It took a few moments after he first gained consciousness for Roger to gain further awareness of his situation. His head throbbed and ached like mad, and he found himself bound to a tree. 

He was not alone in this constriction. All around him, each tied one to a tree, were most of his fellows. Of those who were not unconscious, it was easy to tell apart the conscripts and the veterans now. The green freshmen were in states of grouch, shame, or anger at having been caught. The enterprising Jolteon who had begun the attack even chanced to stick his tongue out at one of the captors, one of the many massive, lop-eared, shiny Umbreons that stood guard around them. The veterans (though such a term was relative; the longest any of them had been there was no more than a few months) were fearful, trembling, their eyes closed, filling the air with the scent of their terror. 

The commanding officer, the Espeon, was tied up centrally relative to the other troops. Before him stood another shiny Umbreon. She was different from the others. For one, she was relatively diminutive. Certainly, she was still perhaps six times the height of Roger at the shoulder, but the rest of the Umbreons were double that. Her pelt, rather than being dappled like the other Umbreons (which even now blended in quite easily with the trees, identifiable only by their rings and eyes), her pelt was a powerful black, as if it not only did not reflect light, but actually seemed to absorb it. Her ears, rather than hanging at the sides of her head, were held high, almost regally. She was stunning.

"Why do you attack us, Espeon?"

Roger trembled at the sound of her voice. It was not loud, as volumes go. It was indeed, quite soft. But even at his distance, Roger could sense the immense power. It was no wonder the commander drew himself in as she spoke directly to him. His reply, compared to her voice, seemed like nothing more than a light breeze gently whispering through the trees.

"O-orders..."

"Very well. I hope sincerely that those who give those orders will find the lives of your troops to be as much as they can bear. Our land fills with the cleaned bones of your forebears, awaiting the day they may be returned. But you, Commander Clark Topham, your bones will never go home."

The Espeon's eyes widened, having evidently heard his own name, despite none there, not even the veterans, having heard his name. The great Umbreon unsheathed her claws, and sheared the bindings around the commander with one slash, to facilitate drawing him closer to her body. At this point, any open-eyed veterans or knowing conscripts closed their eyes, but Roger could not take his gaze away. The creature lifted the Espeon easily, the haggard officer relatively tiny in her grip, and swiftly consumed him. There was no trace of the commander visible from outside.

Those who had not expected this started with terror, some of them starting to squirm in their bindings. Roger only stared, his eyes wide, and his blood ran cold as the Umbreon turned next to face him from her position, though she spoke to all of them.

"You will each be brought further into our homeland. You will become one with us, or you will meet a similar fate to your commander. However, when we are finished with you, your bones will be returned to your people once they cease to attack us."

The other Umbreons moved to unbind the defeated soldiers, and the troops were scooped up. The vast creatures each held three soldiers by the scruff of their necks, and the smaller one held two, Roger, and the enterprising Jolteon, who was hyperventilating so quickly it was a miracle he had not yet passed out. They were then carried back, deeper into the woods.