The air was crisp; the leaves were changing colors as Jolteon padded quietly through the forest. The sun had just begun to set; dying, golden sunlight slanted through the foliage, alternately illuminating and shadowing his yellow fur. He relished the feel of the breeze ruffling his short fur, and the sound of the pidgeys above him. He'd had a long day hunting for himself, and was ready to curl up in his den for a good sleep. He apologized to a caterpie he almost trampled underfoot, took one last look at the beauty around him, and then descended into the dark. It was only when he'd settled down that he heard a rustling aboveground and to the right. His ears pricked. What was it? He heard pawsteps, caught a whiff of someone new, and then...
Part one: Jolteon
End