So it was settled. The Sneasel beta and the Weavile scout would team up and continue their educational experience together. The Sneasel was already starting to get hungry from the climbing and spar session, but was well used to being on an empty stomach and suppressing her hunger pains. She could tough it out for the duration of this trip. In hindsight, the runt thought those sessions were fun in a weird way. Knowing that she could use it those skills later by herself and force others to respect her gave her a tingle in her belly.
The scout's paranoia also seemed to have been dashed away thanks to passing down his skills to a younger member of the pack for future contributions. That is, until he was starting to worryingly twist his head in the opposite direction every few steps. This bothered her a little bit and prompted her to ask more questions.
"Why do you keep doing that?"
"Cause… well, I'm still a scout. I'm supposed to always be on the lookout because anything can get the jump on you. You always have to be aware of your surroundings, because whatever you're after will, as well. With all of these trees, there are plenty of spots for Pokémon to hide and strike from."
The Sneasel took his comment at face value and followed his footsteps. They remained in silence for another minute. They stopped at the base of an evergreen tree with some of the lower branches knocked clear away to open with, along with large, lonely rock at its base.
"Ooh, what happened here?" the novice hunter asked.
"Probably a big power scuffle, seeing as the branches are nowhere to be found. But that leaves this nice, little opening, huh…"
The scout started to scratch something into the side of the evergreen. She questioned why he was doing it, but the scout ignored her until he was finished making the mark. The Weavile pulled back and let the Sneasel see what he was doing. She saw a weird, circular symbol with a few triangles hanging off it into the bark.
"Uhh, what's this?"
The Weavile explained that it was to help them keep track of where they were. There was plenty of land for them to roam upon, but all of it looked the same.
"We cannot afford to get lost from the others. That's why we make carvings into trees and soft stones, so we can remember where we've been. Don't worry, it's one of those things only we can get. Other Pokémon like a Stantler would never understand what it means. It's also a good way to keep your hands sharp, heheh."
The beta Pokémon waved off the explanation. The two- Pokémon party continued their hike through the snow lands until the trees were starting to thin and open to clear land ahead. The Weavile put his hand up abruptly to signal to his companion to stop. He found a thick cedar tree to his left that he could scale for a better view of what's up ahead.
"Stay here. We're nearly out of the woods and into the open, so I am going to see what's up ahead. Make sure we're alone, okay?"
She nodded and took his role for the time being. That distinct, icy punching sound rung in her ears again and grew fainter as the Weavile scaled the to settle on a snowy branch. He scanned the horizon; a massive pocket of open, snow-blanketed land with more trees off in the distant as far as any eye could see. A surprising amount of land could be seen with the lack of leaves or bushes from the brutal winter months. The land descended very gradually the further out it went, indicating that they were on the higher point. The only thing that stuck out amongst the white scenery was a dozen, clay and cream-colored figures moving as one.
It was a small herd of Sawsbuck, one, if not the, most common Pokémon in this section of northern Unova. There were exactly two Deerling, and the rest were Sawsbuck. Both Deerling stayed close to the front-most pair of Sawsbuck, presumably their parents, while the others did not appear to be of blood relations. The Weavile ponderously tapped his chin and hurried himself down to tell his partner the news.
"Alright. So, we are about to come to some open land, and we're not alone. There's a small herd of Sawsbuck up ahead, and there's a few Deerling with them. Since there are only two of us, we can only afford to go after one of the Deerling. Going up against one of the parents directly is not smart."
The Sneasel perked up at the information.
"Well, that shouldn't be a problem, right? I mean, they're stupid Pokémon anyway!"
The Weavile furrowed his brows and crept to the last line of trees before it led into the open. The Sneasel was right behind him, now able to see the family of Season Pokémon moving.
"Not quiet. Like us, they prefer strength in numbers, and they can get pretty protective. Sure, most of the time they'll just run away, but if it's mating season or they're trying to protect each other, they start putting up a fight. Trust me when I say those hooves and antlers hurt."
The Weavile paused and noticed that the herd was coming closer to their position, though oblivious to them.
"They're coming closer. We would have to find the one that's the weakest or most exposed, sneak up on it, then take it down and get out before they react. That is, if you want to take the risk."
The Sneasel pondered the issue. They were outnumbered, yet even she viewed the Season Pokémon as lowly and not much of a threat. But she had been listening to the scout all this time, why would she go against what he had to say about them? The runt crept closer and saw the herd as well.
