The Sneasel runt somehow slept through the night after being told about such a frightening encounter with the hunter and explosive, deafening weapon. The Sneasel then curled upright and meditated on the story one of her pack mates told her last night. Her parents being obliterated by a tall, mysterious figure to leave her orphaned and at the mercy of the bullies in her pack? What became of their remains? And what if she encountered that monster? She didn't want to believe it. She did her best to mentally reject that small detail from her mind, only for it to come clawing back in when she tried. As sat balled up, she noticed that there was nothing left on the Sawsbuck barring hide and bones. The Sneasel's thoughts turned to the useless remains of last night's game. Drowsiness had left her. Evil thoughts had left her.

Hunger, however, did not.

The Sneasel tried to see if there were any scraps of meat left in dismay. It was as picked clean as you can get. She looked down and gave an audible, sad sniff accompanied with a mocking grumble of her stomach. Just before tears were about to leak out, she felt something placed on her shoulder. The Sneasel gasped and turned around, fully expecting to get punched in the face from the bullying alpha that loved to pick on her.

Instead, it was the one that told her the horrendous story last night. He had a thoughtful expression as he was fireman's carrying a dead Buneary with snow-white fluff and dark gray skin.

"I got something for you," the Weavile called as he hastily dropped the Rabbit Pokémon in front of the famished Sneasel and stepped aside with his arms crossed. Her eyes lit up in shock.

"For-For me?!" exclaimed the orphaned runt as she scrambled to the Buneary. Her optimism shrunk when she saw a deep gash trailing down from its forehead to its left eye, revealing a thing streak of bone underneath, with blood surrounding it. Since she never had to kill her own food, she was put off by the deathblow on its head. The sliced eye especially put her off.

"You still need to eat. I know the others don't let you feed like they do. They'll probably even beat me up if they caught me giving this to you. Sorry I couldn't bring back anything bigger. You're still part of this pack, anyway; you need your fair share."

She took a quick glance at the Weavile scout then back at the Buneary in indecision. She was seriously thinking about not eating any of it.

Then came another obvious rumbling deep within her gut.

"Want me to carve you some?"

The Sneasel looked down in silent embarrassment. The scout took it as a yes and carved out the best possible chunks of meat for her to eat. She was handed a sloppy fistful of Buneary meat to eat. Not that there was much of a gourmet or any sort of artsy butchering to be had with a juvenile rabbit Pokémon in the first place.

She took a small bite to taste test it, and felt stomach pains rise up from finally getting something to digest. That prompted her to scarf down the rest of it with almost no chewing. It tasted pretty bland and lean, but she was in no mood for complaining. That fistful of meat did the job of filling her just enough for the time being.

"Thank you," she spoke as she cleaned her paws and jaws of game juices. She couldn't help but start to think back to what he had told her as she hung her head in the air in guilt. Again the Weavile scout tried to console her.

"What's the matter?" he asked as he finished his own share of the Buneary.

"Those two you told me about, and that monster…"

The Weavile looked away in a pang of guilt for bringing it up as well. He brushed it off resumed eye contact with her.

"Listen, I can guarantee they would take any sort of fall if it meant you were okay."

The Sneasel did not find much comfort in his words. She wished that she was left ignorant of such a story. At least then she would not have another thing always pressing down on her.

The scout got her attention by placing his hand on her shoulder once more.

"Besides, they would be doing the same thing as I would be doing right now in taking care of you."

She swatted his hand off and turned her back in a pouty fit.

"And why should I still go on, huh? Everybody else just wants to just ruin me! Treating me like I'm not as valuable as the snow under our feet!"

The scout tried to step into her line of view to speak again but was countered by quick turns of her back and wandering away from him with crossed arms. He was racking his brain to think of any motivation to give her. And he got it. Words of passion were burning through his mouth to make the Sneasel look and stay on the brighter side.

"It's because quitting is not the solution here! How would your parents feel if you just gave up on everything after what happened to them!"

The Sneasel stopped in her tracks and stared at the snow in genuine consideration of what he just said.

(After what they've been through… after what he told and did for me, telling me what happened to them and feeding me when nobody else would…)

"I can teach you how to hunt, fend for yourself, and be independent! You don't need to always be under the alphas' heels!"

(That pitiful berry bush I turned to twigs and sawdust…)

"You can become one of them. Better than them!"

