The Weavile immediately jumped from her perch and spread her arms out as she jumped down, keen on opening with a double downward slash right at his face. The Deerling was unfrozen from her sudden movement and hopped away with a mighty leap. The Sharp Claw Pokémon's opening lunge was partially successful, as she felt a small amount of resistance for a tiny fraction of a second before her right arm paved through it without issue. It fiercely nicked the right shoulder blade of the Deerling, confirmed with a cry of anguish from the Season Pokémon. All that from a scratch that barely connected on the Season Pokémon.
(So vulnerable indeed!)
He had spaced himself about twenty feet from the Weavile and stopped to look at his torn shoulder. There were three narrow, half-inch gashes around his right foreleg, hurting and starting to bleed. He could still run as fast as he normally could, but seeing and feeling this injury made him hyperventilate while adrenaline began to saturate his inner system. The Deerling was simply not as accustomed to violence like the Weavile was, and now he found himself pressed against the base of a gnarled oak tree.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon landed on one foot and one knee, cushioned from the snow underneath and was facing away from the Deerling. She corrected her gaze and gave a dark, ominous grin of jagged teeth with equally menacing chuckling through her closed maw. The Weavile held her bloody claw against her nose and took a deep, gratifying breath at it. She further taunted the Deerling by cleaning off his blood with her mouth.
The aspiring huntress put one of the bloody digits in her mouth to clean it with her tongue, savoring its unique taste. She made a drawn out "mmm" sound as she plucked the digit from her mouth with a quiet, wet pop sound and replaced it with another dirty one, repeating with the third one.
"Mmmm, mm!" mocked the Weavile at her cleaned claws. Now the black devil was on the ground, got the first strike on the Deerling, and acquired a taste for its blood.
Every neuron in her big brain was burning on overdrive; every thought in her consciousness was a feeling of ravenous, ravaging, bloody savagery that she had craved ever since that day. The Deerling looked so vulnerable, exposed, and pathetic that the only possible use for it was to become food for her. All she wanted was to sink her claws and jaws into the side of the Deerling and eviscerate it. The Weavile yearned to hear its screams of agony and death like any feeble prey Pokémon would make as a far superior being shredded it to an unrecognizable mess. The huntress's stomach churned and writhed in anticipation of being able to process mouthful after mouthful of tender, chewed meat right after she had made her kill. Experiencing the full thrill of disemboweling the Deerling and feasting on its remains, even if it was purely for pleasure, was an opportunity the beta was willing to take at any cost now that the beta evolved.
The Deerling was frozen again and hyperventilating from having a panic attack and fearing for his life. He couldn't decide what to do. He could run, but she would catch up, and running would only hasten the blood loss. He could stand and fight, but she was a natural-born predator and he was not, as he would surely lose against her claws and teeth.
While the Deerling stood there in indecision, the Weavile decided to taunt the Deerling some more.
"What's the matter, scared stiff?" bellowed the Weavile in a boisterous voice. "Look at me. Look at me right in the eyes and listen to me!"
"Wh-Wh-W-, Why, why are you doing this?" cried the Deerling in terror, "You don't have to do this! Leave me alone!"
The Weavile flexed her weaponized digits then allowed her arms to freely droop and sway over her knees with a little hunch from her back, complete with the delirious eyes of a serial killer.
"Why? Why am I doing this?" She spoke before stopping to laugh in hunger and stress-induced mania, "I have to feed myself, too, right? I can't just starve, can I? I'm just trying to make sure I survive the night and won't go hungry. Is there something wrong you see with that? Does the idea of me being independent and capable of feeding myself at my own pace offend you; do you think I should just walk away and just keep myself on tree bark? No no, nononono. That won't do, little Deerling. I prefer my meat fresh."
A wet growl rolled from the back of her throat and she scraped her claws against each other.
"Meat so fresh it's still screaming as I plunge my jaws into it!"
