[Chapter Two]
The bullying experience the Sneasel just experienced kept her wide awake from stress. All those punches, kicks, slaps, and whatever was used to strike her down kept her from just drifting off to sleep and forgetting about it, oh no. All those insults and beatings had started to develop the seed of self-motivation deep within her. The Sneasel couldn't continue like this. Something had to be done, starting now.
So, she got up and isolated herself from the rest of the sleeping Pokémon to sort out her problems in private. It was true that she never did join in with the killings to bring back food, and she honestly took all of the pack's efforts for granted. Why bother putting in effort when everybody else has been pulling in satisfactory results? Of course, she was given some lessons on how to use her claws and to utilize the ice around her, but she never seemed to treat it seriously. Obviously, that didn't help much when she was ganged up by the others. Something was going to be changed.
(I'm tired of this. If they want me to start learning how to fight, then I'll just do it myself!)
The Sneasel hiked off on a single path for a while, trying to find the last bit of inspiration to get started on combat practice. She eyed all around the landscape, seeing nothing that she thought would be useful to her. Nothing at all but rolling and folding plains coated with snow and barren trees. A low growl escaped her maw out of disgust of not finding anything, which was quickly drowned out by the rumbling of her seemingly perpetually empty stomach. She mused aloud to herself about her dilemma,
"Hunger pains…"
The Sneasel then realized she had lost track of how long she'd been trekking away from the group, but it was enough to expend what little food she managing to pick from the carcass from earlier. On top of this was the realization that she was in relatively open space; most of the nearby shelter offered by the landscape was put behind her. Thoughts of getting sideswiped by a rivaling, opportunistic Pokémon and being unable to get away from a lack of energy started to get to her. At the same time, she felt two things pull on her in opposite directions. One force tugged at her to keep going, with the hollow promise of finding something to make it worthwhile. The other was screaming at her to turn back now and cut her losses before something bad could happen.
Out of psychological stress and indecision, she dug her feet in into the crusty snow, crossed her arms, and stared down. She tried her best to contemplate everything that had happened to her, what she is doing right now, and what could occur in the future. She gave a quick glance behind her, noting the footprints she left behind on her walkabout. It trailed all the way back to where her pack was; sleeping, hunting, cackling, whatever she thought would be doing now. Should she just run off and never look back? Would it be best to return now and take whatever possible torment her "friends" could unleash on her?
Their words and actions started to seep deep into her conscious once more with her claws scraping into her paws.
"What's the problem? Can't take a little exertion?"
"Are you going to cry for us?"
"You're nothing but a dreg!"
"You'll never rise out of your ditch."
"We may as well just leave you behind, runt!"
There she pictured herself, on the ground and all beat up, surrounded by her cackling peers as one of them approaches. He tilts head to give a playful inspection of her current being, when he brandishes his claws, pulls his arm back, and shoots it straight towards her head to put her down, the claw swelling in her face as it was brought closer to her eyes, ready to end it all-
She peeled her eyes wide open in shock with a terrified gasp to break her out of her meditation. It was perfectly timed with a rogue wind whistling through her gut in unison with a northern gust whisking across her skin.
"What am I even doing?" she mused with a hand on her forehead. "This… isn't right…"
The stressed out Sneasel lifted her feet out of the snug snow holes and looked around. She came out here for a reason, after all. But, she still came up empty handed, minus the irritation and wounds she unconsciously gave her palms.
"I mean, there's got to be something else out here, right? Right?" the Sneasel spoke to herself aloud once more. A final, quick scan of her environment ensued. Something caught her eye at last.
Off to the right stood a stubby berry tree amidst the bleak landscape, calling out for any Pokémon to come closer to investigate. The Sneasel's mouth widened in surprise at finally finding something that could justify this hike. Could she really have been this lucky?
She made a mad dash to the berry tree, not caring if it was real or a hallucination. That sweet, plump bluk berry she snagged before anybody else could take it for themselves when her pack encountered one during migration. The way she scarfed it down and felt her palette be blessed with such a delicious berry that also gave a boost to hair health was unforgettable to her. She had only wished that there would be some of the same she had, or any type of berry, really, growing in spite of the treacherous temperatures encompassing it.
"Please, please let there be something!"
And so she approached the berry tree, intending to ransack whatever berries there may be. It is not uncommon for there to be berry-bearing trees in the blistering cold environment of deep northwest Unova. However, what trees that do take root bear little compared to the trees farther to the south of the region, and whatever fruits that grow are swiftly picked clean by passing Pokémon. There was also hope that this one was untouched as she darted to it.
When she arrived at the barren berry tree, she scanned it rigorously to look for any scraps of fruit to eat.
"There's got to be something edible here! Come on, come on!"
