Perch flew!

Well, not really. But she was running pretty fast! The plump Rattata could really move when her life was on the line (something not infrequent in the life of a wild rodent Pokémon)! Her heart raced, almost humming, while skittering through the tall grass and keeping her senses attuned to the predator giving chase. Adrenaline was high but panic was low: Despite her weight, Perch could really move, and this wasn’t her first rodeo. She knew exactly how to evade the Swellow that was after her. He has tried to snatch up a hefty meal in the form of Perch several times now. Perch rounded a tree and paused, watching him soar right by. She rolled her eyes. “Pathetic.” Perch wondered how he still survived given how much he failed at catching her, and she never caught him feeding on anyone else either. “Just go eat some nuts you big dumb bird.” Stretching idly, Perch tottered around the tree and lightly jogged back towards her den. Her ears and whiskers continued to twitch for the unlikely scenario of that Swellow turning around (not to mention other possible predators), but she was completely certain she was in the clear.

This was Perch. A confident Rattata experienced in professional battles and surviving out in the wild. A part of her wondered if she could make a meal out of Swellow, after he tired himself out for the umpteenth time and landed somewhere to rest. “I could totally do it,” she thought, worming down into her den and finally allowing herself to relax. “Even if he saw me coming. I’d have him down for the count in seconds.” Smiling at the thought, Perch settled in her spacious den. She could have a veritable litter of children the den was so big, but for now the nest was all for her. She settled in a corner where she had her stash of nuts, fruits, other non-perishables, all for her for the coming cold season. As she gobbled up the nutritious stuff, a small part of her missed living with the humans. No predators, no qualms about food. Her mind wandered…

*	*	*

Perch’s first experiences were completely insulated from the wild. While she knew a Chansey and several humans, not a single other Pokémon – friend or foe alike – existed in her little world. Perch, a name given to her by her at-the-time owner, never did know her parents, or even other Rattata. Her youth was largely spent surrounded with luxury and love, spoiled to the core. She wound up belonging to a young girl of a Pokémon trainer, and that was fairly nice. They played, she was fed, and the battles were basic but fun! Time flew by as other Pokémon, trained or otherwise, fell before her wily battle skills. Admittedly, most of what Perch knew was instinctive, not taught. Her trainer, Lisa something, was wet behind the ears when it came to directing her team. Perch didn’t have any resentment for her, though, as this “Lisa” provided for her, shared her bed, treated any wounds.

The resentment came later.

It was a few years since the two’d met. Lisa was a far better trainer, and her Pokémon collection and teams were continuously growing. Perch barely remembered them (there was rarely more than one out at once), nor did she care to try. When Perch popped from the Poké Ball for what would be the last time, she was surprised to see a sad smile on her trainer’s face. “You’re free now, Perch.” Lisa bent over, pet over Perch’s head in just the way she liked it, stood, and walked away. Perch was confused at first. She was… free? This was certainly something new! But one of the few humans she’d ever known had just… left her? (As it turned out, Lisa couldn’t handle having so many Pokémon, and she was overdue for a new, stronger team, which could no longer fit a Rattata.) But Perch had done her best, right?

Right?

Perch sighed. Huffed. Glared at the retreating form of Lisa Something. So much for never resenting the trainer. Despite the built-up anger, Perch knew she couldn’t do much more than nibble her ankles or ruin her shoes. She’d find Lisa again one day, when she was better-prepared to enact whatever revenge she might feel at the time. But this wasn’t was some inescapable fixation for the Rattata: Perch shrugged once Lisa was gone, and turned out into the large, unforgiving, intimidating wild… Okay, now she was more upset at the human. She didn’t leave Perch so much as a scrap of food, and protection from potential predators she wasn’t even familiar with was no longer a guarantee.

The first night was the roughest, one that many released Pokémon did not survive. Nocturnal predators were the largest danger, and Perch figured it was more luck than skill that kept her alive. She was fat and vulnerable, something even a lazy predator would love to take a swipe at! Somehow she found rest, and the next day she got to work. Now her fate was in her own paws, and the few occasions she was accosted were fended off by the battle-honed Perch’s combat skills. Other Pokémon fled (if they weren’t knocked out), and the determined Rattata immediately began sourcing knowledge and aid from less-hostile wild ones.