Even the Deerling knew that she didn't sound right, even for a predatory Pokémon like a Weavile. The Deerling remembered a few things his mother said about how some Pokémon "don't think or act right" and how it's often a more serious issue than having a physical impediment. The same Pokémon are also prone to terrifying bouts of violence…
This wasn't a typical Pokémon he was dealing with. She was crazy. Heck, describing her as insane wouldn't do it justice. Or even saying downright delirious.
She was absolutely psychotic; little more than a machine of flesh and bone designed to kill, consume, and occasionally make more of itself, with little stoppage in-between either step. No sense of civility or reason could be employed against the red-eyed black devil come to reap the Season Pokémon's life.
And it easily showed. The body language, tone and speed of The Weavile's voice, and the way she got her point across all seemed off. To her, all thoughts that weren't along the line of kill, shred, rip, tear, eat were quickly shunned from memory, especially things like mercy or reason. Things she considered only prey Pokémon would think about in a time like this. Well, she had enough of being viewed as a prey Pokémon to the invisible, corrupting eyes of her peers or any others willing to judge her. The Weavile fully embraced the psychotic episode from the immeasurable abuse she experienced and let bubble over into physical trauma. The huntress finally got a perfect opportunity to let out all her rage and satisfy her maddening bloodlust.
The Weavile took slow, daunting steps towards the Deerling to pressure it even more in low growls, making it back up in accord out of control.
"Oh, don't think it'll be so bad. I'll put you to good use by ripping you apart, piece by piece, until there's nothing left for me to breakdown so I can start eating! I won't stop until you're dead, my belly's fed, and my claws are red! You're naught but nourishment to me, pathetic prey!"
The Deerling quivered under her verbal grinding heel as he gave his own input,
"You… you're crazy! You're a murderer! Murderer! And I bet you even killed my daddy with that loud sound!"
The Weavile heard of something like this before, of a loud sound and Pokémon being blown away by tall creatures. But she didn't know anything about this with the Sawsbuck that once accompanied the Deerling.
"Don't know what you're talking about. And you say I am crazy? Just stand still, it'll be easier for the both of us!"
With his back against a wall and the Weavile getting closer, the Deerling had no choice but to fight the psychotic predator head on. He lowered his head and made up his mind. He was most likely doomed, but he would not go down without a fight. He would make his father proud standing his ground and making one of the Sharp Claw Pokémon think twice about picking on them or go out trying his hardest.
The Deerling tried his best at a snort-wheeze grunt like his father did to scare the Sneasel in the past. This snort-wheeze was much less intimidating and did little in making the Weavile back off.
"I'm not going to roll over and let you kill me! I'm tired of always running!" said the Deerling as it narrowed its eyes and adopted a side stepping, defensive stance. She saw it as a challenge and gladly accepted it, stiffening her claws.
"Heh, you think you're scary. I'll show you something scary. You'll just die tired!"
Immediately, the cornered Pokémon lowered its head and gave a fierce, head-first charge at the Weavile, taking it by surprise. With a puffy grunt, he smashed the top of his head against the Weavile's torso, ramming into her ribcage and marginally goring her with the stubs of his growing antlers. It felt more akin to being stabbed by a stick than an actual knife. Still, it was enough to inflict some damage onto his attacker and send her back aghast.
The Weavile tumbled back from her opponent's attack, underestimating how dangerous a cornered fawn could be. The Deerling then followed up with another headbutt aimed at her torso. He quickly stood on its hind legs to deliver several downward chops at her shoulders and face with surprisingly sharp hooves. The unevolved Season Pokémon was fighting with all its might, trying to make the Sharp Claw Pokémon back off in the act of self-defense.
The Weavile remembered a scenario like this before with the Pidgeot attacking the scout relentlessly while he was against pressed against a tree. Well, in her case, her back wasn't against anything, the Pokémon on the offense in question didn't have wings to dance in and out of arms' reach, and the hooves were not as muscular or sharp as the talons belonging to the parental Bird Pokémon. With an angry and delirious growl, the Weavile delivered a fast but blind swipe at the general direction of the Deerling, giving it a nasty scratch on its cheeks. It pulled back and slowed down from the pain, not trying to let up on the offense.
