His skin stung and his ears echoed with a painful, high pitched noise that was taking its sweet time subsiding.
Why? Why had he used self destruct?
He didn't want to look, but he had to know. Carefully, he opened his eyes.
Blackness. His already rapidly beating heart attempted evacuation out of his mouth. Was he blind? Had he not shielded his face in time? Pinpricks of light seared his eyeballs, and thankfully the blackness lifted, revealing the impact crater the force of the explosion had left on the battlefield. Song's sore eyes darted around his side of the field.
"Scruffy!" Relief escaped him in the name as his badly damaged umbreon staggered up, paws splayed out wide. Earlier in the battle it had been in defiance, head down as a show of aggression. Now he was barely able to stand, and his head was down because lifting it was too much effort.
They had won the round, but at what cost?