DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pokémon. Any resemblance or reference to any real persons, places, things, or ideas is purely coincidental and unintentional unless explicity stated otherwise by the author. Opinions and statements expressed in this story do not necessarily reflect those of the author. This story does not strictly adhere to any form of the established Pokémon canon. Discretion is advised.

Hello again, everyone. What follows is my second Pokémon fanfic. This is sort of the life story of the Glalie Solonn Zgil-Al, a character from my previous fic, The Origin of Storms. While reading that story isn't crucial to understanding this one, I'll go ahead and suggest that you read it, as well, because why wouldn't I? Heh heh heh...Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this!

The PG-13 rating is for violence, adult situations, and mild language.

This story is dedicated to E the Grey Angel.

Communication
~by Sike Saner~

Prologue - February 21st, 0024 b.E.

Deep beneath the surface, away from the sky, away from the sun and moon, away from the sight of nearly every other form of life, there lay a world of darkness, secrecy, and terrible, forbidding cold. This was the place called Virc-Dho, the Shoal-Nation of Northeastern Hoenn, and it was a place that belonged strictly to the Glalie.

Here, in this frigid underworld which other races of Pokémon almost never dared to enter, and which Humans didn't even know existed, in a cavern whose ice-covered surfaces glittered eerily in the glow of her own large, luminous, blue eyes, sat the Glalie Azvida Esian Zgil-Al, waiting.

She was waiting for two things, in two separate ways. She was watching, staring intently at a round, black, featureless egg, one which was now beginning to shake slightly a couple of times each minute. She was also listening, waiting for the first sign of an approach that was none too quick in coming.

Where was he?

Invoking the power of her element, the Glalie spontaneously generated a small heap of snow, which she arranged in a ring around the increasingly animated egg. The baby would be ravenous upon hatching. Which would be soon. Very soon - already, the first, tiniest vocalizations were starting to emanate through the shell.

An almost grinding sound in the distance caught Azvida's attention then. It was so loud...she had warned him against being noticed. But, of course, that was probably just not feasible, given the very nature of just what the approaching creature was.

Azvida only partly turned towards him as he came to a stop in the shadows nearby, keeping the egg at the edge of her vision. "Hello, Grosh."

Grosh only grunted in response, his great visage appearing ghastly in what little of Azvida's cyan light touched it.

Azvida's attention was quickly monopolized again by the egg as it gave an almighty lurch, rolling straight into the snow that had been piled in front of it. The Glalie inhaled with a long, rattling hiss and held her breath, anxiously watching the event that was unfolding before her eyes. The baby enclosed within the egg was now squealing shrilly as it fought to free itself; the sound mingled with the fierce pounding of Azvida's heart in a sonic deluge of excitement that threatened to overwhelm the new mother.

The egg gave one last rustle, accompanied by a series of particularly sharp squeaks from within its confines. Then, with a tiny crack, something small and very pointed broke through the shell. With something of a drilling motion, the point of a cone-shaped head continued to emerge from the hole it had made, cracking it open wider and wider until, finally, the egg simply fell apart.

Amidst the broken eggshells, and the fluid they had once contained which was now quickly vanishing into wisps of pale silver vapor, there now sat a tiny male Snorunt. His skin was a dark shade of graphite-grey, with a shell of yellow and red. His hands and feet were tiny, as were his beady, pale blue eyes, but his gleaming, white teeth were huge in proportion to the face that held them.

The baby Snorunt tried at once to stand, only to immediately fall right over. His conical body rolled pitifully as he attempted in vain to right himself.

Azvida could not suppress the gale of hissing laughter that came forth then out of sheer elation. She rose from the ground and descended upon the Snorunt, picking him up very gently and carefully and then setting him upright once more.

The baby Snorunt blinked up at her in curiosity, his very tiny blue eyes shining like distant stars in the field of his dark grey face. Then, he noticed the fresh, powdery snow that surrounded him, and he became oblivious to all else.

Azvida grinned brightly at her new baby. She then turned her gaze into the shadows at her side. "Look, Grosh," she said, her voice alight with pure wonder. "Look at your son. Isn't he beautiful? Why don't you come closer? Don't you want to see him?"

The shadowed form of Grosh stirred in the darkness. Great eyes turned their sight upon the newborn - then turned away. The rest of Grosh immediately followed.

"Grosh, wait!" Azvida called to him. But Grosh kept moving on, scattering many rocks and chunks of ice in his wake. Within seconds, he was gone, back into the shadows from whence he came, presumably never to return.

Azvida sighed. "It'll just be us, then," she said as she set herself back down before her son. No surprise, she thought, yet nonetheless, she could not deny the pang of disappointment she felt at Grosh's departure. "We'll have to be everything for each other. But I know we can," she said, hoping to sound reassuring.

Not that it mattered to the Snorunt. He was too focused on the snow, which he was devouring voraciously. Once he'd eaten his fill, he discovered that snow was also fun to play in, and thus, he became engrossed in that activity.

Azvida smiled again. "Now, what to call you?" she wondered aloud. After a moment's consideration, she thought of her late grandfather, her mother's father, of whom she had always been very fond. And thus, her question was swiftly and soundly answered.

"I know exactly the right name for you," Azvida said triumphantly. "You shall be called Solonn."

Next time: Solonn faces an encounter and a lesson which he will never forget. See you then!