Work Text:
Hisui, 1856 December, Tuesday the 17th.
I am Keiko. I am currently making my way through the snowy tundra of hisui, hiding in the grass from pokemon all over. I have an estimated amount of 70-80 PokeBalls in my bag from my time back at camp.
I have been sent out to scavenge for resources, and document any oddities I may encounter. So far my search has resulted in less then favorable circumstances, being that I was chased by a couple of sneasels. I'm not one for pokemon fighting, so I opted to just run out of the area.
While I was chased, I ran into the forest I currently reside in. It's a less then ideal location, but it's all I could get. Onto current events, I'm making my way up the mountain. The reason for this dangerous act is because there was nothing useful within the floor forest.
I pass by snorunts, making sure not to catch their attention. I'm aware they're not confrontational, but I'd rather be unseen. My legs move on their own as I'm directed in random directions in search of food or resources.
However, as I move my way across the forest, I'm alerted to something wailing. It sounds ghostly, yet in harm and innocent. I instinctively inch my way to the sound.
My footsteps crunch into the snow as I head forward to this sound. Ever so often I check behind me and make sure nothing is following me. I may be paranoid, but paranoia is better then a dead man.
I eventually find the source of the sound. It is a small white fox Pokemon with some red ends of its ghastly fur. It's eyes are wide with yellow pupils, trying to free itself from the log it's leg is under.
While my first instinct is to leave it, I realize quickly that it won't survive long with the way it's reacting. It's too small and weak to escape. I sneak towards it.
I don't want to startle it, so I catch it's attention with a 'psst' from my mouth. It darts it's head to me, eyes widened. It growls, and understandable reaction. Although I've been told Pokemon are beasts, I know that humans themselves can be rather unreasonable.
I bring my hand to it, keeping just enough distance to pull back. It leans in and tries to sniff me. I let it do so, and seems to ease it's tension. Once I've gotten it's trust, I push the log it's leg is under up and help it scurry from under.
The little thing moves forward a bit, limping, and looks to me with it's head tilted. I notice it's leg is injured and move forwards, but hesitate when I see it puff up with distrust.
I let it sniff my hand again, bringing to it's nose again. It sniffs my hand, and eased. I take a medical leak from my bag, and rip it apart to get the end piece. I take the end peace and the white foxes leg, and spill the juices of the piece onto its leg.
I watch it initially tense as I gently grab it, then ease as I healed it's wound. Once I've got that done, I stand up and wait for it to run off.
It takes a surprisingly long time to leave, scurrying after about 30 seconds. Once it's gone, I continue my own journey. My feet crunch the snow once more as I walk.
Eventually, I come across a cave, completely empty. I take camping gear from my bag and set up a quick tent and fire, getting myself warm.
After a few minutes, I'm warmed up. Once warm, I put the fire out and head in my tent, and fall off to sleep.
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(To be continued.)