(Better than them…)

The orphan drooped its arms and turned around to lock eyes with the jumpy Weavile scout. He had a very stern look on his face, the rough inspiration type of scowl that some of the other Pokémon would give in hard times.

(He was always so jumpy and frightened. Now he's acting so high and mighty. And I would be letting him down… like my parents…)

"Look at me. Even you looked at me like a coward like the others, and look at how I'm acting now! Why can't the same apply to you?"

The scout's inspiration and tenacity were starting to infect her. She was weighing the actions of what happened to her in the past. Bullying, yelling, and being made to feel like a limp punching bag with no power over anything.

Becoming a hunter like the others and getting her fair share of whatever they kill or bring back to the others first, or continuing to sit in this bog of self-loathing and hate from the others?

For the first time, she felt truly motivated. Courage had started to seep into her and start to explosively grow from within.

The troubled orphan locked eyes with the Weavile and gave a single, wholesome nod.

"I'll do it."

The seriousness from the scout started to melt away and was replaced with joy. He felt the same type of force compelling him to change as well. There would still be hope for the Sneasel yet.

"I'm tired of being struck down. I want change. I'll learn how to be just as good as the others, if not better!"

At that moment, a chill wind blew through both of them and snapped them out of their little moment together. Both of them rubbed their forearms out of reflex from the wind chill, taking it as a token of training hard.

"A light breeze to set the mood," spoke the scouting Weavile, "let's start with something I'm very familiar with."

He walked turned to face a stout tree directly to his left.

"Do you know how to climb trees?"

"Nope. Is it hard?" asked the Sneasel who had the tip of a claw resting on her chin.

"It might be, but here's how I do it. Watch carefully."

The Weavile stretched his right arm back with his claws positioned flat like a board and dug it into the tree about four inches below his eyes. The sturdy wood made a stiff cracking sound, following by another claw stabbing the tree. This time it was about four inches above his eyes.

"The trick is to get a good rhythm and pace going," explained the scout as he squatted and hopped straight up into the air. He swiftly retracted his right arm and used the momentum of the hop to jam his right claw into the side of the tree again. Instantly he transitioned his right foot into the right arm's notch to take its place and acquire a better hold. The scout then pulled his left arm out of the tree and dug it into a higher location with his left foot embedded in the tree. Now, all four limbs were giving him support.

"Don't waste all your energy getting a hold on the tree. You'll need it for scaling it and getting back down safely."

The Sneasel watched the scout develop a steady pace of climbing the tree, mentally envisioning herself copying the movements. She was thankful that she was being taught something useful for once instead of learning that twelve slaps hurt more than eleven from the alphas. Soon the scout scaled about ten feet and swung over to a low hanging but thick branch to rest on.

"Now you try it. Go slow, it's not a race."

She swallowed to brace herself for climbing the tree. It couldn't be that difficult anyway, since trees do not fight back when you're trying to stab them.

The Sneasel noted the notches made by the scout's climb. She wondered if hers would fit in them and if she could just do an exact copy of his movements. Without further delay, the orphaned Pokémon hastily dug her claw into the same notch as the scout and pulled herself up to bury her second claw into the wood. The Sneasel underestimated the amount of force needed to make an entry notch and fell back first onto the snow from total failure.

The Pokémon brushed herself off and traded glances with the Weavile above, studying her every move.

"Don't be afraid to use some force. Some of the wood of these trees is harder than you might think. Try making your own notches."

This time she flexed and squeezed her palms to limber up and adopted and fighting pose.

(Making a notch…)

She concentrated on the best way of going about starting to climb. The notches made by other Weavile wouldn't always be there for her to depend upon. A half-minute stare down between the Pokémon and the tree followed, with the former being at a mental block. She had to think of some way to ready herself.

"What are you doing?" called the scout above, "you can't just teleport yourself up here. How else are you going to get surveillance on the environment?"

The Sharp Claw runt shook her head side to side in disgust and started to file her claws against the wood of the tree. Since she didn't use them for anything outside of cutting out the barren berry bush, they needed to be readied. As she was buffering the tree with her claws, something nasty popped into her head. Mocking, hateful, degrading cries from the alphas started to rear their ugly heads once more.

"You think I'm scared of you, wimp?"

Those stunting comments were coming back at a terrible time.

"Do you intend to stab me with those things, runt?"

