Elsewhere, there was a novice hunter's set of problems that had to be confronted sooner or later. The sun started to begin its dissension from the noon peak, slowly whisking away the daylight. The newly evolved Weavile stared at the bright blue sky fading into gold-pink tones in the last few hours of the daylight at the base of a desolate tree. A fellow Sharp Claw Pokémon approached her with a small following, all ready to bust a vein in frustration after piecing together what happened a few days ago. It was the one she feared most from the tell-tale gang following.

She knew she would have to come face-to-face with more verbal abuse with the alpha of her pack. Even in a community far larger than the norm for her kind, it didn't take long for one to eventually realize another member was missing and spread the news like a virus. It wouldn't have been so bad the one to take notice was one of the younger Pokémon, or heck, any of the Pokémon that didn't immediately resort to punching around others and berating them behind the safety net of a few cronies behind their back.

The alpha's intimidating, exaggerated stomps and clacking of his natural weapons disturbed her peace and quiet. Her stomach took a deep plunge in aversion as she was abruptly going to play the role of the bearer of bad news towards the bullies. The alpha stepped up first, feebly concealing his anger and spat at the Weavile,

"You have some explaining to do, don't you?"

The female Weavile kept silent while balling her hands together against her mouth and refusing to make eye contact. She may have evolved, but everybody else still recognized her; they didn't bother bringing the point up in fear of the beta using her augmentation to lash out at them, or if the words about her would arouse the unwanted attention of the meanest, most authoritative Pokémon around.

The alpha got even angrier at her silence and lack of attention, feeling as if she was indirectly tarnishing his ego by not acknowledging him.

"Answer me! What did you and the other cowardly lookout do several nights ago, and where is he!? Because last I heard, he was with you instead of a hunting party, and I know that you are nothing but trouble for us!"

The Weavile stood up and lightly tapped the tips of her nails into the ones across from each other. Her head lowered while her eyes were fixated on the alpha and his followers, all yearning to punish her for being involved in losing one of her kind's own. Again she did not answer.

The alpha shook his head and bared his teeth in a mean hiss. He pressed the tip of one of his fingers against her throat and traced the broad side of her neck, gradually adding pressure.

"If you won't say anything, maybe we'll just beat it out of you!" He looked over his head to see his friends starting to get riled up over his threats; almost ready to jump in without orders.

This conversation started to burn deep under her skin. All she and the scout wanted to do was to go out on a night of constructive fun and learning of putting her climbing skills to use and seeing if they could get any Pidgey eggs to share. Mostly because she needed actual field training to do something other than being a stress toy so she can learn how to feed and fend for herself. All because he was too stuck up to help the others that weren't as violent or loud as him.

(Why can't I just scratch his eyes out, right here, right now? And his followers egging him on to act like this, pushing me around. Come on, you have it in you…right?)

The Weavile in question tilted her head and gave a simple, fed-up response, "Fine," and pushed away the alpha's hand from her neck,

"He took me egg gathering a few nights ago. We found a Pidgeot huddled in its nest over some eggs, and we worked together to bring it down and take its eggs."

She swallowed and tried to twist the story to her liking.

"The Pidgeot attacked him first, and severely mauled him. However, I crippled it by breaking its wings. It couldn't fly, so I climbed up and helped myself to the eggs in the nest. And the Pidgeot just so happened to have a Razor Claw in the nest with the eggs. Those eggs and that Razor Claw gave me what I needed to climb down and finish off the Pidgeot by stabbing it in the face."

The alpha pulled back and looked dumbfounded at what she just told. That explained how she went from being the lowly Sneasel she always was to a bigger, more mature Pokémon. For the first time, the pushy Weavile genuinely asked,

"And what happened to the other one?"

She started to look and feel terribly tense as she prepared to tell the group what they didn't want to hear.

"Left for dead. He was far too injured to return. I saw him, all scratched and wounded, congratulating me on managing to cripple the Pidgeot and open a path to get the eggs we were after all this time. Because of him, I'm stronger than I ever would be if he didn't lend a hand to help out of the kindness of his heart."

She pointed at him with a flared voice,

"Unlike you, where you only care for yourself!"

