For one fleeting moment, I imagined my mother standing by my bedside. 

I must have been shivering from cold sweat, laid up with a viral illness that reared its ugly head most winters. But my mother would lean over and tell me that everything would be all right. All I had to do was rest, and then I would heal.

That’s what I wanted to believe.

But as the dull pain in my back left leg made itself known, I was suddenly aware of the truth. And it was not good news.

Mom’s not here. She’s not going to give you a bowl of chicken soup and sing you to sleep like when you were a child. You have to live in the real world.

I opened my eyes, confused at first as to why the white, snow-covered floor was above me and my head hurt so much. My legs also felt trapped, and the ice seemed to at least be soothing the wound on one such appendage. But at what cost?

I shivered as I closed my eyes again, envisioning what had happened right before I’d fallen asleep. Or rather, been forcibly put to sleep by that stupid spiky object that had clearly lacerated that ankle.

No. Bad brain. Stop that. I could not go back - I could only face what lay ahead of me. 

Unlike what I’d expected to happen as time passed following my return to consciousness, I realized that my head was hurting more and more as time passed. The blood was rushing to it.

“I’m upside down!” I exclaimed desperately. “Help!”

Knowing what I know now, it was utterly boneheaded to think that such a plea would do me any good. After all, not only was my mother not here, but neither was there likely anyone whom I could consider an ally.

Except my mind. But how am I getting out of this one?

Peering into the distance, which was getting harder as my vision turned red, I saw that a pot of what smelled like boiling broth sat on a stove some fifty feet away. Stirring it was a majestic white creature - a Beartic. (Of course, to the extent that such a wicked creature can be assigned any positive adjectives like majestic.)

The Beartic seemingly stood upside down as he continued to stir the pot. And that’s when I decided to go for it. Now was my chance to escape.

So I wriggled my ankles as much as I could. My beige fur, however, remained firmly welded to the solid ice, and I yelped in pain as my leg wound rubbed against it. Imagine the worst blister you’ve ever received from a pair of shoes - this hurt more than that.

The ursine Pokémon’s concentration did not waver from his cooking. Instead, he added some spices that might have been cinnamon, paprika, and oregano in that order. Being a Persian, or Pokémon in general, gave you a very effective sense of smell even from such a far distance.

That’s a pretty broad range of spices. Is he trying to make a dish so gross that I throw it up?

That made no sense. What could this Beartic possibly gain from a pile of vomit?

Whatever the answer might be, I didn’t feel eager to stick around and find out. I kept trying to break free, but that ice might as well have been cement. I felt firmly pinned to the ceiling, and I knew that all the blood pooling in my head at once could not be healthy.

Come on, you stupid ankles! Get me out of here!

My front legs came free after a while, but my back legs, which included my wounded ankle, remained captive to the wall of the glacial cavern. 

Wait a minute. I have another way to get through this, don’t I?

That was right. I concentrated hard on a nearby icicle hanging from the ceiling, the size of the toy swords that my brother and I had once sparred with. They’d been made of foam so that they wouldn’t hurt on impact; these hunks of ice were a different story.

I imagined the icicle severing itself from the ceiling, and seconds later it did. 

That gave me hope. Even after using this power so many times, it never got old. Most Persian, after all, were not special like me. 

Okay. Now move over there and bonk that Beartic in the head.

With great power, of course, came the requirement for great concentration. If you did not focus intensely on the task at hand, you would not be able to complete it. So instead of self-congratulating for thinking of such a clever solution, I used this force to hover the icicle over to a spot right above the Beartic.

Then, I let it fall.

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The icicle dropped on the Beartic’s head, but it clearly didn’t do too much damage. It shattered on impact, and although the ursine creature rubbed his scalp, he didn’t seem dazed or confused. 

That was only a temporary solution. In the long term, I really need to blow this lemonade stand.

So I shoved off from the cavern wall to no avail. My face was no doubt turning red, both from frustration and from the blood pooling there. 

It wasn’t working, at least not until I thought of a better way. Simply by imagining the ice around my back ankles melting away, I was able to “float” out of it and fall to the ground.

However, once I hit the cold, hard ground, I moaned as the wind was knocked out of my feline body. Despite my breathlessness, though, I held out hope that the Beartic had not noticed me and would continue cooking its broth.

But I sensed something from the ursine creature…satisfaction. The sort of satisfaction, moreover, that came from a job well done.

I cursed my brain for having told me that. Quite frankly, when I wanted this ability to work, it didn’t. And when I didn’t want it to force-feed me information about the emotions of my surrounding Pokémon, my ability turned into a curse. 

