Warrior Eevees #1: The Storm of Fire

1- Awakening

Ow.

A throbbing ache ran through Emmy's head as her eyes slid painfully open. The sunlight seemed to stab directly into them, blinding and sharp. Slowly, carefully, she shifted where she lay in the undergrowth, another sickening wave of pain washing over her.

Ow.

"Over here- Thorn!" someone was shouting in the distance, speaking a language she somehow knew without recognizing. "Don't you smell that-"

Then, a second, lower voice: "Blood. Right, Aloe, Sycamore, fan out- and Tough, stay close to me..."

Emmy heard herself let out a plaintive mewl, a cry for help to the speakers somewhere deeper into the forest. A female voice, now, cried out:

"Over here! I heard something, come on- Someone's really hurt!"

The voices were approaching, the sound of paws pounding on the forest floor, the scent of something alive, mingled with a thick leafy scent, washed over Emmy. She squeezed her eyes shut, suddenly afraid of the fast-approaching strangers. She heard the ferns by her head rustle, and someone gasped.

"Oh, Arceus- That's a lot of blood- Over here, Thorn!" the female voice called again.

Now anxious enough to cry, Emmy forced her eyes open.

Leafeon.

Although she didn't know how she knew, she recognized the Pokémon instantly. Gleaming blue eyes, and quite yellow leaves for a Leafeon- not that Emmy remembered what she was comparing her to- and her face a mask of worry and fear.

"Are you okay?" the Leafeon asked as a second Leafeon, this one older, a tough-looking tom, burst through the undergrowth behind her, quickly followed by a thick-furred Eevee.

"'M okay," Emmy's mouth felt thick, like it was stuffed with cotton. She didn't recognize the sounds coming out of her, although she knew what they meant.

The male Leafeon shouldered past the first. "Sycamore!" he shouted into the forest. "Come here, help me get her up..."

The first speaker Emmy had heard now appeared, another Leafeon, a younger tom with odd eyes- one blue, and one yellow.

"Who is she?" he wanted to know.

"Who knows?" the older tom grumbled. "But whoever she is, she's really hurt."

"I didn't scent her coming over the border," the molly murmured, her black nose passing over Emmy's ear.

The older tom reached down with his muzzle and buried his teeth in Emmy's scruff. She felt herself start, flailing limply as he pulled her off the ground. Her head throbbed, she swayed when she was dropped onto four paws. Sickened by pain, she stared down into her pale mane, swaying and confused, as if she hadn't expected to see it- but what she had been expecting, she had no idea.

"All right, there?" the younger tom had pressed himself against her flank to steady her, and Emmy sank gratefully against his side.

"I'm fine," she said thickly.

"You're on the territory of the Forest Tribe," the older tom informed her. "What are you doing here?"

Emmy tried to remember, but even the attempt made the whole world sway beneath her paws again.

"I d-don't remember," she whispered, relieved to find the words coming easier to mind, although the pain in her brain still made her trip over them.

"Don't remember?" the older tom asked, drawing himself up. "Are you from the Sand Tribe?"