Post by wren on Jan 4, 2008 11:24:18 GMT 10
They were far enough away now - the Tauros, his rider, and a Zigzagoon - from that place they had once called home that there was no turning back, at least tonight. The sun was slipping gently beneath the horizon; night would soon arrive. But though she should have been seeking a place for herself and her Pokemon to spend the dark hours, Kirstie urged the Tauros to gallop on. Bracing herself against his neck, she murmured words of encouragement to the panting beast. "C'mon, Rumble," she said. "Faster, faster, please." The Tauros, Rumble, grunted a weary reply and raced onward while the girl and the Zigzagoon clung to its bare, flexing back.
The human of the trio, Kirstie Bhard, was tall for a girl of sixteen years. Although built leanly, she had a tanned, capably-muscled figure that hinted strength beyond size. There seemed a certain confidence in the way she pushed her Pokemon on, despite the obvious anxiety of their flight. Here was a girl accustomed to a challenge, to hard work. She rode the bull with no saddle, but she would have no sores in the morning.
Rumble the Tauros charged down the dirt path, a cloud of airborne sediment in his wake. Shadows began to creep from the grasses and bushes and the occasional tree, and the beast, unsure in the nighttime, felt his heart quicken. Suddenly, something darted across the path in front of his thundering hooves. Spooked, he reared on his hind legs and bellowed. Kirstie and her Zigzagoon, Twist, were thrown unexpectedly from his back onto the hard path behind him.
Kirstie cursed as she hit the ground with a thud. Cradling her left arm, she fumbled to reach a Pokeball with her right. "Return, Rumble!" she shouted, wincing. The rearing Pokemon disappeared within. She shoved the ball back onto her belt and pushed herself gingerly to a sitting position.
"God, that was stupid of me, Twist," she commented to the Zigzagoon who had landed atop her backpack a few feet away but seemed entirely unharmed. Twist approached slowly, and with a gentle squeak, nuzzled her cradled arm. She took this as an invitation to continue. "Yeah, I hurt something. Don't worry; we'll be fine. Anyway, it's my fault. I should have had Rumble stop an hour ago... Twist sprang into her lap, and Kirstie stroked him with her able hand.
"Ye get to dinner an' an early bed, missy," said the Zigzagoon to his trainer and friend. She could not understand his words, of course, but the essence got through to the girl, who began to struggle dragging her sleeping bag into the grass by the path. "Rest up for tomorra. I'll keep a watchout for harm." And while Kirstie lit a small campfire, Twist sat upright on a rock and, as promised, scanned the evening with his sharp brown gaze.
The human of the trio, Kirstie Bhard, was tall for a girl of sixteen years. Although built leanly, she had a tanned, capably-muscled figure that hinted strength beyond size. There seemed a certain confidence in the way she pushed her Pokemon on, despite the obvious anxiety of their flight. Here was a girl accustomed to a challenge, to hard work. She rode the bull with no saddle, but she would have no sores in the morning.
Rumble the Tauros charged down the dirt path, a cloud of airborne sediment in his wake. Shadows began to creep from the grasses and bushes and the occasional tree, and the beast, unsure in the nighttime, felt his heart quicken. Suddenly, something darted across the path in front of his thundering hooves. Spooked, he reared on his hind legs and bellowed. Kirstie and her Zigzagoon, Twist, were thrown unexpectedly from his back onto the hard path behind him.
Kirstie cursed as she hit the ground with a thud. Cradling her left arm, she fumbled to reach a Pokeball with her right. "Return, Rumble!" she shouted, wincing. The rearing Pokemon disappeared within. She shoved the ball back onto her belt and pushed herself gingerly to a sitting position.
"God, that was stupid of me, Twist," she commented to the Zigzagoon who had landed atop her backpack a few feet away but seemed entirely unharmed. Twist approached slowly, and with a gentle squeak, nuzzled her cradled arm. She took this as an invitation to continue. "Yeah, I hurt something. Don't worry; we'll be fine. Anyway, it's my fault. I should have had Rumble stop an hour ago... Twist sprang into her lap, and Kirstie stroked him with her able hand.
"Ye get to dinner an' an early bed, missy," said the Zigzagoon to his trainer and friend. She could not understand his words, of course, but the essence got through to the girl, who began to struggle dragging her sleeping bag into the grass by the path. "Rest up for tomorra. I'll keep a watchout for harm." And while Kirstie lit a small campfire, Twist sat upright on a rock and, as promised, scanned the evening with his sharp brown gaze.