High above Viridian, a strong wind blew eastward. The clouds of smoke from the mountains drifted ominously across the peaks and began to settle in a dense blanket over the city. Flecks of ash preceded the mass in a downward spiral to the ground. As the mass settled, it filled the depression in which the city sat, and wisps licked gently over the brim of the cliffs. The parching fog slowly grew moist with condensing water, until it became a dense mist, obscuring anything an arm's length away.
It was into this world of spirits that Red woke. When first he opened his eyes, he thought himself still dreaming. There was nothing to see but an ashy gray veil, within which no shadows moved. His groggy mind refused to function, and so he sat waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, he sighed, and shifted to sit up.
Every muscle in his body protested the movement. Red found himself suddenly fully awake, and gasped. He coughed at the unexpected moistness of the air, and began to take stock of his situation. His clothes were glued to his body by moisture, and his hair was flat against his scalp. The ledge he sat on was nearly obscured by the foggy air, and nothing else was visible. He began to feel his way around the ledge, and his hand brushed against a sodden piece of fabric. He pulled it closer, and raised it nearly to his face so he could see it.
The wretched scrap was what remained of his pack. The bottom had been torn out completely, and every pocket was exposed. Nothing remained inside, and the thing couldn't be trusted to ever hold anything again. Sighing, Red cast it aside into the white void. He began to feel around again, crawling slowly around the ledge. Once or twice his fingers brushed against nothing but air, indicating the edges of Red's worldlet. He slowly maneuvered about, and soon found the cliff face before him. He felt about it for a bit, until his hand fell on something cool and more moist than the surrounding air. He recoiled instinctively, before crawling close enough to see it, hoping it wasn't something interested in biting his nose off.
It was Nyoromo. The little creature was slumbering peacefully under its own little outcrop. Red lifted the creature gently, and moved to place it inside the pack that wasn't there. He stopped halfway, realizing his mistake. He set the little pokémon down inside its chamber again, and crawled off in search of his broken pack, trying to keep a sense of direction so he wouldn't need to search for the pokémon again.
He felt about the entire ledge without any success until he came to the edge. Somehow, the pack had become snagged on a small rocky spur jutting from the main body of the outcropping. Red lifted it gently, feeling the spur crumble away as the pack brushed by it again. Gripping the pack tightly, Red crawled back to Nyoromo.
He at once set to the work of making something usable from the ruined bag. Tearing the water-weakened fabric with his teeth, he assembled an assortment of scraps from what was left of the inner pockets. Here he stopped, realizing he had nothing with which to sew them back on. He stared at the bag unhappily, as wisps of fog drifted across his vision. Suddenly struck with inspiration, he tore off a strap that was already hanging loose. Using a tight knot he had learned from the fishermen in Pallet Harbor, he closed the bottom of the pack. He checked the knot by pushing at the bottom from within. It refused to give, and so satisfied Red placed Nyoromo in the bag, along with the scraps he had accumulated. As he did so, he suddenly recalled the events of the previous evening.
He had been chased from the mountains by those horrific apes. They had pursued him up the cliff. Nyoromo had fallen to the ledge below, and Red fell soon after. The next thing he knew was this ethereal world without substance. What happened? The beasts wouldn't have abandoned an easy kill. Red had been unconscious, and he knew Nyoromo couldn't put up a fight. As if to accent this thought, a bubble drifted lazily from the open pack on his lap. The only reason for them to leave would be if something more dangerous had scared them off. But if that happened, the other thing would have still killed them.
Red looked off into the mists, almost as if to divine the answer. Suddenly a shadow materialized in the air, squawking as it flew towards him.