Oh, he didn't like that. Any of the sympathy and concern for the fellow Sharp Claw Pokémon was dashed away as he felt challenged by her. He did not want lash out, throw her to the ground, and have his way with her in a violent fit. He wanted to dissect this, piece by piece, and make her break down from the pressure of it all.

He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows at the still-beta Pokémon.

"Do you really know why you are still alive and managed to evolve?"

The pressured Weavile knew exactly where this was going. She closed her eyes and shook her head briskly and shortly to ruffle the fur on her face. She was not going to let him guilt trip her into submission, or madness, or both.

Cautiously, she remained silent, biding her time and trying to not let her growing rage get her into serious trouble.

"And what of the food you fill your belly with?'

(The scraps you leave behind aren't even food!)

"The fact you're allowed a cave over your head and walls over your body?"

(Okay, you might have a point, but-)

"The fact we have half a dozen others on patrol to make sure they don't even you or us?"

(But you-)
"Not to mention that one of the ones that explicitly kept an eye out for you, so I've heard?"

(. . .)

The Weavile looked uncomfortable and felt a small tear build up behind her eyelids. At the same time, she felt rage and guilt begin to accumulate like snow from a violent midnight blizzard.

"And the same one you lead to his death, seeing how he isn't around?"

The Weavile shook her head and balled her hands.

"…And you're trying to say I am to blame for all of this, and not you?"

She stopped thinking for just a moment.

"So, this tells me you haven't matured, and you're still a bratty beta trying to blame everything but yourself for all of your hardships."

That pissed her off.

"And you have the audacity to gawk and complain about why a lot of the others don't like you. Tch!"

That really pissed her off, and it showed from her teeth-showing snarl and unhealthy breathing from stress.

"And you know what? You're not even worth my time when I got a dozen other, more appreciative, contributing mouths to feed. They don't even complain or drag us down because they are not ungrateful for the things we do for you!"

She had her right fist in a tight ball, yearning to just wallop him in his face and start shredding him to pieces while he was pinned on the ground in shock. To see him go from being so arrogant and evil to becoming the sniveling coward he preached about her for so often was all she wanted right now. All those collective grins and laughs of mockery behind him would go away as well. The desire to lash out and start mincing him placed its ugly, burning hands on her shoulder and made a screeching whisper into her consciousness that she could end all the abuse right here, right now.

But she didn't give in to the devil on her shoulders.

Her mind went partially blank, temporarily shoving his verbal abuse away so she could get in a feeble last word on the matter. She drew a solemn yet stressful breath and turned away from him.

"You know what? Fine. Go find someone else to push around. I'm done with you. I ain't gonna put up with this. "

The bullied Weavile turned around and walked away.

"I'm leaving and never coming back just to put up with all your bullshit. Happy now? I'll do more by myself than any of you could manage to do!"

She valiant owned up and aimlessly walked into the wild. Some of his lackeys wanted to give chase for the hell of it, but their leader gave a sharp order to ignore her. She could hear sick cackling and spitting behind her on top of more distinct words,

"That parasite wouldn't even last a day and we're better off without her anyway."

She was going to see about that.


And so she went on a coerced exodus with the alpha's words still fresh in her mind, still shoved away for now. But it wouldn't last that way. They were starting to grow and squirm violently, being incapable of being quarantined so other, non-self-destructive thoughts have their time in the spotlight. Time passed, and the sun began to drop even more as she walked and walked straight ahead, losing a mental civil war with herself. It was the scout's acts of kindness and willingness to pass down some techniques that got her where she was.

"If it weren't for him, I wouldn't know how to climb, or even have evolved."

Of course, the alpha did speak with a grain of truth. The Weavile was thinking in very technical terms now, how it all kicked off when the alpha yelled at her and having his helpers strike her while she was down. All of their harassment spilled over and prompted her to get up and vent the accumulated frustration on the berry tree. To the exiled Pokémon, that was the starting point of this chain of events for her.

"But… if it weren't for him, all of this wouldn't have happened. Is he… right?"

Night was starting to rush ahead, and so was the abuse imbued in her. The Weavile slowly begun to lose focus as she caved in and was taking it hard again. The Pokémon buried her face into her paws while her traumatic mind was reduced to tatters.

