Right before Jack went to sleep, he made sure to exchange his torn up shirt with an intact, warm red and black argyle sweater. Now with a new shirt, Jack and Cleo slept in well and late the next day, exhausted from their adventures out in the wild and their romp on top of the cabin's bed. Wilson returned late at night with the Stantler head with to be placed on a wall thanks to his taxidermist friend and didn't bother to wake up or disturb his slumbering apprentice. The grandfather too decided to sleep in to celebrate Jack's first successful hunting kill of the season, and hopefully it wouldn't be the last. And so they slept in, both savoring Jack's success on going out, shooting a Stantler, recovering it, and processing it into a trophy and dozens of pounds of tender, delicious meat.
It was nearly noon by the time Jack got out of bed, feeling totally reinvigorated. Cleo already woke up and hopped off the bed to further lounge around the cabin. Wilson was at the dinner table, taking in all the detail of his grandson's Stantler kill. He noticed the novice hunter finally get out of bed and move towards the expert hunter.
"Mornin'," spoke Jack. He pointed towards the head plaque on the table and asked, "What's that there?"
Wilson turned the plaque around and pushed it towards the edge of the table towards Jack.
"It's the Stantler you shot. Congratulations!"
It took Jack a second to figure out what he meant. When he did, his jaw opened wide and cheerfully laughed. He picked it up and held it close to his face to admire it up close.
The Stantler's fur was the same walnut color it was when Jack shot it. Its face was permanently fixed into an idle, somewhat menacing stare, cocked slightly to the left. There were stubby sprouts of antlers growing out of the top of its skull, measuring no more than an inch and a half in height. It's black, glassy eyes stared into Jack's soul, reminding him of when he briefly made peace with the full body after he recovered it. Again he envisioned himself and the Stantler many years older, bigger, and more experienced that would've provided such fantastic sport between the hunter and his prey. Cleo was also looking up at the Stantler, but with more varied emotions. On one hand, there was one less feeble Pokémon in the world, giving her species a slight edge in overall resources from less competition. On the other hand, she still thought it was creepy for humans to forever keep preserved heads of their victims on walls, though this was being thought by a Pokémon that actively relished in outright eviscerating others in a shower of blood and violence.
Jack took a deep breath and lowered it with a smile.
"My best one!"
Wilson chuckled at his grandson's optimism. He, too, was glad Jack managed to find success in these frigid parts of the world. With this, he could take it home and keep it there forever as a memento of his journeys through the untouched lands of ice and snow, teeming with awesome Pokémon.
"Take it back with you when you leave. I can hang it up for you to look at in the meantime, okay?" Wilson suggested as he got up from his chair. Jack nodded and handed it back to Wilson. The hunting hermit caught a glimpse of Cleo eyeballing the Stantler mount right at Jack's legs. It gave him a pang of disgust in his gut, and also prompted him to ask something important,
"Oh, also," spoke Wilson as he went on with mounting it on the cabin, "what the hell happened to the bed last night? Why is it all scratched up? And what's with the sweater, what happened with your other shirt? Not that it looks bad."
Jack froze and struggled to swallow as he was thrown on the spot of a difficult question to answer. He shot a glance at Cleo, giving him a warm and humble look back at the hunter. Jack racked his brain as hard as he could to make up and excuse. The last thing he needed Wilson to get pissed about knowing that he had sex with the very Sharp Claw Pokémon he still despised at the bottom of his heart.
"Oh, about that… she got rowdy."
Wilson immediately raised his eyebrows and lowered his head in suspicion. Jack held up his hand to explain his white lie to cover up the much more controversial truth.
"Yesterday she was getting rowdy because of that spray used to cloak yourself in the wild. She didn't like it at all, oh heck no. All throughout the hunt, I had to put up with her looking sour at me and- well, when I returned, she started to act stubborn again."
Cleo looked up, confused and concerned about Jack.
"Yesterday, I thought she was acting fine. Almost like she wanted you to give her attention," Wilson reasoned. Jack managed to keep a poker face and elaborated on his excuse.
"Yeah, but I meant when I went back inside with her when you were gone. Suddenly she started to act all uppity again on the bed. So I caved in and played around with her on the bed, washing that stuff off her, that stuff. Turns out she just wanted to play with me. And I found out she likes playing rough, claws digging into the sheets, all that. She's still known for digging those sharp things into other things, you know."
