As cold as ice

The shivers take over my body. The sight of Mt. Lanakila around me should not frighten me, but nightfall makes the temperature drop more and more, bothering even me.
I never thought an icy Pokémon like me could feel coldness.
I look sideways, hoping to see something beyond the monotony of the mountain, to no avail. Not even other Pokémon like to venture into this mostly dangerous area, rare were the Vanillish who have come here in these last two hours; none of them paid any attention to the Sneasel sitting on one of the bluish stones, glistening by the layer of ice that covers them.
Things are much better this way, thank you. I'm not in the mood for this kind of interaction. Well, maybe a battle would do me some good. It would at least warm me up a bit, as I look up again wishing it all comes to an end.
I'm not far from the top of the mountain. I feel it would be better if I had accompanied him, but I do not question him. He asked me to stay on guard, to prevent some Absol or whatever from approaching and trying to stop his arrival at the summit. I accepted.
I had to accept it.
No Pokémon should question the orders of their trainers. Even when I consider them silly, as I do. He would be much better protected with me by his side, my agility in climbing would be more useful than standing here, staring into emptiness, waiting until he receives all the glories.
For a moment, it occurs to me that he could use it as a decoy, wanting to abandon me. It's been a couple hours now.
No. He would not be able to.
I start shivering once more. Not cold, but afraid. I feel that the cold wind burns my black fur, the mountain trying to drive me out of there.
I look around, finding a whitey Pokémon staring at me. A mirage of snow; a Pokémon I've always been afraid of, its bright flames following me from each of its many tails. But there was no fire; the snowflakes that shone in the distance came from that specimen that was watching me, his fur fluttering like ribbons of its great quadruped body.
I rub my eyes. Would it be impossible to exist a Ninetales of ice, and not of fire, as my vision just suggested?
He's still there, imposing. Watching my expression of sadness from afar, the face of desolation. Just the opposite of what it should be. Opposing Pokémon should be afraid of me, not the other way around.
"Something wrong?" Asks the Ninetales, the owner of a melodic voice, slowly approaching.
"No, nothing." I turn around as I answer. What could I say? That my trainer did not want me anymore? What would that pokémon do about it?
"You're not from here. What are you doing in Alola?"
"How do you know?" Surprised, I decide to look back.
"Your fur is darker and your ear is longer than that of the females here. I bet you came from Kanto."
"Johto, actually." I nodded.
"And you did not tell me what you came here for…"
I caught myself staring into those blue eyes glittering in my direction. Was there any behalf in the speech of that Pokémon, or was I mistaken?
"I came with a trainer. He left me here to climb the mountain and so far not returned."
He glanced quickly at the mountain before answering me.
"I can't see anyone. Something might have happened to him."
In a jump, I stand again. That was exactly what I feared. I may be cold-hearted, but not to this point.
"I'll go after him. It should not be so difficult."
"It's dangerous! Sandslash live up there!"
"I'm not afraid of them!" I start running, leaving Ninetales behind.
"May Tapu protect and bless you!"
I take no concern on what he means. Sandslash do not scare me. Unless in this region they are metallic or something, I shouldn't need to be afraid of those. My only concern is to find my trainer, even if I'm breaking a direct order from him. After all, he should have returned by now, or I would not have to fear he'd abandoned me.
I soon found a rift between the stones, large enough for a human to fit, a place where the ice had been broken not much ago. A hiding spot.
I decided to come in, hoping I could find who I was looking for.
I was just greeted by a bloody vision. A defeated Pokémon, a native specimen unknown to me, unable to move. A bastard son of an Abomasnow with a Crawdaunt, if I could say; he had a large arthropod body, two large, fist-shaped claws came out of a nearly spherical body, covered almost entirely by white fur, now stained red and gray. I recognized the marks of the scars on him, it was certainly the work of my pal Lairon. He and I were always traveling together, my trainers's only traveling companions. Maybe he was more capable than I could ever be, maybe just more resilient. Even so, he laid defeated on the opposite side, in worse conditions than the other pokémon; his body was broken to pieces, plates of metal from his dismantled body scattered over the place.
Both Pokémon were dead.
I start to run, fearing what I can find ahead.
I soon found what my trainer was looking for. A stone pillar was hidden in that shelter, a rustic structure marking the presence of a treasure. A bluish, shiny crystal that was touched by his hands.
I see my trainer standing there, holding the crystal without pulling it off its pedestal. His bluish skin tells me exactly what happened. Hypothermia.
I touch his leg, noticing the stiffness. I move myself away in a sudden. It's too late.
For someone as cold as me, I'd never think I'd freeze on the spot. Suffering.