Jack was in awe of what he witnessed. He never saw a wild Weavile before, let alone one that looked so miserable out here. The blood-stained coat lined with so many scuffs and scratches, the sickness and purging he witnessed, and overall pitiful display from the Weavile was something he never imagined seeing out here. Jack did not know how to react to something like this. Wilson was not with him, and there were no other Pokémon accompanying the Weavile from what he could see. It was just the two of them.

He started to shiver and breathe through his mouth while clenching the gun, uncertain on how to proceed. The young hunter timidly approached the face-down, motionless Pokémon with a shaky gun muzzle pointed in its vague direction. He eyed it with every baby step he took and accelerating heartbeat in fear of it making a sudden movement. Still no signs of life or motion came from the collapsed Pokémon as it was now at his feet.

Jack crossed his Encore rifle against his chest and snapped the chamber open, double-checking if he loaded a round into it. There was a small brass ring plugging up the barrel, confirming his suspicions. With a crisp click, he closed the gun and placed his thumb on the back of the hammer, making a quiet click of its own from being at full-cock.

Jack swallowed and lined up a point blank shot on the Weavile, lightly pressing it against the back of its skull while not looking through the scope. His arms started to sway and shake in unease. A maelstrom of emotions was hurrying through him, creating a silent argument on what to do with the Weavile.

Jack recalled the words Wilson told him about the Sharp Claw Pokémon.

[They spread diseases, kill off all the other good game, and destroy your home without reason. That's what you get if you want them around. Do you really want them around?]

[They are like giant Ratatta. Even worse than giant Ratatta, they are far worse. They're Ratatta with sharper claws and brains.]

[Pests. Nothing more!]
At the same time… the Weavile just looked so pitiful being like this. Those gorgeous red eyes he saw, staring into his soul, and giving him a sight he would never forget. Something tugged at Jack's heart, making him reconsider what he had heard about the Sharp Claw Pokémon up until now. He gritted his teeth and continued to push the hammer down, unable to cock the gun any further and locking him a rear-positioned hair trigger.

Then again, why would any creature have to put up with this for any amount of time? The Weavile wouldn't last a few hours out here in her condition. And judging from the sounds she made, was already experiencing hell on earth. All Jack would have to do is give the trigger less than half a squeeze to euthanize the Weavile, putting it out of its misery forever. He rested her trigger finger right on the hair trigger, feeling how sensitive it was.

He would be doing a Wilson a favor, telling him that he killed a Weavile and presented its corpse as evidence. Jack might even be lavishly rewarded for doing so, knowing how much Wilson hated them with endless rants about them being destruction species, doing environmental damage, and spoiling hunts for others.

(But what if Wilson was wrong about the Weavile?)

"Pull the trigger!" he wrestled with himself, unable to reach a conclusion

"I… I can't..."

"Oh, sure you can. Just move your finger just a little bit and you'll be ending this Pokémon's existence of suffering and making your grandfather proud."

Jack could feel sweat beginning to trickle down the sides of his face from the tension. His face momentarily shifted from a look of intense determination to doubtful, second-guessing reconsideration if shooting it would be the right thing to do.

"But… what if Wilson was wrong?"

"You've listened to and agreed with everything he said up until this point. And you've shot Pokémon before, and you didn't have any trouble then. Why have trouble now? Do it."

"But-"

"Just do it!"

"I can't!"

"It's clear this one's as good as dead! Putting it out of its misery would be doing everybody a favor! It, you, and your grandfather! You know it'll be simpler for everybody involved! What are you waiting for? Just pull the fucking trigger!"

Jack pressed the muzzle against the back of the Weavile's skull again, sealed his eyes shut, turned his face away, and made a made an intense, woeful whine of indecision.

Jack pulled the trigger while still holding down on the hammer with all his might, suddenly feeling the hammer resisting his thumb. A soft ~tick~ came from the metalwork inside the receiver.

The gun did not go off as Jack had kept the hammer pulled back and restrained, stopping it from striking and firing the cartridge.