"No, not again…"

Blinded by disgust, she pulled her left arm back, growled loudly, and punched the tree with her claws parallel with her arm. To both the surprise of both Pokémon, it made a decently deep notch for leverage.

"Oh, that's better." commented the Weavile from above. The Sneasel looked up with an offended and aggressive look on her face.

She took it as more sarcasm while being plagued by her nasty memories. And in accord with the opening notch, she dug her right arm a foot to the upper right. Her breathing picked up. She felt this type of power before when she was venting her frustration on the berry bush. Maybe it could be used to help her learn how to be a stronger Pokémon.

Powered by her anger, the Sneasel forced herself up the tree inch by inch, notch by notch without any breaks. Her breathing started to become increasingly laborious and sporadic during the climb. Each punch into the tree was in her mind a punch towards the alphas that had tormented her so much in the past. It fueled her determination to reach the top rank of not just the branch but to the ranks of her pack. Exhaustion was started to encroach, but she didn't want to stop; she couldn't stop as she subconsciously raced up the tree a few feet above the Weavile scout.

"Hey," he called, "Hey! Don't go too far! It's too dangerous for you!"

Suddenly, the determined Sharp Claw Pokémon stopped. She caught her breath while clinging onto the side of the tree as the nasty, motivating thoughts disappeared. The Sneasel cocked her head down and to the right at a worried Weavile on a branch below her. She pulled her right side limbs out of the tree to help push off the side and jump onto the branch with a near-disastrous landing. The Weavile squeaked in shock and scooted back just in time to give her enough landing space.

"Listen, I know you have guts," the Weavile explained, "but this is still your first time doing stuff like this. If you get too ahead of yourself, you'll end up badly hurt."

The Sneasel continued to pant as she looked up at the Weavile with a sinister expression. She blinked and slowed her breathing as she gradually became more aware of what was going on. She looked around and down to the ground, where it ironically didn't look much different when she was on the same elevation.

"Well, at least now you're in a good spot to scan the landscape," commented the Weavile. "You can see much more from the treetops than on the ground. But, promise you'll take it slow from now on, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."

The Sneasel apologized and said she would not get so ahead of herself ever again. And she meant it, too. Anger can be a great tool, but only in the short term. If it goes on for too long, the cons rapidly outweigh any potential pros. But if she could bottle it up and uncork it at just the right time…

The two Pokémon eventually climbed back down at their comfortable paces. It didn't take long until the scruffy Sneasel's stomach started to rumble once more. Those scraps of Buneary meat were quickly used up in waiting around and exerting so much force in climbing the tree. Her energy levels were reverted to when she first woke up.

"Oooh…" she whined. The scout shook his head and sighed in disbelief. "Looks like that wasn't enough for you. I mean, it is not your fault. Climbing does take a lot of energy."

The Sneasel eyed the Buneary, noting that there was even less to pick from it now. Picking at it would probably make her even hungrier; the exact opposite effect of what she wants. She fiddled her claws together and hung her head low as she tried to seem like she was thinking of something important.

(Why can't I just go back to fighting bushes? Maybe then I'll learn how to find and catch my prey…)

The beta Pokémon turned towards her mentor with a giddy smile on her face. Maybe she could finally learn something useful.

"Hey, are we done with climbing?"

"I guess so. I mean, unless you want to do it again." The Sneasel playfully turned her head, obviously influenced by arguably a much more critical skill.

"Well… if we're not going to keep climbing, maybe we can do something else. Like teaching me how to properly hunt."

He widened both his eyes in surprise. His eyeballs raced across the scenery, trying to think of an appropriate response for her as a soft wind whistled behind his ears. She was still inexperienced, but she had to know how to fend for herself eventually. But there was fire in the eyes hiding behind that grin. Doing something as instinctual as climbing a tree with her sharp claws seemed to have piqued her interest in living up to her reputation of being coldly cunning and efficient.

(Oh, why am I even thinking about not doing it? Of course she needs it!)

The Sneasel's voiced grew starker as she flipped her grin upside down and questioned the scout a second time, "yes or no?"

"You'll have to sooner or later, so we may as well go with sooner."

The beta filled in immediately after his confirmation, "why don't we try a quick spar before we head out? To help loosen up."

The Scout was silent for a moment, hastily judging of it would be a good idea. He wasn't much of a fighter himself, but it would only be a practice session against this Sneasel. It wouldn't be that difficult.

