Wow. :3
I haven't started a new story in so long. This is exciting! Hello old Thunder and Ice fans, hello new interested readers, and thanks for deciding to click on this fic. There are literally millions of others you can choose, but you chose this one. I'm honored~

As school has been drawing to a close with exams and end-of-school-year goodbyes, I've been planning this story in my spare time. Thank goodness for summer freedom! Now, fingers crossed that all my aforethought makes this a good tale, and hopefully I can keep up a consistent updating schedule.

Without further ado: Welcome to the world of Pawstep~ ^w^

(Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I don't own Pokémon. *Checks again* Yeah, still don't.)


Chapter 1: A Life in Ashes

My mom and dad always taught me that change is good. Natural. Beautiful. It shouldn't be feared, but welcomed and accepted. It shouldn't be avoided, because it always appears anyways, like the sun on every brightening horizon. "Change is a wonderful thing," Mom would say, her little teeth sparkling with truth, and Dad followed up all of her sentences with a splendid, "Indeed," like the proper husband he was.

Then, change arrived as it always did: unexpectedly. All at once, my parents rejected all their homely advice, and their shouts shattered the air.

"This is not normal," Mom growled over and over. Dad followed up with a grim, "Indeed," like the proper husband he was.

Everything can change in just a day. When change ends up being that major, I guess my parents aren't nearly as positive about life.

Mom and Dad vanished promptly into another room, discussing in steamy whispers about possible solutions and vain reasoning and the uncertainty of my health. As I shivered to the pace of my unhinged heartbeat and, to my embarrassment, wept a little into my tail—I'm still a cub, after all—a close friend strolled into the room. Her sleepy, honey gaze wandered to the thickest part of my pelt, and in an unamused drawl, the litten asked, "So that's what all the fuss is about? Wow. You can hardly see the difference." She pointed a claw at me accusingly, grumpy that I interrupted her nap with a problem I couldn't control.

"But still, that doesn't mean I'm okay!" I don't want to admit this, but my voice whimpered a bit. Well, a lot, and waaay too much for a grown-up cub like me. "Look at… look at this, Pecha! Eevees aren't supposed to have golden fur. But look, right here and here and here! Streaks of shiny, golden fur!" I fluffed out my creamy mane and ran tiny claws through it, picking out delicate, gleaming strands much brighter than Pecha's mischievously-glittering eyes. "I might be sick—poisoned—diseased! I could tip over and be motionless at any moment! And I—might be—contagious…"

"Yikes, dude, you're hyperventilating. Take a breath. Calm your whiskers. Now, really, who says this stuff doesn't happen?" Pecha pounced onto a nearby sofa and began casually grooming a paw, a reflection of her no-care philosophy. She sounded only half-interested in the conversation. "You're clearly fine and dandy, only a little stressed and worried and et cetera over exaggerated fantasies. Maybe this is a weird side effect of puberty, huh? You never really know. Science is always so finicky and mysterious like that."

Falling to my hindquarters, I continued brushing claws through my gold-speckled mane, hypnotized with the gesture since it warded off my panic. "My parents are eeveelutions, Pecha. They know that eevees don't just wake up one morning with something like this…" When I noticed her attention more on her cleaned paw than me, the tips of my ears burned fiercely. "Mom and Dad know much better than you, at least. You're not even considered part of society." She still didn't even look up. I really, really wanted her attention. I wanted to feel like I mattered. "How would you know? Look at me! Look at me, Pecha." She took a heartbeat of time, and she slowly glanced up, bored. Feeling so unappreciated, I didn't bite my tongue in time. "You're just our pet, Pecha, so stop acting so high-and-mighty."

I earned two surprised blinks and an uptight scoff. My forepaws froze in my mane. Her attention was definitely not worth my outburst, so I regretfully backpedaled. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry, that was stupid of me. You know I don't mean it that way. I consider you much more than that. Technically, though, you are… well, you know, a pet…"

She flicked her tail sharply: a dismissive gesture. "Hmph, no worries. I can't deny the legal paperwork, and it really doesn't matter. My feelings aren't as sensitive as yours, ya dork." With softly glowing eyes, Pecha played her signature no-hard-feelings smile, and the mood lightened. My claws slowly combed along newly shiny furs again as she continued, "Maybe you should take a nap. Ya'know, that always helps me, whenever something's amiss…" She yawned and stretched while flexing her claws and bristling her fur. "In fact, I think I'll take a li'l one right now, so you should join me~"

The idea was inviting, especially when comparing the cozy couch to the slippery, unwelcoming, cold-to-the-touch ground. The floor, the walls, and the dome-shaped ceiling—it was all finely sculpted from ice. Even the most dingy couch was a sight for sore eyes. But, in spite of this, I bowed my head apologetically. "I'd love to join you, but there's no way I can nap right now. I'm too, well… confused, and restless. I think I'll go visit Uncle Citrus, maybe do some stuff for him to get my mind off things. He always has something in need of doing."

