Chapter 3: A New Start
Braixen awoke with a start, coughing and hacking and gasping for air. The ground was soft and muddy, kept moist by waves like the one washing over her now. A great waterfall—the mouth of the river emptying into a deep blue lake—roared in the background, kicking up a fine mist of spray that gave everything a kind of musty smell.
Braixen crawled away from the lake's edge and into a patch of tall grass, still coughing but already breathing easier. Despite everything that had happened, she felt oddly triumphant; the river had tried its best to drown her, and when that didn't work had resorted to hoping gravity and sharp rocks at the bottom would do the rest. Yet she was still alive—a little waterlogged and very bruised, but alive nonetheless.
"Take that, water…" she mumbled wearily.
A gust of wind swept across the lakefront and sent a shiver down the soaked vixen's spine. Braixen got to her feet to shake herself dry, and then took a look at her new surroundings. It was easy enough to know where the lake was—a big blob of blue in a sea of green and brown—but otherwise she knew absolutely nothing about this place.
Starting over was aggravating—it had taken a few days' worth of poking and prodding to figure out where everything was!—but it couldn't be helped. With a heavy sigh, Braixen reached for the stick in her tail.
…and found a whole lot of air where the stick should have been.
Braixen's eyes widened. She searched every inch of her tail looking for the tool, and when that failed resorted to patting the ground and clawing through the mud. It was with dawning, resentful realization that she thought of the river's currents, and that it was likely her stick had been swept away by them.
It wasn't unusual for a braixen to get upset over a lost stick. Her mother had explained as much when Braixen first evolved, emphasizing the feeling of calm the tool brought to their species. It ultimately wasn't a big deal—all she had to do was find a suitable replacement (not a difficult task considering her surroundings) and all would be right in the world.
Except it wasn't just that she'd lost a stick. She didn't have a home. Her friends and family were gone. That stick was literally the only thing she had left. And now it was at the bottom of a river—or a lake, depending on when and where she lost it—meaning that she would never see it again.
Braixen went into a rage, kicking and screaming and cursing out everything she could think of. Had she retained possession of her stick, she might have torched the entire lakeside just for the hell of it—and knowing that option wasn't available because she didn't have her damned stick made her even angrier. Hindered in her ability to spit actual fire, she settled for the metaphorical and began ranting about anything and everything she could think of.
"Stupid diggersby and their stupid berry bush—why did they even care so much about it!? They weren't using it, and it's not like those gelatinous, funny-eared jerks needed the food! Not to mention they were dumb as bricks—almost as dumb as that hypocritical fletchinder from a few weeks ago! 'Humans are foul creatures.' Well you weren't exactly the epitome of empathy yourself, were you!?"
As she ranted, Braixen paced back and forth, occasionally pausing to kick the ground and send chunks of dirt and grass into the air. "He wasn't wrong though—humans are foul creatures! It didn't matter that we were keeping to ourselves and leaving them alone. Oh no, they just had to find us—just had to ruin everything! Because that's what they do—they ruin everything they touch, twist and warp all the pokemon they capture into their own little personal bodyguards, sic them against their fellow pokemon, make them fight for their own amusement! Yeah, well, one of these days I'm going to find a human, and then we'll just see how amused they are when I'm CLAWING THEIR FUCKING EYES OUT!"
An entire flock of flying types took off in a flurry of wing beats, startled by the screaming fire type. Braixen listened to them leave—panting all the while—and then fell backwards into the tall grass.
Another gust blew across the lakefront, cooled and moistened by the body of water. Braixen felt the grass move against her fur, tickling slightly as it swayed in the breeze. Despite the waterfall roaring in the background, she could make out other sounds: magikarp jumping in and out of the water, bugs buzzing in the forest, and a few pidgey cawing in the distance. Late afternoon sunlight poured from above, bathing the fire type and invigorating her with its warmth.
Braixen took a deep breath, held it, and let it out as a heavy sigh. What was she going to do now…?
