This is not a happy story

It was morning. Not the kind of morning where one wakes suddenly and violently, lifted from the throngs of sleep by a drowsy hand, but the peaceful kind. The sort of morning where soft light tickles the eyelids, warming the face with sunlit kisses and awakens the ears with the gentle susurrus of the whispering winds and music of the songbirds. And in this forest, blanketed with snow and freshly shed pine, we find our heroine. No. Not those Vulpix. The smallest one, behind those three. Yes. That’s the one. 

That Vulpix is Crystal. She’s the youngest of her siblings. She’s just like any other. Born into the frosted peaks of the otherwise tropical Alola Region, the Ninetales sleeping next to her is her mother. Crystal is a fun loving Vulpix. She loves to play in the snow, or with her siblings. She’s enamored with the world around her. She’s always looking for the next big adventure. And today is the day that Crystal dies.

*

Delicate eyelids fluttered open. At first slowly, and then all at once. Crystal awoke with a yawn. Crisp and fresh air graced her lungs, filling her with life. Clumsily standing, she stretched out and was rewarded with the satisfying synchronous popping of her spine. It was morning. Ungluing herself from her mother’s warm, slumbering side, Crystal carefully stepped around her brothers and sister to the snow that has invaded their den. Pillowed pawprints soon turned into crunching steps as warm soil turned into icy sleet. Enjoying the sound, the Vulpix began to giggle and laugh. Jumping back and forth until the powder reached her knees.

“Crystal?” came her mother’s tired voice.

“Yes mama?” asked Crystal.

“Crystal,” the Ninetales began with a yawn, “it’s too early for you to be awake, much to early.”

“But I’m not tired mama.” Crystal said. She turned to her mother, the snow beaten down underneath her. “I want to play!”

Her mother chewed at her tongue. Surely there would be no harm in allowing her daughter to play. It was much better than the alternative of having to keep a bleary eye on all four of her kits at the same time. Eyes still yearning for sleep the Ninetales finally responded, “Oh alright. But stay close to the den. And don’t—”

“—don’t go running off into the woods, or too close to any humans. I know, I know!” Crystal eagerly finished, halfway up the mound leading to the den’s small entrance.

“Yes. Don’t put yourself in any danger. And Crystal?” Her mother paused. “I love you.”

But her daughter was already gone, romping above in the snow that they called home. There was nothing like it. The firmly packed crystals beneath her, each one glittering to create a sea of sparkling diamonds. Crystal eagerly chased after their shimmering light. White streaked under her small body as she ran, crackling with the energy she pushed into it in her leaps. The familiar frigid air was a welcome stinging in her lungs, burning through whatever waning hold sleep had on her. Despite the branches and slopes in her way Crystal didn’t stumble or slow. She was truly and extraordinarily free.

Shouting out her joy to the world, the Vulpix welcomed the challenge before her and rocketed above the fallen tree blocking her path, landing smoothly and sliding in a fit of laughter. Panting, she finally slowed her race and took a look around the clearing. This was her special place. It was the place she came to for an escape from her siblings, or when she needed to be alone. Beams of pale light polkadotted through the great pines towering above and illuminated patches of snow below. The air seemed lighter here somehow. Not crisper, but lighter. Relieving. And now was the best time to be at her special place, for it was morning.

Crystal took in a gulp of air, finally catching her breath. She glanced once more around the clearing before her eyes settled onto her pet project. It was a small pile of discarded pine branches. Nodding her head and setting off to work, Crystal began to scour the trunks around her clearing for more branches. Coming to the fast-flowing river, the Vulpix made the jump to a slick rock forking the freezing water. Landing with a grunt, she pushed herself up and to the other side towards some branches that had caught her eye. The needles poked at her soft gums as she took them into her mouth. Bushels of green obscured her vision as she made the jump again. Remember, today is the day that Crystal dies.

But this is not how it happens. Landing without any trouble, Crystal sprang from the rock and to the other shore, taking off in full sprint towards her special place. This time she stumbled as she ran. Once back in her clearing she dropped the branches carelessly onto the ground. One by one she dragged each branch over, adding it to the pile and trying to form them into a dome. Her mother often told stories of how her father had once built a makeshift den for the two of them to wait out a blizzard. It was a beautiful den, weaved from pine branches and just the right size. And what made it special was the love put into crafting it. The love her father had for her mother. The love of the father she would never get to know. It was an avalanche that had killed him. Just one of the funny little tricks Mother Nature liked to play. And no amount of love had been able to bring warmth back into his cold corpse. So now Crystal built. She built, and she built, and she built, hoping to build a tower that could touch the heavens and bring her father back into the den that he had built for her mother.

But it was morning. And the tower wouldn’t be built that day. In fact, it would never be built at all. A branch suddenly snapped. Not the branch of the tower, that isn’t how Crystal dies either, but a branch from behind her. Crystal froze, heart beginning to pound. Quietly at first, and then thundering like a great machine being stroked to life. Baboom. Babom. Baboom. Baboom! BABOOM!

The Hoothoot suddenly burst free of the brush. Wings fluttered and flapped in a violent storm of discarded feathers and gusts before the bird flew off towards the skies. Crystal’s heart sunk down from her throat and back into her chest.

‘A Hoothoot!’ She cursed to herself. ‘Imagine being startled by a little Hoothoot!’

Steadying herself, Crystal set back to work only to be grabbed by thickly gloved hands. She yelped, fear racing back into her body. Her head jerked violently back as she tried to get a glimpse of her captor. The soulless face of snow goggles stared back at her, obscured further by a scratchy red scarf and even uglier blue beanie. 

“Let me go! Let me go!” Crystal demanded, trying to ignore the pain in her stomach as it churned with terror. Gritting her teeth, she prepared an attack. An Ice Beam. A Hail. A Powder Snow. Anything. But all that came out was a meager cold breath. And so, she resulted to the alternative. “Mama! MAMA!”

And this, is how Crystal dies.