"Hmmm… Ya sure? It's veeerryyy nice here… and I'll even curl up with you. I don't do that often, ya'know." Her purrs echoed warmly, trying to captivate, but even the languid litten with a clever tongue couldn't convince me otherwise. She always slept any worries away, but in my case, I had to work off my anxiety, pushing myself until exhaustion clouded my head.

Without bothering for my parents' permission since they always approved of Uncle visits, I trudged for the entrance to our icy abode. My paws slipped ever so slightly with each step until I bounded outside, finding much more traction on a layer of freshly-fallen snow. The tundra greeted my presence with a great gale of whistling wind, flopping my ears around and flaunting my new golden furs.

I loved this place. The chill, the snow, the biting winds. A lot of Pokémon thought this place to be dangerously cold and isolated, which couldn't be denied, but if I could only describe Icecap Village in a word, it was home. From the day my egg hatched, this place was the only safety I'd ever known, and I felt for sure that this would never change.

My muzzle nestled into my fluffy chest to protect my nose from frostbite. I took one strong step at a time, my pace a steady and stifled thrump thrump thrump among bales of snow, and I never looked up from my paws until I reached the village's outskirts. Ice and snow stretched for many miles, starting a deathly journey that I wasn't headstrong enough to tread. Before one first entered into this uncharted wilderness, they faced a tiny igloo with a spooky aura, the oldest home of the village. This was truly the destination for me as I shuffled up to the fortified steel door and knocked using tiny, painless headbutts, my paws and tail too stiff and weary for the job.

The door whirled open effortlessly. A burst of slightly less-cold air warmed the contours of my face, only a little, and I waddled inside. By the time I managed to shake off my stubborn, thickly-built coat of snowflakes, Uncle Citrus had closed the mighty door and already rushed into his igloo's depths, swiftly back to business. I bounced a little energetically after the scrawny glaceon with slightly unthawed paws, calling, "Uncle Cit, Uncle Cit!"

He sat on his musty work pillow again and mingled with strange items on his cluttered desk. Technology littered the room in an organizational catastrophe, all the equipment so advanced and bizarre that, despite visiting this place since before I could talk, I still had not a clue what most of the doodads did.

Azure paws worked quickly across dozens of seemingly identical buttons, typing on his keyboard. Citrus refused to break concentration with a radiant piece of glass on a big box—a computer, something I could never understand—and this was his work, sunrise after sunrise.

"Um… Uncle Cit?"

Cave gray eyes rolled towards me in faint happiness. "Sorry for the drab welcoming, Cha. I'm glad you're here. I appreciate your company over anyone else's." He faced me a little more as his eyes crinkled gently, caringly, like a sunflora's smile in his gaze. To every Pokémon Citrus didn't know, this glaceon always had such an unfriendly composure, so the affectionate words in his mostly-monotonous tone seemed to lilt, gracing my ears and cheering my heart. "What can I do your visit for? Would you like an introduction to another gaming console, learn about the more old-fashioned devices that I own, or maybe we should continue your touch-typing lessons?"

"Eheh, nah, not any of that. You seem too busy for the stuff, anyways—one of the Goddess' deadlines is coming up, I suppose?" He coolly nodded. An amazing fact about Citrus: he knew our world's ruler. He understood technology that well! "Well, I want to help you out any way I can. You usually have a lot of errands… Can I take any off your busy schedule?" I reached a decision in that moment. As casually as I could, I lowered my head, fluffed out my tail, and beamed like Pecha when mid-nap—anything to distract from the telltale glimmers in my mane.

Don't get me wrong—I really, really wanted to ask about my peculiar new furs and their possible meanings. That was actually the main reason I visited my Uncle, because if anyone could solve the mystery, Citrus could. Sadly, though, something he could never possibly do was missing the Goddess' deadlines. I promised myself to ask him later, at least by the next morning.

