Spark paced impatiently back and forth across the clearing, wondering when Snowcrystal, Wildflame, and Sid would come back. He was pleased to have noticed that his wounds were healing; already he could walk with hardly a limp at all. Just out of curiosity, he did a few experimental sprints to test this. His wounds still hurt, but he felt a lot better even after running.
Pausing for a moment, unsure what to do while waiting now, he looked over to Stormblade, who, unlike him, looked no better than he had the day Blazefang had used that attack on him.
Spark stood up and walked over to him, noticing that for the first time since being injured, Stormblade had dozed off. “Huh. Probably the first time he’s slept in days,” Spark muttered to himself, glancing over the scyther’s wounds. Suddenly he stepped back, a look of alarm on his face. He hadn’t noticed before, but now that he’d gotten a closer look, there was no mistaking that Stormblade’s wounds were starting to get infected.
And infection would spread.
Worried, the jolteon looked at his own wounds. The burns didn’t look as bad anymore, and were obviously healing, and fur was starting to grow back on his shoulder where it had been scorched away before. Glancing back at Stormblade, he could see that the scyther’s wounds just looked worse. Spark stood still, thinking back to something Stormblade had told him before about the wild. In the wild, infection was deadly. If a pokémon’s wound became infected badly enough, a slow and painful death awaited them.
Spark tried not to panic. Everything about the wild used to scare him. He remembered when Stormblade was trying to teach him how to hunt and survive when he was new to it…the horror at learning that if anything really
bad befell him, there would be no humans to help; no pokémon centers, no potions. Spark shook the thoughts from his mind. The others needed to know about Stormblade.
He turned around, suddenly remembering that Wildflame and Snowcrystal had gone, and the only other one here was Thunder. Running past a few trees to where she had been resting, Spark shouted, “Thunder, I-”
He stopped. Thunder wasn’t there. Confused, he looked around before approaching the place beside the large tree where she’d been resting before. The grass was heavily stained with blood, and Spark turned his head away in disgust. Confused, he wondered why Thunder hadn’t even attempted to make a comfortable nest. He may have been raised by humans most of his life, but he knew enough to make a nest from leaves and moss whenever he slept outside.
“Thunder?” he called, carefully sidestepping the patches of blood while peering through the trees. “Where could she have gone?” he mumbled to himself, wondering why she had even left in the first place. Judging by the fact that her scent was somewhat stale, he figured she must have left a little while ago.
Padding forward, Spark soon noticed a small trail of blood leading through the trees, which alarmed him further. Even though Thunder had never particularly liked him, or anyone else for that matter, he was worried about her.
Spark followed Thunder’s scent, even more alarmed. No pokémon in her condition should be out there on their own…even if she was a scyther. He knew he would have to find her before the others came back, or she might get captured by poachers, or worse…killed.
To be continued...