "So no skipping, humming, or hand-holding. Got it."
They passed through the first row of buildings.
Orion tried to catalog everything without looking like he was cataloging everything. A bulletin board held flyers, most torn or rain-warped. Words like "LOST," "FOUND," "BARTER," and "DANGER" were painted in blocky red ink.
One faded paper had a picture of a child. Another had a hand-drawn sketch of a Luxray with the words AGGRESSIVE—DO NOT APPROACH.
Reid didn't stop. Orion hurried to keep up.
They entered a trading square—four or five stalls made of old carts and animal hide canopies. Merchants leaned against crates, half-armed, all scarred. A woman with a belt of Pokéballs nodded at Reid. He returned the nod but didn't stop.
"People know you here?" Orion asked under his breath.
Reid didn't break stride. "Enough."
Orion glanced back. A man with a Darmanitan leaned against a wall, puffing something sharp-smelling through a pipe. The fire-type watched him. Not aggressive. Not calm either.
Just… aware.
Everyone here's watching everyone else. Like predators sharing a watering hole.
They reached a supply depot built into the hill at the far end of the square. Reid handed over the pelt bundle and leather pouch to a man behind a heavy wooden counter. No words exchanged—just nods, coins, and a paper slip with too many stamps.
Orion waited outside, leaning against the wall.
He watched a group of kids—maybe eight to ten years old—run past. Two had Pokémon beside them: a Lillipup and a wild-eyed Spearow. The kids weren't afraid. They looked like they belonged here. Like the dirt was just part of them now.
Orion glanced at his own hands.
They were calloused.
But not like that.
Reid came back with a satchel. He tossed Orion a wrapped ration bar.
"Eat. We head out in an hour."
Orion tore it open and muttered, "And here I thought we'd rent a suite and enjoy the nightlife."
Reid ignored him.
As they walked back through town, Orion froze.
A Braviary stood perched on the support beam of a barn near the far corner of the settlement. It was huge—easily twice his height, feathers scarred, beak notched like it had broken once and been set by force.
It didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just watched.
Orion had never seen anything so… controlled.
Beside it stood a man in ranger leathers, coat pinned with a League badge. He wore four Pokéballs on his belt and had a knife sheathed upside-down at his shoulder.
The Ranger was talking to a merchant, but Orion didn't hear a word.
All he saw was how the Braviary didn't flinch, didn't waver, didn't need to be told anything.
That's what strength looks like in this world.
Reid touched his arm lightly. Orion flinched.
"Don't gawk."
"Sorry."
"They can smell a dreamer. Don't be one of those."
Orion looked away, shame burning behind his eyes. "You always say that."
"Because it's still true."
They left through the east path, past the stables and the field pens. Reid said nothing for a while. Then, quietly, "You asked about Gyms."
"Yeah."
"They're League facilities. Testing grounds. Badges are proof of trust."
"Do they make you stronger?"
Reid grunted. "They give you permission to try."
Orion frowned. "Why six Pokémon?"
"Balance. Power management. No one wants someone walking around with an army."
"So... it's a control system."
"Yes."
Orion's stomach twisted.
Reid glanced at him. "Why ask?"
"I want to know how the world works before it eats me."
"Then pay attention."
They made camp in a dip along the side of a craggy path. Reid set up the perimeter with tripwire bells. Orion built the fire—no sparks wasted. The routine came naturally now.
After they'd eaten, Orion spoke without thinking.
"You've got other Pokémon."
"Yes."
"I saw Houndoom. But I've never seen you call the others."
"I don't need them yet."
"Can I meet them?"
Reid stirred the fire with a stick. "One day."
"Why not now?"
Reid looked across the flames, eyes unreadable. "Because you still flinch."
Orion wanted to argue.
But he didn't.
He lay awake long after Reid had gone still, Houndoom's breathing the only sound besides the occasional snap of wood in the flames.
He stared at the stars.
No Belt. No Dipper.
Just cold, sharp points of light, scattered like bones.
I don't want to flinch forever.
I don't want to just live here.
I want to belong here