Contents:
Flame
Obvious exits:
South <S> leads to Pokemon Haven: Assisi Farm.
North <N> leads to Field and Streams - Route 11: Farmlands.

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape. In the forest, the shade under the deep green leaves of the trees is welcome relief from the hot glare of the sun. While at the coast, the sea sparkles in the brilliant sunlight, the waves rolling merrily against the shore.

Summer continues its course. The rainfall from the heavens above has ceased in recent days, although the stuffiness of the hot air still makes the ground wet and soft to the touch. The sun has just now started to descend from the skies, and only a few hours of daylight linger on before the night takes the island over. Some pokemon continue to play outside, while others head back inside of their homes for the night, and a few even begin on an evening walk with friends or loved ones, expecting to be back before dusk has settled entirely. Two Growlithes from the barn south of route 11 - Peppy and his black-furred son, Flame - are among those pokemon who start out on a brief excursion, though by the looks of it Peppy isn't exactly happy to be out so late. He does, however, make sure to keep a close eye on his son; although the younger one is almost as big as his father by now, Peppy can't get out of his head that Flame is still a puppy and is therefore by default entirely helpless and unable to do things on his own. Common parental misconception.

As the late afternoon slowly creeps its way towards early evening, the leaves rustle in the trees, and a few roosting Pidgey ruffle up their feathers. When Peppy and Flame pass underneath one of those trees, one of the Pidgey squawks in alarm, and leaps to a branch higher up. Instead of trying to mimic his father's easygoing pace, the black furred version of Peppy literally swaggers along, taking time to dramatize and add finesse to each step that he takes. After all, he has to walk like royalty! He can't be seen moseying along like some everyday commoner! When his father turns to look at him, Flame sucks in a breath of air and puffs out his chest, trying his best to appear larger and intimidating than he already is. He won't be a puppy for very much longer, and he wants to remind Peppy of this fact whenever he gets the chance. Emeralds still focused on Peppy, Flame saunters up alongside the larger Growlithe. <Will we get to hunt /soon?> the pup quizzes, smacking his lips together with hopeful anticipation.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Peppy has no doubt had to endure question after question from the black-furred pup relating to hunting over the past few months, and, of course, he never has a very good reply, save for '<We'll get around to it>' or something along those lines. Unfortunately, the hapless dad doesn't have much of an excuse this time; it's a warm day, he and his son are outside, and the Rattatas are tired and mostly unaware from a day of surviving. Peppy's pace slows down a bit, and Flame may find himself passing right by his father if he doesn't switch gears as well. Peppy eventually falls into a stop, and, remaining on all fours, he glances left, glances right, and peers over at Flame. <Well,> he woofs thoughtfully. It's not his normal negative tone complete with rolling of the eyes; maybe Flame stand a chance this time? <I... guess we could try and get a little practice in tonight.> The Growlithe grins, a little shyly, his ear flickering anxiously as he watches his son's reply. Hopefully, this won't go bad. Maybe it'll go great, and Flame will do an awesome job, and be such a great hunter that he'll become even better than Peppy! ... Or maybe Peppy will screw up and Flame will despise him forever. His ears flicks once more.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Luckily, for Flame, he's giving his father his full and complete attention, and when the older Growlithe's pace changes, so does Flame's. Slowing down so that he won't travel ahead of Peppy, the burly looking pup still manages to flavor up his gait, holding his head high while he struts along, shining orbs glued on Peppy's pacing form. What's this? Peppy is actually humoring him? Are they finally going to go hunting? Lime green eyes closing, Flame has to muster up every ounce of his will power to keep from yipping with glee. When he finally opens his eyes, they're still shimmering, but he's in no danger of acting overly excited and losing his face. Tail flagging back and forth like a broken and dysfunctional metronome, Flame's tongue lolls out the side of his mouth, and a shiver courses down the length of his spine. His hackles rising with growing eagerness, Flame draws closer to his father, eager to receive instructions on this daring new adventure that awaits him! <Show me how.> Flame half asks, half demands of Peppy, ready to watch and see how it's done. After all, Peppy's brought home Pidgey and Rattata before! He must be a pro! Right?

