[CATCH!] Edges may be sharp

The mud sucked at Juke's shoes with every step, throwing him off-balance as he trudged onward. Forrest struggled to keep a grip on the loose hoodie zipped around his trainer's wiry frame, shifting his paws with every step. The gentle trickle of moving water filled the air, providing natural undertones to the birdsong and insect chirps that rang out amidst the trees. One misplaced step sent an orb hurtling in front of the duo as it was kicked, bringing the trainer to an abrupt stop as he grasped at the straps keeping his guitar pack fastened to his back. Juke cursed under his breath, with Forrest letting out an annoyed chatter at the sudden stop. Metres ahead on the trail, the orb began to move, uncurling from its rudely interrupted sleep to reveal a bug/dragon-type hybid.  Losing no time, the pokemon leaped into the air, slashing with the fringes of its tail. Juke tried to step back, but the thick mud held him in place, causing his dodge to revert into a lean. One of the twin blades near the end of the pokemon's tail connected with his hand, splitting a clean cut into his palm. The trainer gasped and stumbled backward after finally freeing his foot, cursing again as a dark red began to pool in his right hand. At least it was just the palm, he thought, before shooting a look of desperation to the weasel-like companion on his shoulder. Forrest simply returned a worried stare, unprompted to intervene. "Are you serious, right now?" The trainer complained, grabbing a pokeball from his pocket as he realized his partner would be of no help. The yellow-furred pokemon simply observed in the hopes of a conflict-free solution, not used to combat in the slightest. "I can't believe--you're supposed to be my front man if things go like this!" Barely having the words out of his mouth, Juke turned to focus his red-hued eyes on the provoked pokemon only to notice it mid-air jumping directly at him. He threw up his wounded hand in defense, feeling a sharp sting along his palm and fingers that made his heart sink. A third string of curses left his mouth as he readied the pokeball in a panic, throwing it without thought at his attacker. His balance fully off-kilter, the trainer stumbled and fell backward, catching himself in an awkward half-sit as he breathed heavily. Forrest leapt to a nearby tree, avoiding the muck below at all costs. It was silent, save for the streaming water nearby. The pokeball shifted in the dirt once, twice, and finally a third time as Juke's adrenaline slowly began to dissipate; clearing his ears of his own rapid heartbeat. Holding his hand in front of his face, he gently extended and curled his fingers, stopping to wince when the cuts strained. A deep disappointment ran through his blood as he dismissed his fun, easy tour of Rivertide, as one that would be tainted by a constant sting. His eyes rolled at the situation, his mind ruminating on how nothing ever seemed to come without some seemingly-random setback. It felt like the universe itself was intent that nothing could ever go as planned, and his mind drifted to how the journey even started with a major hit to his food supply thanks to the yellow creature clinging to a nearby tree. "Thanks for the help!" He threw a hand toward Forrest, ending under his breath with a wry, "Jackass." The pokemon in the tree chittered to retort, as if it had understood his sarcasm and name-calling. Attention turning toward the newly-filled pokeball, Jukebox leaned forward sullenly to grab it. Bringing it close, he noticed bright red smears on the right side from his grip. Taking it in his left hand, he flailed his free arm about until his jacket sleeve fell over his wounded hand. As he stood, he carefully wiped the ball clean, turning to Forrest with a pout. "Alright, bud, next time, I need you to jump into action. Zap 'em, or something, I don't know. I...I'll give you a treat when we get to Rivertide if you do... After I get my hand patched up." Why am I explaining this to it?  The musician wondered, though he was pleasantly surprised to see Forrest lean forward and perk his ears in interest at the deal. Shouldering his bag straps for better comfort, Juke put the newly-caught pokemon away in his pocket and extended a hand toward Forrest. The electric-type jumped to his shoulder eagerly, before looking intently out into the reeds, as if suddenly taking protection duties to heart. Rolling his eyes one more time, the man smeared the mud off of his hands and set out on the last leg of the marsh trail, eager to get cleaned up in Rivertide.