You held the thin scarf close to your frame. Your numbed legs labored to push you through the snow. You stopped to survey the area.
No matter how much you tried, all you could see through the snow gathered on your lashes were the bleak greys and whites of the mountain peak.
You waddled on, but soon found yourself exhausted by the terrain. Using the side of your boot, you attempted to sweep away a mound of snow to no avail.
You grew more impatient by the minute, until you began thrashing in the snow to relieve your temper.
Why would I think that a legendary trainer lived on Mount Silver? And why did I think I was anyone to challenge him?
You lost your breath soon after, and a swollen emptiness took the place of the fire. You bit the inside of your cheek and found yourself on the verge of tears.
You took one final kick at a bluff, and your feet came out from under you. The ungodly cold of the ice and snow seeped into your bones as you slid down the mountain.
You had succumbed to snow blindness a while ago, but with all in view being white, you found yourself unable to focus on anything.
You struggled in the grip of the powder snow, its lack of solidity making it difficult to move. You felt yourself continuing to slide down, although at a slugma's pace now.
Apathetic in your search, you groped around for something, anything stable.
Rage rose up once again, and you began shouting at the top of your lungs as you writhed in the snow, knowing the futility in it.
Despite the stillness of the mountain, your shouts didn't go unnoticed. Nearby, your cries echoed through a walkway as a trainer strode through.
He stopped to listen for a moment and heard you once more. He ran down the sloped entrance and stopped at the mouth.
People hadn't been this high in the mountain in so long, and he couldn't believe that someone else was finally able to scale it!
"Where are you?" He couldn't see anything that had disturbed the snow, save for a couple of light bird pokemon tracks by a berry bush.
The strong and mellow voice of a young man rang in your ears, subduing you for a moment until you had the wits about you to answer.
"Here!" You could not, for the love of arceus, think of any reason why someone would be on this mountain-- unless!
Hurried footsteps crushed the harder snow on the pathway and halted where you could only assume was a vantage point above.
"Do you need help?"
You tried to move to see who had come to your aid, but in that time, he had already skidded down the slope to you. He went to work digging you out of the bluff.
"You got in real deep, huh?" He beamed at you, and your eyes focused enough to sort out some details of the young man's appearance.
His eyes were of a vibrant amber brown, and his cheeks and lips seemed stained red by the mountain winds.
It went without saying who this was now, but you had always heard about how tempered and serious Red was.
You always imagined him as strong and stern, back to the wind, and without a care in the world.
Red dusted the last of the snow from your clothes and helped lift your bottom half out of the frozen cask.
He didn't hesitate in handing his vest over to you and assured it would keep you warm, even without the aid of sleeves.
He helped you keep steady while climbing up the slope and lead you back through his tracks. Once you reached a wide ledge, he pointed you towards the mouth of a small cave.
After a sharp bend in the beginning, holiday lights strung along the walls provided light for the path.
Heat oozed from the stone walls, and with the sudden temperature change paired with the strangely warm vest, it all became too much.
You slid it off your shoulders, and let it hang on your arm before handing it back to Red.
"Thanks." He acknowledged you with a nod, and the soft lighting gave just enough to see his cheeks move with his smile. He stopped in the path without warning, and you nearly bumped into him.
"Watch your step here." He put his foot on a ledge and braced himself as he pulled open a thick door. As it gave, a wave of warm air washed over you, not unlike the feeling of opening an oven.
He guided you into his home and led you to the couch. You sunk onto it and gave into its soft touch. When you looked up, Red had already seated himself in a recliner across the room.
"You can call me (Y/n), by the way." Red tested the name on his lips for a moment.
You fumbled with your words until you could piece together something like, "Thanks, I got it for my birthday," or, "I picked it out myself," or maybe a mix of the two?
Either way, he laughed, and the fire behind him illuminated a wide, child-like grin.
It seemed that Kanto's ex-champion wasn't that serious after all; or at least, he wasn't serious about anything that didn't involve pokemon.