She frisked all around the berry tree but found no edible berries to eat. The few fruits present were about as hard, and nutritious, as pebbles. Only a web of dead, wrinkled, and brambly wooden limbs dusted with snow stood in front of her. It was a husk of the rich plant's former self, seemingly mocking the Pokémon's empty stomach. Small tears were pooling under her eyes as emotions started to whirl across her psyche; astonishment, humiliation, anger…
The starving Sneasel growled at the husk of the berry tree before her. She knew deep down that there would be no food of any kind to harvest from the tree. It was no taller than she was, and given the region's climate, the best thing it could produce would be the pits that were scarcely more filling than small rocks.
To make matters worse, she leaned her head against the trunk of the berry tree to try and get ahold of herself, when a stray branch poked her in the side. Mentally, it stung about as much as when one of the pack bullies swiped her across the face. Then she heard their voices ring in her head once more as if they had spawned behind her to make fun of her plight.
"Hahaha, look at you! Coming all this way, just to get scratched up! A tree scratched you up. A tree!"
That was the last straw.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon pulled her head back and chopped at a stray branch at her side with as much force as she could muster. It was cut clean off and settled to the snow-laden ground with a quiet "thump." She took a step back and started to madly slice away at the nearby pointed branches out of petty spite. Soft sounds of twigs being cut and broken and knock about rung in her ear. The Sneasel stopped in the middle of the frenzy upon realizing something.
"Wait a minute," she spoke to herself as she the front of her paws for half a second, then whipped them around to examine the back of them.
The flash of inspiration she wanted at the start of this walk finally came to her.
The Sneasel took a deep breath and begun to hack away with well-calculated yet quick cuts to forcefully shave the barren, dead tree. It only took the fourth incision against the wimpy twigs before her pace nearly doubled; she was losing herself amongst a whizzing cloud of pointy slivers breaking off with audible, crisp snaps of cheap kindling. Some of them got lodged into her fur, but it only served to encourage her to keep shaving away ferociously. In her mind, she was carving away at the bullying Weavile that pushed her around despite their petty prods of their claws.
The entire left-hand section of the berry tree was trimmed. The only imperfections were a handful of untouched twigs and the girthy limbs that they grew from, along with some sections that were cut a little too short for her liking. Nonetheless, she was very impressed by the work she just did on the tree. At the same time, she felt a very satisfactory pang of warmth deep in her gut.
Her inspection ended and she went right back to giving the rest of the berry tree another shaving session, only fierier. There was something…fulfilling about unraveling this tree's knotty exterior that urged her to continue. Akin to a faint voice calling in the back of her mind imagine the wood as the yielding flesh of a wounded Pokémon unfit for the tundra. And continue she did with the precision, power, and speed of each mark being improved from the one before it.
It was her natural hunting instincts finally awakening after being smothered by social stress.
She continued with sculpting the tree to better suit her liking. Nothing was watching or judging her. It was just her and her newly found scratching post to take out her aggression. More and more twigs were shaved off and accumulating onto the snow-laden soil like oversized sawdust particles. She made a near-full rotation of the tree, where the only major part left was the limb that had poked her in the side a few minutes ago. An idea popped in her mind.
The enthralled Sneasel raised her right paw and delivered a straight-down swipe with the tips of her claws. The blow had enough force to cleave right through the branch, making an eerily satisfying -*SNAP* - unlike the other limbs she hacked off just now. Such a sound indeed fell upon the ears of some distant Pokémon. It hurt her paw in recoil, but she was amazed at being able to break a sturdier limb like that.
"Heh, scratching post," the Sneasel cooed as she massaged her sore paw from the impact. At the base of her new scratching post was an ugly mass of sundered twigs half-buried under a sloppy mound of snow. She didn't care that her fur was riddled with stray splinters and shavings. That felt invigorating. That session felt so invigorating, in fact, that she even forgot about her hunger pains until her stomach conveniently rumbled right as the last limb broke off.
With uplifted spirits, the Sneasel picked out any pieces of wood she could before following her tracks back to her sleeping pack. She was totally exhausted in a productive way.
"So here I am, the mighty shrubbery slayer. Heh. Well, that felt superb. And that feeling in my gut, hopefully I'll get to feel it again soon. Maybe they'll even leave me alone once I practice on something that can put up more of a fight."
The Sneasel had nearly returned, only to be greeted by a trio of keen scouts about a hundred steps away from her pack's current residence. They heard they branch snapping sound and got up to do a swift patrol of the area. One of them brandished his claws out of surprise but quickly retracted them upon seeing one of their own. The Sneasel had a small, smug smile on her face.
"What seems to be the matter?" she asked the trio.
"Did you hear that sound?" the jumpy scout asked.
"What happened to you? Are you alright?" asked the second member upon noticing the abundance of splinters dotting the Sneasel. She looked a little confused for just a moment.
"Oh, this?" she replied as she plucked a fragment that was poking out of her left kneecap, "Just wanted to sharpen my claws a little, if you catch my drift."
The third member stepped forward with his inputs, "We thought there was a threat sneaking around here. Trying to ambush us when we're sleeping. I'm hoping it was just you stepping on a rather large stick." The jumpy Weavile scout started to walk back to signal the others to escort the Sneasel back to safety. She breathed easy knowing that it wasn't one of the cruel ones that always toyed with her.