One by one, the eggs were eaten, and the shells were evicted from the nest. The Sneasel greatly enjoyed herself doing so. It was so long since she was given a proper meal like this that she had forgotten how Pidgey tasty eggs were. Her tongue and stomach was in paradise from eating the eggs, eating all that delicious protein-packed goo to fuel any arctic predator's body. Far below her was the mourning, frothing mother cursing the Sneasel with all her might for being unable to fly up and punish her. That allowed the Sneasel to take her sweet, sweet time indulging in the joys of eating.
The last egg was scarfed down, tasting the best out of all the eggs as the contents ran down her throat. To her dismay, there were no more eggs in the nest. She scooted in place, trying to get comfortable to relax after her meal. It was not all that bad… for a bird's nest high above the ground.
"Ah…" said the Sneasel, making very sure she can still be heard from the bird below, "this place isn't that bad! It's cozy enough to sleep in here. I think I'll digest those unbelievably delicious eggs for a bit, if you do not mind."
As the Sneasel shuffled to get comfortable, she felt something poke against her left hindquarter. It was something small and sharp, with two prongs spaced about a centimeter apart.
"Eek!" she winced in pain at getting poked by an unidentified sharp object hidden in the nest. She stood up and flipped around to find out where that protruding annoyance was. Despite chowing down on some nutritious eggs to pacify her, the Sneasel was still quite uptight. Something so silly like getting poked in the rear was not going to be tolerated during her rest.
She brought her face closer to the booby-trapped portion of the nest, figuring it was just a rogue stick. But it wasn't because sticks don't give off a gleam.
A small, semi-circular object, slightly thinning at one end was barely poking out amidst the woven twigs of the nest, giving a tiny metallic sheen to her prized night vision.
"What is this?"
The Sneasel started to tear up the portion of the nest she sat on with her claws, sending little bits of wood everywhere like when she tore up the desolate berry bush. Swish swish, thwip-crick went her claws against the material, trying to dig out the sharp semi-circle from its gnarled stronghold.
It only took a handful of seconds for the object to become free enough to be pulled out of the nest and rest in the Pokémon's palms; being extra careful not to cut herself. The object was held right in front of her face, resonating a dim, touching power to the Sharp Claw Pokémon. Slowly, she figured out what it was, and nearly gasped in realization.
It was a Razor Claw.
It was a sharply hooked, ever sharper ended artifact that was worth more than a hundred times its weight in gold to the Sharp Claw Pokémon.
According to the gossip from her pack mates, the fastest way a Sneasel could ever hope to evolve was to get its grubby little paws on a Razor Claw at night. Doing so would catalyze its evolution and become a Weavile in no time. They were hard to find, but stories of feuds from multiple packs could solely be attributed to these little weapons were spread around the Sharp Claw Pokémon like a wildfire. No matter how rare they might be, she had one in her possession. The Pidgeot must have found it one day and took it back to its nest as a souvenir from a good find.
She could indeed become one of those pack leaders, get sharper claws, get bigger, and grow even stronger to heighten her natural status as a predator. Lucky me, she thought.
Merely holding it seemed to induce a monstrous, tugging, throbbing feeling within her very soul like magnets spaced from each other due to her body craving augmentation…
But how could such a thing even work with her? Without any direct proof, those stories were about as believable as fairy tales to her. However, fairy tales they may no longer be.
The Sneasel anxiously toyed with the Razor Claw, being vigilant in making sure it would not fall and be lost in the nest or the sea of snow below. She grabbed it with her free hand and ran the narrow edge against the back of her nails, making the pulling sensation stronger, but not enough to catalyze anything in her body. With her experimentation came progress as she tried all sorts of basic tricks and twirls of the Razor Claw, teasing her evolution.
"Come on, work!" she grunted to the small object, barely able to contain the butterflies in her stomach as she exhausted all possible outcomes of applying the artifact to evolve.
Except for swallowing it. Hell no.
She squeezed her palm containing the artifact out of stress. A wave of potential rippled through her, starting at her hand. Her mind was compelled to keep on trying until something worked and she became a Weavile. She thought aloud to herself, nearly tasting sweet evolution.
"If one hand did that, then maybe…"
The Sharp Claw Pokémon opened its palm, pressed the other one against to make a cup formation, and wiggled the Razor Claw right in the non-existent gap between the two hands. With a deep breath, she held the image in front of her face tight within in her mind and closed her eyes. Next, the Sharp Claw Pokémon folded her claws inward and locked them together in a fit so tight it threatened to break her nails with the artifact still sandwiched in her palms.
And then it happened.
The Razor Claw felt as if it was dissolving into her skin and scrambling across the inner workings of her hand, trailing a surge of power with it. Her evolution had arrived silently, changing her body quietly, quickly, but forcefully in a harmless but empowering fashion. She felt firsthand her body morphing into its superior, matured, evolved formed within the nest. Intriguing, beckoning calls originated from her subconscious. Calls of bloodthirst, learning potential, and a bit of mating reached out to her. A few of the ways of mental processing previously unknown or dormant within her awoke. To her, it felt as if time stopped, but in reality, the process ended as soon as it began a moment ago.