Days stretched into weeks stretched into months, and Perch acquired a tiny home, food sources, and basic survival etiquette. She’d been attacked, nearly eaten, on several occasions, but survived. If she could talk to humans she could tell some pretty harrowing tales, including one that involved crawling back up out of a gullet! Alas, such adventures were limited to other Pokémon who probably didn’t want to hear about it. Least of all the Totodile that got a sore throat for a week after the fact. She and Perch were on good terms now, though, and helped each other out in a mutual relationship: Perch taught this Totodile how to properly fight. And in return, Totodile would never try to eat her again. Even if the Water-type evolved into a much stronger form!

On the topic of evolution, Perch had no interest in such affairs. She’d seen Raticate and much preferred her plain purple self. Any attempts at evolution when training or otherwise were met with Perch’s resistance, and she assumed the powers that be just gave up after a while, for that mysterious glow never surrounded her since.

A full year passed, and Perch had thinned out! Not too much, mind, but she’d lost the “fat lazy cat” sort of weight she carried when she was a pampered trainer’s Pokémon. The weight was less “lost”, more “redistributed”, growing larger and stronger. She got more exercise out in the wild, a little less food (food she rather enjoyed more than that plain chow humans manufactured!), and was somewhat lighter on her paws. That didn’t keep her from having an overall chubby, thick figure, though. One that lured in rather hungry predators! The one year anniversary in the wild, in fact, was marked by the first attempt Swellow made on Perch’s life! At the time, Perch was actually afraid (a rarity): She was cornered, and the bird had air superiority… but a trick a first-battle rookie wouldn’t fall for, this Swellow did, and Perch escaped intact. Swellow was left with a sore beak and ruffled feathers. It was at that point Perch realized what a dummy this Swellow was: Apparently mute, not interested in hearing a word, and clumsy, the Flying-type quickly became a source of amusement to Perch. On a couple occasions she even baited him close, only to deliver a quick kick to the crest. Lost feathers made fun trinkets for Perch, that she’d gather as Swellow would fly away, tails between his talons in shame.

Maybe she’d lure him into her pal Totodile’s jaws one day, who could say?

It seemed this area was more for releasing Pokémon as opposed to catching them, which was the only time Perch would ever see trainers out there. The rejects, or those like Perch who simply overstayed their welcome, or apparently some cloning process gone wrong? At one point no less than two dozen Eevee were released simultaneously by a single trainer! Perch laid at the entrance of her den, amused watching them go about confused, probably the way she looked on her first night. She happily helped out any who wandered her way and asked for help. Others weren’t so lucky.

“You may want to look out behind you!” Perch called once. But the obstinate Eevee ignored her. Said Eevee enjoyed a one-way trip down an Ekans’ gullet, Perch just rolling her eyes seeing that writhing tail slurped down. “Told ya.” She had the pleasure of teasing Ekans for a week as the bulges rested in his middle. “Still twitchin’, eh?” she joked, prodding at it anytime she and Ekans were together for a drink at the lake. She and Ekans were cool though: The serpent never even tried eating her (a first, Perch had thought, but Ekans explained bluntly that she was bored of Rattata). At the prodding, for her part, Ekans wiggled her rattling tail and sibilantly giggled at Perch’s little joke. Ekans was quite well-fed, after all (she’d scoped out a couple other Eevee to snack on after the first, and was quite happy). Only six of those Eevee survived the first week, three more gobbled up not long after. The Three Eeveegos, Perch nicknamed, were good friends, and tough as nails in battle! She respected them, both their leader, who sported a silvery coat she’d never seen on an Eevee before, and the other two, who were a laugh riot.

Friends and alliances were critical in the wild, and Perch was known to most around the den she’d continually dug out until she was satisfied with its space. Now the Rattata was comfortable and confident in the wild as much as she was in battle. Life was good! Perhaps she’d join up with another trainer one day, if the opportunity came along, but she wouldn’t make it easy for them. Though if she ever caught whiff of her old trainer again, she had a pretty good idea of what to do with her: Make her spend a week in the wild alone. See how she liked it! (Not that Perch would actually let her former trainer come to any lasting harm. She would enjoy watching her squirm in fear some but would hate if anything truly terrible happened.)

“Ah well,” Perch sighed, stretched out in her nest, a mostly-eaten berry by her side and whiskers stained with juice. “All that matters now is to get a good night’s sleep.” Without another word, the plump Perch stretched, yawned, and curled into sleep for the night. The next day in the wild awaits!