... I don't—uh. [ That seems to do the trick. He blinks, feeling a few tears spill over before he can pull himself out of it. The memories are still bleeding together in his mind, and as much as he can't seem to untangle them, he's at least able to push the confusion aside.

For now, anyway. ] It's not normally this bad. Well, there was a mushroom problem last month. The ocean's been dangerous lately, too. [ He rubs his paw against his cheek, as if to keep warding off the mental fog. ] But, you know... hail might actually kill you. You're a grass type, right?