[Awakening Neutral Control] Hrist & Gunter Rescuing Pokemon

Hrist was, admittedly, not always the most aware individual in the world. In fact, sometimes, they were downright oblivious.

That said, they'd have to be dead to have missed the Groudon attack. The absolute chaos of the outbreak of litwick fusions and the wildfires. A less inscrutable individual might have taken the opportunity to scalp some poor bastards, and, sure, a few folks probably had, but Hrist had no intention of causing more misery. Instead, alongside their trusty little pipsail cubone, they set out to help with those wildfires.

Gunter was small, and he seemed less sure of himself in the face of the smoke, the crackling of the fires ahead of them. Hrist had donned some fire-resistant clothing, taken an extinguisher, but the fires were not their primary target. No- they were, in fact, there to look for wild pokemon in distress. Hrist tightened their scarf a bit, and looked to Gunter. "Ok, listen. I might have to put you in your ball at some points, but it'll be alright as long as you stay by me, alright?" The little pokemon peered up at them, and, after a moment, nodded, chirped, and then started off towards the first section they had been instructed to sweep. Between the two of them, they carved paths for pokemon to dart through without further assistance. The two of them maintained a firebreak of at least ten feet, with Gunter spitting water every which way as they walked. A mile or so in, they heard the first cries for help.

Hrist leaned down, scooped up Gunter, and started to jog towards the sounds. It was hard to hear the exact direction, figure out where it was coming from, but they did eventually find a nest. Three small snubbulls, trying to pull a granbull out from under a fallen tree. Charred wood rested across somewhat burnt fur, and it was probably going to scar, but, luckily for them, Hrist and Gunter were there.

"Just a little water, Gunter, alright? Cool her off, I'll move the tree." Hrist watched the pipsail as he squeaked, and then turned his head down, tested his water, adjusted the pressure, and used one of his flippers to diffuse the watergun into a far gentler misting. The Snubbull pups pressed against their mother, but, as it became apparent that they were there to help, they started to try to help Hrist.

For their part, Hrist moved a little towards the fallen crown of the tree, and made their way to the trunk, wrapping their arms around it from beneath, and straining. It was heavy, heavier than they'd expected. With a cough, a soft groan, they strained, and started to plant their feet. The collar around their throat beeped in alarm as the snubbull pups whimpered, and Gunter turned to spit water around the area, keep it cooler. Their hair grew, their hands growing talons, and they huffed, snarling softly.

Slowly, slowly, the tree moved, and they rolled it off the Granbull, and dropped it a short ways away, shaking off embers and crouching to check the family over carefully. Luckily, the Granbull wasn't snubbing their help, and, in fact, submitted to a look-over, and accepted a berry. "Alright, good boy, Gunter. Let's get you four out, sksk... this way." It was much lighter work to herd them out of the firezone, and the pair parted from them once they were safe, and headed right back in.