If Peppy had any clue at all that Flame even just the tiniest, slightest little bit respects his father, the older Growlithe would likely hop up onto cloud nine and stay there for hours. Flame has given little indication that he thinks much better of Peppy than dirt, and the fact that he's "a pro" in Flame's eyes would inflate his ego so greatly that Peppy would be worlds more confident walking into this whole hunting thing. As it stands, however, the father dog frowns slightly at Flame's flat command, but, having not expected much else, shrugs as best as a four legged animal can and plops down on his haunches. What? He's sitting down? What about the hunting? <Before we begin, is there anything you know about hunting, Flame?> Peppy asks of his son, canting his head slightly as he looks over at him. <Something you picked up from your siblings or something?> It's a good a place as any to start, so long as Flame doesn't get unruly.

The grace of the afternoon seems to shift through the trees, as soft rays of sunlight pierce through their leaves, covering the ground in a mottled looking pattern. Remaining beside Peppy, Flame watches him intently, shifting his paws slightly against the humidity dampened earth. When Peppy opens his mouth to speak, his son draws closer, tulips perked and cupped towards him. This is it! Peppy is going to bestow his knowledge upon him!He's going to sit him down and ask him boring questions? With an exaggerated sigh, Flame groans disappointedly, plopping himself down next to Peppy. <Peppy.> Flame whines, swatting at the ground with one of his paws, sending a cloud of dust swirling into the moist summer air. Nose curling up with disgust at this particular situation, he refuses to meet the other Growlithe eye to eye for a moment, silent while he thinks over Peppy's miniature interrogation. <Hunting.> Flame starts, posture stiffening as he tilts his head to the side in a show offish manner, <Means you pounce. And get to /kill/.> the Growlithe finishes, gripping the ground with his paws, fangs flashing as a nightmarish grin breaks onto his muzzle.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

... Maybe it's not a good a place as any to start. A pang of anxiety rising in his chest, Peppy clamps his teeth tightly together, growling a <Yes?> in response to his name (not dad, not pop, but Peppy). It's not an angry reply by no means; it's almost a scared one, as though he's frightened to death of Flame being discontent with his teaching job. The little spectacle the black one puts on for his dad surprisingly puts a little relief back into the older dog, as it more vividly refreshes Peppy on the fact that Flame is still young and has a lot to learn. <Well, yes, you do get to kill,> the Growlithe arfs, a smirk far less intimidating than his son's flashing on his face. <But it doesn't mean you can just do it to whatever you want. You should only do it if you're hungry and you have to. You remember how you felt when Brisk...> And, instead of continuing, Peppy sits back into an erect position, a disapproving frown taking the place of his warm smile. Knowing Flame, he probably felt no remorse at all for his brother's condition after that nasty bite wound. <Well, you just shouldn't,> Peppy concludes, his nose twitching once or twice as he looks to the side. This is not going well.

After giving his little explanation, Flame sits silent a moment, lost in thought at the prospect of ripping some helpless pokemon to pieces with his claws and teeth. His imagination is running so wild with his malicious fantasy, that the very idea of getting to kill gets his mouth watering. Droplets of foam collect at the corners of his whiskered tiers, and a thin white froth begins flowing out his mouth, giving the young canine a frighteningly rabid appearance. Flame's murderous thoughts are dashed however, when Peppy begins to rant on about what he shouldn't be doing. What's all this? Peppy's way of hunting doesn't sound like any fun at all! Flame lets this thought be known by grunting with annoyance, hitting the ground again and sending up a second cloud of dust. At the mention of Briska, Flame cocks his head to the side questionably, a measure of concern in those expressive orbs. While he doesn't say anything regarding the subject of his brother, it's apparent that the change of topic has succeeded in snagging his interest, even if only for a brief moment. All right, so he's answered Peppy's questions, so...<Can we hunt now?>

