Yep, I'm already out with Chapter 4, and I have an announcement to make!

I have released a Discord server to the public. The link is on this story's AO3 page, as well as on my BlueSky profile (snowlabradorffn). You can also DM me on Discord at the same username.

There's not much else to say. Please rate and review this chapter, it means a lot to me. Enjoy!

Current music: Mirror Man - The Human League

As I flew backwards through the cold air, time seemed to slow down. Indeed, you could say that time crawled as I waited to face impact with a tree, which would likely cause a serious injury.

My only thought was this: Holy hell, I drank from the wrong river. And I'm going to pay a steep price for that - maybe even the ultimate price.

In reality, it was only a few seconds before I landed flat on my back in the white stuff. Although the surface was soft, the wind was knocked out of me, and it took me at least five seconds to get my breath back.

Bearing down over me (get it?) was a giant Pokémon that was known to inhabit the forested regions of northern New England. They were so ubiquitous that hikers were always warned about what to do if they encountered one; namely, to make as much noise as possible so that they wouldn't be seen as easy targets.

I was staring right between the eyes of an Ursaring.

"Get away from me!" I shouted, but to no avail. No matter how hard I pleaded with the Ursaring to leave me alone, it would refuse to do so. And really, why should I go unpunished when I'd stolen from its watering hole?

Still, as the Ursaring swept one of its claws toward me, I was forced to roll out of the way as my instinct for self-preservation kicked in.

Whenever my high school gym class had played a game of dodgeball, I wasn't the best at it. Though I wasn't horrible at dodging, I couldn't throw accurately to save my life, which led to many caught balls from me.

Of course, this had much higher stakes than a simple game of dodgeball.

I tried to breathe fire, not thinking about the implications this might have to the ecosystem around me. Again, self-preservation was all I cared about.

The Ursaring swiped again with its claws, and it was all I could do to roll out of the way.

It became clear that my foe was faster than me. Not only did it have much longer legs, but it was used to this environment and being a Pokémon - I wasn't. What was more, the Ursaring harbored what must have been none other than pure, primal rage.

I have to outsmart it somehow, I realized in a flash. Or else I'm going to lose a lot more than a game of dodgeball.

The river was behind me. It wasn't terribly wide - it wouldn't be that difficult to swim across. The bigger worry was that the rapids were fierce, and I did not know how many rocks there might be in there. Just jumping in could be extremely dangerous. (Then again, fighting an Ursaring as a Litleo also falls under the heading of "extremely dangerous.")

Before I could talk myself out of it, I turned around and took a wild leap into the river.

As soon as I hit the water, I sank beneath the surface. The current threatened to pull me under, but I was able to force myself upward so that I could at least breathe.

And that's when it hit me. The water couldn't be far above the freezing point - this should have been obvious, of course, since it was winter. But I'd given myself such tunnel vision that I hadn't considered the hazards of hypothermia.

Once back on the surface, I attempted a doggy-paddle of sorts to cross the river. As a human, I would have been able to manage a breaststroke or front crawl (though the latter was far from graceful), but everything's more difficult when you're in a new body.

Well, that didn't work out quite as I intended. Soon, the current was winning. For every meter I swam forward, I was probably swept about ten downstream, the frigidity of the water lowering my body temperature a fraction of a degree every few seconds.

It wasn't long before I was slammed against a couple of rocks, swimming desperately to beat the current. (Doing so isn't easy even on a water park's "lazy river", and this was a far cry from one of those.)

As soon as I got my way off the rock I'd been "beached" on, I was swept back into the current, dragged underwater yet again by the sheer power of the river. And I tried to remember the tips for surviving this situation, but they escaped me - there's something about cold water that makes it hard to think.

I had to get back to the surface, or I was going to drown or be crushed by rocks, and then my body would never be found.

That thought was sobering enough to give me a second wind, and I soon broke through the surface, gasping for breath as I drank in the winter air. But I couldn't savor it too much, because I was swept over a waterfall about five seconds later.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back, floating in a pool of icy-cold water. I managed to get my bearings again, swimming to the edge of the pond and climbing out.

Now that I was back in the winter air, I found myself shivering even more violently. Before long, I'd start to lose sensation in my paws, which would be a recipe for disaster when the best way to stave off hypothermia was to keep moving.

"Okay," I said aloud, talking to myself. "I'm freezing cold and sopping wet, and I might have some injuries from getting smashed against those rocks. But at least I'm safe from that Ursaring."

However, it's often said that the dumbest thing you can do in the wilderness (or in any potentially dangerous situation, for that matter) is to say you're safe. Because if you do that, you're jinxing yourself.

No sooner had I been willing to rest on my laurels than I heard the sound I'd been dreading: The growl of an Ursaring.

"What the hell!" I yelled. "I thought I got rid of you!"

