Obligatory Disclaimer: This is a non-profit fan work set in the Pokemon universe. Pokemon is owned by Nintendo, Gamefreak, and HAL Laboratories.

Chapter 1: Burnt Matchstick

The grass below was wet. An outstretched paw felt the rough texture of tree bark. It hadn't rained, which meant the wetness could be the dew of early morning. Or maybe it was still night? How long had she been running? Either way, she was still in the forest. Still in familiar territory.

The small bipedal fox collapsed to the ground, gasping and panting for breath. Miraculously, she'd managed to stumble her way through the forest and evade her pursuers. She had run—just as her father had instructed. For the moment, she was safe.

Without the fear of capture and the adrenaline of a chase, the last of the braixen's resolve finally crumbled, as did her body against the trunk of the tree. Several thoughts flowed at once. Her friends were gone. Her parents were likely captured. She had nowhere to go, and nobody to turn to.

She was alone.

With a single white paw, she reached up and felt around her face, eventually finding the scars formed over her right eye. She knew from touch, from the dense knots of tissue where there should have been fur, that it was gruesome-looking. The day she had received that scar was also the day she'd lost most of her sight; her "good" eye was limited to nondescript, fuzzy blobs, and the ruined eye flooded what little vision she had with an endless bombardment of light and color as her brain tried to compensate for the severed connection.

This would be the first time since that accident she would have to manage on her own. The realization sent a shiver down her spine. Fear, dread, frustration, and an immeasurable sadness mixed together to form a cauldron of emotion which bubbled and frothed within, bringing the young vixen to the precipice of despair.

Sheer exhaustion was her saving grace—as it was she was too tired to dwell on her situation. And so, taking comfort in her momentary safety, Braixen curled up against a thick root, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

An indeterminable amount of time passed, the gold-and-white fox drifting between fitful rest and somber consciousness. Then, there was a low rumble from her gut, and for the first time she became aware of the dryness in her mouth. She needed food and water.

Groggily, Braixen forced herself to her feet and started feeling around for a berry bush. She couldn't really tell the time, but she guessed from the dryness of the grass and extra brightness of her vision that it was somewhere between mid-morning and early afternoon.

As she searched, her thoughts drifted to her mother. She was a delphox, tall and graceful, fur coat like a crimson robe wrapped around her gold-and-white torso. She'd been particularly supportive of her after the accident, a much needed comfort in a time where her entire perception of reality had changed.

She recalled a time not too long ago when they were picking berries together in the forest. Although Braixen couldn't carry anything without tripping over herself, she could at least prod the bushes with her stick, calling out to her mother whenever she found something. She'd just discovered what felt like oran berries, and soon her mother was there gathering as many as she could carry, leaves rustling loudly with her every touch.

At first Braixen was content to sit there, listening to the wind in the trees and the sound of her mother's humming, but something had been troubling her the last few days. "Hey mom," she started, trepidation in her voice, "is…dad mad at me?"

The rustling stopped, and Braixen suspected her mother was staring at her. "Of course not!" she replied in earnest. "What makes you think that?"

Braixen sighed. "I don't know, he just seems…upset, all the time now. He doesn't talk to me as much as before, and it all started when I…"

The sentence hung in the air, its conclusion unnecessary. Suddenly, Braixen felt her mother's arms wrap around her. "He's not mad at you dear, just worried," she said while pulling her daughter into an embrace. "You should know by now what a worrywart he is; and unfortunately, he has a lot to worry about right now."

Gentle claws stroked the top of her head, eliciting a purr from the smaller fox. "You mean the humans, right? Pansear says he's been talking to some pidgey, and that they saw a bunch of humans in the forest."

"Yes. All pokemon are special, but you, your father and I are rarer than other species. There are some humans that will go to great lengths to capture us."

Braixen nodded, and considered that for a moment. "Hey mom, are humans as bad as dad says they are?"

The stroking stopped, the delphox deciding how to answer her daughter. "Not all of them, no," she said. "As I told you before, they hold a great deal of power over us—the pokemon under their care are strong, and they can capture and contain us in a device they call a 'pokeball'."

Braixen nodded—she recalled the description of a tiny ball, half white and half red, that could grow in size and open up to suck other pokemon inside.

"Most are perfectly fine with keeping to themselves and allowing other pokemon to come to them. But the humans that don't keep to themselves—the ones that wander, searching for pokemon to catch—they are the dangerous ones."

"I see…" Braixen replied. "So the humans that the pidgey saw…do you think they're looking for us? Is it because I—?"

"It's not something you should dwell on," the mother delphox assured her. "We're deep in the forest, far away from any of their settlements. And so long as your father and I are around, nobody is going to lay a paw on my little allumette."

"Mooooooom! I told you to stop calling me that!" Braixen barked half-heartedly.