At first, it was silent, stinging whimpering and moaning as what he said burrowed into her self-esteem and hollowed it out.

"Being called a "parasite" and "ungrateful" after all they did? Is he serious? That's not me! And what good has he done for me?"

Her nails dug into the palm of her hands, causing it to bleed just a tad from her paws being scrunched up too tightly.

"So stupid, so, so, stupid! He thinks he can do whatever he wants just by pushing me around. Well, he'll have to find somebody else to push around. Not me, I'm out here, alone! Alone and nothing else in sight but more trees and snow!"

Her claws began to dig into her skin on her head, messing up her already scarred coat by drawing blood, scattering fur, and breaking her skin. Her grasp on sanity was starting to slip.

"All alone as always, except away from abuse at last. No more. No more yelling, being beat up, being attacked. Violence, violence…"

She stopped clawing at her skull and got a big whiff of the frigid environment and the intoxicating aroma of freshly spilled blood. The taste and aroma of her blood coaxed out her inner predatory potential, just like with the Pidgeot. The Weavile looked down at her hands with her entire body starting to tremble from the sudden drop in temperature. Her paws were dirty, and she had a maddening self-inflicted headache, trying anything to take her mind off the alpha and his gang following speaking daggers to her. The Weavile took series of breaths of cold air and her own blood, feeling something twist inside of her. It was that familiar, devilish pull at her stomach right before she tore up the berry tree; her inner instincts calling and make her act like the wild Pokémon the rest of kind was known for.

Something inside of her seemed to have finally snapped, one way or another.

"Violence. Hunting and killing he always wanted to do. And showing others that he's an apex predator. Making others afraid. Making them forced to fear him out of respect. Violence and force… I'm one of him too, after all. Same claws, same coat, same teeth. Same appetite and tendency to rip into something with these claws to get them dirty. Predators aren't parasites or ungrateful. Having to find, stalk, battle, and stomach prey… they require more work to get their food. They earn it through struggle, making them justified. They deserve every ounce of pleasure."

The Sharp Claw Pokémon broke free from her meditation and looked around. It had gotten dark and she was out here, all alone in the white wasteland. Who knows how far she traveled, and where she was now. Everything looked the same to her. It was rather bleak and depressing, being out here and trying to fend for yourself against the elements; lucky if you'd encounter any other organism. But while the Weavile could take the cold and her self-inflicted headache, there were other matters.

Her stomach made a loud, rude rumble as her body suddenly felt empty.

"Oh…" she said aloud, "that's right."

She still had to feed herself like any other Pokémon up this far north. The downside is that she had to; otherwise she'd be set on track for a long, terrible end. Even the scraps left by the alpha and other hunters were better than nothing. And there was a whole lot of nothing where she was; probably the only Pokémon in around in miles!

However, there was an upside she only now considered: this may be her big break. This was a perfect opportunity to prove that she has matured and learned about being a hunter. The Weavile was now in a position where she could make a kill entirely by herself. Once she did, she could help herself to as much of it as she wanted. And on top of that, she could treat herself to some old fashioned fun like with her time with the scout. Especially since she was just itching to kill something and satisfy those inner, predatory needs that were born in every Sharp Claw Pokémon.

Not like she had much choice anyway.


"Okay, okay, one thing at a time." the Weavile finally calmed herself down and listened for anything suspicious around her.

Off to the right in front of her were the quiet sounds of icy water running along a riverbank. The Pokémon turned her head towards the sounds she just picked up and walked towards it, silently cursing her for only now realizing its proximity. Liquid water seemed nice to her instead of packing her mouth with snow and waiting for it to melt for rehydration. She'd look for a proper meal later.

It only took a minute for the Weavile to walk down from the clearing she was in down the slope to a small running river. The sounds of the water going downhill and against jagged rocks greatly soothed her tension and newly conceived killing tendencies. Just hearing it run and splash against rocks made her tongue dry up in anticipation. It was about twenty feet wide and about five feet deep, stretching and snaking across the land as far as she could see or hear. Large, smooth rocks jutted out from the surface in random intervals, forming a broken natural path for creatures to cross over.

