The Fire in Their Eyes

Chapter 4

He winced when a twig jabbed him in the knee.

"God, why's it so stuffy in here? And why's it so noisy? Quill, shut up!"

"Jolt."

"Oh, right, it's just me."

He perked up suddenly, straining to hear above the birdsong. Were those footsteps? Fallen leaves stirred in the breath of the late autumn wind. There. Voices. A stick cracking beneath a boot. He waited with bated breath.

Two feet appeared. More voices. Closer...closer...

Then--

He hurtled himself out of the bush, arms outstretched.

"Aha! Gotcha, you creep!" he cried.

Then, startled, he jerked back.

Wait--

"Victreebel, vine whip!"

Before he could even blink, stinging vines shot toward him, knocking into his feet and squeezing his arms. In the next second, he was sprawled onto the ground, staring up at two figures.

He managed a nervous grin.

"Oh, hey. Lovely morning. Good weather for a stroll."

They didn't answer. Only peered down at him, studying him. He strained to get away from their roving eyes, but the vines kept him in place.

He whispered desperately, "Quill. Quill."

The Jolteon was sitting next to the bush, casually licking its paw. It didn't even glance up.

"Fat lot of good you are," he muttered.

A boot pressed down hard on his chest, enough to drive the breath out of him. He squeaked.

"And who might you be?" a voice asked coolly. The girl seemed vaguely familiar. Her skin was darker, her hair brown and curling around her ears. Red stripes adorned her shoulders.

Oh shi--

"You ain't deaf. Are you lost, boy?"

"No, u-um, I was just--"

She gave him a grin full of teeth. "You're trespassing on my land, idiot. What were you planning, hm? Think you can steal a gym right from under my nose?"

"N-no!"

A second voice spoke up. "You're screeching as loud as a Fearow, Valor. Keep low. There may be more of them lurking about." Her blue eyes glittered coldly at him, as sharp as two chips of ice. He gulped. A Mystic. The blue symbols on her clothes told him as much.

But wait. Was he seeing things? Or--?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them again slowly.

No, the two of them were still there. A Mystic and a Valor. Standing side-by-side.

"Um," he said. "I don't mean to alarm you, ma'am, but there's a Mystic right behind you."

The Valor rolled her eyes. "Of course, idiot."

"But..." His eyes widened. "Hey, that's not fair! You can't just yell at me and not at her! She's as much of a trespasser as I am!" He started to squirm, thrashing at the vines. "Stupid things--"

"Shut it, Yellow!" she spat. The heel of the boot stamped down on his neck and he gasped, feeling it grind into his skin. It was hard to swallow, to speak.

Oh, man. This is bad, really bad. It reminded him of the stories passed around the HQ, as easily spoken of as a hand thumping him on the back. How the wrath of a Valor was as fiery as the sun, how they could burn straight through your heart and leave you charred black. And Mystics weren't any better. The roughness of the heel on his neck reminded him of another one. Of how, supposedly, an Instinct's Vulpix had once wandered off into Team Mystic's turf, a long time ago. And when they had finally found it, it had been--