Burmy, Wormadam, and Mothim

Branches crashed to the side as a Pokemon came barreling through the thick forest. His orange and red wings were a blur and his breath came rapidly. Clasping his red fedora so it didn't get away from him, he dodged trees like a maniac. "Dang... stupid... Combees..."

Behind him, three yellow Combees pursued him. "Give yourself up, Mothim!" one shouted. "You can't last much longer."

"That's... what you... think," he shouted back. But when would they tire out? They'd chased him all over the forest for much of the afternoon. Or were these different Combees? That would be one of their tactics, to swap out one pursuit group for another. After ducking low to avoid a tree branch, he glanced back to check on them.

Seconds later, he screamed as sharp pain shot through his body and wings. He'd crashed right into a thorn bush while checking on the Combees. A group of particularly nasty looking thorns sat inches from his eyes. Closing them, he swore under his breath. His hat tumbled to the ground with a soft thump.

The Combee group managed to stop without hitting the thorn bush. "That is a nasty mess you've gotten yourself into," one said.

"Thieves always get themselves into nasty messes," another added.

"You deserve it for stealing our best honey," the third finished.

"Aw shut it," Mothim retorted. "You got tons of the stuff just lying around in that cave. Can't you share a bit?"

"It is our lifelong work and no one has the right to take it from us."

"Shall we leave him here?"

"Sure. We'll make a report to the Explorer's Guild that a terrible thief is stuck in thorns."

"So you won't be here forever, but you will be suitably punished."

"Good riddance." With that, the three of them took off.

Mothim grumbled. "Great. You're probably not gonna report it until tomorrow. I'll be better off getting free myself."

Observing the bush he was stuck to, he tried to think up a way to get free without tearing up his wings worse. If he pulled back one of his wings, the other would rip through. If he pulled both out at once, he risked getting horrible scars all over his body. And it would not do to lose his attractive qualities.

Or maybe being stuck to a thorn bush all night wasn't worth the pride... no, it was worth his pride to not get scarred up. He kept thinking.

As afternoon wore into evening, Mothim had to admit that his choices were narrowing to two. Either get himself further injured, possibly scarred, and marked as a wanted Pokemon, or endure a torturous wait in order to be arrested and sent to jail. "And all this fuss over some clover honey," he said with a sigh. "It couldn't have been lotus honey, or orchid honey, or even rose honey. Nope, just common clover honey. Man, I outta sue Vespiquen for running a monopoly."

"Hey, where'd this funny hat come from?" a girlish voice asked from beneath him.

"Thank you," he said under his breath. He looked down to see who it was.

There was a little Burmy girl on the ground, picking up his red fedora. She had the forest cloak, one of deep green leaves and wildflowers. With her was a pair of Wormadams. One had the adult version of the forest cloak, full, leafy, and flowery, while the other had the sandy cloak, a brown dusty looking fluff.

That was even better. "Sorry ladies," he called down to them. "I lost it while cruising around, you see."

When they looked up at him, the Burmy squealed. "Oh my. How'd you get stuck in there, mister?"

"I was being a little reckless, that's all," he lied.

The sandy Wormadam shook her head. "Oh, I bet he was getting into some kind of mischief."

Blinking, the little girl turned to her elder. "Do you know him?"

"No, but I know of his kind. That's a Mothim, what your male kin evolve into."

"Pleasure to meet you, my dear cherub," he said as graciously as he could manage with thorns staring him in the face.

The leafy Wormadam hopped closer to the bush. "I do suppose we ought to free him. It would be a cruel thing to leave a winged Pokemon to thorns."

"I would be mighty grateful if you did," Mothim encouraged.

"Then hold still. The thorns won't trouble us."

"Not much else I can do but hold still." Then he stayed quiet as the three ladies hopped up the thorny branches to him. The adults were half his size and could maneuver easier. When they came close, the leafy one took hold of his chest while the sandy one and the girl began picking his wings free. It took a long time to do so, enough that the sun set, but they got him free without tearing his wings up further.

"Brace yourself," the sandy one said as she jumped forward with him. They dropped to the ground; Mothim cringed as he instinctively spread his wings to slow the fall, but only got new pain for his effort. But the Wormadam got them down safely.

The leafy Wormadam and the Burmy hopped down to them. "Are you gonna be okay?" the little girl asked.

"In time, I suppose," he replied, dramatically drooping his feelers over his face.

"Once his wings strengthen back up, he'll probably be back up to no good," the leafy one said.

"Normally I would take offense to such generalizations. But coming from you gentle ladies, perhaps I am a bit rougher." He winced as she tapped one of his pierce wounds.

"We might as well camp here," she went on. "We've got some medicine that'll help you heal, but you'll need to stay in this spot for the night."

"Thank you. I'll pay you for the trouble, I promise."

"Just don't go getting us into your trouble." The sandy one laughed at her friend's retort.

Yet, no matter how much they said they distrusted him, a few hours got them into friendly small talk. Mothim found out that they were on a multiday trip to get the Burmy evolved. The girl hadn't decided on what form she wanted to take. At the moment she changed, her current cloak would determine if she would become sandy or leafy. The cloak would also become permanent; right now, it was temporary and she had to fix or remake it every day.

Thinking, he had to try something. "You know, I hear there's a third form for you fine ladies. It's a very tough form, but a dainty pink and pretty."

Burmy was interested. "Really?"

"Really. The leafy form requires leaves and the sandy form requires sand, right? Well the pink form is actually metal, so you need rocks, or bits of metal. If you go into a cave, I'm sure you can find plenty of materials to give yourself a different cloak."

"That could be nice."

"It would be permanent," the leafy Wormadam reminded her.

Mothim acted as if he had a sudden idea. "I know of a cave nearby that might be suitable..."

"Oh, do you mean the Combee's home?" the sandy one asked.

Darn, she called his bluff. "It might be that one."

"You're just looking for an easy way to get honey," she pointed out.

"Why don't you just get it from the flowers?" the Burmy asked. "You could fly up to any one you like."

"I could, but..."

"The Mothims tend to be lazy," the sandy Wormadam told Burmy. "They go to a huge fuss to get their honey in other ways, though."

"It's more of an adventure, right?" he said, but it didn't impress them. He sighed, then added, "Well at least leave me my hat when you take off tomorrow. And good luck to you, little lady."

…

Burmy Pearl entry: If its cloak is broken in battle, it quickly remakes the cloak with materials nearby.

Wormadam Platinum entry: When evolving, its body takes in surrounding materials. As a result, there are many body variations.

Mothim Platinum entry: While it loves floral honey, it won't gather any itself. Instead, it plots to steal some from Combee.

I'm aware that the 'trashy' coat is available in buildings and such, not caves. But this being a Mystery Dungeon setting, manmade structures aren't available. Besides, he was trying to trick her into being a Combee distraction.