Day 1
The wind is so cold. It tugs at my suit, trying to find a way in.
Day 2
There is howling in the distance. The howls are chilling me as much as the wind.
Day 3
There is a shack. Safety at last. Maybe I can live a bit longer?
Day 4
Why has the universe forsaken me? The wind bites ever onward. The shack will collapse soon, I know.
Day 5
I am so hungry. The snow slakes my thirst for a few minutes, but the gnawing hunger lurks at the back of my mind.
Day 6
There is a pokeball in the snow, frozen. I will retrieve it. It would be nice to have someone to share my days with, however short.
Day 7
I found a few berries frozen in a drift. They lessen the hunger. The block containing the pokeball is beginning to crack.
Day 8
The pokeball is mine, at last. Shawn the Pupreez is remarkably warm for an ice-type.
Day 9
We will search for food. There must be more berries.
Day 13. Possibly 14.
I have lost track of time. They days blend into each other. Endless days of cold and hunger. Shawn killed a young Yakalf. The meat is delicious, the most delicious thing I have tasted. Even with no fire and nothing to make one, it is wonderful.
Day 25? 30? 31 maybe?
The blood on the snow, so beautiful and yet forbidden. Little crimson drops drops drops. Pits of hissing scarlet on flake.
Dayhl_
Hungaar. I gnayss. Enndles coold.