I sat on a branch, gazing at the evening sun. The white expanse before me had taken on a slightly bluish tinge, its color warped by the encroaching darkness. A dusk wind swept through the forest and riddled my skin with goosebumps, but still I remained on my perch, eyes fixated on the ember horizon. It wasn't until the sky's fire had all but extinguished that I finally retired to the nest. "Tomorrow perhaps,"I thought to myself as I descended.

Within a matter of days, the forest had changed completely. The Season of Snow had hit full force, blanketing the ground and infecting the trees with its might. At first it didn't seem like much, as I was no stranger to snowy weather. But with each passing sunrise, the cold had grown progressively steeper, and there was no Onion to transport me somewhere warmer.

Before, I had only visited snowscapes. Now, I was a prisoner in one.

Aside from the frigid temperature, another problem haunted us: Food had grown scarce. Grasses, flowers, eggs, and most fruits were non-existent now, and since the freezing air leeched the energy from our bodies, we were perpetually hungry. Our lifeline was a type of red berry that the deserters not-so-cleverly referred to as redberries. Growing exclusively during the Season of Snow, redberries stood as beacons upon leafless bushes, easily seen against the powdery landscape. Their flavor was unsavory, and they weren't especially satiating, but they were a sufficient food source regardless—at least for now.

The longer the season dragged on, the more I resented the loss of my Onion. Back when I was with it, starvation was practically a myth, for the Onion was capable of breaking down all kinds of materials to provide energy for its pikmin. Hell, if our Onions had been present right then and there, we could have easily lived off the pellets, nuts, and carcasses that were buried in the snow, to say nothing of the creatures we could kill with our increased numbers. But since pikmin cannot consume any of these materials naturally, we were forced to suffer our limitations and constantly keep hunger at bay. It was a meager existence, and as I slept that night, I was both graced and cursed with dreams of better times.

When the sun rose again, we departed the nest and split into two foraging parties. The redberry bush we had been relying on for the past few days had been virtually depleted, so while the blue, the white, and the female yellow searched for a new one, the rest of us went to salvage whatever was left of the old one. The journey there was fairly simple as the Spotted Demons had long since dispersed, either because of the disruption caused by the Dark Demon, or because of the diminishing prey supply. However, those that remained could still pose a threat to us, as we were about to discover.

"We're too late," said the male yellow. "They're already gone."

We stared at the bush that stood before us. Not a single berry was to be seen, and the surrounding snow was marked with telltale Demon prints. "Of all the…" the red muttered.

"Well, at least the others are already looking for a new one," I said. "I have a sick feeling that this will keep happening, though."

"Oh, it definitely will," said the male yellow. "In case you haven't already guessed, the berries are only a temporary food source. They won't last us the whole season."

"Then what will we do when there's none left?" the red asked.

"We have other methods to scrounge up food, but they aren't easy, nor are they pretty. You'll learn more about them when they become necessary."

"Right… Well, shall we head back?" I asked.

He nodded. "We shall."

We turned and made our way towards the nest. However, about halfway there, I happened to catch something in the corner of my eye. "Wait! What's that?"

The thing in question was big, orange, and lay fifty paces away. I had never seen anything quite like it, and judging by his expression, the red hadn't either. It almost looked like the sun itself, but with all the luster drained out of it.

"That's an orange," said the yellow. "It's a type of fruit."

"And a brilliantly named one at that," I muttered. "Is it safe to eat?"

"I wouldn't know. It's skin is too thick to break through, and while a bomb-rock could probably blow it open, we've yet to find a single one around here."

"Let's check it out anyway. There might be a crack or a bruise we could exploit."

The yellow shrugged. "Might as well, I suppose."

We approached the orange, its largeness becoming increasingly apparent as we went. Up close, I could see that it was half-buried in the snow, and that its skin was composed of a unique, semi-rough texture. It didn't seem like it could provide much defense at first, but then the red took a test strike. His blow didn't so much as leave an impression on the fruit, and this likely wasn't helped by the freezing weather hardening its exterior. "That is tough," he mumbled.