Wilson stared at the young man, unsure what to think. He looked back at Cleo, who started to look sour like Jack explained, then back at Jack. Wilson turned his head and flubbed his lips, sighing in disbelief.
"Damn thing gonna make me have to change the sheets. Maybe it should be kept outside from now on if you're gonna keep it around."
Jack kept his mouth shut as seeing Wilson successfully buy into the lie. He didn't like what he heard, but it was so much better over what would happen if he basically told him "Cleo pounced on top of me and fucked me like a horny Skitty with a heating Wailord, tearing apart your bed in the process."
Cleo gave a stern whimper and looked up at Jack, quite unhappy with the results. Jack couldn't feel that sorry for making up the lie since it was half-true; she did get on his nerves when she was covered in the spray, and they did "play" an awful lot on the bed. He knelt down and whispered to her while petting her behind the ears,
"It'll be alright."
Wilson turned around to see Jack trying to comfort her and rudely intervened.
"You may have bagged a Stantler with it, but this is MY property. I make the rules around here. And when I say, that thing's gonna stay outside, it's gonna stay outside. Unless you want me to get rid of it all together, which I'll gladly do that."
Jack stood up and frowned at his grandfather.
"Can't she stay inside just a little longer?"
Wilson immediately replied with a resounding "No." Jack was genuinely upset.
"The thing can survive just fine out in the wild. We don't need to be bringing it in here, boy. You're lucky I didn't get rid of it in the middle of the night. Now take it over leave it."
Jack gave a reluctant, accepting "Fine." at Wilson's proposition. The young man squatted down, scooped up the Sharp Claw Pokémon in his arms, and opened the door for just a second. He whispered that it'll be alright and he'll see her soon again into her ear again and placed her outside. She didn't resist much but felt heartbroken at being separated by the human. It was only last night that they had such a fun, bonding time with him, and now she was put outside of the cabin and separated by a large hunk of sturdy wood.
Cleo pouted and scowled at the door, and ultimately turned away to deal with it out in the cold. Though if she had to be somewhere with Jack, she'd much prefer it out in the snowy, sub-zero temperatures she was accustomed to living in. Being inside that cabin with the fire didn't suit her all that well.
"[Well, at least the chill is refreshing out here. Maybe he'll come out soon, and maybe there'll be leftovers from that Stantler he carved up.]"
Cleo paced around the cabin for a few laps, finding nothing, and eventually sat down and propped her back against the side of the cabin. She found solace in being out in her natural climate, listening to the gentle winds blowing across the vacant tree tops and watching them sway for several long minutes.
[Alone again. Feels pretty nice out here, actually. That place was starting to get too warm, anyway. Now, what to do…hmm…]
The Sharp Claw Pokémon panned down to ground level, trying to see if there was anything else alive in this barren plateau. Far off in the distance behind the first line of trees, something caught her eye. She swore she saw something move through the woods and got up to try to get a closer inspection. Cleo took about twenty paces closer and caught a glimpse of something peculiar.
The object in question was colored a rich brown-black fur, sticking out against the stiff, frosted dead wood of its surroundings. Traces of yellow coloring could be made out on its head from the Pokémon's side view. More of it could be gradually distinguished as it passed through gaps in the woodwork. The Weavile squinted and saw a slightly more defined shape of the brown-black object move left to right against a small gap between the trees, briefly coming into plain view. Soon it disappeared behind a larger maze of thick trees before she could learn anything more about it.
The strange part was that there were several more of the dark shapes following right behind one another. The Weavile eyed the new shapes coming in and disappearing behind a thicker set of trees. The last one, however, stopped and looked straight at the Weavile for just a second. It stared back at Cleo with black, beady eyes and fully revealed the milky marking on its head. It was in the shape of a crescent, above a patch of yellow fur for its mouth. The faraway figure looked away and swiftly scurried away to join the others.
The Sharp Claw Pokémon stared with a hand stroking her chin in awe. Mixed feelings danced all around her stomach as she may have figured out what that was. It was almost certainly the one thing, other than her kind, that was the most feared and revered in these icy lands.