"…Sure…" he reluctantly answered. Now the shots were starting to be called by Sneasel rubbed the edge of her claws against her chin in admiration and laughed under her breath "this ought to be interesting…"

Flashbacks of slicing up the shrubbery played out in his mind like a fast forwarded movie reel. The fine details of the angle, speed, and position of where she cut up the twigs were highlighted. She didn't expend much energy for those slashes, and used the surplus energy of what those twigs would have required if they were flesh over to moving on to the next one. And then the next one, and the next one after that in an acceptably smooth motion. All conducted without any prior experience of doing so. Cockiness was starting to get to her good. If she could emulate it here against a quick fight against the scout, maybe she is a natural born alpha buried under ridicule and beatings after all. At the same time, this scout has no doubt has his fair share of tussles in the past. Both were overestimating how good they were at combat.

"Then," the Sneasel squeaked playfully with a mischievous grin and an improvise battle stance, "let us begin!"

Her partner balled up his fists and hopped in place to get ready for a practice session. He bared his fangs and shuffled around the Sneasel runt to look for an opening to strike. He gave a quick addendum to the rules with his eyes glued on the Sneasel.

"First to three successful hits and we are done. Only hits against the body will count; not claws. I don't want to make you waste any more energy, and I'll even go easy on you."

She didn't respond. The Sneasel had her eyes set on the scout, not wanting to let her guard down for a bit. Unlike the Weavile, she stood in place with her arms parallel to her mouth and eyeing the circling scout. He was sneaking closer, inch by inch, to her in plain eyesight; the beta Sharp Claw Pokémon punished him with a quick horizontal nick on his hip. The Weavile saw her attack and tried to leap back, but his concentration was falling behind and took the swipe on his hip; a brief wince confirmed that she made the first mark.

Her confidence doubled and the Weavile continued to press his strategy.

The Sneasel pivoted on her left foot and tried to go for a punch on his cheek when he came back closer, but caught this time. He swerved his head away from the fist aimed at his cheek and returned with a punch to her cheek. It carried much more force than a far-leaning nick on the hip. The Sneasel was stunned and hit with a second blow; this time an awkward kick aimed at her calf but going wide and tapped her calf with his heel. It was enough to knock her down closer to the ground with both knees touching the snow. The beta Pokémon closed her eyes and faked the pain.

(He's tricky!)

"Two for me, one for you." he slurred with a quick hop behind her to deliver a third tap to end the session.

He let loose a mild cry with a chop using the dull side of his claws at her back. His chop came only inches away from finishing the session when the Sneasel sprung to her feet and retaliated with a broad chop clashing against his hand. The two Pokémon pressed the sides of their nails together for a split-second, one in shock and one with determination.

The Sneasel cut back on the pressure to elegantly slide her hand away from his. The lack of an obstruction made the Weavile's hand unexpectedly fall forward and he lost his balance. But there wasn't much obstruction on the Sneasel's end either. She grunted heavily and pushed the Weavile's hand up and off to the side, making him panic even more. To finish the counter, the runt leaned the rest of her body back and planted a firm kick flatly against her partner's chest to kick him back. He stumbled back terribly and fell on his right knee with his right side facing her.

"You…You catch on fast…" murmured the scout with heavy panting. "That was a perfect counter."

"One left for each of us, I wonder who'll take it?" she replied. The Sneasel viewed herself in the perfect position to get the final hit and come out on top.

The Weavile knew he was in trouble. He seriously did not favor the odds at the moment with the clawplay the two of them had got going. In his mind, she was right; this was hers to lose now. He kept a low scowl as the craftiness that the Sharp Claw Pokémon were known for was starting to manifest.

(Most Sneasel and Weavile tend to prefer either claw attacks or ice attacks. If I challenge her claw to claw, I'll lose. However, if I can try using ice instead…)

A risky plan, no doubt. But going at her with claws was even riskier at this point. Even he had some pride, and he didn't want to lose this session.

His concentration was interrupted with wild swings and chops coming directly at him. He rolled out of the way and scrambled to fight to keep blocking the sporadic attacks to close the deal, narrowly. Enthusiastic cries came with every speedy motion from the Sneasel. The Weavile weaved around the attacks and clash claw against claw defensively. He noticed a subtle decline of speed from the Sneasel. All of the attempted finishing blows were tiring out, evident in it being easier to block them coupled with her voice starting to sound drained.