One of the Deerling suddenly stopped and raised its head with a frightened expression to intermittently look for threats. It sniffed the air, smelling nothing out of the ordinary. It then peered to the approximate area where the two schemers were spying on them and stared straight ahead, not breaking its concentration or line of sight. Two tiny, dark objects were wedged in between the tree line, plotting against the herd unbeknownst to the Deerling. It shot a concerned glance at one of the front-leading Sawsbuck and bleated to it,
"Momma! Momma! I think I see something!"
The Sawsbuck faced its concerned Deerling child and asked what she saw.
"There! Over there by the trees! I don't think we should go there!"
Both of the parents stopped and focused their attention on the same approximate area of the perceived trouble. They too saw the vague objects, but what they really were failed to register in their brains.
"Are you sure you see something?" spoke the stalwart father. The other Deerling came by its panicked sibling's side from the commotion.
"Yes, I'm sure of it. Something is near!"
The ones that were looking at the Sneasel and Weavile pair looked on for a few more moments. The rest of the Season Pokémon continued, not caring about the so-perceived threat by the youngster. It wasn't long until the rest returned to their rhythm of walking and grazing when necessary, except for the father figure and the other Deerling.
"Oh, my daughter," cooed the mother Sawsbuck to her distressed fawn, "there's nothing to be afraid of here. We will protect you as long as you stand by our side. Please, do not worry about such things. I assure you it was nothing, sweetie." The mother nudged her fawn and gave it some warm licks on the face to cheer it up. The father Sawsbuck grew a little disapproving towards the others' attitudes.
"What if she is right and there is something out?"
The other Deerling silently agreed with his father. The mother looked up with a stern face and the female fawn looked onward with fear again.
"Oh, hush you. You're always so arrogant and worried something might happen. Well, nothing happened back then, so why should we be worried now? There was nothing there to begin with. You need to relax more, dear."
"No!" retorted the father Sawsbuck, "That's not the point! She might have really…er… there might, gah! Forget it!" He gave up in frustration. He viewed himself as the smarter of the two parents, but his mate was stubborn and never listened to any of his advice or warnings. Surprisingly, when things could've gone differently if she heeded him, she still didn't consider hearing him out. Especially in cases like this where they would be easy pickings for any potential predators nearby.
Nonetheless, as herd leader, he took a slightly different path away from the trees to help the rest steer clear of any threats, invisible or not. The rest followed as the two Sharp Claw Pokémon plotted their next move. Both of them realized that the uppity Deerling seemed to not stay as close to the group as the others. She immediately became an attractive target for the two, crafty Pokémon. The runt suggested that they focus their attention on the weakest link of the herd.
"We can probably go after that one. It seemed pretty skittish anyway, and it doesn't look too formidable." The scout agreed, but raised the question, "What's our actual plan, then?"
The Sneasel tapped her foot on the snow to think of a solution while keeping sight of the herd of Season Pokémon. The herd was heading away from their position thanks to the finicky fawn tattling on them. However, they did not appear to fully understand what was in that spot because they were still going at the same pace they were before. The Pokémon duo's cover wasn't blown yet. The scout spoke up with a partial plan,
"Maybe you should leave the actual fighting to me."
The Sneasel agreed with his reasoning, but wondered what she could do to help.
"But what could I do? I still need to help you, right? Maybe…" She abruptly stopped, grinned, and covered her mouth to muffle childlike giggling upon thinking of the perfect plan,
"I can distract them while you move in for the kill! Sounds good, doesn't it?" The scout was highly interested in her proposition; stunned, even, at a novice coming up with something so sound so swiftly!
"Are-Are you sure? I mean, it could work out, but I'm worried about you."
The novice hunter gave her apprentice a solemn nod with her grin still shining through.
"You said I had to learn eventually, right? So I wanna learn something about hunting. And do you have any better ideas?"
"All right, fine." The scout conceded and resumed stalking the herd of Season Pokémon as he laid out the details for the attack.
"Once we get close enough, you will sneak behind them and make some noise, a ruckus, anything to get their attention. While you distract them, I'll sneak in and try to bring down that Deerling closest to us with a single blow. Neither of us is as experienced as the alpha hunters, we're outnumbered, and they are going to get protective because of that. We only have one shot at this, so I'll try to make it count."
The Sneasel was getting giddy hearing the plans on her first actual chase with the only member of her pack that wasn't a complete jerk to her. They followed the herd amongst the outer rim of trees, noting every move they made, especially their intended target detached from the other Sawsbuck. They halved the distanced between them and the pack. Then came the familiar, daunting sound of the Sneasel's stomach rumbling. Luckily it was impossible for any of the prey Pokémon to hear it, but the rumblings made her realized something: isn't the point of this to get food, the body of their prey? She tapped on her mentor's shoulders to ask him the most important question of this ordeal with a dependent, nervous expression,
"How are we going to eat it?"
