The sky sure was beautiful. It conveyed timelines of mystery, romance, containment, freedom, and innumerable moldable emotions. What Gale saw was the same sight billions of other humans have seen in their lives. Even other species, inter and extraterrestrial, saw similar sights. So why was it that he felt so alone and inhumane, living on the same plane as people who have been through so much more?
He looked down. Gravel fell from his right. Naturally, he looked. A small paw knocked some rubble away. He traced the foot up to the face. Deino. The Pokemon was small and fragile-looking. It wouldn't hurt a fly. She walked over to Gale, confused, yet so innocent. His throat dried up. He turned away. The creature again cried, as if calling for reassurance. Gale put his hands to his ears, closing his eyes as hard as he could. Deino cawed a long, single-tone cry, calling out to the sky.
He got up, grabbed the gun, and put it to her head. "Is this what you want?!" Gale shouted at the creature. "This gun is ready to fire!" Yet he could never shoot the Deino. Worse than a Bouffalant, worse than a Hydreigon, worse than any killing would be the murder of a child. He cleared his throat, tears etching their way out of his eyes. Gale turned his head. "I don't want you. I can't have you." He fired in the dirt, several feet away from the Pokemon. Yet it stood still. Gale choked. Firing again, closer to it, but still it remained. "What is it you want..?" he muttered, again placing the trigger to the head of the Pokemon. This time, the barrel made contact with the child.