With an even nastier hiss, the Weavile recognized the right foreleg was moving slower than the left one. She stabbed it directly in the foreleg and dragged her claw down as far as it could go down the leg, effectively crippling the Deerling with a long and profound laceration running down the leg. A stumbling cry of suffering rung from the fawn and completely stopped the assault, limping to the side and hobbling on three feet. The Weavile's ears were rewarded with the signature bleat of a young Deerling feeling excruciating pain.
Fear once again tried to grip the fawn in paralysis, and was succeeding as his wounds worsened. He was having trouble standing up and not fidgeting, making it impossible to stand his ground. Now was the point he seriously considered hobbling or limping away, whichever one was faster. This was a losing battle from the beginning.
On the other hand, a seething grudge was imbued in the Weavile from getting attacked by what she thought was easy prey, albeit the pain signals were diluted to her. Little got to her head other than strike, rend, maim, bleed, keeping her aloft and determined to make him pay for hurting her body and her ego.
She spat and wiped her mouth in a brisk motion to get ready to fight back. The huntress dashed towards the injured Deerling, now truly berserk. Out of reflex, the Deerling tried to smash its own head against the Weavile to intercept it, but the predator moved way too quickly for him to retaliate with his wounded leg. A claw ran forward and made a vicious horizontal swipe against his face and onto his left foreleg, then a follow up going in the opposite direction. The predator repeated this again and again with wild swings and angles slicing across his face, torso, and legs. If he got away or the somehow got the upper hand, there would already be lingering damage done that would stack up in her favor. Soon there was a broad-sized gash peeled into the Deerling's body and badly bled.
Each swipe stung worse than the last one was more of the Deerling's hair was cleaved off and the wounds were building up to expose more of his skin layers to even stronger attacks, making him hurt and bleed all the more. Each swipe also whisked more and more of the Season Pokémon's willpower to fight, his brain failing to tell him to switch from fight to flight. His opportunity to flee vanished long ago, and he was going to pay the price soon from the black devil dancing along the snow. The scent of blood and sensation of tearing away muscle only compounded her savagery, making her hit harder and faster from multiple angles to pile on the damage.
Instead of continuing to scratch up his chest, the huntress wanted to ensure there would be a zero percent chance of the Deerling finding the strength to flee, robbing her of a good fight. Her claws targeted its left foreleg, slashing and slicing the limb in the midst of disgust. Small chunks of meat were ripped off from the leg around the front shank, making it collapse onto the snow. A stray claw was then thrown at the Deerling's face, managing to puncture one of the Season Pokémon's eyeballs and permanently blackening most of its vision in excruciating pain while it twisted around inside the cavity until the Deerling pried itself off the stiff claw in a shoddy side leap backward. Now the Deerling was thoroughly crippled
His body twisted and jumped back to yank itself away from the claw that claimed one of its eyes. It bleated repeatedly as it flopped around on the reddening snow, calling for parents in pain that would not come to his aid. The fawn decided to make one last attempt to run away, fearing it was far too late; anywhere other than here was desirable as he tried for a leaping stride to get him away. He didn't even succeed in standing up as his legs gave up. The front half of his body abrasively fell onto the snow a second time, refusing to work and carry him away from battle. Blood was now profusely squirting out of his major wounds as he twitched, making it a struggle even to stay conscious.
In his one remaining eye, he painfully craned his neck up off from the snow to see the psychotic Pokémon squat down and making a cross between wailing and hissing. The Deerling's last thoughts were incoherent, simple survival instincts trying to tell its broken body to get up and run away in vain.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon wailed and leaped on top of the Deerling's side, burying both of its claws into its innards and clasping onto something fleshy and slippery from within. She violently tore her hands out and pulled out a portion of the Deerling's intestines with so much force she nearly lost her balance and fell over. She was donned with the Deerling's entrails as it loosely looped and hung over her neck and shoulders. As quick as her claws tore back into the torso of the Season Pokémon, they were torn out again and again, repeating as necessary and loving the short-lived struggle by the Deerling's last living moments.