"But it's what you are," the delphox said teasingly as she tickled her daughter's side, earning a surprised giggle from the little fox. "You're my little allumette, fiery and bright, and no matter how old you get that will always be true…"

Something wet fell on her paw. Braixen was back in the present, suddenly aware that at some point in her reminiscing she had started crying. She wiped away the tears with a paw and refocused herself. She'd have time to reflect later.

Above her, the fletchling and pidgey of the forest chirped excitedly to one another. The various birds were prone to gossip, and with the commotion of last night they had plenty to talk about.

"Did you hear about what happened?"

"There were humans in the forest and—"

"—smoke and fire everywhere! I even heard that—"

"—missing! Some are wondering if—!"

Braixen did her best to ignore them, but every now and then they would notice and comment on the young fire type instead. Most of it was variations of "Why was she here?" and "Where did she come from?" but there was one conversation in particular that stood out.

"Who is that?" a young pidgey asked while Braixen was feeling through another potential berry bush.

"I don't know, haven't seen her around before," an older-sounding pidgey replied.

"Do you think she was a part of that flock attacked last night?" said a fletchling.

"Might explain her eye. Those humans must have done a number on her."

"Humans are foul creatures," an elder fletchinder said definitively.

"Poor thing. I think she's been blinded. Did you see the way she was shuffling about with her stick a moment ago?"

"How tragic," the fletchinder said. "She's a rare one too—a 'braixen' I think they're called? Might have found a human to take her in, but with that scar on her face ain't none of them going to have a use for her."

Braixen wasn't feeling around through the bushes as quickly as before.

"Quiet you!" said the older pidgey. "What if she hears you? What a horrible thing to say!"

"It's the truth though," the fletchinder replied nonchalantly. "Those humans only care about one thing—fighting! They capture us, train us for battle, and then compete against one another as if it were a sport."

"And you don't like a good fight, Fletchinder?"

"It's not the same—they're absolutely obsessed, and the crazy thing is, so are their pokemon! But look at her—she can't even find food, much less defend herself! She'd be utterly useless to a human."

Braixen wasn't trying to find berries anymore. Instead, she was listening to the flying types above her, body shaking and fists tightening with every word the fletchinder spoke.

"It's not that I don't feel sorry for her, because I do," Fletchinder continued, him and his roost oblivious to the fox below them, "but facts are facts. Mark my words, within a month's time she'll be dead, either from starvation or because some other pokemon decided to—"

"SHUT UP!" In one swift motion, she plucked the stick from her tail, turned to face the general direction of the flying types, and fired off a pulsating beam of psionic energy into the trees above. There was a loud boom, followed by an ominous crack and a satisfying thudas the large tree branch gave way and fell.

"…see, what did I tell you?" Fletchinder said, from a completely different tree branch far away from where Braixen had fired her Psybeam. "Come on, we better leave before she manages to get a lucky hit."

The flock of flying types took off, wings beating furiously against the air, and soon Braixen was alone again. She felt the stick in her outstretched arm grow heavy. It lowered, slowly, dangling at her side for a moment before she dropped it completely and fell to the ground sobbing.

She stayed that way for several minutes. The only thing that stopped her was the growl of her stomach, louder this time, urging her to find sustenance. Wiping away the tears with a paw, she used the other to feel around for her stick—which she quickly found and returned to its rightful place in her tail. Braixen got back to her feet and made to resume her search.

Her ears twitched at the sound of wings flapping, and she instinctively turned and looked up. The sound continued, until—she realized with a start—something was hovering right in front of her.

"Hi," a small bird chirped. "Sorry, you probably can't tell, but I was one of the pidgey from a few moments ago. I'm…really sorry about what Fletchinder said before. That was awful of him, and I wish I could take it back…"

Braixen didn't know what to make of that. "Um…thank you…I guess."

"There's a river nearby, if you want me to lead you to it," the pidgey offered hastily. "And close to that, some berry bushes too. I know it doesn't make up for what Fletchinder said, but…"

Now Braixen really didn't know what to say. "You…really, you don't have to do all of that. I can manage on my—"

"But I want to!" the pidgey insisted. "It's only a few minutes from here—you probably would have found it on your own anyway. I'm just saving you time, that's all."

Braixen felt her eyes moisten with fresh tears and wiped them away with her arm. "Thank you," she said with a sniffle.

"No problem," the pidgey said sincerely. "Just…please, don't let what he said get to you, okay?"

A smile stretched across her face—the first genuine moment of happiness she'd felt since last night. "I won't," she promised.

Author's Note: So what began as a small plot bunny and an exercise to see if I could write something from the POV of a mostly-blind character has evolved into its own story. This ought to be fun.

Feedback is appreciated, especially considering the experimental nature of this fic. Turns out, it's really hard to describe something from the perspective of someone who can't see properly. It's oddly kind of fun though.