The scout went wide-eyed and buried his face in his palm on forgetting such a small, but crucial detail. He cursed under his breath and took another peer at the Sawsbuck and Deerling.
(We can definitely bring it down, but I don't think I can do it instantly. Plus there's more of them than us…)
"We might have to give this one up, sorry to say." The Sneasel looked deflated and asked what he meant.
"I might be able to wound it, and it will surely die, but I don't think I can do it on the spot. We're going to have to do a hit and run. There's just too many of them. They'll gore us if we stick around to eat that annoying fawn."
"You mean, we won't be eating the Deerling we're after?" she asked, feeling very upset.
"Unfortunately, yes." He locked eye contact with her to keep her focused, "but, why turn back now? So what if we don't recover it? Heck, I'll admit it is more fun killing our prey than eating it, or ugh, hauling it back. I know it's hard because you haven't eaten much recently, but you don't want to turn back, do you?"
The small Sharp Claw Pokémon reluctantly agreed again with her guide. It sucked for her since she was looking forward to getting a good meal out of this, but understood why they had to resort to a hit and run strategy. She croaked out a disgusted "fine" and realized that the group they were after was had stopped to graze on the grass underneath the layers of snow. She gasped and ditched moaning about not eating it afterward.
"Oh, I think this is our moment!"
"Go, go!" ushered the Weavile as he readied his nails to puncture through a weak spot on their prized Deerling prey. The Sneasel took off and headed for the rear of the herd to initiate their plan.
(I can't believe it, actually contributing to something for once. So what if we can't eat it? It'll come eventually, I'm sure of it. Now, just gotta get their attention!)
The Deerling and Sawsbuck group halted to have a quick snack on the grasses hidden under their feet. Handfuls of snow were sifted from their feet as they worked their small mouths on the ground. The skittish Deerling followed suit with the others and found only dead or stubby grass where she was. She bleated to her parents again even more annoyingly,
"Mooooom! Why is there no grass to eat here? Where is it! The others are finding some! It's not faaaaiir-ugh!"
The mother doe sighed and tried to reassure her fawn that there was edible grass in other spots. She advised her to keep her nose to the ground and actively dig around to find it. And so the Deerling did. It was happily occupied with shoveling snow in a straight line and not stopping until she found a tasty patch of hidden grass. None of the Season Pokémon seemed to remind her of the potential warnings of predators, nor did they even seem to remember the leading buck's warnings. It all played into the hands of the Sharp Claw Pokémon.
The Sneasel snuck as close behind the herd of Season Pokémon as she could without getting spotted. All she had to do was draw attention away from the more combat savvy Weavile she was working with, after all. And her kind is known for their speed, so bailing shouldn't be problematic if everything gets screwed up. She managed to get about thirty feet from the rearmost member of the herd before it jerked its head up and stared at the Pokémon that had her kind dominate the icy plains. It was her cue to officially be as obnoxious and obvious as possible.
"Hey! Hey! Look at me! Over here!" screeched the Sneasel to rouse more ears and eyes to her location. She squatted down, scooped up some snow, and flung it as hard as she could at the few that didn't perk up at the sudden voice behind them. The Sawsbuck and Deerling raised their necks from the ground to stare at the mocking Sneasel, now flailing her arms and making intimidating howling, for a Pokémon like her, to hold their attention. Some were idly chewing their freezing cud while watching, while others took it as a challenge and approached closer with heavy stomps.
"That's right! That's right! Look at me! Am I interrupting you? Look at me you dumb deer! Can you even hear me with those antlers stuck on your faces?" She continued to toy with the grazing Pokémon, especially the father figure at the front. He became more agitated with every insult hurled by the Sneasel. The big buck was stomping towards the teal-furred troublemaker to challenge her. It only left the annoying Deerling even more isolated from the rest, subconsciously beckoning the scout to rush in and punish it for being so badly out of position.
"And who are you to spit at and mock us," haughtily bellowed the Sawsbuck, "when you are alone, nuisance?"
Her bait was working perfectly.
"Nuisance?" asked the Sneasel with a conniving grin, "What, are you scared of me? You should be!"
The Sawsbuck replied with a ferocious, grunting snort-wheeze, scaring the daylights of the Sneasel. The Sneasel was beginning to second guess her decisions up to this point.
