Ask a Cold Flame

The Little Light pushed past each layer of tree only to find another of their burned and crumbling family to wait on the other side. It felt endless. Yet that feeling still dragged him on, tugging at his chest like a hand gripped around his soul squeezing tighter if he aligned himself away from his path. I’ve born witness to this many times over. The fallen homeless souls to be whisked away into anew, holding form in that which scarred this forest so. Even now this flame that seemed so special now knew he was not as a clearing open before him. Little Lights scattered and gathered around the edge of what seemed to pull them all here. A blue hue, just like theirs, welcomed them but did not speak as it shined from below ice. Truly ice, no snow covered the lake as the light produced a warmth that even our Little Light could feel from the edge.

His eyes glanced around the lake. Finding little apart from the grey of dying trees that held difference from the falling snow, and those other lights. Their blue matching that which illuminated the lake’s massive area. He couldn’t see the others from here but they were all spaced apart. He looked ahead, his path still pulling at his chest to glide onto the lake’s surface. That feeling was coming from the middle but... his flame would melt the ice. He tested his weight with the edge of his body. The cold he felt was nothing like before. This wasn’t like the snow he fought through to get here, it was freezing to the touch. Feeling like his body would harden and shatter if he stayed on it for too long. Even still he couldn’t turn away. His destination, his purpose was just ahead. He had to keep going.

The little flame normally would sink down into the snow at the sound of another, yet his eyes widened, his flame grew smaller, and his blue eyes shined up at the real flame that stood tall above him. “O-oh! Please don't hurt yourself for me…” He inched towards the blazing reds of her tail even as he said that. Though the warmth was faint, it still melted away the ice that gathered on his face. A little smile shining through the bits of ice falling from the top of his head. He hadn't been this warm before.

Something in the taller fire type’s words caught his ear, “Little Light? I-I don't know how I feel about being called that… It's a nice nickname but…” He hummed to himself, his reluctance to take a name came to mind more as a burden to those trying to address him, he wasn't about to burden anyone but who knows just how long he would survive out here? He shook the thought away along with the rest of the melting ice. “I… think I'll go with that. For now… Little Light. I don't want a real name because I'm just a spirit, a ghost bound to a fire. If I'm allowed to stay in this world I will gladly take a new name later...” He turned and looked at the other Pokemon, his gleeful smile turning to concern.

“I-If you're cold then please let me warm you up in return!” His glee returned, and a burst of energy came as he circled around up between the Rapidash's front feet. The glow of his blue flame mixed with that if her red. “Is it working? Are you warmer?” Though his flame was bright, she would feel nothing. Though snow melted slowly around his crown, all he’s met but one could feel the fire of his flame.

Here’s a link to the page but I’ll also list them here.

Ask Hints:

The Little Flame:

Why does he refuse help? About his flame This “feeling” he has as to where he’s going If he remembers anything else; names, places, family, etc.

Narrator(?):

Who, or what are they? Why do they care so little about the Litwick Why didn’t they want to “babysit again” Do they have a name Ask about this forest, they seem to know something about it. Are they the “feeling” the Litwick is chasing after.

The little ghost’s mouth gaped as his gaze followed the dark that loomed over him. Though whether it was because of his flame or the fact the other pokemon was a ghost, there was no shadow over him. He went to quickly turn away and run but there was a quietness to the other’s voice that made him turn back. Squinting again at the odd shade, one that was much different from him and his home.

“O-oh... I’m not sure what you could mean by that... but well, there is a name.” He said quietly, almost imitating the other ghost’s hushed tone, like they were sharing secrets even though they had just met. “But I feel like it belongs to another. I-It’s unimportant now...”

The flame shook what snow off of his head that refused to melt, the other pokemon’s large body giving him a break from the cold waves that beat him to join that he walked on. His sorrowful expression finally becoming cleared from the white of that snow as he looked up again.

“I’m not sure if I should take a name. I am alone out here, who would even remember my name? Who would come here and care about a lost spirit like me?”