After Peppy has finished with his blah-blah-blahing, he watches to see Flame's expression, which looks at best agitated, if not a little intrigued. Who knows? Maybe something Peppy said got across to the younger dog. At any rate, Peppy, turning his head once again to scan the horizon, trying to catch any movement in the failing light, frowns once again when his brief visual search comes up fruitless. <Well,> he woofs, turning back to Flame. <Rattata can be anywhere, and you're usually not going to just walk along and then find one. You have to be...> His voice drops drastically here to assert his point, and he leans closer to Flame, looking left and right like an undercover agent telling valuable information to a fellow spy. <Very quiet. Listen for unusual sounds. Smell around for any traces of scent. Look for anything out of place. Taking the prey down doesn't mean anything if you can't find it.> Peppy blinks once, twice, then smiles happily at himself. Hey, that was a pretty good quote! He'll have to remember that for future lessons.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Round ears perk skyward, and Flame turns his head away from Peppy in order to watch a Pidgey as it flies off into the sky of the dimming afternoon. As the minutes slowly tick on by, the sky gradually grows darker as the tendrils of the night tighten their grip over the expanse of the land. A slight breeze blows past, greeting the two canine figures that sit and converse, ruffling through their fur like the fingers of some invisible hand. Flame whirls around to face his father once again when he finally starts the anticipated hunting lesson. His posture relaxing as if his muscles have suddenly turned to liquid underneath his fur, the muscular puppy drops lower, practically pressing his cheek up against the other Growlithe's. Look at him! Isn't he lucky? He gets this top-secret information! And...ha!...Dusk doesn't get to hear! Wait until he gets to brag about this! Won't her tail be tied up in a bundle? Ears swiveling in the direction of Peppy's hushed words, the licorice colored puppy nods his head up and down, murmuring every couple of seconds as the information is relayed to him, letting Peppy know that he understands what's being told to him. <Quiet,> Flame mimics, dropping down into a low crouch, shoulders falling and back arching as he creeps around in slow circles. This is fun! Maybe this whole bonding thing isn't so bad after all?

Towering white clouds drift slowly through the blue sky. It's hazy and hot, and the glare of the sun seems to drain the color from the landscape.

All right! Flame isn't sneering at him, rolling his eyes, or just generally being a problem student; he almost seems to be... what, enjoying himself? That may be stretching it a bit, but Peppy is at least relieved to see that Flame is paying some attention to him. <Right!> the older dog woofs in reply, closing his eyes for a second, tail swaying back and forth happily. <Once you see the Rattata and can get close to it, you can usually kill it really quickly by chasing it. Femi... no, uh...> Peppy scrunches up his furry face for a moment, struggling to recall a word. He finds it quickly enough, and continues. <Felines, they, um, they usually have to sneak up the whole way, because they're not as fast and strong as we Growlithes are and have to kill the Rattata before it sees them!> Now, of course, Peppy didn't find out this information on his own; he was told it by a certain orange-furred rascal and is relaying this information on to Flame, not so much with the intentions of teaching the pup, more like to impress him with his vast pool of infinite knowledge. (Knowing Peppy, however, it's probably more like a puddle.)

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Kill. That single word sends a course of excitement along the pup's spine, and it tingles his nerves as it travels through each individual vertebra. The very feeling is deliciously euphoric, and for a moment his eyes are hidden behind dark lids, and Flame once again slips into his land of sadistic fantasy. Sighing wistfully, the silver tailed Growlithe finally rouses from his bloodied and gored daydreaming, and his eyes open once again. Once Flame is over the initial delight that the word kill seems to induce, he is able to focus his concentration on the rest of Peppy's tips and words of knowledge. Canting his head to the side in puppyish observance, an expression of bafflement crawls its way onto his canine features. Boy, Peppy knows a lot about something! Even if his intelligence ceases on the subject of hunting, at least he is knowledgeable in an area that matters. Tail thumping from side to side, Flame offers Peppy nod of his head. What's it mean? Does he understand what Peppy is saying? Is he getting bored with this long explanation? Perhaps he's telling his father to get with the slaughtering already? Or, is there a scant amount of approval intricately laced within this simple gesture? If there is, Flame remains silent regarding the particular matter. <Yeah, we're stronger than stupid...> Flame pauses a moment at this new word, <Felines.> he manages to say, the unfamiliar word sticky in his mouth like a glob of peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Peppy, on the whole, isn't one to approve of insulting and making fun of others, even if those others aren't there to hear him. He's a generally nice little guy who, unlike his son, doesn't take well to killing and hurting without reason. Deep inside of his soul, however, lurks a natural, mostly inescapable mentality that tells him that felines are, if not enemies, than at least rivals, and instead of scolding his son for speaking bad of the whiskered ones, Peppy instead grins mischieviously. The smile lacks Flame's evil tint, but other than that it's not far unlike the looks the black-furred one has been showing here and there. Huh. Maybe Flame isn't as mysteriously different from his parents as others assume. <Much stronger, even if we're sometimes smaller,> Peppy agrees with a nod of the head, now lifting his head up to watch the evening sky. It's dark and getting darker by the minute, but Peppy isn't as concerned about the safety of himself and his son as he is concerned about his mate's well-being. Knowing Aurora, that poor soul is probably worried that Peppy has gotten lost or otherwise found himself in trouble - along with one of her sons! <Uh,> Peppy woofs uncertainly, losing the cool confidence he's just now been displaying. <You still want to hunt tonight, Flame?> Okay, good bye, respect. Hello, complaining.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Purple, gold, and vermillion clouds grace the western sky as the sun descends toward the west.

