He edged around a craggy outcropping of stones, the glow from the superheated rock helping to shield him, his soot covered scales blending perfectly with the earth around him.
'Don't find me.' He thought as he shoved the flaming tip of his tail into his mouth to hide the glow, smoke curling easily from his nose, the super hot flame barely registered to him. He was used to it. To fire and ash, the smell of sulfur, and burning flesh. He'd lived with those smells since the day he was born. They were comforting to him.
Shifting shadows moved near his hiding spot, the vengeful spirit moved close to his hiding spot. Heat danced in his vision, shimmering off stone, he could practically taste it, hear it calling to him, begging to be released onto the wraith that sought him, but he couldn't face it, not then and there. So he hid. Tail shielded by his jaws, claws digging into the earth in worry, two bloodshot eyes searching for the specter.
There was movement then, in his peripheral vision, a quick, jerky movement, above him! It was just enough of a warning to save his life. He rolled, tail whipping out behind him, as he opened his maw letting black smoke spew forth in a wave, blades of shadow ripped apart his previous resting spot.
His mind was a blur of thought, plans and idea passing through his mind, and being disposed of just as quickly, the whole time he ran, the burning cloud of smoke and cinders he'd left behind his only cover. In a place like this, where magma runs like water, at best it bought him a few seconds, a fleeting moment to run.
He heard it behind him then, a low whoosh, as the air changed where it moved, got cold in a place that is nothing but fire and death. The cold grip of fear, and frost were obvious to anyone who lived passed there first run in with the human ghost. The first time he'd been a Charmander, it was in that confrontation that he'd evolved to his current form, and that encounter where he'd lost the ability to ever reach the pinnacle of his species, and where his dreams to sore through the open skies had been dashed, by a simple piece of stone.
So he'd ran, even when his blood sang for battle, resonated with a need to turn and fight so strong he'd wanted to roar at the unfairness of an opponent he could not harm with tooth, flame, or claw.
He easily vaulted a magma vent, his nose telling him it was not a moment too soon, it erupted behind him, buying a few more precious seconds to find a safe place. Through well traveled tunnels, past skeletal remains of those too proud, hot-blooded, or foolish to run like he had. He was an odd example of his species though. Able to fight off the all encompassing rage, and hot arrogance that plagued many of his kind. He'd seen what those things got you, an agonizing death, and a shallow grave, your bones picked clean by scavengers.
His pursuer was not amused, he could tell in the way the air grew colder, the dread in his hearth built then to a level he could almost taste. He was sure then that he would perish in a sulfurous tunnel, no one to mourn his death.
It was not to be however. His salvation came then in an unexpected form, four stony arms spread to the Graveler's sides, blocking His path, a leer upon it's rocky face, and words of scorn on it's grey lip's.
“Where do you think your going whelp?” He sounded confident, foolishly confident. 'newly evolved.' the thought passed through his mind in an instant, and a feral grin pulled at Charmeleon's lips. The Graveler lost it's confidence then, became cautious, but, by then it was already to late. Claws shrouded in steel, he set to work quickly, slamming in to the rock type, he used the momentum to spin it around, exposing his vulnerable legs, he ripped into the joints, channeling all his fear, and fury from the long day into a brutal dance that left the rock type screaming on the cave floor.
Some time later, an amount not even enough for him to catch his breath the screaming began anew, it had faded as he'd gotten further away from Graveler, He roared in triumph then. That night as he settled in to his burrow he reveled in the knowledge he would live another day, glorified in his own cunning, and feasted on a victory hard won.
-
Some time later, he awoke with a start. Something in the air had changed. There was a lightness to the air then, A chill slithered up his spine then. He thought for a terrified moment that one of the wraiths had found him.
A horrifying moment passed uneventfully. No hellish beings were in his burrow, he was safe. That however begged the question: What was happening in his little slice of hell?
He was out of his burrow in the next instant. Curiosity, and the fire blood of his kind finally overriding the unusual wariness he had adopted to survive. He ran, navigating by smell and taste, following the strange air current to its source, not realizing he was slowly but surely heading up, until finally, he found it.
A hole in the cavern roof, Pokemon of all kinds gathered around, looking up out into a grey sky, ash pouring into the hole. Was the over world burning as well? He thought then. Was he doomed to live in ash, and flames forever?
Just as he had decided to give up on reaching the surface, these fools were likely going to collapse the hole anyway, the clouds of choking ash parted for an instant. Allowing him a brief, but ultimately important look at the blue sky above, and the sun resting in that sky.
A collective gasp ran through the assorted Pokemon then. They were all frozen by the majesty of their first glimpse of the sky. All of them save one.
Abandoning all notion of calm, Charmeleon charged, bellowing a challenge as he went, claws, fangs and flame deterring into any fool enough to impede his progress. He climbed, using bodies as spring boards he threw himself ever higher, and finally, with the blood of many different species coating him he grasped ash caked grass and soil. He had made it just outside of Lavaridge town.