The Weavile projected all of her frustration and negativity onto the dying Deerling's side by manually grinding him up into mincemeat. The huntress continued to enjoy herself in the middle of pure animalistic carnage fueling her psychotic high as she donned herself with the Deerling's entrails, not caring if she had truly gone mad. Whatever the explanation was, it felt so fantastic and so fitting for a Pokémon of her caliber to tear up one that was too vulnerable to not exploit. Maybe it was for the better she did go mad, at least shredding up some dumb and defenseless Pokémon was betting than always downplaying herself, in her mind.
And it lasted for only a moment or two, just long enough to fully expunge all of her frustration and put the Season Pokémon out of its misery.
When The Sharp Claw Pokémon finally came to, she stopped and surveyed the dead Season Pokémon. There was no sign of life; only an enormous bloody cavity carved into the side of the Deerling. The entrails she donned slipped off and sat alongside the desecrated Deerling. She backed up a little and looked around, wondering if her madness was witnessed by any other Pokémon. Exhilarating, calming breaths were drawn by the predatory Pokémon, increasing the satisfaction from her bloodlust and good-feeling lightheadedness by breathing in the brumal atmosphere.
She studied the carcass and shot a glance at its bloody face, replaying the moment dozens of times in a second in her head.
"I… killed it. I killed it all by myself, with no assistance."
The Sharp Claw Pokémon blinked and had a smile from ear to ear.
"Ha…Hahahah…!"
The Weavile couldn't contain her excitement and let it out with loud, crazy cackles. This was a monumental moment for her, for she could finally recognize herself as a huntress. It was about time the Weavile proved to herself that she could be a force to be reckoned with.
One less Deerling, one less Season Pokémon roaming around, and because of it, several less of the same Pokémon that would potentially be roaming the lands in the future. The huntress considered this the best service she could give to nature. And the huntress always considered Pokémon like that as food when she was on the low end of the totem pole. Nothing more, nothing less, just food.
Her stomach rumbled at the most opportune time, and she was soon ready to reap the well-earned fruits of her labor. The Sharp Claw Pokémon looked at the pile of meat directly in front of her. She gazed at the Season Pokémon's lifeless body.
A pile of meat. A succulent treat.
All of the juicy, filling meat, fat, and organs in front of her.
All of that nutrition. All of that protein.
All of those raw biological components begging to be freed from their carnal incarceration to overflow into her cells after settling into her stomach, applying themselves to the greater purpose of building a bigger and better Weavile via indulging in chewing through the little resistance of the Deerling's succulent flesh.
Her bloodlust was almost entirely satisfied, and the small part of it that was unsatisfied began to creep into her brain to deal with it. Together, she thought about all the carnal things only a Pokémon like herself could enjoy.
Eat.
Feed.
Devour.
Consume.
At first, the Weavile cleaned her claws to savor the blood already on them. At first, she went slowly, but the taste was too delicious to her hollow belly to go slow. Once her claws were clean, she carved out a fisted-sized piece of meat from the Deerling's torso and shoved it into her mouth. She chewed it and felt its juices and texture spread across her taste buds, burrowing into her brain and overriding all other senses.
It was the most delicious thing the Sharp Claw Pokémon ever ate.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon could feel her body craving everything about the enriched, juicy, tender flesh of the Season Pokémon. She could almost feel all the nutrition and proteins left behind metabolize into every last cell of her being. The Sharp Claw Pokémon finally lost herself in the sensation of devouring the freshly killed, well-fed Deerling at her pace.
