Cyclone flew to higher ground. She was astonished how smoothly she could fly now. Fewer wing beats were needed to gain altitude and... to do anything, really. A dull ache gnawing at her stomach reminded her that she hadn't yet eaten today, and she had used a tremendous amount of energy. Apparently, the natural healing powers of evolution were no cure for hunger. Cyclone gently glided off her perch in search of food. While she hated having to be careful, even she knew her recklessness had its limits.
Cyclone found that the sudden cold weather caused the small Bug types she sustained on to die, some frozen in place. If she were not starving, she'd scoff at the lack of challenge. She approached a petrified Wurmple, its body stretched out as if reaching for a leaf at the time of its frosty demise. Knowing Wurmple's spikey, pink back offered it natural protection, Cyclone pecked at its soft, pale underbelly. It took a few tries, due to its frozen state, but she finally pierced its skin to get to the gooey guts within. She shoved her face into the opening, not caring that she got its innards all over herself.
"Hey!" an angry voice squawked from above.
Cyclone removed her face from her buggy meal and saw an irritated blue, red, and white bird circling above her.
"Oh! A fellow Swellow!" Cyclone exclaimed.
"Fellow this!" cried the other Swellow as it splayed its clawed feet and dove towards Cyclone, barely missing her. A warning strike.
Cyclone flew a short distance and, facing her attacker, shouted, "What's the big idea, loser?"
"This is my territory, idiot!"
Before the other Swellow could attempt to assault Cyclone once more, she turned tail and flew off. Being newly evolved and barely satiated, she knew she was outmatched. Well, this was what she was up against now. It was a shame she couldn't befriend that Swellow, ask how it became a cool survivor like her, but apparently her kind were antisocial. So be it. She would have to work extra hard to ensure she'd claim her own territory, fight off other evolved birds. This was the life of a tough Swellow.
As the weeks wore on, Cyclone was pushed further and further from the familiar piece of forest she grew up in. While the small songbird population had all but vacated Creeping Forest, many evolved ones remained, much to Cyclone's chagrin. Sure, it was entertaining and surprisingly easy for her to fight off ground-bound foes, but aerial adversaries were another story, and the young Swellow was no match for the more experienced birds she encountered. Every solo practice session, every time she wanted to eat, heck, even when she just wanted to casually fly around for fun, was interrupted by a Pidgeotto, Staravia, or some other large bird squabbling about its territory.
Territory this, territory that. Shut up already!
This new area seemed to bring some peace to the worn Swellow. An unnatural clearing formed a path that cut through the forest. Had it not been for the sudden snowfall, various Pokemon would be traversing this road going to and from the nearby Sapling Village. Cyclone knew nothing of the village, or even the towering Castle Draclugia a few miles away. All that mattered to her was that those damn birds had finally left her alone. She had claimed her own coveted territory.
Food was hard to come by, as always. The caterpillars had been cleaned out, and the berries had grown too frostbitten or simply died. One day, in search for a meal, Cyclone spotted something green clinging to the side of a tree. A Metapod. She pecked and scraped it its hard shell, finding no weak point.
Cyclone snorted in frustration. Remembering her training, she flew away from the Metapod, steadily gaining altitude. She grinned, looking forward to the carnage her Aerial Ace would bring forth. She dove downwards, shattering the cocoon upon impact. Instead of gelatinous innards she was met with a cloud of dust. Apparently, some of the caterpillars went into a chrysalis state upon the arrival of the cold snap, yet didn't have the benefit of an entire spring and summer to gorge on leaves and become deliciously juicy.
"I can't eat this!" Cyclone cried out. She angrily tore through the dust and ravaged the Metapod's husk. She cursed, she screamed, she slashed with her talons. She continued unleashing her wrath on tree bark, dead wood, anything in her way. If some annoying bird approached her complaining about TERRITORY now, she surely would have murdered it.
The outrage eventually subsided and Cyclone settled down near the obliterated Metapod pieces. She pecked at the dust and, while dry and unpleasant, still tasted of insect. Every once in awhile she'd have to take a break and ingest some snow to wash it down with. At least water was plentiful. After her meal, Cyclone half-heartedly preened her feathers. Her outburst having taken a lot out of her, she soon gave up. Evening loomed in the sky, tinting the snowy forest in soft blue. Sighing in resignation, Cyclone decided to take roost for the night.
Cyclone settled into a nest of twigs and crinkly dry leaves. She was aware how scruffy and unkempt her plumage looked these days. She felt she had aged a decade despite being barely a half year old.
"I won't give up," Cyclone said to herself, voice cracking. She paused, momentarily surprised at how ragged she sounded. "I will beat this cold crap. I won't die." Cyclone tucked her head beneath a wing and quickly fell into a deep slumber.
Hours later, Cyclone awoke with a jolt. Despite having so little sleep and being conscious at an unnatural time, she was immediately alert, heart pounding. A terrible wave of dread chilled her to the core. Her head darted back and forth. It was pitch black and completely silent.
It's nothing. Stop it. Dammit, I hate night time.
A fierce, whistling wind suddenly blasted through the forest. In an instant, Cyclone's (admittedly) poorly constructed nest disintegrated, sticks and twigs sent flying. Cyclone opened her wings just to be thrown back-first into the side of her tree, the wind pinning her down. Icy volleys of fat snowflakes slapped into the hapless bird. She struggled in place in a blind panic.
Before she knew it, she found herself unpinned but fluttering blindly through the pitch darkness. One moment she was tangled in a dead bush, the next she was scraping along the ground, then she was tossed through the air again. It was a wonder the Swellow hadn't broken any bones, something she would have prided herself on if she could actually think straight. As luck would have it, Cyclone found herself wedged beneath what seemed to be tree roots. At the very least, they provided some shelter from the blizzard. Cyclone shoved herself deeper under the roots, climbing along the the shallow slope of the earth until she could push herself no further. She would just have to wait this storm out, it seemed.
Did the ground just shake?
It happened, just for a moment. Then again, stronger this time. Cyclone realized what these rhythmic vibrations reminded her of; foot steps. Whatever behemoth these belonged to thundered closer and closer to where Cyclone was sheltered. Just her luck.
"Hey! Hey, Sorbet's going in the wrong direction! Over here!" someone called out.
A red glow seeped into the entrance of Cyclone's shelter. Despite her intense fear, she treaded carefully from beneath the roots, curious to see where this light was coming from. Her blood ran cold. Bathed in a hellish crimson light stood a massive beast, taller than any tree in Creeping Forest. Before Cyclone could process its features, the light illuminating the giant faded. Shouts from unseen Pokemon were heard. Shrouded in momentary darkness, the monster bellowed a booming, earth shattering roar.
Cyclone had seen enough. She made a mad dash back beneath the roots and, once again, wedged into the burrow as tightly as she possibly could. That terrible roar lingered, permeating the earth, shaking the trees. Cyclone squeezed her eyes shut. Before she knew it, she burst into choked sobs, hot tears dribbling down her face. A shameful act of weakness.
Was this some kind of punishment for not leaving Creeping Forest with her family all of those weeks ago? They were probably safe and warm while Cyclone lay hunkered, freezing and terrified out of her mind in the wake of some otherworldly hell-beast, bawling like a pathetic hatchling. She hated everything. She hated her family, the weather, those other birds, how every day was a constant struggle to survive, and she loathed that fearsome beast. Most of all, she he hated how weak and helpless she had become.