"Ah, that's so kind of you, Cha. You know, you're a fantastic protégé in the making." I fizzed once again with his compliment as he slipped a worn satchel over my head, monetary clinks jingling from somewhere inside. He talked as he worked, fleeing to his desk and swiping his paws across dozens of buttons. "It would really save me some time if you bought my dinner for me. Just head to Alfonso's and"—a machine whirred to life, screeching dully with processing sounds that made me jump—"hand him this paper, all right?" An impressively clean, unwrinkled paper edged out from the noisy gadget—a printer, another thing I could never understand—and he rolled it up neatly into my maw. The scroll felt warm and fragile, and I cared enough not to bite it too hard.

"In the bag's outermost pocket is all the necessary Poké for purchase. Hand Alfonso the paper and the Poké, and you're sure to go. Thanks a bunch!" By the next heartbeat, his muzzle nailed shut. He was slow to emotion but quick to productivity, so his calculating eyes swerved back to the screen, dutifully cataloguing a history of information. I playfully saluted in Citrus' honor, bracing for the totally fun, exciting, eventful trudge to the opposite side of town.

As the wintry chills crept up my legs once again and I marveled at the wonderland of white, I spat out the list, read it over, and blinked at its simplicity. Citrus' meals were always small and cheap. I quickly stuffed the paper in the satchel's depths because I didn't want snow ruining it, marking it with hard creases.

I left shallow, white pawsteps all the way across village, all of them easily destroyed by the snowstorm once I lifted my paw. A welcoming yellow light beamed from an always-open window, the take-out counter of Alfonso's Butchery, and I circled the only brick-made building in the whole village in order to go through its door. Instantly, I felt warm, and scents of freshly-roasted meats and berries blessed my senses. A bell perched in the doorframe alerted everyone of a new presence, especially the one with two fuzzy red ears that perked just for me.

Strolling past fireplaces and oak tables led me to the flareon with a woodsman's charm. "Hey hey, Chimichanga. Nice to see ya again, little kiddo." Alfonso knew everyone, which wasn't too impressive a feat. This was a small village. "I almost never see ya here—unless you're on your ole uncle's behalf, eh?"

"Mhm, it's for my uncle, sir." I dug out the paper and handed it to him.

"Hmm, let's see what he's cravin' this time! …Mhm. Lots of natural veggies and berries and hooey, and… aha, yes, no meat!" A hearty chuckle. "I expected as much." He passed the sheet to some employee, a jumpy furret that always blasted to work without a second breath. As she zipped away, Alfonso, a little bored and always talkative, leaned over the wooden counter towards me, a foreleg sprawled out and his elbow supporting him. "Not to be mean, but, well, your ole uncle's a big knucklehead." I moved my ears around, not sure I heard him right. Not to be mean, he said? "Ya'know, 'cuz he's eating this way. All eeveelutions need meat, we're omnivores, but he doesn't even touch delibird or cubchoo. That's all the affordable stuff out in this wasteland, cheap cheap cheap, 'cuz we kill them every day. It has all your needed nutrients. It's smart. It's survival. Your ole uncle has been a cooped-up hermit for too long, much too long. He doesn't even like berries from a snover, haha! I bet he's slowly wilting in his li'l prison, amiright?" The furret employee returned, which Alfonso hardly noted in his friendly banter, and she nuzzled a large paper bag across the countertop. Hurriedly, I fished all the Poké from Citrus' satchel, almost dropping the coins in my haste.

"Cruelty-free, my butt. Why does it matter? No one but us eeveelutions have any rights, anyways."

Poké scattered noisily by Alfonso's foreleg. "Keep the change," I said, and then I grabbed the paper bag in my teeth.

"Don't chu agree, Chimichanga? Might as well make use of the low-lives, ha-harr! That's all they're good for anymore, foodstuff, except the cute domesticated things used as a pet or somethin'. Your uncle really needs to—"

"Goobwai, Alpwonfo." My voice came muffled, but he understood me. Before he could blink, I swerved on my paws, starting a brisk walk for the main door.

"Oh. Okay then. See ya later, my Chimichanga!" The same homely jingle signaled my exit and, outside, I rounded the corner with stiff stomps. I found an untouched slope of snow against the wall and clumsily tossed the veggie-based meal aside. All four of my legs quaked with emotions I couldn't describe, ears twitching and flicking, fur spiked with a lively bristle that allowed too much cold to touch my skin. My emotions felt so out of control, first with Pecha and then with Alfonso. All of the flareon's words, those 'not to be mean' words, clawed around in my head.

Unable to stop myself, I screamed into the snow.

I shouted and cried until my legs shook with sleepiness and nothing else.