The Weavile tore handfuls of flesh apart and shoved more into her maw to chew it into a fine, sopping pulp and send it down the hatch. Every flavor set her tongue ablaze in predatory bliss of eating her first independent kill. Chomp-chomp-chomp-*GULP* went the Weavile with a satisfied exhale of feeling the food mass slide into her belly. Moist lip-smacking sounds of a one-Pokémon feast whistled threw the silent brumal night. The first handfuls of meat only made her belly burn brighter with hunger.
The Weavile lowered herself and thrust her jaws into the upper portion of the carcass, greedily and merrily grunting while forcing more food into her maw. She dug out a magenta colored organ she assumed was a liver and scarfed it down in addition to the common muscle and fat. The organs tasted even more nutritious than the pure meat and muscle, and each of them tasted differently to her, making her curious about trying as much of the Season Pokémon as possible. Small droplets of blood and saliva went from dripping down her chin into a miniature river of juices with every exaggerated, open-mouth chomp full of flesh from the Deerling. The Weavile hardly cared about those juices running down her mouth, or the fact she was still coated in its blood, nor did she care much for table manners as her mouth was terribly stained red.
She was in paradise. The Weavile would not have wanted it any other way.
All she cared about was eating and filling her gullet with the most tender, juicy, delicious meat she could ever dream up. The huntress bit off large portions of it with her sharp teeth and scooped even more generous portions into her hand waiting to replace the mouthfuls she was already working on. The Weavile feasted in undisturbed jubilance upon the carcass, relishing every minute of it. And all of it would be given to her body for it to combine with so it could repair, upgrade, and grow. Grow big and intimidating as a sign of status against the next Pokémon she was dreaming about meeting and butchering to use it as sustenance.
And none of the good bits would go to waste.
Many minutes passed as the Weavile worked her way through the carcass, chomp by chomp, ounce by ounce, gulp by gulp, lost in the carnal joy of a good meal. Who cared if she had to do this to survive? Hell, she was intended to do this. And she was already looking forward to the next time she would find another Deerling or similar prey unfortunate enough to cross her path. She didn't stop eating; she couldn't stop eating with how badly she was starving.
There was only about a third of the sustenance left on the body before she started feeling full, and that only made her feel more welcome to keep on chowing down. As the Weavile dusted off the last of the edible flesh, she felt her stomach stuff and stretch. She was obviously not accustomed to eating this much as once. The Sharp Claw Pokémon allowed herself this, at least once, as a reward for her perseverance. Any thought about the consequences of overeating was shoved aside, instead favoring to shove the last clumps of flesh into her maw to use for her body's own purposes.
Only a few more minutes passed, and she stopped to look at how far she got in eating up the Deerling. She was stunned by the amount she managed to consume. The only pieces left untouched were the legs, outer skin and pelt, spinal cord, tail, neck and head. Mere scraps of flesh and organs randomly littered the area and all of the bones in between, picked clean of any sustenance that was attached to them. All of the good bits were chewed up and being digested inside her.
The Deerling was nearly picked clean! Heck, it now resembled what she would've subsisted on if this Deerling was brought back to her pack, at best! She felt so happy being full for once.
"Heh, I was pretty hungry, huh?" she rhetorically spoke to the Deerling head and cleaned herself off. That was the first time she had ever stuffed herself to the point she felt a little sick, but it was worth it. Whatever would come by later for a midnight snack would be left with a sad surprise. All that was left was to find a good spot to sleep safe and sound so her stomach could easily digest it.
The exiled Sharp Claw Pokémon didn't even think about returning to her pack or the wrath of the alpha. She didn't feel like walking much, anyway. Why bother when she found out she's more than capable of surviving out here? Who said that she couldn't be alone out here? She was independent. The Weavile could do whatever and whenever without any unfair oversight of the alpha.
It was better off like this.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon sawed off a loosely connected leg to gnaw on for later and strolled for a few minutes, getting away from the carcass to find a safe spot to sleep for the night, giggling like a ravenous, blood-drenched Pokémon would.