There is a Pokéball discarded on the Route you were travelling across, its casing scratched and the paint roughed off to reveal a metallic underside. It remains still and cold, even as you approach. As you kneel down to poke at it, the Pokéball barely shakes a couple of times, eventually increasing in intensity, until it flings open. In a blast of light, the Pokémon from within comes out, its form taking shape as the light slowly fades from view. Standing there, is...

A Turtwig, who looks rather tired. It spares you a glance, quietly mumbling to itself while waving a small front leg towards you in a wave - or in dismissal -, before curling up and lying down on the dirt path, just beside the grass. It closes its eyes, completely comfortable and content as it is.

"... Nae? Naetle, Naetle..."