Challenge Accepted

~I don't want to be known as 'His' Kid. I want to make my own head way as a Trainer. We've never seen eye to eye. I'm not living in his shadow, living up to his expectations to take over the Gym. You always said I could do anything 'I want'. Well how bout 'I don't Want'? I 'don't want' to disappoint you.

~Brendan

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'Wounder if my letter reached-'

"Ow!! Storm!!"

Satisfied with the attention obtained, Storm purred. She turned down below, pointing a spot out to relax. Brendan eyed the the surroundings, next to a creak within the forest. Nodding, he held on tight as Storm descended. Hoping off the Altaria's back, five other Pokeballs in hand, calling out team members. Today was going to be a lazy day. Brendan laid in the grass, under the shade of a tree as each of the Pokemon spread out taking their own lazy pleasure.

"Swamp!!"

LockJaw dug the creak wider to hold his massive form, creating a small muddy pile along the way. Joined by RoadKill, another duel type, Tropius. Together making a large mess an getting dirty. Gathering up a small mud pile, higher, higher, then sliding down in size, RoadKill brought his foot down stomping on top. LockJaw coping him, brought his own forearm down splattering his. RoadKill repeating, sending the mud further and further form the bank of the creak.

"Mmmhmmm!"

Alarmed at their playing Ifrit, team wrecker, Rhyperior, moved further away. The water an mud looking unpleasant, taken a spot near their Trainer he followed suit, taking a nap, along with Storm. Ignoring the ruckus of Diesel, as the Macargo sizzled through the trickles of the creak, While Nova, the ghost bug Shedinja, whistled past branches.

Brandon alone with his thoughts, the sounds his Pokemon making ignored. The letter he had sent surely having reached his mother by now. How had she reacted, he didn't feel guilty for the choices he made. Should he? He didn't want a path carved before him. He wanted to break away form said path and form one of his own. Following footsteps of the old man would surely lead to expectations high enough that he wouldn't be able to reach, thus leading to failure. He wouldn't live it down. But should he care, it wasn't like the old man was around much to set an example. Why care about his thoughts when he refused to listen.

Because...

What would she think? Many a time, she claimed Brendan her pride and joy. On his own, on his terms he would do her proud. With that in mind, rising form the grass, the only child joined the marry making of LockJaw and RoadKill. Covering all in mud for the fun of it, away form high noon. Finally tired form mud stomping, RoadKill took Brendan's spot among the grass. Trainer and Starter throwing mud balls at one another, with the Starter winning.

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Covered head to toe, Brendan scrubbed RoadKill and himself off, with the help of extra water form LockJaw, who refused to be scrubbed himself. Shaking dry Roadkill used his winged leaves as a fan to help dry his Trainer in return. Shivers ran down the boys spine as the cool wind blew. Jerking his shirt off he hung it up to dry on it's own, leaving his bag next to it as he climbed a near by tree. Said tree having fruit in it.