"I think it's the other way around," ranted the father figure. "Look at yourself, for you are all skin and bones. Your kind is nothing but trouble! You are cowardly without your numbers, and when you do have numbers, all you do is kill the others, sometimes out of boredom! You should be the one scared, for you are weak without your numbers. How can your kind look down upon us when one cannot even fend for itself?"
The situation was now being controlled by the Sawsbuck, making the Sneasel creep back with every step he took closer to her. She was rightfully scared of him; he was much bigger, could do intimidation much better than she could, and her claws would be nothing against his horns. She was nearly scared stiff but caught a glimpse of something in the corner of her eye. It could best be described as a phantom racing across the snow without any sound, exactly like the obscured image of a startled fish gliding underneath the surface of murky water. The phantom was the scout she teamed up with closing in to punish the isolated fawn that nearly ruined the entire effort. All the while, the Sawsbuck continued to bark at the Sneasel. He stomped the snow and lowered his head with a bullish snort.
"You are nothing but noise!"
She giggled. She chuckled. She started to cackle at her plan working out so well in their favor while pointing at the gruesome act about to fulfill it. The big buck was befuddled at the Sneasel going from cocky to frightened to cocky again. But he discarded it, thinking it was just more proof of the Sneasel and her relatives being nothing but a net loss. The Sawsbuck started to do a low charge at the laughing Pokémon when she brazenly called out,
"I think you should think again!"
Right as she said those words, her partner swooped in close enough and threw himself towards the isolated, whiney Deerling with exposed claws. He let off a heavy grunt right before attacking, making his target crouch in terror and look at the oncoming Sharp Claw Pokémon just in time to see, and feel, her attacker. He committed to a straight lunge and buried his left claw right in the front half of her torso, directly behind her right foreleg.
To the Season Pokémon, the Deerling let off a soul-shattering, agonizing "Beleeeyaaaah!" To the Sharp Claw Pokémon, it was a cry of dominating satisfaction, natural to such predators, knowing their prey would soon fall. Multiple Season Pokémon were too spooked to do anything but scatter and sprint off in random directions. They didn't have thoughts of helping their wounded friend. Instead, the fleeing Pokémon only had thoughts of instinctual, clumsy, selfish self-preservation by running away.
This especially included her mother that tried to coo her into believing there was nothing to be afraid of.
The Weavile's hand effortlessly pierced some vital organs as he twisted it counter-clockwise and plowed it downwards to inflict the maximum amount of damage in his one attack by cleaving through more skin and widening the wounds. The Weavile cleaved his claw all the way down to the lowest point of her torso from his angle, carving an open channel vertically through the Deerling. When it broke through the outer skin on the bottom, the Weavile's hand started to plummet to the snow from the excess force, wounding the back of the Deerling's leg in the process, as the Weavile tore away and made a beeline back to the trees. It was an astoundingly impressive hit.
The Sawsbuck realized what the mocking Sneasel was doing all along and stopped in his tracks. He turned around to catch the very end of the Weavile's attack to watch him retreat just as quickly as he entered the fray. She wasn't going to challenge him, let alone of them. She was a distraction. The whole ploy was bait.
Bait he readily swallowed to allow the Sneasel's real plan unfold.
He was infested with terror, hatred, and an ultimate feeling of foolish helplessness of knowing that his daughter was condemned to die. All because of he left her in an attempt to defend her. The worst part was that it would be a slow death, as the Weavile had no intentions of sticking around and longer. As slow as a day is long.
"Bail, bail! Quick!" the scout barked at the Sneasel to disengage now that it was over. She ran with to her mentor to follow him back to the safety of the tree line, fueled by nothing more than sudden excitement and adrenaline.
The Deerling tried to sprint like the adults in the same whirlwind of panic. Running only caused more of her life essence to squirt out of her wounds to hasten her inevitable passing. She collapsed not even five seconds of full-on sprinting later and thrashed about on the snow. The father trotted to her location, trying to think of any way to help her. It was too late. The Deerling's eyes bulged and her legs kicked on the ground in a vain attempt to keep running, but she was slowing down. She further thrashed at seeing a vague image her father approach her to waste even more energy. A bit of gurgling went on in her throat as her world and mind went dark, followed by the rest of her system shutting down. The Sawsbuck breathed heavily in grieving shock and looked up to see the Sharp Claw fading into the distance behind the looming trees.
He swore through grieving breathing that they would pay gravely for taking his daughter's life.