The Beartic turned toward me and smiled broadly, showing its rows of perfectly white fangs. And that’s when I realized why it had been cooking the broth.

I was the Beartic’s next meal.

My heart rate quickened, as though that organ were determined to circulate as much blood as possible in its remaining minutes. The Beartic licked its fangs, its navy eyes glowing in a murderous manner. He was ready to commit murder, and I would be the victim.

The ursine Pokémon marched toward me, and my instinct was to cower in fear. 

No! I am weird, and I am wonderful! I can’t give up like that!

I reached deep into the recesses of my mind for a solution. My brain was my greatest asset, and I would put it to full use before surrendering to this creature who wanted me dead.

“Don’t worry, Persian,” the Beartic boomed, using Galarian for the first time. “The water is simmering right now. It’ll be just like a nice, hot bath. That’s exactly what you need.”

“No, it isn't,” I spat. “Stop trying to manipulate me like that.”

I almost had to hand it to the Beartic. He had the audacity - some would say the balls - to use such a blatant tactic against me. But I wouldn’t let it work.

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” the creature responded with a grin. “You can either submit to the bath now, or you won’t have a choice later. But it’s so cold on this glacier; don’t you want to warm up?”

I shook my head. “Not in the way you’re suggesting.”

As I glanced upward looking for a Hail Arceus play, I tried to determine which segments of the ceiling ice could be taken away without the whole cave collapsing. It was like that game where there was a tower of blocks and you had to rearrange the tower without it toppling over. Needless to say, this was no game.

After some searching, during which time the Beartic just stood there licking its lips in anticipation (AKA toying with me), my mind came across a block of ice about the size of a refrigerator. It would be more than enough to give the ursine a nasty concussion, but it probably wouldn’t kill him. Even so, if I didn’t need to kill to get away, that was preferable.

I used my mind to “gently” pry this icy shelf away from the ceiling and levitate it over to the Beartic. I also took a few steps back, nearly collapsing in the snow as I moved out of the shadow on the floor. Breathing heavily, I noted the ursine’s confused expression as he didn’t seem to understand what was happening.

Well, you’re about to be even more confused. Sorry, but actually not sorry!

I allowed the ice shelf to fall on the Beartic’s head, knocking the creature to the ground. The ursine now lay motionless on the floor of the cavern, which gave me the time I needed to escape.

Is he dead?

Why should I care? He tried to kill me! As far as I’m concerned, that was self-defense!

But would that hold up in court? You wandered into the Beartic's territory, and now he might not be around to tell his side of the story!

As I scampered away from the corner, I noticed the creature’s chest gently rising and falling. He wasn’t dead, just unconscious. The question was for how long, but I wouldn’t stick around to find out.

With every step, my legs felt increasingly jittery, as though I’d just pushed myself harder than I should have. Which was the case. You see, as useful as my powers were, they drained my energy faster than anything else. The combined effects of that mental exertion and the residual ankle wound were taking their toll.

I raced out of the cave as quickly as I could, at which point I was greeted by a wide expanse of snow and ice. A glacier - more specifically, the Kumotta Glacier on the Mist Continent. From here on out, I vowed to be more careful of the feral Pokémon dens, except that there was one problem with that plan.

They were everywhere. As numerous as crevasses, “monster dens” as some called them were dotted across the glacier. Sometimes you didn’t know you’d run into a monster den until you were neck-deep into one. And then you’d be in a heap of trouble, because the feral Pokémon weren’t the sort you wanted to take your chances with.

And so, as the wintry winds picked up and a light snow began falling, I “jogged” at a pace I felt I could keep up for hours if necessary. I use the word “jog” loosely, though, because my legs felt like gelatin.

I ran. I ran so far away. I ran until I was exhausted, but the glacier didn’t seem to end for many miles. The snow crunched under my paws as well, and I grew convinced that another creature, potentially a Beartic, might hear me. 

A healthy degree of paranoia is justified, but if you let it stretch too far, it will be very difficult to live your life.

That sage advice had come from someone I cared about. But I couldn’t think about it too much, for it would dredge up memories that I’d rather not recall. Especially not now, and not so soon after that day.

Finally, when I couldn’t run anymore, I collapsed onto my stomach. Glancing up at the gray sky, it occurred to me that I didn’t know what time it was. Whenever night came, I’d have to either get off this glacier or take my chances with whatever creatures showed up next. Neither option appealed.

I have to keep going. Now. I can’t wait until nightfall, because then I might not be able to see the crevasses.

Still, I don’t know how long I knelt there on the ice, my ankle pulsing painfully with every beat of my heart, before he arrived.