As the Weavile approached the riverbank, her nose picked up something peculiar. It smelled of musty, cold, wet fur. The scent was also familiar in a way she couldn't describe. Whatever was making the scent was nearby, seemingly emanating from the other side of the river.

She almost felt she was being watched. But that couldn't be, what else could be here?

"Probably another Pokémon that had a drink," she said aloud, stirring her primal instincts at the prospect of action. The Weavile shoved it aside and knelt by the stream to take a drink. The water was numbingly cold to her hands and pierced her body while sliding down her throat and settling into her stomach. Her body greedily accepted the fluid to replace the ones it lost. Again she lowered her hands to more liquid and splashed it against the face, using its chilled properties to clean her face and refresh herself. The Weavile decided to get straight to the action and planted her lips on the surface of the rushing water enriched with traces of minerals, taking in gulp after gulp to stay hydrated and healthy.

After she was done, she wiped off as much excess water from her face and sniffed the air. While her own scent had grown stronger, so did the mysterious scent on the other side.

"Maybe we can smell each other," she commented as her predatory senses started to take over again the more she thought about it, "that should make things interesting."

The Weavile had her intake of water. Now it was time to get her intake of food. The Weavile pondered what the smell was. It didn't smell bad. It just smelled…pleasing to her. Compelling. Something she instinctually knew was something she would naturally enjoy once she recognized it at first glance. The curiosity was too strong for her.

(I'll put it to rest. Now, how to get across…)

The Weavile looked around for a way to cross the river without swimming. Being drenched in the bitter cold was unbearably unpleasant, to say the least. The cunning Pokémon looked to the left and found an ordered cluster of rocks she could jump across. Hopping across some rocks shouldn't be an issue with her dexterity. And it was a trivial task in the end. She lept across the large, smooth stones with little issue and crossed the river. The trees were densely packed against one another, and she could barely see anything past the wall of natural wood.

Now on the other side, the Weavile continued to sniff the air to find the strange scent's source, growing slightly stronger now she crossed the river. The Pokémon took the chase to the canopy by punch-climbing her way up a tree and hopping across the girthy, gnarled branches to pursue from above. She had practice this somewhat in the days after evolving, but she never had access to branches like this to play with before. So many different elevations, and all of them were sturdy enough to support her weight. It felt right abusing her mobility high above any Pokémon that would be either prey or troublesome to her, feeling untouched. All this time, her stomach fluttered in anticipation and hunger from actively stalking the unknown. But soon she would find it, whatever it would be, and investigate it up front.

Further ahead and on the ground was a frightened, chilly, Deerling with the first points of his antlers sprouting from his skill, left all alone to his wits, as well. The Season Pokémon kept thinking about the terror he experienced in the past week.

He was the only one that stuck to his father after the terrible incident of losing his sister to a duo of Sneasel and Weavile. The rest of the Season Pokémon bolted in all directions, some banding together later, while others were permanently separated from each other and forced to start anew, one such Pokémon was his mother. The Deerling was left with the mighty Sawsbuck father who challenged the Sneasel to protect the rest of the herd. Though ironically, it caused the death of his sister and the breakup of the herd. But the Deerling had to accept the loss from the act of evil and move on, staying by his father wherever they went. Oh, where did the mother doe go?

The calamity did not end for him there, as earlier, there was a sudden eruption of thunder behind them with the smell of brimstone while they were grazing on hidden grasses. He ran as fast as he could away, leaving the cloud of sound behind him. When he was far enough away to consider himself safe, he eagerly turned to see his father approach behind him. But he did not come. At first, the Deerling waited, thinking that he fell behind. But time past and he realized he was clinging to a fool's hope of waiting for his parents to return to him. The invisible terror had claimed the Sawsbuck, and left him orphaned on this umbra tundra.

The Deerling knew that the worst was over. It had to be over; it just didn't feel right having fate frown upon him so fiercely. No pair of black devils or deafening thunderclaps would terrorize him or any of his surviving relatives from now on, wherever they may be.

Right?

He kept a very paranoid state of mind, moving and looking around quickly, hoping in vain that a fellow Season Pokémon would find and give him the comfort of company. A few minutes ago when he was getting a drink, he sniffed out something odd. It smelt of something… fearful, something that should not be reckoned with at the river. He drank just enough to wet his whistle and quickly turned tail to hide in the woods.

