Don't think this episode has shown in English yet, so I use Japanese names. Not hard to know really, except that Kentauros is Tauros, Saihorn is Rhyhorn. (Fairly obvious.)
Rest of the Herd
You know, we're Pokemon just like everyone else. I don't like it that we so resemble common animals; cows, bulls, whatever you care to call them. Because then people treat us like that, as if we're incapable of intelligent or rational thought.
There are none of us in the wild any more. So we Kentauros here have it better than any others. We, I suppose, have the best of a bad situation. Others are forced to stand around in fields, doing nothing as their brains rot and they turn into the mindless bulls they're named for.
And then, there's still no future, because once they get fat - and that's all they do, stand and eat, no knowledge of fighting being gained as it should - and get ready for humans to take advantage of them by making a good meal.
Eating us! I can't get over that one! I mean, I'm sure we're not different to them as far as thinking goes; simply because they can speak makes them decide that they must be more intelligent, and thus that we're not.
We here, in the Safari Zone, are better off. We can run, and fight, and interact with other Pokemon. We can become stronger, we can live in an environment that is fairly... wild. Of course, we are still used for humans' advantage, but there are ways to avoid it, and since people think of us as just beef, few care to capture us.
If one does, it matters little. The captured will still get to fight and become stronger, chosen specially by an experienced trainer. We are not so easy to catch. Luck plays a part, but in the end, only an experienced trainer will get one of us.
It was only a few hours after I was taken to Safari Zone, when I was just a calf, that I found others like me. We grouped together. We're the last of a vanishing proud breed. We must stick together.
Now some dumb looking kid comes up with two of his friends. They are carrying a number of those terrible implements designed to steal us without a fight. Safari Balls for the Safari Zone, which I guess is just what we are.
Neither of them are experienced, I'd guess, so we're not in any danger. My comrades realise this too, and we stampede past without any real fear.
Two of them, the two guys, yell "Ike! Safari Ball!"
To my amazement, two of our friends are drawn inside the ball. The balls lie still, and they've been captured! Hardly anybody captures us, let alone on the first try, and never bad trainers.
We continue stampeding. Right now I'm just running a little angrily, stomping into the ground to work away rage. I suppose I can talk about capture like it's not always a bad thing - gives us the chance to grow stronger - but I think it's always hard to see, especially when it's a friend.
We run past the place where Saihorn like to graze, and unbelievably, I hear the boy shout out again, as he throws a Safari Ball towards the rock Pokemon, but we have too much momentum and we run right in front.
As our herd continues to stampede, I think I see the Saihorn wearing a look of relief, but another of our wild Kentauros has been taken.
My comrades wear similar expressions to mine. Anger, but we will keep running. What more can we do, really? As long as the rest of the herd stays together, we'll be fine.
I'm so uncertain now. I stand in the grass, shaking my tails nervously. I am now alone. He took the rest of the herd. I am all that's left, the last wild Kentauros?
I am not used to being here in the cold air, without the familiar warmth of everyone else close around me. Without hearing their laughter, their idle chatter, even their complaining - which to humans just sounds like mooing, but to us has meaning...
Now it's silent. It is night. I cannot sleep, I am not used to sleeping alone in the cold. The crickets chirp, but that offers little comfort. I've never heard them before; our snoring drowns them out, but now I hear the delicate night sounds and it scares me.
I can't sleep. I simply stand here and shiver and wait alone for the morning to come. Away from the rest of the herd.