Flame can't help but grin. Perhaps, in some off the wall way, he and his father aren't so different as he had once assumed. While there is no doubt in his mind that Peppy is without his inferior, it's a comforting thing to know that when his time of conquest is at hand, he will have reason to spare Peppy from complete and ultimate punishment. A nod. Yes, maybe there will be a place beside his throne reserved for his father. That is, if he keeps up this string of good behavior. At the thought of his future kingdom in the future where his word is law and his thought is fact, the Growlithe can't help but chuckle, his growling laugh a grumbling baritone that rumbles in his chest as it escapes his parted maw. Blood pumping and adrenaline rushing through his arteries, Flame leaps to his feet at his father's inquiry. Does he still want to hunt? Apparently, Flame will have to endure a streak of stupidity from his father every now and then. He reminds himself that he mustn't blame Peppy for this. It's unfortunate that it's his nature to be lacking in the brains department. At least he knows about hunting! If anything, that will be his saving grace that shields him from a life of subservient submission to his black-hearted son. <Yes,> he snorts, up and ready to start sniffing out helpless victims.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Well, better than being glared at and spat on. <All right,> Peppy replies warily, his ears pressing down against his scalp, moved there either by himself or the steadily increasing night winds. <But if we don't find something soon, we'll have to go back home. But I promise-> He jumps from one sentence to the next without a moment's pause, hopefully negating Flame's chances of butting in with a complaint or, even worse, a threat. <If we can't find you a Rattata to hunt tonight, I'll take you out some other time - soon - and we'll hunt then. Okay?> Peppy knows good and well he's walking on eggshells here, as Flame could at any moment go crazy at all these non-hunting-type things. If Flame replies affirmatively or doesn't reply at all, the older dog will gesture - physically or verbally, depending on whether or not the smaller one is looking at him - to the path, giving the black one full permission to start sniffing around for the trace of a scent. What, no example?

The orange-red sun sinks below the western horizon, leaving a darkening tapestry of purple and red-gold clouds behind it.

Slowly, late afternoon turns to dusk, and dusk begins transforming into night as the sun starts to sink beneath the horizon. The wispy puffs of cotton are tinged with crimson, lavender and golden ochre, and the blend of colors adds a softened look to the overall appearance of the landscape. While Peppy doesn't get spat upon, Flame does offer his father a harsh glare, his emeralds burning into him like coals, furious with his father's disobedience. When is he going to learn that his word is law? A sigh. He'll learn.eventually. That thought is enough to tide the pup over, and it manages to curb Flame's flaring impatience. Why must he suffer at the paws of such an incompetent? Lip twitching as he swallows back a snarl, Flame tosses his head, throwing a few silver strands back behind his ears and away from his eyes. The ebony furred puppy shows his scorn for his father's lack of an example by letting out a carnivorous yawn. Finally though, Flame is able to overlook this, and decides to head off and search for some trail or scent. This shouldn't be too hard. He's followed after Pidgey that have roosted in the barn plenty of times. The only difference now is that he's outside. Coal nose going to the ground, he starts sniffing for any familiar scent.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Okay, so maybe Peppy does get an intimidating stare. Big deal! The shiver down Peppy's spine is no doubt from the cold settling down over the island, right? Not. Shifting his weight and uncomfortably glancing to the side, pretending that something else has his attention, the older dog avoids seeing most of Flame's condescendence, though just because he doesn't see it doesn't mean he doesn't feel it. After a couple moments, after Flame has started using his senses to locate a victim, Peppy turns back to watch him, creeping quietly alongside him whenever Flame may more forward. Here and there he whispers some hurried comments: <Keep low to the ground!> <Avoid straying off of the path!> <Pause here and there to listen for rustling or other sounds!> Peppy won't do anything if Flame chooses to ignore these comments, but if he listens, he'll put a satisfied smile on his father's face.