Given that "staring at the sky and never getting up" wasn't a viable answer, Braixen got to her feet and started walking towards the wall of green and brown that was the rest of the forest. Her plan was simple: find a new stick, get food, and return to the lake. So long as she walked in a straight path she'd be able to find her way back, and the sooner she found a stick the sooner she'd stop feeling the urge to strangle a baby fletchling. Short, sweet, and simple, right?
It was at that moment—lost in her musings and self-assurances—that Braixen promptly walked into a tree and fell over backwards. She got back to her feet and glared at the offending flora, growling and rubbing her snout as she did so. With white-glowing claws, Braixen attacked the tree with Scratch and left three long gashes embedded in the bark. Satisfied by her admittedly petty revenge, the fire type circled around and continued deeper into the forest.
"This one's too short…this one's too crooked…oh wow, is this a tree branch? It's way too thick!"
With a heavy sigh, the piece of deadwood was tossed in the general direction of the "reject" pile Braixen had accumulated in the past twenty minutes. She needed a stick that was long enough she could tap the ground without hunching over, but short enough and thin enough to be manageable. Finding one that met her criteria should have been simple—the ground was practically covered in dead limbs and broken branches. And in a way, that was part of the problem…
Braixen rose from bent knees and decided to move on, justifying the decision with the fact that she was wasting time and that she'd have a better chance of finding the proper stick elsewhere in the forest. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that she was being too picky, but…well, what did it matter, so long as she eventually found the right stick?
Hours passed as Braixen alternated between looking for a stick and trying to navigate the forest, interspersed with the occasional search for something to eat. Neither items were anywhere to be found, and it was surprising how difficult it was just to walk around without her tool. She could kind-of-sort-of make out silhouettes up close, but it wasn't enough to save her from tripping over the occasional tree root, or falling into the odd ditch or two.
…or stubbing her toe on a large rock, as she discovered upon contact with the offending mound of stone. "Son of a…trubbish-loving…piece of…ergh!" Braixen growled while cradling her stubbed toe and hopping in place on one foot. Lacking proper depth-perception, however, she promptly slipped and fell for what was probably the tenth or so time that evening.
"I'm getting really sick of this," Braixen mumbled as she got back up. Even without her stick, she shouldn't be having this much trouble just walking around; she'd outrun a pack of diggersby for Arceus' sake! Which actually raised a good question: how did she run from the diggersby without tripping over herself? Was it the terrain? Providence? Blind luck? Braixen groaned at her accidental pun and decided it was something to think about later.
A breeze blew through the forest, and suddenly Braixen was aware of just how much colder it was now. Was it almost night time? It did seem darker than before. Exactly how long had she been walking? Could she make it back to the lake before sunset?
Wait, which way was the lake?
For the second time that day, Braixen had a panic-inducing realization—she was lost. A rumble from her stomach reminded her that not only was she lost, she hadn't found any food. And she still didn't have a damn stick!
The wind blew again, this time carrying with it an odd scent. It smelled…burnt and smoky, but there was something else there as well. Something that smelled delicious.
Braixen followed the scent, so fixated that she didn't notice the grace with which she ducked and weaved over and under the bushes, rocks, and low-hanging branches. The scent was getting stronger, as was her curiosity (and appetite), and before long Braixen found herself at the edge of a small clearing. At its center was a glowing red and orange light—a small fire, both the source of the smoke and inexplicably the source of the enticing smell.
There was something else there as well—two somethings actually, one white and one pink. Braixen managed to stop herself mid-stride and ducked into the tall grass, hoping that they wouldn't notice the noise.
They didn't, and the fire type allowed herself a sigh of relief. Okay, so there were two wild pokemon—what kind she didn't know—sitting around a fire with some kind of food. Best case scenario, she approached them, carefully asked if they were willing to share, and they did. Worst case, they got angry at her and she had to run and hide from two engorged pokemon who would probably give up as soon as she disappeared from view. All contingencies accounted for, Braixen got up and made to enter the clearing and enact her plans.
"That was really good, Regi!" said a distinctly non-pokemon voice. "You've gotten really good at making that soup."