The thing is, I agreed with everything Alfonso said. Meat tasted amazing, was cheaper than crops in the tundra, and I loved meats with a strong smoky flavor. It seemed absurd to not even have a little meat daily. Alfonso, in many regards, was right to me—but I hated him for insulting Uncle Citrus. No one—never ever, not under the sun or moon, not on these very grounds beneath such a hopeful sky—vandalized his good name like that. The blunt flareon had no right to those insults. Citrus was the best uncle in this world; he was the smartest Pokémon in the whole dang town; he worked for nothing less than the Goddess! The rest of the village didn't even know what the Goddess looked like. I respected Citrus' way of life, and everyone else should've done the same.

"Alfonso is a stupid head," I mumbled into my golden-streaked mane, and I pulled the paper bag close to me in protectively stubborn teeth before latching it safely in the satchel. My paws glided me across town and my rambling thoughts quickened the time, so I was already butting a steel-enforced door within heartbeats.

After his door creaked open, Citrus' almost invisible smile made everything better again.

Uncle Citrus never ate at his desk, afraid of staining his precious equipment or dusting it in crumbs impossible to ever brush away, so he ate on a wooly rug with this folktale feel to it. He nibbled on his favorite berry, a juicy, citrusy Sitrus—silly, right?—as I just sat and watched. Like always. He usually offered to share his meal, but not only did it taste bitter but all I only cared to bask in his glorious aura. I worshiped Citrus a bit, if I wasn't secretive enough about it. He was my role model. One day, I hoped to type almost as quickly as he did, even when computers made no sense, and maybe I could meet whoever the Goddess is and work as this glaceon's nobly appointed apprentice… Maybe my revering was a little excessive, but when someone so clever, so important, and so habitually-cold regards you as a close friend, it really made you feel special.

Gray eyes zeroed me out, sharp but warm. "So, how's your family?" He always asked the questions, curious on my life away from this abode, which honestly never felt eventful.

"Weird as ever, I guess."

"Any interesting hobbies you've picked up?"

"Nope, just the usual. Doing chores, playing with my pet, visiting you when I can…"

"Anything new going on? At all? Any funny stories you wish to share?"

Hesitance let me choose between the truth and lie. "Uh, not really, no." Citrus wordlessly finished off the remnants of his vegetarian dinner as I meekly shuffled my forepaws. His long, elegant blue tail twirled over to clean his muzzle like a napkin, and he eyed me as he dabbed his mouth, a little suspicious. I felt nervous sweat coming on until his suspicion dialed back, and he shot up on all fours faster than a sugar-high rapidash in a race. Back to work for him, I thought, relieved for only a moment.

"Cha?" His voice became ghostly, his fear near-contagious. "Your mane."

My ears pointed skyward. Oh. Oh no. "Um, yeah, I think I spilled some… juice… all over it? Yellow juice. Sitrus juice, maybe. Yes. Exactly that." My left forepaw absently ran through the soft, silky furs again, and I wondered why I still tried avoiding the conversation I craved. Citrus' gray gaze darkened, a stormy torrent that, with lightning-like fierceness, scarred me with guilt. You're an awful liar, his silence criticized. "I'm s-sorry, Uncle Cit! I came here in the first place to see if you knew anything, but, but your deadline…" I hung my head. "The Goddess is your first priority."

"But you still matter, Cha!" His anger echoed, so he took a steady inhale, cooling his temper and softening his eyes. "You'll always matter equally as much to me as the Goddess does, if not more so. Cha, this… this is very, very serious. When did this first show up? Who knows about it?"

My panicked heartbeat thrummed in flattened ears, almost distracting me enough from answering. "I… I-I woke up this morning, and the gold fur was there, but it wasn't there the night before, and… and only my family knows. Mom, Dad, Pecha… maybe Alfonso, if he saw, and now yo—"

"Oh geez, this is awful—grave—catastrophic! You need to— but, Goddess…" In that moment, his eyes gleamed dangerously like swords in a fierce parry, which meant he was settling a huge decision. "I need to contact Axel, and you need to go away, far away from here."

"Axel? Who's Axel? And… a-away?" My paw pads suffered a horrible itch.

"You're not safe. It might seem like I'm lying, but I swear on my life, bad things will happen if you stay. Awful, grave, catastrophic things." His stare shimmered like dueling swords again. I did everything I could to choke back my tears, so desperate to know that if I wasn't safe at home, where would I be safe? "I'll do anything to make sure you're not hurt, Cha. Anything."