Evidently, this was not the case, and I was only barely able to roll away from the Ursaring's fists this time.

It must have followed me down the river. Maybe it saw me struggling and thought I'd make an even easier target. In fact, I'm sure of it.

Given my lack of energy, I knew I was a sitting Golduck. It was only a matter of time before my bloody carcass became this Ursaring's breakfast.

Unless…

I spotted a tree containing a great many branches. They were arranged so conveniently that I felt certain this tree was suitable for climbing, even if doing so as a Litleo would be difficult. Plus, fighting this Ursaring on the ground was going to be even more difficult.

The Ursaring came out swinging once more, this time with a Fury Swipe. This time, I wasn't quite able to get out of the way, and I felt a scratch occur on my left side.

I yelped in pain, which probably only gave my foe more satisfaction that it was indeed making me suffer. It might have only been a superficial wound, but I knew that far more serious ones would come soon.

I scampered to the tree and leaped onto the first branch. I was just barely able to grasp it before the Ursaring scratched more of my left side, this time opening the wound with more ease.

"Aaaaahhhh!" I yelled, unable to help myself.

Blood was trickling through my fur - I could not see this process, but I could feel it. I had to get away from this bear!

Well, the branches on this tree were placed so close together that ascending it was much like climbing a spiral staircase. After a while, my biggest fear was that the Ursaring would knock it down and I wouldn't get on my feet fast enough after that. But again, what choice did I have?

I hear a roar beneath me - the Ursaring was clearly trying to climb the tree, but it didn't seem like it was succeeding.

Just like I thought! It's too big for the task!

With the knowledge that I was safe so long as I remained as high in the canopy as possible, I kept climbing. The branches grew narrower the higher I climbed, and a few were bound to be dead. Still, doing this as a human would be unthinkable - a much smaller Litleo was a different story.

Once I was about fifty feet above the ground, maybe more, I allowed myself to relax for a brief period of time. I gave myself a minute to sit on one of the bigger branches - maybe the bear had elected to move on to a more accessible target.

But then I heard more growling, and it was then that I knew I hadn't shaken the Ursaring yet. I had been treed.

Think, think!

I tried to remember what you were supposed to do to escape a bear attack. At this point, making as much noise as possible wouldn't save you, not remotely.

Just when I felt inclined to stay up in the tree until the Ursaring got bored with me, I heard a copious amount of buzzing. It was the sound associated with one Pokémon in particular.

There is a Beedrill nest in this tree!

On some level, of course, I knew that I couldn't stay up here forever. But now that I knew there was a Beedrill nest here, it was clear that I couldn't remain in this tree very long at all. They might not be venomous, but Beedrill stings could still pack quite a punch. And the more stings you received, the more serious each subsequent sting would be.

I was caught between a rock and a hard place - or, to be more precise, a swarm of Beedrill and an Ursaring bent on eating me for breakfast.

Unless…

I shook my head. It was a ridiculous idea, borne out of a desire to do something flashy for the camera. But there were no cameras in here, unless I was aiming to impress Celebi.

I glanced upward - the Beedrill nest was about ten feet above me. Truth be told, by this time the branches were narrow enough that climbing higher was risky business at best. But "risky business" also applied to confronting the bear directly.

So, concluding that I had no choice, I scampered up a few more levels until I was facing the hive. Numerous Beedrill were buzzing around it to perform chores in their treetop home - quite frankly, I knew next to nothing about their ecology.

For most people and Pokémon, Beedrill were useful for making honey and pollinating plants. But today they'd serve a different purpose.

"I'm sorry" I mumbled.

I threw my head back, took a deep breath, then exhaled.

A weak stream of fire exited my mouth, soon catching the branch the nest was attached to. In a matter of seconds, the branch would be burned through, and then the nest would fall to the ground. If that didn't chase the Ursaring away, nothing would.

I felt a searing pain against my cheek - I hadn't noticed the Beedrill flying toward it. Right away I grimaced, but I couldn't let the pain of the sting distract me from the task at hand.

I breathed some more fire using the same strategy, just to expedite the process. Sure enough, the limb was severed almost immediately, and the branch plummeted toward the ground.

Just then, another of the Beedrill stung me on the other cheek, then a third got me on the chest. Fortunately, it didn't seem that any of the other stingers had located me - I should be good to climb down.

The pain from the stings made my head spin, so descending the spiral "staircase" of branches was a slow process. If I lost my balance, the result could be catastrophic.

As I neared the ground, I heard the sounds of more swinging claws, and for a moment my chest filled with dread. Perhaps the Ursaring was still there, still bound and determined to defeat me in battle.

Maybe I've only made it mad - well, more so.