Jack meticulously relieved the pressure on the hammer from his thumb and made it gently fall against the firing pin, so it did not fire the loaded bullet. The young hunter then took the gun away from the Weavile's skull, removed the unfired cartridge, and placed it back on the stock band. Now fully rendered safe, he pointed it at the ground with one hand, muzzle down, and stared at the blacked-out Weavile in struggling shivery silence.

A quiet, soft voice in the back of his head told him that he made the right decision.

Jack looked around the bleak landscape, seeing no other living creatures in a weak attempt to find a reassuring second opinion for his judgment. The young hunter couldn't muster the courage to put down a Pokémon in such a sorry state. Instead, he showed something his grandfather probably never did against any wild Pokémon he encountered: mercy.

Jack holstered his rifle on his back and crouched over the Weavile. Upon closer inspection, it had a short pair of feathers on the side of her head, indicating it was a female. Bloodstains are absent on her backside, allowing her natural indigo coat to shine. The young man took off one of his gloves and ran a finger from her scalp to her lower back, feeling her fur. It felt luxuriously and astonishingly plush, thick, and soft to his fingers. If he had to compare it, it was akin to a brisk wind on the face during the first day of winter. His exposed hand rubbed the tip of her feathery crown between his index finger and thumb, feeling waxy, healthy, and sturdy.

Jack slipped his glove back on and thought about the next course of action regarding the Weavile. He thought about turning around and running as fast as he could back to the cabin to report to Wilson on what happened. On the other hand, he couldn't leave her passed out from sickness in the snow and at the mercy of other potential Pokémon.

(I could never put down a Pokémon like this, but I can't leave it like this. If another Pokémon comes along when it's like this, it'll be far worse than being humanly put down… )

He scratched head and thought of something wild, controversial, and most likely a horrible idea regarding his grandfather.

(It's coming with me.)

Jack cracked his neck with the help of one of his hands to prepare himself for what was to come.

The budding hunter gently scooped up the Pokémon into his arms and cradled her in his arms against his chest like she was his child. The Weavile was much bigger than he thought, and had a lot more weight to her as well. Jack rocked her back and forth smoothly and tried to make her as comfortable as he could in his hands. The Sharp Claw Pokémon did not stir in the slightest in his arms for she was still in a deep, automated sleep from the food poisoning. Resting allowed her body to combat the traces of infection left behind, and she would surely succeed against the bodily civil war inside her as long as she was given enough time.

But not if she was out here any longer than she had to be.

Jack turned around and urgently retraced his footsteps back to the cabin.

It did not take long for Jack and the Weavile to return to his grandfather's cottage. Jack wasn't even sure why he was rescuing the Weavile. He had barebones medical training at best, but he knew he could do something to help nurse her back to health. And if Jack succeeded, what would happen next? He didn't think too hard about the future and focused on the task at hand.

Jack took a few steps to the side, looking to see if Wilson had returned home. Fortunately, his truck wasn't there, and Jack breathed easy knowing that he could try to help the Weavile without his grandfather making trouble. Jack went inside the cabin with the Pokémon still in his clutches, still not moving a muscle against his chest, and laid it on the bed he slept in.

He sighed uncomfortably at realizing that most of the firewood was reduced to ash, quickly causing the interior to grow cold. He went over to inspect the fireplace and thought about throwing another hunk of wood to feed the flames and generate more warmth. Then Jack shot a glance at the Weavile on the bed. She was naturally accustomed to cold environments, and her kind probably wouldn't enjoy much heat seeing how effective it was in battle. However, a little warmth shouldn't kill her. And Jack was not as accustomed to surviving out in the cold as she did, and he was taking her life into his hands right now.

"Maybe she'll be better without a roaring fire," Jack said to himself and only threw the smallest visible pieces of wood on the fire, "I still need to keep warm. I can always put covers on her or something."

With the chill being taken off from Jack, he approached the Weavile again and remembered that her coat was quite dirty with frozen blood. It seemed that she tried to clean herself off, but didn't get very far in doing so. Jack made his way towards the sink and let the water run to warm it up. He reached for a handful of large rags, separated one, and ran it under hot water. With a soaked rag in hand, he approached the Weavile and started to scrub her front half clean, starting with her face.

