The wild pokemon, which had been tensing up as if to bolt (but where? she wondered. They were along the bank of a fierce river, surrounded by brush), sunk back sullenly. Nia clucked her tongue in triumph and continued spraying the wound.
“The antiseptic hurts, I know,” she scolded, “but it’s your own fault for getting into fights. How many times do I have to tell you to leave those Seviper alone?”
 “…Zang,” the Normal-type muttered. Nia shook her head and switched to bandaging the scrape.
As one of Hoenn’s foremost Pokemon Rangers, her job was to monitor wild pokemon—and, on occasion, patch them up, if need be. The ongoing feud between the Zangoose and Seviper in the region had been her prime concern for over a year, and while she wasn’t supposed to take sides, deep down she liked the Zangoose better. Her superiors would be aghast that she had broken protocol and actually named some of the specimens she was more familiar with, including this one.
She stood back and admired her job. “Alright, Huxley, give it a try.” At her suggestion, Huxley stood and took a few tentative steps forward. The leg with the scrape had a small limp, but overall he’d be fine if he kept it clean. She was glad; Huxley was young and scrappy, and friendlier with her than the other Zangoose. Better groomed, too. She’d never seen a more handsome wild pokemon.
Noticing him wince as he stepped, she smiled at him. “Good job!” Nia said, and bent over to peck a small kiss on his snout. The Zangoose puffed up with pride, and she fought a giggle. Some trainers thought pokemon little more than animals, but she knew better—there were vibrant personalities inside, and you had to know how to handle them. Huxley, for instance, was a sucker for positive reinforcement.
“Alright,” she said, standing and shouldering her pack, “let’s get you somewhere safe!”
But Huxley’s eyes were affixed over her shoulder, narrowing in apprehension. “Zan-zang,” he hissed.
Nia turned, pulling her Ranger’s cap tight over her hair, to see a dark shadow slinking through the grass. A Seviper.
She put her hands on her hips, determined to give the snake a good telling-off. “I’ll be having none of this, now! I’m sick of having to patch all of you up—”
But if the Seviper was listening, it didn’t show. It coiled in a classic pre-attack posture and Nia had a second to panic before it lunged.
Moments before it struck, Huxley rolled into her with a cry, and both ranger and Zangoose tumbled down into the rushing waters below. The river swept her away and Nia fought to stay above water, calling for Huxley—and then the water slammed her into a submerged sandbar, and both breath and consciousness flew from her.
She woke, wet and shivering, in the dark.
Despite having trained her life for extreme situations, the cold hit her so hard she almost blacked out again. She huddled up against herself, teeth chattering in a vain attempt at warmth. She was in some sort of dark, earthy tunnel—roots snaked overhead. A burrow, she realized.
A figure shuffled towards her in the darkness, revealing itself as a familiar, white-furred figure. “Huxley,” Nia said, her voice tremulous with cold.
The Zangoose, face fraught with worry, nuzzled against her. “Zan-goose,” he murmured, stretching the sound out. This was his den, she realized, and then marveled—wild pokemon never ever allowed humans to invade the privacy of their dens. He reached a claw towards her, and the normally wicked implements were smooth and gentle, tracing her shoulder before he swept his warm, water-resistant fur against her skin—