The Sneasel evolved into a Weavile.
Slowly she opened her eyes and freed her hands to inspect. The freshly-evolved Pokémon caught the tell-tale sign of an evolutionary success. Instead of two claws, she now sported three. That alone was good enough for her. And that wasn't even counting all the other perks of evolution for her.
Like a bigger body that now measured just under four feet, an even larger and more advanced brain, more muscle mass especially in the limbs, a full crown of scarlet feathers with two short feathers near the ears and none of them chipped or jagged compared to when she was a Sneasel, a more brilliant golden marking on its forehead, the three claws on her feet to match the three on her hands, fewer but more vibrant tail feathers matching the ones on her head, a crimson collar around her neck, a thicker and plusher coat with a stunning indigo color, and the claws on her feet and hands being even sharper than before.
Her slightly swollen chest was also a nice bonus.
The evolved body would take some time getting used to, but it already felt way better for her. It was way more fitting for a predator like herself. She started to wonder how she even lasted this long as a pathetic Sneasel runt. Then she pondered what she could accomplish with an exponential increase of power.
"There still should be that Pidgeot nearby… perhaps I should pay it a visit."
The Weavile peered down the nest and saw the Pidgeot mourning the loss of a potential generation in the cold. She grinned and yearned to burn off some of the energy her snack gave her.
Without wasting any time, the Weavile got out of the nest and started to descend alongside the tree, keeping a close eye on the Pidgeot with every jump downward. Now it was her turn to be the big, strong Pokémon on the tundra instilling fear and bruises into others.
She reunited with the ground level with a stylish kick-off jump from the tree landing a few feet behind the distraught bird. It looked up from its torment and turned to face the evolved Sharp Claw Pokémon. It looked quite desperate and intimidated, even as far as taking a step back from the Weavile, who was one knee with its arms crossed and against its chest.
"Heh, heh, heh…" taunted the Weavile with an eerie, "now you've done it!" type of smirk, "remember me?"
Its arms sprung out of the cross formation and parallel with its thighs, making a crisp –swlink- sound. It spooked the Pidgeot even more, who was in the commanding position not too long ago. From this angle, the mother bird also appeared to be way more scuffed up than she thought.
(At least he put up a fight. That makes my job easier.)
"…You," croaked the Pidgeot, being so stricken with all sorts of negativity that the parent left it at that.
"She's...She's mocking me. And my wing is still broken…"
The Weavile squeezed her palms and cracked her knuckle to get ready for combat, in addition to a little speech,
"I thank you for the eggs. They tasted great; tasted just as great as I remember, back when I still had parents to take care of me. But, I thank you even more for picking up that Razor Claw. I found it in your nest. I do not know where you got it, but I'm glad you brought it back for me to use. Now, I admit that I wish I could still save my partner, but do you know what?'
She stiffened her claws and stood on both feet,
"Finishing you off myself will be better than running away and coming back with a pack."
The Pidgeot narrowed its eyes and glimpsed at its damaged wing before lowering its head and making another horrible, eardrum pounding scream as it charged at the evolved runt. The Pidgeot didn't hold back any of the strength it retained. And neither did the newly-evolved Weavile.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon narrowed her eyes and foresaw the reckless charge and dodged it effortlessly. Using her long limbs, she started to jab and swipe at the mother's face, specifically the eyes to fight dirty, as she did a much more violent, real version of the sparring she conducted with the scout. A considerable scratch went down the mother's cheek followed by diagonal slice across her breast, cleaving through its plumage and inflicting a second wound on its chest to lead off the fight. The evolved Pokémon's first impressions added a sobering thought to the turmoil of emotions going on inside the Pidgeot's head.
(She's fast! And precise! This isn't the same runt I made cower in terror earlier!)
Both Pokémon bobbed and weaved in and out of arm's reach to try and trade energetic, violent blows with each other. As it went on, the Pidgeot was landing few, but hefty attacks with its talons, beak, and wing, while the Weavile was swiftly whittling down the Pidgeot with the rapid accumulation of light but numerous wounds, the latter growing more noticeable as the fight progressed. Shrieking, huffing, and heavy footsteps rattled the once-quiet night.
Now the Pidgeot was slowing down from the combination of exhaustion and bleeding cuts carved into it, forcing her on her last legs. The Weavile still beamed with life, clearly having a good time at the expense of the mother's health. In a last ditch effort, the Pidgeot tried its hardest to inflict an aerial attack by pushing its legs off the ground and going for a perilous Brave Bird maneuver that was only a few feet off the ground. However, the brawling Pokémon had no difficulty intercepting the feeble Brave Bird attack.
The Weavile pivoted off to the left and stuck out a stiff claw in the Pidgeot's trajectory. The attack was carried out right as the Weavile made a vicious hook to the left to see which material would break against what.