The Weavile stirred a little from getting her faced scrubbed, but didn't awaken or make a fuss, allowing Jack to wipe almost all of the blood from her face. Her face was darkened from the water left behind and had a little glimmer to it, making it look more like a stunning midnight black than a dark indigo color. Jack chuckled at getting one part of her clean and moved on to the rest, each part causing her to make a slightly more of a fuss than before.

When Jack got to her left kneecap as the final part to clean, the Weavile finally regained consciousness. Her scarlet eyes slowly opened, and she regained comprehension and thought of the world around her. The first thing the Sharp Claw Pokémon realized was she wasn't face first on the snow anymore. Rather, she was on her back on something very cushiony and comfortable, like she was floating on top of a sea of clouds. Additionally, there wasn't white around her. Rather, all sorts of various shades of golden yellow-brown were in every direction, and it felt much comfortable than before. Although, something didn't seem right. The Weavile felt wet all over like she went for a quick dip in the river she crossed. Did she black out and drift to some unknown location? The Weavile panned her view up and saw the tall figure she met just before blacking out swabbing her left leg with a dark, wet object. He was too occupied in finishing cleaning her to notice that she woke up.

He still had the same clothes on when she saw him before; a thick arctic camo coat with matching pants, decorated in many splotches of white, light gray, and occasional black. He had blue eyes and the starting growth of a beard around his jaw line and a strip above his lip. A simple black cap was on his head, hiding most of his hair. What hair she could see was long, round-pointed hair colored black and grew downward as far as his nape.

His other arm was pressed around her hip, restraining her on top of the comfy cloud.

Was this one of the humans she heard stories about?

She gave a light gasp, accidentally bringing the human's attention to her. The two of them made eye contact up close; sapphire eyes of surprised goodwill connected with ruby eyes of alarm and panic. When their eyes met, she gave another whine and tried to squirm free. The Pokémon abruptly stopped as her movement started to make her hurt all over again, not as much as before, but enough to dissuade her from keeping at it. She was down to aches, an empty belly, and overall feeling weak. At least her stomach didn't feel like it was being slashed and burned from within. The human tried to took appropriate action now that the Weavile was awake.

"Easy, easy there," cooed the human while taking rag away from her limb but still holding her down at the hip to make sure she wouldn't escape or squirm, "I'm here to help. You threw up and passed out from some sort of sickness, and I just finished cleaning you up. You're still sickly, so please don't move a lot, okay? It's for your own well-being."

The Sharp Claw Pokémon was somewhat pacified by the human's soft, gentle voice. The Weavile still did not know what do other than her innate instincts of escape and self-preservation, given the absurdity of the new environment. Last she remembered, she was throwing up all over the ground and blacked out from the painful feeling of being stricken with an extreme case of food poisoning. Now she was in an entirely different environment and being cleaned up. Something didn't feel right here. Paralysis from uncertainty and her sickness forced her to be at the mercy of whatever the tall figure had in plan for her.

It wasn't like she had much of choice. Traces of the infection lingered inside her, being combatted by her body's immune system to clean up what was left. Much of her strength wasn't in her body, instead replaced by weariness. The Weavile knew that getting as much rest as possible was the best course of action for recovery. That was all she could do for the moment. She stayed put and tried not to show any weakness to the tall figure that cleaned her.

"Good, just rest," further cooed Jack as he took his hands off the Pokémon. He got up and went to place the dirty rag in the sink to be washed later, allowing the Weavile a much better view of the new environment. There were tall walls in all directions, meaning she was boxed in. Even if she got up and wanted to flee, there were not any places to go. She sniffed the air, smelling something ashen and burnt. The Weavile turned towards the center of the wall to the right, noticing chamber carved into the wall. Inside was a cloudy, gray mass of ash with a few hunks of tan wood thrown in, starting to burn and grow flames below. It was a gentle warmth to bring her more comfort, and she didn't mind.