I ached with the desire for an alternative, but Citrus knew best. He was much, much smarter than me. "Can I bring my family along?" I squeaked, throat tight. He shook his head. "Not… not even Pecha? I really love her, my little litten…" Another headshake. "What about you? You're coming with me, right?" It was just headshake after headshake. My chest burned at the thought of leaving with no one but a complete stranger. "Why? What does the stupid gold mean? Why is this happening to me, some random eevee in a small village, out of… of millions?! Bad luck? Fate? Wh-what's going on, Uncle...?"

His mouth hung open, a weird and faint attempt of explanation perishing on his tongue. His ears twitched downward as he hid away the answers. "I'm afraid that if I explained any of that, you'll probably be too overwhelmed to leave. I'll… I will eventually tell you, definitely, so don't fret too much. Just because we won't leave together doesn't mean I won't ever see you again. I need to stay behind, to deal with the aftermath…"

So this isn't forever goodbye. The thought fueled my flimsy courage just enough. My paws, ears, tail, fur—it all crawled with frosty acceptance. "When am I leaving? N-now?"

He considered it. "Tonight, when everyone is asleep. Goddess will know I did something if you disappear now, on my watch"—he caught my confused gaze—"because she always finds out these details, and I will be instant suspect. Every eevee and eeveelution is special to her, so she manages to find out everything." His self-calming inhale was shaky, and tears sparked in my eyes. I never saw this side of him. His steely expression: gone. His cool and even tone: gone. His composure was broken, faltering, and emotions leaked out before he could repair his mental barrier.

"Head home and do your best to act normal, okay? Please? Go to bed early, so you have some rest before you leave, and just… relax. That's all you need to do. You'll meet Axel soon and he'll lead you through everything. Okay? Just act like life is normal." He paused, breathless at these revelations and the faulty future to come. "You know I love you, Cha."

Despite the tears, my heart shined, as if polished by his words and glistening with his sincerity. "Y-yeah, of course."

That was our goodbye. Uncle Citrus guided me to the door, nuzzled my cheek since we wouldn't see each other in who knew how long, and the thick metal separated us. Behind that door, Citrus already sat at his computer and worked with doubled effort and intense speed, but he no longer spent it on his original project. I sighed, my breath visible mist before my nose, and began my measly trek home.


"Pecha, I'm taking up your offer a little late. After doing errands for Citrus, I'm really tired!"

These words of mine pounded relentlessly in my head, going on and on like the crazy snowstorm outside. In the darkness, so sleepy but so alive, my thoughts didn't know how to shut up. That moment, those sentences, replayed over and over and over with shame. I lied! I actually lied, straight-faced. In front of those that knew me best, I looked sleepily happy at the idea of a nap, my teeth bright but my smile lazy, and my family actually believed me. I technically half-lied, since Uncle Citrus' errand did tire me out before he turned my life upside-down. Also, I said errands! Not errand. I did only one errand. How did I get away like this?

Insisting on an early nap only gave me more time to think, think, think. I tossed around in my little bed, restless, cornered with too many problems. My fur burned beneath my blankets, but I felt too cold and foreign without them. Exhaustion travelled through my entire body, but my legs pawed and kicked fitfully, trying to get comfortable. I drove Pecha into another room when my squirming shook her off the edge of the bed. The absence of her deep-sleep purrs couldn't be ignored, the silence inside and faint winds outside almost as loud as my thoughts.

More than anything else, I was worried sick about Axel the stranger. How would he find me? How would be take me away? How likely would I be caught escaping? Would he just pop up in my window, break open the glass, and whisk me away to another life? That would be scary, because I don't have a window, because hail pulverized any and all glass within heartbeats.

I had the strongest feeling that, once Axel arrived, if he arrived, I'd be unable to stand up with how tired I was. In the very least, I should've been sleeping. I shouldn't have skipped dinner in favor of suffocating under my blankets and thoughts. Axel was going to be mad.

Honestly, I don't know exactly when Axel ended up arriving. I don't think I noticed him right away, because he sounded annoyed when he spoke up, especially with a whisper-yell of, "Wake up already!" Or maybe that was his personality, to be loud and straightforward like that.

I looked up, a dark ceiling. I looked left, a wall of ice. I looked right, my empty room. "Psst," he hinted, and I looked straight to spot him on my bed within reaching distance. Within heartbeats, I realized this guy was very smart and stealthy, because he predicted my next move before I knew about it. He swiftly reached forward, stopping my girlish scream before the entire village knew I was awake.