Flame moves along with his nose pressed to the ground, hardly paying his father any attention. He's going to do this! Just watch! He'll bring back the biggest Rattata anyone in the barn has ever seen! His ear flickers a bit as Peppy seems to "coach" him, and while he doesn't turn away from his current task, he does listen to what his father has to say. While in most cases Flame would consider himself far more intelligent than his father, he will have to relinquish superiority in this matter to Peppy. Of course, this relinquishment will be merely temporary. Put in place until Flame is able to master the craft of hunting himself. As if to put Peppy's hurried comments into a real life situation, a bush a few feet away wriggles conspicuously, a long curled tail sticking out from the cover of its leaves. Suddenly, Flame's head lifts up and jerks in the direction of the noise, his stiff-poised mop breaks into swift wagging, and his lips tug eagerly at their corners. This is it! ...What's he do now? <Do I pounce yet?> he whispers uncertainly, furry brows arching questionably.

Peppy opens his mouth and inhales to bestow more wisdom upon his son, but he is thankfully quick enough to stop himself from barking a single word as soon as he hears the rustling in the bushes. Whether the two found this Rattata through Flame's tracking skill or Peppy's dumb luck (which, certainly, must have been passed down to Flame... right?) is questionable, but one thing is clear; Flame may very well have his shot at bagging a mousey trophy tonight. Peppy has frozen in place. He refrains from breathing, refrains from blinking, refrains from placing his front paw, now held in place above the ground. Flame whispers his question, and Peppy flickers his green eyes down to him, mind racing for an appropriate answer. He opens his mouth and almost yelps the word out, but once again he manages to stop himself. Quickly, he nods his head enthusiastically, so fast it's liable to fall off. Placing his paw down, Peppy crouches himself into a defensive position; he's not going to take Flame's prize away from him, but if the Rattata makes moves to flee, Peppy may very well have to at least block its escape.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

The sun sets, the western clouds turning purple, red, and gold. It's hazy and warm.

Brindled clouds conceal a few patches of starlit sky.

As if on cue, the Rattata hops out of the bush and onto the path. For a moment, the small purple rodent appears completely unaware of the other two Growlithe. Gripping a small piece of red fruit in its paws, it begins to nibble on it contentedly. Using its large incisors, it rips off a piece of the apple's ruby flesh, crunching on it with a set of powerful molars, naturally designed for grinding up multiple types of plant matter. Crouched low to the ground like a stalking Tigore, Flame drags himself along the duty road, practically crawling on his silvery belly as he inches closer. Unfortunately, his eagerness overrides his intelligent and problem solving thought processes. Apparently, there is still some puppy in him after all. With a snarling leap Flame is airborne, and his growl alerts his prey. Crimson orbs widening fearfully, the Rattata squeaks with alarm, drops its piece of fruit and scurries off. The Rattata runs away, only to find that another Growlithe has blocked its path of escape. Peppy. Placing its paws to the ground, it tries skidding to a stop. It finally succeeds, but by the time it gets itself turned around and running in the other direction, the Rattata is less than five feet away from the orange canine.

That's my son! Peppy thinks to himself, resisting the urge to simply plunk down, watch him, and maybe even cry. Look at him! Look at how he sneaks along the ground, how he pounces at the rat... how he misses at the purple on scampers away... how he doesn't take the pokemon down in one fell swoop. But that's all right; Peppy's here for a reason, isn't he? Instead of breaking into a sprint to try and take down the Rattata for his son, Peppy instead merely stays in his defensive position, crouched and ready, a loaded spring that once unleashed could end the wide-eyed prey's life in seconds. <Hello,> Peppy barks cheerfully enough, though given his devious grin and narrowed eyes, the Rattata should definitely be able to figure out that Peppy is not its friend. It's now that Peppy takes a quick second to peer up at what he can make out of Flame, whose fur blends him well in the darkness. Should the older Growlithe see or hear cries of injury on his son from his fall, the Rattata will be leapt right over and left to see another day... but if Flame's right on the purple one's tail, Peppy will take one stamping step towards the Rattata to scare it back to the younger pup. If that's not enough, he'll take another one.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