"Just-huff-finish -huff-it!" she screeched as she didn't let up her assault.

She pulled back her right arm and lunged forward with all her might at his cheek again. The Weavile swerved his head just like he did to avoid an earlier attack. He heard the crisp winter winds whizz past his ear and countered by spitting out a mouthful of solid, rough-edged chunks of ice right into the Sneasel's face. She whined as the spat chunks stung her face prompted by reflexively rubbing her eyes. The Weavile made his third strike with an aggravated chop right onto her nape to bring her face-down to the snow.

"And it's done!"

The Sneasel felt rejected, offended, and betrayed.

(How could something like this happen? How? I had it! How!?)

She eventually raised herself from the snow with a thoroughly pissed-off face of scorn on her. She turned her head at the Weavile that just humiliated her by blinding her with ice and chopping her on the back of the neck. He had the stern "I had every right to do what I just did now" look.

"You!" she howled in disdain as she stood up and brushed herself off, "you cheated!"

"I didn't cheat. I just used whatever was nearby to help out." adamantly stated the Weavile. The Sneasel was infuriated at him trying to cover himself up, "By spitting snow at me!?"

Still feeling a bit disgusted with himself, he started to come clean about his dirty little trick.

"It was an improvised Ice Shard attack. If I had more time, I definitely could've spat bigger, sharper objects at you."

"What? That makes no sense!"

He dug his left hand into his mouth and fished out a half-melted pellet of snow that was tucked behind his teeth. He held it out to the angry and now grossed-out Sneasel who demanded a better explanation.

"When you went in for the third hit, I managed to scoop up some snow into my maw when I rolled away. When it was in my mouth, I started to whirl it around and mold it into compact projectiles. I spat them when I found the perfect opening in your movements. That allowed me to reach behind you and knock you down. We do have manipulation of the ice and snow around us, after all. And that is exactly what I did."

The Sharp Claw runt was taken aghast by his explanation. Something so stupid to her slipped under her radar and worked. Her emotions were scrambling. Her pair of eyes was flickering about to find a comeback in the environment; pitiful, uncertain grunts slipped out of her throat in dismay. The Weavile grew a little guilty and tried to get her to look on the brighter side of things.

"Please don't feel bad about it." The Weavile consoled the Sneasel again. "You're great at physical, close up combat. If I continued to engage like that, I would've lost. But I had a backup plan. You know why this is, and we are all set apart from the others as they fear and hate us?"

The scout placed one of his nails to the side of his head and twisted it madly, close enough to twirl the fur but leaving the skin untouched, and with a devious simper to boot.

"Big brains. It is what makes us flexible, exactly like switching to attacking with ice projectiles instead of physical combat. It is also what gives us our drive to survive, and what allows us to adapt and overcome."

The Sneasel felt, but felt a little hurt by the comments about brains,

"I certainly do not feel like I have a big brain, how can I if I couldn't even beat you in sparring?"

The Weavile's voice switched to being more commanding to the troubled orphan.

"You do. Like with how you countered me when you were on your knees. I never saw something like that. It's tough for you to understand, but you truly have the potential to be something great."

"You… mean it, don't you? That even I have a big brain with big potential." She scratched behind her ears humbly. The Weavile nodded.

"Indeed. Your potential has already awakened, evident from these exercises. You just need to dig it out from the negativity the others heaped on top of it. Expose it to the surface and make sure it doesn't get submerged again."

The Weavile stopped himself midway when he realized something.

"In a way, it's been working with me as well."

The Sneasel gave a coy look and asked him, "But aren't you still paranoid and jumpy?"

The Weavile looked rather uncomfortable and answered reluctantly.

"I hate to say it, but yes. But, look at how we are now compared to last night or this morning. We've been improving each other! And it's like I said, it's mostly thanks to our brains and being able to express what they can do in combat or conversation. From quick, precise calculations on figuring out exactly where to stab, to the signs we carve into the sides of trees."

"It is what makes us superior."

The scout turned his back and took a dozen steps forward before stopping, leaving the Sneasel in awe in the snow. It was still hard for her to swallow, but was everything he said right? She couldn't think much more on this issue right now because the scout turned around and motioned to her,

"You still want to go hunting, right?"