Well, when I caught a glimpse of the bearlike Pokémon, I found that I was no longer its target. Rather, the Ursaring was swiping Beedrill away from its face, but to no avail. (I noticed that its normally light brown fur was now covered in numerous red welts from where it had been stung; knowing that, I was probably very lucky to have gotten away with only three.)

Now I have to wait until it decides enough is enough and runs away. And I have to make sure none of the other Beedrill want to target me instead.

It was only seconds before I heard heavy, lumbering footsteps getting fainter and fainter, in addition to the mass buzzing growing weaker. That's when I knew I was in the "clear" - or at least, to the extent that you can be in the clear when you're alone in a snow-covered forest.

I had only just touched the snowy ground before I caught a glimpse of the broken hive. And let me tell you, it was a sight for sore eyes, what with the numerous Beedrill larvae that would never hatch.

"You'll have to forgive me, guys" I said, a lone tear leaving my right eye. "I did what I had to."

Right away, I felt like shit for justifying my actions that way. After all, plenty of history's most notorious criminals had argued the same in order to explain away the horrific acts they committed. What made my life worth more than the many Beedrill I'd sentenced to an early departure from this world?

Nothing. Except that I made the first move.

I shook my head. There was a time and place to debate the ethics of what I'd just done, but this was neither. I had to press onward, no matter the cost, because to give up now would be the end of my life too.

As I staggered through the snow, another thought occurred to me.

Because I'd gone back in time to kill these Beedrill (well, not to kill them; more like, and I killed them), they should still be alive in the timeline I'd left. But how did that work, exactly?

If I see Celebi again, that's a question I'll ask. But it does not matter right now. Again, I'll live out the day first.

With each step, my four legs grew more and more fatigued. I was running on fumes by now, and before long the edges of my vision were blurry. But I would. Not. Give. Up. Not even if time stopped.

Most of what happened afterward is a blur. This is what I do remember:

At some point, I came across a tall razor-wire fence, not unlike what surrounded most prisons. (Of course, I'm not speaking from experience here.) The fence was about thirty feet tall - just like the climbing wall at my university.

My first thought was that maybe, just maybe, I'd come across the Seabrook Nuclear Power Plant. Maybe the quest Celebi had set for me was to be a short one.

But I knew better - Seabrook was in Rockingham County, nowhere near the mountains I'd been dropped into. I still had miles to go before I slept.

Speaking of sleep, it was the first thing I wanted, but the last thing I needed.

I searched for a tree to climb - this one would help me get over the fence, which seemed to run for a considerable distance in both directions. At this rate, I didn't want to chance looking for a break in it - who knew how long the fence was?

Well, I found a maple tree that looked up to the task. In the fall, it would have been bursting with color, the sort of color that induces hundreds of thousands of tourists to come to Northern New England just to view the foliage.

But now it was bare, and as I peered upward into the climbing sun, I noticed something else in the snow - splotches of red.

It was blood. My blood. I hadn't gotten away from the Ursaring completely uninjured after all.

I can worry about that later.

The pounding in my head, not to mention the tenderness of my ribs, said otherwise. If I'd been anywhere near civilization, I would have called an ambulance, as odd as it might have felt to call 911 for myself.

More to the point, I wasn't going to find any friendly faces here. I had to get over the fence before I lost all my strength, or another Ursaring came along to rip my flesh into ribbons.

Steeling myself for the climb ahead, I gave the maple tree's trunk a bear hug, no pun intended. And then I slowly, woozily, made my way upward. (Much like the tree I'd cut the Beedrill hive from, this one's branches were arranged just like a spiral staircase. Only later would I wonder if this truly was a coincidence.)

Anyway, after a long, painstaking ascent, I found myself looking ahead at the fence. "All" I needed to do was walk out on the limb, then take a flying, suicidal leap over the barbed wire that adorned it.

It's thirty feet down! At least! My only hope is that Pokémon can land on their feet more frequently, or maybe that the snow is very deep and soft!

On the other hand, if I stayed here, I would die anyway if given enough time. Maybe I'd freeze, maybe I had some internal wound that might finish me off, maybe another predator would come along. Or maybe, just maybe, I would survive long enough to watch the nuclear meltdown happen again.

I only had one option: The leap of faith.

So I balanced to the end of the limb, then, before I lost my nerve completely, leaped forward.

I fell for what felt like a long time, and my knees buckled when I hit the ground.

I'm…alive?

I started chuckling like a drunken fool at the knowledge that I was alive! I had survived the fall, and now everything was going to be okay. The pain seemed to vanish in one fell swoop.

But wait…why couldn't I stand up? Why was my vision darkening?

This isn't that bad, I reminded myself. I can stand. I have to stand, because that's the only way I'll stop the meltdown!

As I stood up, though, I fell forward…and lost consciousness.

Next up: It's madness in the room where it happens, and - oh snap! What did they hear?