Chapter Text
The crying winds tore their balloon viciously.
At that moment, everything seemed instantaneous: Gravity stirred their bodies across the basket as the larger forces of nature crushed their hopes to gain control.
Their senses were bewildered at the cacophony of screams and air zooming past their ears, their blinded eyes catching glimpses of trees and the horrified, uncertain faces of their fellow teammates.
Everything could only come out as shots of the incident, their minds shutting down, powerless to what could become of them. In this time of their life, they were but guests to the uninviting wilderness, death willing to pull them to their graves.
They couldn't feel if or when they perhaps hit a tree–or slinked into a frothing slump of snow–but as the perceptivity of movement simmered down, the allegro of disaster quieted down into a haunting, tender breath of arctic ice.
Jessie and James were fortunate.
The duo heaved frantically, huddling inside of their fallen basket for any protection from the cold. The two were too panicked to allow any thinking to intervene in the instinct to survive. The sheer frigidness of the atmosphere bored into their skin and the damp parts of their clothes, courtesy of the snow.
A flash of light shined upon them, and perhaps it was the afterlife; They tinkered playfully with the thought.
"Are you two alright?" A human voice bellowed out.
A few shadows of people took shape within the dull fog, between wintery trees and coarse wood.
They appeared closer all of a sudden when their minds were occupied, and Team Rocket realized by touch that they were being carried by arm.
There was a small town nearby. The people spoke to each other and illuminated warmly the navy darkness.
Two out of three teammates were accounted for;
Two out of three were saved.
—
The body of a small Pokémon nestled familiarly with the sights of everything else in place.
Time ticked. Its fur was carefully patterned with flakes of ice until whitened with the rest of the snow.
Slowly, the motions of its back fell lower and lower, until its cloud of breaths became smaller in the air.
He had tried to aimlessly navigate the forest at one point, its stomach sick; The cat was limp, disoriented, tired. Maybe–if the snow hadn't any longer bothered him–he could lay down in its tepid softness.
If it weren't for the gleaming golden charm on its head, Meowth would have looked like any other pile of snow.
—
"Pika?" The mouse lifted up its head.
"What is it, Pikachu?" Asked the boy.
"Hey, look over there!" Misty pointed.
Pikachu leapt off its trainer's shoulder and sprinted towards the sparkling light. Curiously, the electric mouse tapped it, noticing a distinct hardness that didn't quite fit in with its surroundings. "Pikachu!" It alerted the group.
The others headed towards Pikachu as it uncovered the object, brushing out the snow of what appeared to be a pokémon.
"Hey, what's that?" A dumbfounded Ash blurted.
Brock ran to it, padding out the remains of snow that wasn't engraved onto the cat's fur.
"It's a meowth!" He answered, lifting up its light, frozen body.
"Oh no, poor thing!" Misty sympathized, worried. "Is it alright?" She softened her voice, tilting her head to the subject of discussion.
"It's breathing very faintly, but it needs help right away!" He warmed the cat with his arms, carrying it under his vest.
Ash, Brock, and Misty hurried frantically towards the house they came out of.
There was a Pokémon center and a town nearby, but they couldn't stop to think if they'd be able to make it in time. This meowth would need to rely on them and what they had to survive.