The result was the scattering of a dozen feathers from a hard-tumbling Pidgeot crashing and cartwheeling on top of the hardened lay of frosty snow, cracking more bones in succession. It finally landed face first in the snow, panting in thorough, paced agony from unbearable, shock-inducing agony from its busted wings. The Weavile's hand was also sore, but in nowhere near as bad as of a condition the Pidgeot's wings were in.
Knowing that it would take time for the Pidgeot to get on its feet from the crash, the newly evolved Pokémon took a quick break from the battle and investigated its fallen partner. She walked to the base of the tree, where there slumped the still Weavile scout. Numerous deep puncture wounds and scratches marked its body, complete with a shallow pool of blood building up underneath. Its eyes were closed and had zero signs of life, not even afterlife twitches.
The evolved Pokémon knelt down in front of her fallen friend with a very somber attitude. She never saw a fellow Sharp Claw Pokémon dead before, and the sight of it polluted her mind. Nasty, negative thoughts started to drown out any optimism going on in her head. The few memories of fun she had training with him in retrospect were shunned away as she adopted more morbid meditation. It wasn't even a matter of how she could explain this to any of the alpha's goons or daggers making up their vocal cords if they questioned her about it. For the first time, she actually cared about others. She gave a few sniffles of sadness in sync with ached breathing as she gave a lukewarm moment of silence for the scout. The Weavile whispered "I will miss you" into the deceased Pokémon's ears and wiped her eyes.
She truly missed him; the only one that decided to sit down with her and help her rather than push her around.
Her mourning was cut short from the irritable sounds of a struggling Bird Pokémon with two crippled wings squawking hatefully while trying to stand up from a hard landing.
"I'll Killllll youuuuuu~~!" groaned the Pidgeot, being forced to extend the sounds of its contempt from the suffering it was in. The moment to got to its feet to stand up, its legs gave out, and it fell to the ground again with a tempered thud. Gasps and groans of stress echoed from its mouth to confirm the plight it was in. It tried the hardest it could to resume battling, but its body was far too damage to cooperate.
Just then, the Weavile stood up and slowly turned its head to the obnoxious Bird Pokémon with a visage that could only describe as hatred. The scout's passing made her go from sorrowful to cynical real fast with a fiercely-clutched hand.
She had enough.
The Weavile took her time walking up to the Pidgeot struggling even to stand. When it managed to stay on both of its feet for more than a second, the Weavile delivered a wicked right hook to the Pidgeot, making it tumble and leaving a slight depression on the side of its face. It whined from the punch, immediately bringing her some relief. But the Weavile had her fair share of domination from the mother and wanted to wrap everything up.
She stood in front of the Bird Pokémon again; the Pidgeot was still frothing with pure scorn as it gritted its beak to try to mask its heavy respiration. Raising her hand, the Sharp Claw Pokémon prepared to draw this battle to a justified conclusion. It held it mere inches from the Pidgeot's forehead and spoke,
"Any last words?'
A painful silence hung in the air for a moment as the bird continued its futile glaring.
"…"
The Weavile pulled back her arm and uttered the final words to the bird,
"I didn't catch that."
Then came the evolved claw effortlessly breaking the Pidgeot's skull and impaling its brain, putting it out of its misery instantly.
She was the only Pokémon left alive in that secluded section of the tundra. In front of her was a Pidgeot with a ruined pair of wings and a shattered skull. Behind her was the Weavile scout that led her up to this point. The surviving Weavile finished off the Pidgeot that took the life of its mentor. She made the killing blow and technically her first kill, but she largely attributed it to the one that taught her well. The beta had evolved, but she was now alone again.
The Weavile cleaned its claw clean from blood with its tongue, feeling somewhat at ease from licking the warm red liquid of her first kill. The taste gave her a glimpse of what it was like being a true killer, and she genuinely enjoyed it. Her body could metabolize it, and she liked the different metallic taste it had. The Weavile thought about eating some of the bird she finished off, but she already scarfed down half a dozen Pidgey eggs; she had enough protein and filling for now. Eating more would only make her groggy, and being groggy at out in the open, frosted fields at night was a terrible idea. Heck, some predators might come around from the ruckus to see what happened. She needed to finish up and head back.
The Weavile turned around and looked at the departed scout, once again feeling glum at the loss. He would no longer be with her but memory, but thanks to him, she may never have evolved and be set on the road to independence. The Weavile walked back to the body and did the only thing she thought was proper.
The female Pokémon dipped her claws in the little pool of blood and etched a crude drawing of the prized Razor Claw she found above its head. Just enough force was applied to make visible scratches on the hardened wood; they did not have to be super thick. Then the Weavile made two vertical strikes to the left of the Razor Claw symbol. Finally, three bigger vertical strikes were etched on the right of the Razor Claw symbol. It was a short visual storytelling of her pre-evolution life of a Sneasel and evolving into a Weavile thanks to the deceased Pokémon.
The evolved Pokémon took one last look at the sad scene and retraced the scout's footsteps, hoping to make it back to her pack's settlement and survive another day. Now came more time for solitude, but with her new form, it would be solitude spent sharpening her skills, away from the criticisms of her pack.
There was plenty more awaiting the fully-evolved Sharp Claw Pokémon.