While Peppy's greeting is cheerful sounding, the Rattata is well aware that this isn't a pokemon it should start chit chatting with, lest it wants to get eaten on the spot. With two Growlithe closing in on the Rattata, the rat pokemon is left with few escape options. Should it A.) Try swerving around the orange one, or should it B.) turn around and try fleet footing around the more inexperienced canine? Peppy's stamping steps help the Rattata to reach a decision, and the purple mouse turns on its heels and head back towards Flame. The black furred pup manages to land on all fours, though his landing can't be considered graceful. His whole body careens forward, and Flame is forced to teeter on his feet uncertainly, until he is able to regain his composure and collect his balance. Once he's sure on his feet again, Flame whirls around, nearly invisible in the now enveloping darkness. The Shadow Lord in his element. The ebony surrounding Flame drapes around the pup's physique like a cloak, and the only thing visible about the pup are his eyes, which reflect the light of the moon. Realizing with a thrill that this is his chance, Flame lunges forward again, his lips tight with determination. Down the pup crashes on top of the Rattata, attempting to sink his teeth into the back of its neck. Will his bite be as deadly as he believes it to be?

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Heh heh heh. Off the little rodent flees, tail between its legs, out of one frying pan and into the other. Peppy is, of course, not a vindictive pokemon who finds great pleasure in killing and watching things die, he can, on occasion at least, make a sport out of the hunt and have a little fun. Though the running Rattata may not be able to see Flame in the darkness, Peppy's more keen eyesight, along with his less frantic state of mind, spots the black one even from this distance, whether from his eyes or a flash of darkness in the moonlight, and his grin stretches even further up his face.

Master of the darkness, but apparently not the master of administering fatal blows, Flame loses his balance yet again as he and his prey tumble on the ground in a somersaulting heap of purple and black fur. Flame is quick to discover that he's bitten into something a little tougher than he's used to chewing, and he growls with frustration as the Rattata squeals and continues to fight. At the same time however, the coppery taste of blood in his mouth, mixed with the Rattata's cries, cause the Growlithe to shiver with excitement. Then Peppy comes to give him some last minute tips, like a coach might shout to a fighter struggling in the ring. Juggler? What's the Juggler? When Peppy shouts that that perhaps he should bite his prey elsewhere, Flame actually decides to obey for once. With due pride in showing off his own killing finesse before his father, and with the sadistic pup's innate craving to rip the Rattata limb from limb, he releases the Rattata for a brief moment. With his clawed paws he attempts to hurl the Rattata to the floor. If this attempt is successful Flame will pin the Rattata down with his feet and attempt to sink his fangs into the creature's....juggler.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

The Rattata may be wriggling and moving and squirming like a fish on land, but its movements are uncoordinated and frantic, and in the short period of time during which Flame lets go of the little mouse, it succeeds only in pulling itself up to all fours and taking one step toward. Flame's mighty paws of death succeed in bowling the helpless one right over onto its side, shrieking and squealing all the while. The shock alone is proving difficult for the Rattata to deal with, and its horror and fright basically negate any chance of it turning into anything more than a mass of moving legs and head as long as it's on its side, and though Flame may end up a little wobbly from the wiggling rodent, he should be all right if he's fast about it. In all its twitching and struggling, the Rattata leaves its white-furred neck open often enough, and Flame shouldn't have much of a problem sinking his teeth right in - and, should he not stop, he'll feel that special taste of blood oozing into his mouth mixing with the Rattata's flesh and fur, feel the pokemon beneath him squirming and struggling to swallow, kicking at the air aimlessly, and, eventually, falling still.

The night is warm and sultry, and dark clouds hide the stars in patches. Elsewhere they shine brightly. Dew forms on the ground.

With the Rattata squirming wildly beneath him; Flame has a difficult time holding his captive in place. Every time he moves in to administer the finishing blow, the rat somehow manages to evade his jaws, ducking his head one way, then wriggling in another direction. Flame is surprised by the rodent's maneuverability, but that doesn't deter his attempts at ending its life, and it instead only fuels his need to get the job done. Finally though, he is able to dig his teeth into the Rattata's exposed throat. With that undeniable taste flowing between his jaws, Flame braces himself with his forelegs on the Rattata's body, and he gives a sharp tug. A mixture of blood, fur, and a mouthful of fleshy tissue come away from the rodent's neck, and the Rattata chokes and sputters frantically as it takes its last panicked breaths. Kicking its legs a few more times, the rodent eventually stills, and once the creature is dead Flame's eyes shimmer proudly, glowing a florescent green in the darkness. <We did it,> Flame announces, and while his tone of voice can't exactly be considered a full on cheer, there is definitely a reasonable amount of happiness behind it.