The little flame started to sink into the snow under his own heat as a soft sigh joined the gentle breeze.

“I just need to find this... feeling. Then maybe I can rest.”

“I-I was born here.” The small voice spoke up as he slid through the powder in his way. Unable to stop as he kept moving on his path, or what he thought his path should be… “Well, maybe born is not the right word…” The little candle thought and thought as his spirit was tugged onward but he could not find another word to fit what he had become. His form was not born nor created in the normal means of life. He is a spirit crafted from the hash nature of that around him.

A world of white is all I see, it’s all I am. Had not for this hue hanging over me, at least. Even my path is lost to white. The trail I leave behind myself is repaired again, over and over. Unsure if my blue heat has passed over the ice caked ground. Even leaving my mark on trees is hopeless... They crumble at even my lightest touch. Leaning and cracking as the wind blows my flame and snow pelts those crumbling stakes further into the ground. I’ve wandered for hours but all I see it the same story. Even my thoughts seem to repeat as I circle around...

“Where am I? What happened here? Is there another soul alive out here?”

My voice is knocked down by the arrows of this forest’s cold mother. What’s made her so cruel, so defensive? Why spend life on me when her own forest is dying around her? What is my purpose?

Voices rang through the cold filled air, familiar but very faint. His memories like a bulge in his brain, his thoughts clouded by what he once was. The small flame gripped his head and shook around violently as his own voice echoing through the white. The flame atop his head glowing slightly brighter as snow crunched under foot, drowning out those voices with a newer, softer one. He stopped his shaking and turned, a color other than the dark browns and whites of this forest filled his eyes. Though in the blue glow of his flame it was hard to tell just what color he was.“O-oh...” The fire type looked away, though there was nothing to distract himself with other than a few falling flakes. “I think I am. I’m not even sure why I was here to begin with...” His voice came even softer than that of the bunneary’s, maybe rivaling that of the snow meeting the ground. But as the word ‘dangerous’ filled his head he started to worry. Leaving a circle in the snow as he spun around looking out into the grey beyond his flame, “I-It’s dangerous here? I’ve only m-met you so far... and you didn’t attack me...yet.” He backed away slowly. It’s not like he could escape from the other pokemon, his body left a trail in the snow from the circle he first sat in. 

“I-I’ll be fine. I just need to find out where I am...” He was lying, he knew nothing about who he was or where he was going. Why he was here in the first place, why there was a dead pokemon in that hole with him, many things confused him. This buneary showing up out of no where also troubled him. Who would, or could, willingly come to such a cold place? He questioned the other’s motives but then again... Why would he himself come here?

A light fills the darkest and deepest piles of snow. It’s blue hue shining through the depths that has piled on with countless snow storms. Howling winds burying the past deep in mounds of impassable snow as frigid ice seals layer after layer. Permanently holding anything below to be frozen in time. But that light held heat, it’s form struggling to rise from it’s bleak grave. The snow gave way to more white, it’s shape that of a fire type but colored much like the snow. It shivered but not because it felt the cold winds passing by, but looking back down it’s grave there was a body. Black and beaten, clawed and trampled. I could see that the small Litwick felt a closeness to this body, whether it was the soul that burned his blue flame or... He looked away, his sight not but going as far as his flame held in this dark night. Unlike most mothers, the forest wrapped it’s cold winds around the small flame. Opening his mouth for a breath was only met with a choking spike of cold being sent into his core.

It seems the forest was kind to him in another way though, those howling winds and bitter, pelting flakes were at ease this night. It was his birthday after all, but the spirits of this forest cared little for such days. For being born in a forest this unforgiving is akin to being sent to an afterlife. You’re here forever. Your feet always sinking into the biting cold as the wind tears at your skin. Supplies never easy to come by, these dying woods grasping the smallest and weakest and dragging them down for it’s own survival. Nothing so small could survive here anymore. There are too many corpses already polluting the soil with their stench and rotting.