"I do my best," replied another voice, calm, mellow, and also not belonging to a pokemon. "Honestly Hayden, it's just potatoes and vegetables—hardly worth praise."
Braixen ducked back into the tall grass, heart racing so hard she felt like it was about to explode. Humans. There were humans here! There were humans here, in the forest, sitting around a fire just ten or so feet away from her, and she had almost walked out to say hello to them!
"Stupid, stupid, stupid-stupid-stupid!" she hissed under her breath, pulling at her fur and doing everything she could not to panic. Should she run away? Could she sneak away? They didn't know she was here, but one wrong move and… No, she was going to sit still and be quiet and wait for them to either go away or go to sleep. Anything else was too risky.
"Yeah…but you're really good at it," the first human argued, both him and his friend completely unaware that the fire type was listening. "I mean, you do such a good job of picking out the ingredients, and you add all those spices, and you get it just right, and—"
"And it's not your cooking," Regi said playfully.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that your culinary concoctions require caution when consuming," Regi replied coolly.
"…I hate it when you start alliterating," Hayden said with a tone of voice that implied intimate familiarity with his friend's word games. "And yeah, I get it, my cooking sucks."
"Not trying to put you down Hayden, just making an observation."
"Bah!" Hayden replied, probably with a dismissive wave of the hand.
It was quiet after that—presumably the two humans were just sitting around and enjoying the fire. Sunset had come and gone, leaving everything bathed in darkness save the circle of light the fire provided.
Just as Braixen was reconsidering sneaking away, the humans started talking again. "I'm going to go gather some branches for the fire real quick," Hayden announced. "I'm not going far, but I figured I'd let you know."
"Yeah…go ahead," Regi answered absentmindedly.
Braixen watched his silhouette walk off (thankfully not in her direction) and return a few minutes later holding an armful of deadwood. He sat it by the fire, tossed a few pieces in, and then resumed his spot next to his friend.
Another moment of silence, and then Regi cleared his throat. "You know, Hayden…we have been out here for three weeks now. Are you sure you want to keep looking?"
Hayden let out a heavy sigh—evidently this was a question he'd been asked frequently. "We've been over this—we need more teammates. I know it's a lot of effort just to find two specific pokemon, but I know it'll be worth it in the end."
"And yet, the time we've spent searching could have been spent training," Regi replied. "Besides Hayden, those delphox have a home, trying to sway them seems s—"
"And you already know how I'm going to handle that," Hayden replied. "Look, I understand what you're saying, but this is going to work Regi. I know it will!"
Regi let out a tired sigh. "As you wish Hayden."
Braixen's heart jumped into her throat. They were looking for delphox…had been looking for delphox for the past three weeks. Were these the same humans from before or a different group? Had her parents escaped? Did the humans have one of them right now? That last possibility made her quiver with a mixture of rage and excitement. Their guard was down, their pokemon were put away…if she acted quickly, then maybe she could—
"Hey, did you feel that?" Regi stood up, turned around, and took a few steps away from the fire—towards her! "I think there's something in the—hey, who's out there? Why're you hiding in the bushes?"
They found her. Somehow, they knew where she was and they had found her! No time to think, no time to plan, she had to act now!
Braixen ran out of the bushes, growling and snarling, with claws covered in white-glowing energy. She aimed for Regi first, but the human dodged her attack with surprising ease and it was all she could do from tripping face-first into the fire. She looked around frantically trying to find the humans—a blur of color, a nervous cough, give her something she could use to figure out where they were!
"What!? A-a braixen!?"
The Fox pokemon turned sharply in the direction of the sound, just able to make out a blur of white and purple flickering in the light of the campfire. Braixen lunged at Hayden, ready to make good on her promise from earlier by the lake.
"Gah! Regi, hit her with Water Pulse!" Before she could parse the command, several waves of water crashed into her side and sent her sprawling to the ground. She tried to get up and attack again, but the water-type move left her dizzy and all she could do was trip and hurt herself.
There was a swooshing sound, and then something small and spherical tapped her on the head. The pokeball opened, and Braixen was swallowed inside in a flash of red energy. It shook once…twice…three times…
Click!