But her attention immediately turned above the fireplace. Right below the ceiling was a densely-populated row of severed heads of Pokémon, mostly from Sawsbuck and Stantler. Her eyes widened in horror as she studied the row of heads on the wall. All of them were cleanly cut without any drops of blood on them or tears. Each head vacantly stared in a different direction with a permanent neutral expression. They stared on perpetually with inanimate, lifeless, cold eyes throughout the residence. Some of them were even vaguely looking in her general direction exactly like the rest. And on the floor was a large, flattened Ursaring sprawled against the wood with an open mouth facing the fireplace. It looked as if it was a snapshot of it wanting to cry in suffering, but could not. Its maw perpetually hung open to taste the smoke and ash escaping from the fireplace. No matter where she looked, there was at least one Pokémon trophy off in the distance, cursed to forever stare with a frozen gaze in a chosen direction. And there seemed to always be room for just one more head to join their ranks.

Sharp Claw Pokémon may be vicious, bloodthirsty, and downright devious, but she never heard of any beings chopping off the heads or the skin of their victims, preserving them, and keeping them as souvenirs from a bygone hunt like a sick joke. This was a whole new level of savage mockery to her. She muttered something under her breath,

"A… human? The same thing that uses a tube for a weapon that is said to have killed my parents?"

The final nail in the coffin was the Weavile twisting her head above and to the right, getting a weird angle of something strange on the wall. It looked a lot like a metal, elongated tube coming out of a block that was in turn coming out of a rough piece of wood. It instantly reminded her of the scout's story about a tall monster using a tube-like weapon that could instantaneously obliterate anything with a deafening and blinding blast of sound and light. It confirmed every bad thing she thought of just now. She was at the mercy of one of the humans her pack mates talked about on occasion, and nobody talked about it lightly!

The Weavile wanted to scream. She swallowed air to feed her vocal cords to do so, but could not. Invisible, serpentine fear wrapped itself around her throat, stopping her from screaming. The Sharp Claw Pokémon had no idea where this place was or how far it was from where she collapsed.

Why was she here? If this human wanted to help her, why go through the effort of cleaning her and propping her up on a comfy cloud below? Was her head about to join the others on the walls?

Did she die and arrive in the afterlife?

Suddenly the Pokémon didn't feel so trustworthy towards the human.

Jack gave a quick glance at the weary Weavile, her gaze darting all around the ceiling in panic. He looked up in response, seeing what was stressing her out.

Jack didn't want her getting up and thrashing inside the cabin, tearing it up and putting more stress on her body. The young hunter opened the refrigerator and fished around, pulling out a girthy and well-wrapped slab of meat from the back. He set it on the dinner table and got a small knife to carve off a piece of venison about as big as his thumb. Jack dangled the piece of venison in front of his face, attracting the Weavile's attention. Her mouth was opened and puckered slightly in surprise.

"See this?" Jack called out as he approached the Weavile lying on the bed, eyeing the venison intently. The Weavile suddenly frowned as she remembered that it was the same piece of food that got her sick and in this situation to the first place, dissuading her a little bit. However, the wind in her stomach convinced her to forget about the food poisoning and accept the free treat. Hunger did start to set in after her purge, after all.

Jack called to the Weavile again while offering the piece of meat, "I know you're sick, but you have to keep your strength up. It's frozen, but I promise you it's clean." The Sharp Claw Pokémon eagerly sat up and snatched the snack in its claws. It gave a few curious sniffs, smelling like the Deerling she tore into if she did it in a blizzard. The famished hunter bit down on the frozen tidbit, effortlessly tearing half of it off in her mouth. The taste was similar to the Deerling meat she ate. It was tougher and far chillier, but had much more flavor that danced on her taste buds and instantly shot into her brain. It must've been meat from another Pokémon.

She devoured the rest of it with a small smile to nourish her body. Her eyes looked much more friendly and calm towards Jack taking the hint to carve a few more pieces from the raw roast.