"See any weak points?" the yellow asked.

I flew around and above the orange, but spied no signs of damage or decay. "Nope. No luck this time," I sighed.

"We're only seeing half the orange, though," said the red. "There might be a bruise hidden beneath the snow."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't make a difference," said the yellow. "Even if all six of us were here, it would take a huge effort to dig this thing up. We can't afford to spend that kind of energy on the off-chance of a bruise."

The red nodded. "Got it. Not a risk worth taking right now."

"So close and yet so far," I murmured. "Bah, we'll think of a way to crack this thing later."

"That's the spirit. But for now, let's go," said the yellow.

We continued on our way, but not even a minute passed before another interruption occurred. "Halt," said the yellow.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

The yellow rotated his head to and fro, his ears twitching wildly. "There's something up ahead."

"Harbinger?" the red asked.

"No, this thing is bigger. Has more feet, too. It almost sounds like a…" His stem stiffened. "Aw, crap."

"What is it?" I asked, my body tensing with apprehension.

The yellow turned to me, a look of urgency on his face. "Pink. Get us off the ground."

When he said this, I briefly glanced ahead. A figure was appearing from behind a tree, but it was too far away for me to make out its features. "Grab on to Red."

He did exactly that, and I proceeded to grip his stem and lift them both into the air. Once we reached the safety of a tree branch, all three of us stared at the ground below. Soft but steady footsteps could be heard as a four-legged creature trotted into view, and as I laid eyes upon it, I felt my face contort. "What is that?"

"Snow Sparker," said the yellow.

I had never seen a beast like this before. About the size of a Fire Spitter, the "Snow Sparker" had a coat of brown-and-white fur that covered most of its body, barring its sideways-facing eyes, green legs and pink, wormlike tail. This arrangement of colors and characteristics was strange enough on its own, but by far its most striking feature was the sheer magnitude of hair growing out of its face. This "waterfall" was so long that it nearly touched the snow, and so thick that the Sparker's head was barely distinguishable. All in all, a more ridiculous-looking creature couldn't have possibly existed.

"Are… Are you sure that thing is dangerous?" the red asked, mirroring my thoughts. "Doesn't look like much to me."

"Don't let its appearance fool you. They're quite vicious, and that mess of fur hides a murderous set of chompers."

The red scratched his cheek. "Chompers, huh?"

"Why are they called Sparkers?" I asked.

"They can deliver a powerful electric shock. They use it to overcome their prey, and to ward off predators. Obviously that's not a problem for us yellows, but it would still make short work of me with its speed and grasping paws."

"So you're telling me that fur-face down there is fast, deadly, and immune to predators? Why haven't these things taken over the forest by now?"

"That's a secret known only to the Snow Sparkers. See, they only inhabit the forest during the Season of Snow. Once the temperature rises and the melt sets in, they return to whatever miserable place they came from."

"They must not be a fan of warm weather," I said. "Anyway, now that we've gotten our Snow Sparker lesson for the day, you want me to fly us home?"

"Yes, let's not keep the others waiting," said the yellow.

"Hold on! We can't leave just yet," said the red.

"Oh, good grief! What is it now?" the yellow groaned.

"I might've figured out a way to get into that orange," he grinned. "Pink? You think you could lead the Sparker to it?"

My stem went limp with confusion, only to perk when it hit me. "Oh, I see what your plan is! Yeah, I can definitely do that!"

"Whoa! Not so fast, Pink!" the yellow exclaimed.

"…You're going to veto this plan, aren't you?" the red grumbled.

"No. I actually think it's a great idea," he admitted. "But you need to exercise caution, Pink. Just because you can fly now doesn't mean you're invincible. So whatever you do, do not underestimate that thing. Got it?"

I nodded. "Got it."

With no further words, I descended towards the Snow Sparker, hovering at a height where it couldn't reach me even if it jumped like a Hopper. It vaguely glanced in my direction, but otherwise didn't respond. Seeing the lack of interest, I lowered my height while also increasing my distance. At first it seemed as though this hadn't worked either, but then the Sparker started to approach me.

