Green Shoots, Brave Hearts

Bulbasaur nudged Squirtle out of the way just as Charmander’s tail flicked dangerously close to a pile of dry straw. Squirtle shot him a grateful grin, water droplets clinging to its shell from a recent splash in the pond. Charmander, still puffed up from their mock battle, strutted in a circle, tongue sticking out. Sunlight slanted through the corral fence, dappling Bulbasaur’s back and warming his bulb. Beyond the wire, Professor Oak’s voice floated from the open lab door, gentle but brisk. Bulbasaur’s ears twitched. Today the Professor’s steps sounded different, expectant, maybe even nervous. The other two bickered, but Bulbasaur kept half an eye on the horizon, the other on his friends. A sudden gust sent flower petals spinning through the air. Squirtle tried to catch one, giggling. Charmander snorted, but even he couldn’t hide his excitement. Through it all, Bulbasaur stood steady, uncertain if the thrill in his chest came from fear or hope as the world outside the fence waited, vast and shimmering.