He cut three more servings and fed them to her one by one. Each tidbit was scarfed down faster than the rest, making her stare back with greedy eyes of growing trust. Jack cautiously extended his hand to pet her across the forehead. The Weavile stood still in curiosity, allowing him to caress her. Two fingers gently ran across her forehead below her scarlet crown, feeling that marvelous luxurious fur once more. She seemed to like it, and his hand moved across her face to scratch behind her left ear, coaxing out a quiet, but happy purr from the Sharp Claw Pokémon. The Weavile was readily accepting that fact that the human was here to help her out, starting with cleaning and feeding her in a safe location.

"You're not so bad actually," Jack complimented on the Weavile for warming up to him with compliant behavior. "You're kind of sweet. To think, a Pokémon like you could have a soft side, heh. I heard your kind is pretty smart, too, and you've seem to realize I'm not going to hurt you. That's good you can understand me."

Jack stopped himself and realized he has not formally introduced himself yet.

"Oh, by the way, my name is Jack. Jack Hotchkiss. You can call me Jack."

The air of skepticism hovering around her was dissipating as the female Sharp Claw Pokémon consorted with the human that got her out of the frozen woodland. Her head started to bob to make his hand scratch more space around her hand, being quiet and peaceful. No Pokéballs were required to domesticate and get closer to her. Jack almost thought that she was his and not an ill Pokémon he rescued and nursed just long enough to get her back on her feet.

Jack quietly expressed the thoughts he was having while interacting with the wild Weavile. "It's almost like you're mine now."

Jack pulled back in hearing his words. What did he just say? She was his now, like Jack actually went out and caught her?

He kind of did, just not with a Pokéball. And she was acting more friendly than he'd expect for a Pokémon like her, like most Pokémon do after they've been caught and let out of their ball.

If that weren't the case, he'd have pulled the trigger with his thumb off the hammer by now or desperately try while she aimed to skin him alive.

Jack nervously scratched his nose and beard, unintentionally making the Weavile frown and whine in the disappointment of not getting scratched behind the ear anymore. Was she really his Pokémon now? He thought about all the possible scenarios that could happen later regarding her well-being. Jack could eventually release her once she was healthy enough to fend for herself again. But there was no telling when that would happen. Or, he could keep her around for just a little longer. Jack was starting to enjoy the company of the Sharp Claw Pokémon, even if Wilson would critically detest it.

And she was highly intelligent, too. Any other Pokémon he'd try to do the same thing with would have probably already scrambled to the floor, and utter destroyed the cabin or attack him out of sheer instinct and confusion. In her case, she quickly understood that he was here to help and played along, letting him clean and feed her without a hassle. There was no chance that she belonged to another human. Who else would be in this corner of the region with a Weavile, lost without any sign of previous ownership? She was wild, but already acting domesticated, and plausibly belonging to him now?

Jack's face drew a blank expression. He muttered an empty "Wow…" at his situation. He helplessly shrugged and accepted the fact that this Weavile was now his, at the very least for the time being.

"I guess you're mine now," he deadpanned, not knowing what else to say, "That means I have to give you a name or something to address you by." Jack walked up and down the narrow space in between the two beds with the Weavile watching him patiently. Come to think of it, she never really got a name herself back when she was with the pack. At least, not a name she wanted to be called by, like runt or parasite, from the alpha.

Jack stopped and looked up, pinching and stroking his stubble as a lightbulb popped in his head. What he would call her seemed to fit her so well.

Jack turned to the Weavile and spoke,

"How about "Cleo"?"

The Sharp Claw Pokémon zestfully perked up at hearing that word. That word he addressed to her.

Cleo.

Yes, that was it. She loved the sound of that word. It was a beautiful word that reverberated in her ears.

Cleo.

It was perfect.

She sat up straight and purred in approval from the sound of the name alone.

However, she immediately turned to a clicking sound at the door and saw it fling open, letting in a gust of icy air. Jack looked at the door as well. His blissful ignorance no longer carried him aloft, dropping him head-first back into the harsh reality of the man who owned this cabin.

Wilson Hotchkiss.