"It could not be that, could it? No, impossible. I will never again run into one of those monsters!"

It seemed the fearful scent was following the same path he was taking. It smelled much more potent and wet behind, indicated that it had either slated its thirst at the river as well, it swam across, or both. The Deerling tried to keep his mind under control and focused on a perfect pace between casual walking and desperately sprinting. The single, simple, terrifying thought of what the odd scent that had grown stronger meant was made him dearly afraid.

It didn't help that he heard creepy clicking and creaking of tree branches all around him as if the trees themselves came to life to scare the Pokémon away.

The sounds from the branches meant something much more menacing, unbeknownst to the Deerling.

Above the frightened, unevolved Pokémon was a hungry, natural born killer Pokémon hopping from branch to branch, gaily enjoying her new playground, in pursuit of the original scent across the river. It grew stronger and more alluring to her nostrils, feeding her maddening marauding personality of being a predator. Not just a predator, a hunter stalking her next meal and making herself fully cloaked from her possible prey's perceptions. As she traveled below the tree tops, the wooden limbs started to thin and shrink, gradually bringing her closer to the ground, until she was approximately seventeen feet from the snow, or so. It made her closer to the scent that was driving her mad, but she could recognize it.

"What was it, what was it?" she whined, wanting to put an end to this trickery and find herself a proper meal.
Her question was finally answered as she hopped onto a stubby branch signaling the end of the wooden web. The Weavile looked down below, finally eyeing her prize.

It was a Deerling; shivering and looking frantic, as if he had forgotten something vital on a trip of no return. But it wasn't any standard Deerling that got separated from its parents. It was one of the Deerling from when the Weavile was still a Sneasel with the scout from her pack, working together to kill another one for sport. It looked in every direction: In front, behind him, to the sides, and even below him for anything that caused him angst. Every direction but up.

And she was directly above and behind him, looming over him in eerie, calculated silence.

He was totally unaware of the danger spying on him above; the black devil that claimed one of his relatives a few days ago. And the devil sat with two contriving, carnivorous, crimson eyes burning with bloodlust inside a mad, mutilating mind. Destructive roars of the past flooded her mind, roars and daggers from one like her. Those roars only fueled her feelings of superiority. He wasn't superior, mean, or cruel; she was going to be all the aforementioned and more. This was her moment to live out her fantasies of being the big, bad Pokémon all others trembled at.

Her stomach suddenly felt hollow and called out to be filled again with a disturbed rumble. The Sharp Claw Pokémon was overtaken by the natural carnal cravings of a flesh-eater living in the frozen fields like itself. It's been such a long time she had a proper meal out of it, and he looked so plump. So vulnerable. So delicious…

How could any Pokémon resist the temptation to jump down and start having their way with the pathetic Deerling on the spot?

The Weavile asked herself that and agreed with the answer she immediately arrived at. She pulled back her lips in a taunting, terrifying smile and decided to toy with the Deerling first.

"And here we are, with some unfinished business," she called out from her little perch, making the Deerling freeze in place. His pupils dilated in shock and his spine coldly itched.

(That voice…!)

The Weavile continued with her little speech, still remaining out of sight as the Deerling didn't dare look behind him at where the sound was coming from.

"Remember when you were with a lot of other stupid Sawsbuck a few days ago, and one thought he was some big hotshot for stomping and snorting in my face? Then one of my friends came and stabbed your buddy in the back. And then we ran off, laughing all the way back home as it bled out and probably twitched in agony! Surely that's still burned into your mind, right?"

The Deerling swallowed and slowly turned to face the voice behind him.

"And here you are, alone and without any Sawsbuck in sight to come and save you. Must be pretty bad for you being alone, huh? As for me, well, I'm used to being alone; I even like it. However, don't take it personally. I'm only in a bad mood because I haven't eaten all day. But, that's fine by me. Do you know why?"

The Deerling finally faced the talker in the tree. He broke into a cold sweat and stared helplessly at what he saw.

A black, conniving devil perched in a tree staring back with eyes and a crown of blood with three weapons at the end of each limb in front of a large, gorgeous, full moon in the black sky.


"Because that's about to change!"