With his paw over my mouth and a shushing moment of nothingness letting me calm down, I scanned my partner in travel. He carried the very same satchel that I had earlier that day, probably a last-minute farewell present from Uncle Citrus, and he had some weird accessory on his face that scared me—which Axel later explained to be sunglasses—so my gaze hardly lingered there. Large, graceful fins curved off dark blue parts of his head, and the same dark blue colored a line of ridges along his back. His body carried all sorts of subtle curves, smooth like a current, and this massive tail stretched out behind him, drifting slightly to a silent, watery rhythm. This shifty, masculine aura seemed to haunt him. To say the least, this vaporeon was intimidating.

The aqua-shaded paw pulled away, and I whispered, so quiet I could barely hear myself, "You're Axel?"

"Yep..."

"How did you get in here?"

"I've done this a lot before."

"Are we leaving now?"

"You bet."

"Can I trust you?"

"I don't even trust myself, but I'd die before I let anyone touch you. You can count on that."

Axel's voice always sounded so cutting, dangerous, like an icicle, yet he cared more than he let on. If I had to treasure his memory in one way, this detail would be it.

I was led to my bedroom door, led through a hallway, led towards the front door. Axel guided me wordlessly every step of the way, but even with so little for me to think about, one mistake could ruin it all. Noises echoed easily in a house of ice, so my fur stuck up a little more with every tiny mistake I made. On the slow and sneaky way out, I recalled how I irritated Pecha out of my room, and my earlier embarrassment changed into relief. If Axel had come with her still there, escaping would've been significantly harder. Part of me, though, still wished she stayed with me. She would've ended up catching us. She would've either forced me to stay home or I could've properly said goodbye.

After what felt like a tense eternity, Axel closed the front door, the two of us on the opposite side of my sleeping family. I had never done something so risky in my life. I wanted to cheer, to flaunt this feat. But, I realized this wasn't the last time I'd take a risk, and it still wasn't over, so I stuffed away my excitement for another day.

Moonlight dusted the landscape, faint but broad and very, very eerie. Some snow twirled by my paws, slow and pretty, like a lonely dance in the night. My mane looked a lot more frosty than creamy. Even when my new vaporeon partner broke the sound of the tundra, saying, "We just survived the hard part, but we still gotta hurry," the peace and glory of the moonlit village could not be ruined.

Just like he ordered, we hurried. The magically glowing snow sprinkled in the dust of our dashing paws, glittering ghosts of our pawsteps, and the moon faithfully kept lighting the land so we didn't stumble in shadows. This long-winded moment of us leaving the village—the dance of happy, sparkly snow around us, the cool white reflections of the moon on Axel's shiny skin, the excitement and wonder and fear and love beating so quickly in my heart—will always be my favorite memory of home.

It can't really be visibly defined when we left the village, because the ice and snow all looked the same. We wandered and wandered and the buildings shrunk from over our shoulders, but when I really, really noticed how small those buildings were behind me, I finally decided I was no longer home. As the two of us carried on peacefully and silently, I wondered: would I live to see home again? I wanted to ask Axel, secretly craving for comfort from someone, but his character still unnerved me in ways. Would I ever really go back home, back to my family, and would I ever sit with Uncle Citrus on his wooly rug ever again?

That's when I heard a very sudden sound. A loud, fierce, scary sound. I turned around. So did Axel.

The one color I almost never saw was blaring: red, a lot of red. Redder than Alfonso's fur, redder than the meats of his butchery. Yellows and oranges mingled in with the light, but it was mostly red, and dear Goddess, it was bright. My eyes watered at the brightness, as if the cascade of smoke was somehow stinging my face instead of the sky. The explosion was small but mighty, bursting to life. My heart burned exactly in the same way, my emotions sudden and unexpected and choking and oh so powerful.

Uncle Citrus—Pecha—Mom—Dad—Alfonso. Nothing but names and faces blurred in my head. Was Icecap Village gone? I didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be; it had to be. Did that mean all of those names and faces were—poof—gone as well? Like my pawsteps in the ice-flecked wind?

"Come on, Cha," Axel said, as if Uncle Citrus wasn't caught in the explosion. As if Uncle Citrus never lived in that village and couldn't possibly be dying.

His aqua paws continued calmly ahead, and after much staring at those colors so uncommon in this tundra, I took one step after Axel. Despite my restless thoughts back in bed, I could still walk. Another step. Another, another, slowly starting up again, and once my paws reached a momentum, endless realizations hit my head, one after the other.

My village was attacked because of the gold of my mane. Someone hurt others because of me. I would never be going back home. I would never see my family again. My old life was gone, in ashes.

Everything can change in just a day.