The moon is retreating from it's full swell; the clouds are creeping around it's edge. The night is alive here along the bike path from Celadon to Fuchsia; the small ponds teeming with fish, bugs, and frogs as well as the Pokemon that feast upon them. The sky above is also alive; insects and flying pokemon, as well as the occasional ghost. Human life is scarce but not entirely gone; CPD and FPD share a beat up and down the cycling path where motor bikes and traditional bikes often come into conflict, as well as trainers and pokemon. Though at the moment, with seasons creeping through fall toward winter, life is a little more sedate.

The fact that winter is coming is why he's moving. Sparta, a name given to him by the humans who have only seen him from afar, who have tracked him for years. At the moment, he's simply walking, down the clear lanes of road where vehicles usually traverse, heading south. Fuchsia is warmer when winter comes; and he's getting tired of fighting over tight holes and burrows for warmth when the snow comes. Honestly, though, he's starting to wonder. He knows the humans have erected doorways to strange worlds; it doesn't take an idiot (something he is not) to notice when they go away and come back smelling and conveying of things that don't belong in this world, or any world. And he's not talking about the strange things like the creatures from the sky that three humans into a panic several years ago.

Wanderlust calls to him. He's been getting tired of the ol' SSDD; same stuff, different day. Maybe it was time to find someplace new, and warmer, all the time. Someplace with better food, and meat that didn't involve fighting with the nasty pride of persians and meowths that were lead by that cat that knew bubblebeam. Or fearow and their divebombing from above. He slows his step as he comes close to Fuchsia; there's a gate here. One of those strange portals elsewhere. He could, just, ever so silently, take his steps elsewhere..