A Katerwaul slinks closer, bright eyes all ablaze, so whisper a prayer and start that save! (Saving!)

Peppy has been watching this entire ordeal in silence. It has not been a masterful, quiet, confident silence; more like an anxious, nerve-wracking silence, Peppy twitching sharply here and there as he watches, as though him snapping his jaws together or tensing up is really going to somehow make his son do a better job of taking the Rattata down. Peppy's heart pounds twice as much as normal even after Flame has sunk his jaws into the rodent's jugular, and the adult male can only exhale after the purple pokemon's curly tail has stopped shaking frantically. <Flame,> Peppy woofs softly, his voice full of pride, awe, and satisfaction. <You... did it!> His voice suddenly rises to the stars, and with absolutely no warning whatsoever Peppy charges towards the black one in an attempt to knock the black one right over. Should he succeed, he'll get his son pinned down with his front paws and, unless Flame does something like shoot fire into his face or bite into his chest, will proceed to smother the younger Growlithe in nuzzles, cheek-slurps, and other signs of way, way, -way- too much affection that would likely greatly embarass the black-furred pup if anyone else was watching. Oof. Dads.

Flame's zest for destruction finally appeased, the little pup's tail wags frantically from side to side, his silver mop brushing against his hindquarters as it sweeps in crazed circles. Yay. Even if Flame considers himself above and beyond Peppy, superior to him in almost everything that he does, he isn't above being praised by his father. Nay, this is the kind of attention he deserves! Just look at what a fine hunter he is! Peppy must have some intelligence to notice this rare and ability and talent that seems to come so easily to him! Sucking in a deep breath, Flame cants his head to the side, puffing out his chest with pride. Caught completely off guard, Flame hardly has a chance to open his mouth, let alone make any sort of move to evade his father's unexpected charge. With a surprised grunt Flame finds himself thrown and pinned to the dusty ground, and his round eyes nearly double in size when his father begins covering him in nuzzles, and smothers him with kisses. Yuck! Back to the earth, cheeks sopping wet with Peppy drool, Flame turns his head to the side, craning his neck this way and that, trying to avoid his father's embarrassing show of affections. Wriggling with all his might, the young pup struggles as he fights to free himself from his father's pinning hold on him. <Ew! Get off!> Touching moment, no?

For all the spectacle Flame is making, Peppy doesn't seem to get the hint, and it's not until the Growlithe's tongue is practically dry that the older Growlithe hops off, bouncing back a couple steps, and spinning around, eyes so bright they can practically light up the night. <That was really great!> he comments excitedly, bobbling his gaze back and forth from Rattata to son to Rattata to son. <If Aurora's still awake she is going to be -so- proud of you and even if she isn't well then we'll wake her up and show her, and then she'll still be proud of you even if she'll be tired but then she'll be awake because she'll be so happy for you!> Peppy doesn't really make much sense now, but at least his emotions are brilliantly obvious. The orange one seems even happier with Flame's job than Flame himself may be. How about that?

Flame even as he thrashes wildly about, feels as though there is no escape from this overly sweet form of torture. With Peppy's weight pinning him down on the ground, the pup is well-nigh as powerless against his fatherly opponent in this position, as the Rattata had been in his jaws just moments before. Continuing to grumble and groan, and silently hoping none of his siblings will ever catch wind of this, Flame still struggles as best he might, refusing to receive Peppy's nuzzling without a good fight. He might be sappy once in a while, but he's not going to openly accept this many kisses. Nope. The pup makes the air vibrate with his objecting roos and howls, kicking and fighting the entire way. After Peppy hops off Flame, the pup leaps with lighting speed to his feet, ready to stand his ground should Peppy try something like that a second time. Lips curling back as he prepares to do battle with his slobbery foe; Flame quickly looses his feral appearance as Peppy's string of praise continues. In the light of this situation, Flame is left with only one thing to say. <I'm the Greatest! Let's go show everyone.> Wow, Flame wants to socialize. With a pleased bark, the black pup scoops up his lifeless prize in his jaws. Tail fanning the air, eyes shining, Flame emerald gaze is one of elation, and a little something else. While he refuses to return his father's intimate affections, his expressive orbs, while silent, seem to say enough. Turning on his heel, though waiting for his father to catch up, Flame leads the way home, back to the farm, back to his rightfully earned glory.