As he waded into the thigh-high grass, Wilson perched on his shoulder once again, Don kept an eye out for movement. The Snivy rolled his eyes but made no move to get down. Don was pretty sure he actually liked riding up there, despite the huffing and puffing the Pokemon gave every time. Don wasn't ready to admit it yet, but Wilson was already starting to grow on him. It was like having a really weird parrot that he didn't have to feed and wouldn't bite him. At least, he was pretty sure the Pokemon were programmed not to hurt people.

Don cast a wary glance at Wilson's face, which now felt suspiciously close to his own. Nah. It'd be fine. Don was pretty sure he could pitch the Snivy pretty far if he needed to, anyway.

"Hell yeah!" Don whooped as the fuzzy creature recoiled from the hit. The top of Wilson's head appeared just above the tall grass, nearly blending in completely. Though Don couldn't see his eyes, he could feel the glare the little Pokemon was giving him. "What? It worked, didn't it? If it ain't broke—"

With an angry chittering sound, the Woobat fluttered up from where it had fallen. It wound up and dove straight for Wilson, returning the Snivy's Tackle—albeit with less force. Don should have ordered Wilson to do something. He should have been looking at the guide to see what he was supposed to do next.

What he actually did was purely on instinct. Wilson let out a cry of pain when the bat made contact. Before he knew what was happening, Don was sprinting towards his little buddy. In a few short leaps he was in the middle of the fight. He planted one foot and—with the practiced form of a man who'd made sports his entire personality—swung a soccer kick straight at the Woobat.

With Wilson deposited back on his shoulder, Don took a minute to check his HUD. He could've sworn there was a Tall Grass HP measure displayed somewhere—ah! there it was. He was still doing pretty good. That little bat thing had barely touched them.

"Thanks to teamwork," he said, lifting his hand to offer Wilson a high-five. The Snivy squinted, his little nose curling at the gesture. Hesitantly, he lowered his head and bonked it against Don's outstretched hand. "Nah," Don said. "If you wanna do that we gotta do it like those guys who played the Orcs in Lord of the Rings." He lifted Wilson off of his shoulder, holding the Snivy up at eye-level, and gave the Pokemon a gentle headbutt. "That Aragorn guy loved that stuff."

Wilson snaked forward almost in time with Don's shout. The Snivy knew how to do this better than Don did. He wondered if that was part of the programming. Would his Pokemon try to choose the right attack for the first few battles to help build his confidence as a new player? Was that even a thing in games? He knew it existed in some sports—kind of like a bumper draft in NASCAR.

Wilson connected, but only barely. His body glanced off the Murkrow, who took the opportunity to take a bite out of Wilson. The Snivy squeaked as he fell back to the grass, disappearing among the tall blades. Don took a hesitant step forward but stopped himself. He needed to let Wilson try to do it on his own. That was the only way he'd get stronger, right?

Eyes darting between the tall grass where the thought Wilson was and the guide he had pulled up, he scanned for another appropriate attack. Oh, right! The Pokedex. Opening it, he pulled up Snivy's entry—noting along the way that the bird he was fighting seemed to have a partial entry filled out now—and looked at the known moves.

"Okay, try Vine Whip!"

They do say pride goeth before a fall. And Don knew better than to wear out a strategy. He was at least hoping he could get a couple more hits out of it. But as Wilson's vines snaked up out of the grass again, the Murkrow as ready for them. It dipped to the side, taking a glancing blow to its body that did little to slow it down. Folding its wings and using the vines to guide it to where Wilson was hiding in the grass, it crashed bodily into the Snivy with sickening crunch.

It's super effective!

Wilson wailed in a way that was far different from how he had earlier when he'd been injured. A small health bar popped up in Don's view, just over where Wilson and the Murkrow were tussling. It was blinking red, with only a small sliver of HP left in it.

"Oh crap!" Flapping his hands to close the menu, Don sprinted for where Wilson was. He waved his hands, yelling and lashing out with a kick to drive the bird away. He could heal Wilson, right? Dammit, he should've been more careful. Even before he'd wrapped his arms around the little Snivy, he was wracking his brain to remember where he was supposed to go. "I got you, buddy!"

Don wasn't the only one reinvigorated after their excursion to the shrine. Wilson was immediately locked in again, weaving his way through the grass to get close to the Murkrow. Somehow, the bird seemed not to even notice he was there, continuing to peck at the grass. Maybe a glitch? If it was, Don and Wilson were more than happy to take advantage of it.

Wilson lashed out with vines, striking the Murkrow in the back of the head and immediately knocking it unconscious. Don whooped.

"You did it!"

Murkrow was knocked out! Would you like to capture it?
Y           N

"A smart raven with a cool hat? Absolutely, I want to catch it! I bet it turns into an even bigger raven!" A Golden Pokeball appeared in his hand in a shimmer of pixels. For a moment he just stared at it, blanking on how exactly he was meant to use it to catch the downed Murkrow. An image flashed into his mind: Kell sitting in front of the TV, shrieking at the top of his lungs as a blue-jean clad cartoon kid turned his hat backwards. The cartoon kid wound up and hurled the Pokeball, throwing it directly at a dazed... bug?

Don swallowed hard and smiled. The hat his character was wearing couldn't really be turned around, but he could wind up with the best baseball pitchers. He picked up a leg dramatically, stepped forward, and hurled the Pokeball at the Murkrow.