The morning air in Snowpoint was so crisp it practically snapped in your lungs, but Julian was barely feeling the chill. He was too busy being annoyed. After a lonely breakfast where he'd aggressively eaten a piece of toast while staring at his team, he was now trudging through the snow-caked streets with Growlithe trotting alongside him.
"I'm just saying, Growlithe," Julian muttered, squinting against the glare of the sun on the white powder. "It's a long walk."
"Woof? (And?)"
"And since you're already out here acting like a portable space heater, wouldn't it be more efficient if I just carried you? You'd save energy, I'd get a workout, and nobody's paws would get cold. It's a win-win."
Julian looked down at the neat rows of paw prints Growlithe was leaving behind—tiny, perfect leaf-shapes pressed into the pristine white.
"Woof! (Nice try, but I'm a Fire-type. My paws aren't cold, and I'm out here to make sure you don't turn into a popsicle again. Carrying me is a direct violation of the No-Cuddle Act of 2026. Forget it!)"
"You're a tough negotiator," Julian sighed, kicking at a drift of snow. "You know, those spare Pokéblocks I packed? They'll run out in about ten days. If this 'strike' continues, I might just forget how to use the stove. You'll be eating dry biscuits until we reach Sunyshore."
Growlithe didn't even flinch. He kept his eyes forward, his internal heat radiating a perfect, invisible bubble of warmth around Julian. "Woof woof! (Ten days is plenty. We're not planning on keeping you in 'time-out' forever, just long enough to learn your lesson. Besides, your travel snacks are still better than anything we'd find in a shop. You're too proud of your cooking to actually serve us junk!)"
Julian paused, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he looked away. "I... I didn't think you'd realize I was that predictable."
Growlithe's ears flicked. Even with the wind, his hearing caught the soft admission. "Woof? (Wait, did you just admit I'm right?)"
"I didn't admit anything! I'm just saying... it's possible I'd cave after three meals and make you a feast anyway. But you don't have to be so smug about it! One little head-pat isn't going to kill the discipline!"
Julian suddenly lunged, fingers outstretched like claws.
Whoosh!
Growlithe executed a perfect lateral hop, his hind legs kicking up a spray of powdery snow that dusted Julian's black trousers with white patches. "Woof! (Negative! Catching a cold is bad for your health, but catching me is bad for my principles! Anyway, where are we even going?)"
Julian brushed the snow off his knees, not even mad. It was actually kind of fun—like a high-stakes game of tag where the prize was a handful of fluff.
"Gym Leader Candice invited me to check out the Trainer School," Julian explained, resuming his pace. "I was a bit of a mess the day of our match, so we didn't really get to talk shop. I figured I'd pay a visit before we leave town."
"Woof? (A school? Like, with desks and homework? Are you going to go fight a bunch of kids for their lunch money?)"
"Hardly. It's mostly for beginners—kids under ten who haven't even picked a starter yet. There might be some older students, but my goal isn't a battle. I've had enough ice-type matches to last me a lifetime."
Julian rubbed his chin, thinking back to some files he'd read. The Snowpoint Academy was famous for its theory-heavy curriculum. The thought of battling someone who only knew 'Type Effectiveness' from a textbook didn't exactly get his blood pumping.
"Woof? (Then why go? Just to look at the architecture?)"
"Maybe I'm hoping to run into someone," Julian said, his eyes bright with a secret. "There are a few names in my notes that might be passing through. People I've mentioned before!"
Growlithe tilted his head, looking undeniably cute. Julian's hand instinctively twitched toward that fuzzy ear, but Growlithe backed away before he could even close the distance.
"Woof? (Another one of your 'destiny' people?)"
"Maybe... and one of them is..." Julian trailed off, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Woof! (Is what? Don't leave me hanging!)"
Julian crouched down, wagging a finger. "I'm not telling. Mutineers don't get spoilers."
"Woof! (You're so petty! Fine, keep your secrets. I'll see them when we get there anyway!)"
Growlithe looked genuinely annoyed, his big yellow tail wagging back and forth with enough force to swirl the snow. He trotted right in front of Julian, the tip of his fluffy tail practically brushing against Julian's nose.
The scent was familiar—warm, like sun-dried hay and spice. It was right there. Julian hadn't had his 'fur-fix' in nearly two days, and the temptation was finally too much. He launched himself forward in a desperate, last-ditch tackle.
Boom!
Growlithe didn't just dodge; he practically teleported backward. Julian hit the snow face-first, leaving a human-shaped crater in the drift. Strangely, as he lay there, the snow around him began to hiss. The ice didn't soak into his clothes; it turned into white vapor, rising in clouds around him.
"Woof woof! (Pfft—hahaha! Silly Julian! You look like a fallen Piloswine!)" Growlithe barked, his front paws thumping the ground in laughter.
Julian popped his head out of the snow, his eyes practically sparkling with mock-fury. "Oh, you think that's funny? You set me up! That tail was bait!"
"Woof! (I told you the 'No-Touch' rule is absolute! You brought this on yourself!)" Growlithe turned and trotted away, his tail giving one last, mocking wag.
"Hey! Get back here! I'm catching you today if it's the last thing I do!"
Julian scrambled to his feet and sprinted after the orange blur, his laughter echoing through the quiet, snowy streets of Snowpoint. The road to the school was long, but with a teasing partner and a pocket full of secrets, he didn't mind the walk at all.