Snowfall never knew of her destiny. She never once thought, on her first cold, freezing nights in the snow-blown Lost Land, that she could rise up to become more of a hero than any other dragon in the chronicles of time. She wasn’t your usual hero. She wasn’t a great, sword-wielding warrior or the chief of a mighty army, nor was she the reckless challenger who dove into boiling waters in order to save another. No, she wasn’t any of that. What she did happen to be was a tiny, mewling, baby Reshiram in the frozen Northlands of the Pokémon world. But the one thing that set her apart from all other Pokémon, even those of her own species, was that she was, in fact, blind.
The dragons that ruled over the Land were of four kinds. There were the kind-hearted Lucario of the kingdom Fiedi, the strong-willed Haxorus of kingdom Auroriis, the valiant Zekrom of kingdom Bellator, and the noble Reshiram of kingdom Reckshire. Both of these last two were the actual descendants of the original Warriors of Light and Dark. Zekromi dragons strived for strength, while Reshiramic dragons did so for purity. And so our story begins, with one dreadful, yet fate-fulfilling day that took place in times long ago.
It was several days after Snowfall opened her eyes. Her father laughed in a low rumble as she tried her hardest to escape her mother’s licking tongue. The blue-eyed Reshiram broke out and ran around the sheltering cave twice, flapping her useless wings. Snowfall’s parents both winced as she ran snout-first into a stalagmite. That was how they first found out she was blind.
Like I said before, Reshiram strive for purity. So, after much deliberation between the two elders, you can guess where Snowfall went. That’s right, out in the snow.
Snowfall was confused, cold, tired, and hungry. Her white wings were folded closely at her sides, her downy feather-fur not providing any of the much-needed protection from winter’s cruelty. She kept calling out the names of her parents in crude PokeSpeak. The cold winds hammered at the little dragon’s body, and her world black and dark as always.
Finally Snowfall collapsed in exhaustion. The fire organ that burned inside of her was melting the snow with her high body temperature, something which all Fire-types possessed. She lied in the shallow ditch, her mind swirling to comprehend the situation. One minute she had been in the dark, happy and well, and now she was in the dark, scared and cold.
As she sighed a painful, frozen breath, a sound came from behind her. Lifting her head slightly, she tried to locate the noise.
It was... Music. No, not music. It sounded like ringing bells and paws crunching softly at the snow with each step. A somehow-familiar scent came to her fluffy muzzle. It tasted like Spirits and a place beyond seeing. Snowfall cocked her small head, searching for the source.
Slowly, a beautiful, silver Deerling stepped up to the Reshiram. The little Pokémon was emanating a brilliant, pure Aura that gleamed off its coat, untouched by the cold winter winds.
Snowfall was swiping blindly at the air, trying to touch the source of the gentle noise. The Deerling took a step forward, letting the little dragon rest a clawed wing on its head. Snowfall shuddered as a strange warming sensation spread from her wingtips through her body. She was sure that she would always remember that feeling.
Backing away, the Messenger left Snowfall’s paw resting on midair. The tiny Reshiram tried to stand, but stumbled and fell. The sound began to fade as the Deerling walked away.
Wait.... Snowfall thought. Using her wingtips to steady herself, she stood and walked after the sound of the bells with frozen footpaws.
The Deerling was taking its time, waiting for Snowfall to catch up, though it walked atop of the snow a few lengths ahead of her. At times the little dragon would squeal and ramble ahead. The Deerling would stop, waiting until she got within a few feet, and start again.
Snowfall knew not how long she was walking; she had no sense of time in her small world of darkness. The Energy the Deerling had given her was keeping her going. Once she tried calling, “Are you leading me home?” to the noise, but no response was given. Finally, the little dragon began to tire. Cold seeped into her downy fur, chilling her from the outside in. But still she walked.
Maybe this is leading me back to my parents, she hoped, shuddering. And after a good four hours or so of trudging through the icy wasteland, the Deerling came to a stop, along with the bells. Snowfall also stopped, listening about for the sound to return. But only the sound of the wind howling across the night could be heard. But then it returned. A single ringing, just up ahead, much louder than before. Grinning comically, Snowfall took the three reckless steps to reach the sound, and on the very last she felt her footpaw swipe the thin, mountain air. She teetered on the edge of the snowy cliff for what seemed to her like minutes, the blood roaring in her ears, before she toppled over and half-slid, half-fell down the overhang. Feeling the bitter taste of dirty snow melting in her mouth was the last thing the little Reshiram could remember before she blacked out.
Snowfall awoke to a tongue stroking her soaked fur.
“Stay still, little one,” whispered a Latias. The gentle dragon was lying on her side, her retractable arms carefully placed on Snowfall, detangling the mats out of her feather-fur.
A Latios glided up to his mate. “Will she be okay?” he asked, a note of worry in his voice.
“I think so,” Latias whispered back. She resumed stroking the little Reshiram’s wounds with her tongue. “Look, she’s coming round.”
Snowfall moaned and opened her sightless blue eyes. She could hear the soft breathing of other creatures and could feel a warm sensation that she associated with back home. “Home? Momma?” she asked weakly.
“Shh.” The Latias whispered soothingly. “It’s okay now.”
“Are you my Momma?” Snowfall said, and heard a slight sigh in response.
“No, I’m sorry; I’m not your mother. But you must have come a long way to take a tumble down that cliff. Stay still,” she repeated, “and let the cuts from the rocks heal themselves.”
“Do you have a name, little one?” asked the Latios as he lied down next to his mate to assess the little white dragon.
“I do, I do! My name is Snowfall!” she said, grinning.
Latios looked into her eyes. Turning to his mate, he whispered in her ear, “look at the little one’s eyes; see how light they are? She’s not looking directly at us, but past us, into the cave wall.” When Latias nodded, he turned to the small Reshiram. “Little miss Snowfall? Do you know what it means to be different?”
“Different?” she responded, confused at his word choice.
Latios nodded. “Yes. For those who are different, life can be much harder. Doing something that would seem simple to another might be excruciatingly complicated for one who is different. Please, promise me you’ll always remember this: being different is a gift, not a curse, for it lets the creature learn to rise above their disability. Promise me you’ll never forget what I have just said.”
Snowfall twisted to face the dark outside of the cave; she had heard a Pokémon howl in the distance.
“Snowfall,” Latios chided her lightly. “Will you seal your word?”
The small Reshiram turned back to face him. “Yeah,” she replied without really thinking about it. In her mind, these creatures would be able to lead her back home.
Latios smiled; Latias continued to warm the little dragon’s body. “Good. I imagine you’re hungry?”
Grinning, Snowfall nodded.