"Don't let your guard down, Pink!" I heard the yellow holler. Despite this noise disturbance, the Sparker remained fixated on me, trotting at a slow but steady pace. Meanwhile, I gradually led it towards the orange, remaining at a safe height while also maintaining a constant distance. The process was a tedious one, but little by little the orange grew nearer. Soon enough, the Sparker would notice the fruit and my job would be done.

But then something went wrong. Almost abruptly, it sat down, scratched itself with its hind limb, and trotted off in the wrong direction. Crap. I was losing it.

I screamed to regain its attention, but the Sparker didn't so much as look at me. I then dove down, scooped a chunk of snow, and tossed it in the beast's direction. It landed at the midpoint between us, but the Sparker remained unprovoked. In fact, it merely stretched its front limbs!

Frustrated and unwilling to give up, I took another snowball, flew closer, and threw it as hard as I could. It hit the Sparker square in the side, creating an audible impact as it did. The creature's response? To sit on its haunches and rub its facial fur.

Oh, for goodness sake! What will it take to-

My thoughts went dead as the Sparker suddenly exploded with light. Electricity danced around its body as its hair stood on end, revealing a gaping mouth with horrifying teeth. Before I even realized what was happening, the Sparker hurtled towards me at an astonishing speed.

I shrieked an expletive and shot upwards, my heart pounding as the Sparker tore beneath me. I didn't stop ascending until I was far, far above my pursuer, and when I did, I became aware of a stinging pain in my foot. Running my hand over it, I found that the foot itself was still intact. However, the skin had been singed an ugly cerise color. The cause was clear: The Sparker had gotten close enough to shock me.

Looking down, I saw that it had resumed prancing forward and was—miraculously enough—heading straight for the orange. Taking a deep breath, I settled on a branch and watched. This better have had been worth it.

The Sparker stepped up to the orange and pawed at it in a curious fashion. It then rubbed its facial hairs again until they stiffened with electricity. That was it. That was how it generated its charge.

With nothing blocking its jaws, the Sparker began to gnaw on the fruit. Fleshy chunks fell onto the snow as the creature's teeth tore away at the skin. Success.

Once the Sparker had finished and departed, I went to retrieve the others. Naturally, the red was elated that his plan had worked. "You did it, Pink! Now we can eat some real food!"

I expected the yellow to chastise me for not heeding his warning, but instead he asked, "Is your foot okay?"

"I think so," I replied. It was still throbbing with pain, but the cold numbed it somewhat, and thanks to my wings I didn't have to worry about aggravating it. "Now let's get us some fruit."

The Snow Sparker had left a sizable crater in the orange, making it highly accessible to us pikmin. Unlike the crappy berries we had been subsisting on, the orange meat was satisfying and delicious. We ate as much as our stomachs could hold, and with renewed vigor, we each brought a large chunk back to the nest so the others could gorge as well. Their mission had only been a partial success—they had found a new redberry bush, but one with so little fruit that it probably wasn't even worth revisiting. The three berries that they had returned with were stashed in the snow, and that gave me an idea. Using my wings to their utmost advantage, I made repeated trips between the orange and the nest, each time retrieving a piece of meat to add to the cache. I did not stop until exhaustion and prolonged cold exposure forced me to, but by then I had collected enough food to keep us sustained for some time. Perhaps I could collect more the next day.

We spent the remainder of the day idling by inside the nest. Boring as this was, it was necessary to conserve energy, and to keep ourselves safe from starving predators. However, once the sun began to set, I ventured outside and alighted upon the same branch as the previous evening. Nobody questioned this; they all knew what I was up to and were utterly indifferent to it.

I sat down and stared into the horizon. There was nothing to see but stray clouds and the sun's dying glow, but I kept watch anyway. Stars manifested across the sky as the light gradually retreated, and before I knew it, night had claimed dominion over the forest. Murmuring, I abandoned my perch with a somber feeling.

The Harlequin Onion had not risen that evening. Nor had it risen the evening before. Or the evening before. Or the evening before.