"[That… those were-]"
Suddenly the cabin door flung open, breaking the Weavile's concentration. She turned around, startled. Cleo instantly recognized the colors and pattern on the coat, realizing it was Jack.
"Miss me?" asked Jack as he held out a big cut of venison from the young Stantler he shot. The Sharp Claw Pokémon immediately forgot about getting thrown outside from the burly hermit or the strange figures she saw pass through in the distance. She hadn't eaten today yet, and Jack was going to fix that.
"[All right! Food!]" squealed the Weavile as he looked up and pleaded with the young man to feed her. Jack squatted and held it out for her to take. Cleo greedily snatched up the generous cut of venison and started devouring it as the carnivorous, covetous killer she was. Pleased grunts came from her throat as she tore into the slab of meat, wolfing it down knowing that all that tender muscle and protein would only make her stronger.
Jack scanned the horizon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Just more gray bark, gray clouds, and white snow everywhere.
"At least there's more color inside the cabin. The scenery gets pretty bleak and boring out here, I agree. How's that meat?"
Cleo continued to silently munch on the last portions of the meal, looking up at him with those same ruby eyes reflecting both a lust for killing and intimacy. He nodded at her cute little display and spoke up again,
"Well, I don't think Wilson found out what we did last night. That's good. I intend to keep it that way, but I'm still… gonna need some time to recover from last night. I'll pass on hunting today." He put a gloved hand on her shoulder and comforted her,
"I think by tomorrow I'll have recovered to head out there again with you and see if I can bag another Pokémon. If we're very lucky, we'll be able to do it again. What do you say?"
Cleo swallowed the last chewed up pulp of meat in her mouth and gave several adamant, approving yips.
Jack spent the rest of the day lounging and listening to more of Wilson's hunting trips and his dislike of the Sharp Claw Pokémon. Tomorrow he would get back to business with his Pokémon partner and try their luck out in the frosted woodlands. He inspected his guns, cleaned them, and went to bed early that night.
He awoke around six o'clock the next day, eager to go out and get a second Pokémon under his belt. Surprisingly, Wilson was sleeping in. Normally he would've already been up and frying some vittles. Maybe he was getting some dreamy sleep since he ordered Cleo to stay outside.
The young man scratched his head and opened the fridge to find something to eat. In every corner of the refrigerator were chunks of venison, some raw and some already cooked, waiting to be used up. He looked at the stove and back to the venison, and then came a strange thought. Jack closed the refrigerator and went for the chest holster given by Wilson, housing his Casull revolver. Though Jack used his Encore to take down the young Stantler, he wondered how it would've gone if he used his grandfather's hand cannon instead. The empty cylinder was swung out and spun a few times.
(Maybe I could my next hunt using this. Firing it was pretty nasty before…)
Wilson finally woke up with a bellowing yawn as he got out of bed. The first thing he saw in his half-awake stupor was his grandson fiddling with his hand-held Pokémon repellent. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Jack and the revolver.
"Hey, whuttur you doing Jack?"
Jack looked up and snapped the cylinder shut and put it on the table before answering his the veteran hunter.
"It's empty, it's empty! I ain't shooting anything inside here!"
Jack stepped back and let Wilson pick it up and open the cylinder. It was empty like Jack said, making Wilson relieved. He set it down on the table as Jack explained his thought process,
"I was just thinking about if I had used it instead of my Encore. It's a lot of punch in such a small gun, and I was just curious. I didn't want to load it in the house or anything. I'm not stupid."
Wilson gave a long, suspicious look at the boy.
"Probably for the best you didn't try it," spoke the professional as he pointed a thick finger at it, "That rifle suits you just fine for plinking at some Stantler or Sawsbuck."
Jack grew a little sad at his response.
"I've been loading six since you've let me take it with me, is that bad?"
"Like I said, in newer models like this one you can fully load six and it'll be okay. Ancient revolvers lacked the safety features of modern revolvers, so you partially load the older ones. I do that for all the wheel guns on the range out of habit, but out hunting I bring it fully loaded, yes. Still gives your wrist a hell of a ride, but that shouldn't matter much."
Wilson cleared his throat and opened the fridge to start making breakfast while continuing the conversation.
"As long as you treat them with respect as tools and not toys, you'll be fine. You've been doing that since you got here."
Jack felt a little warm at Wilson's compliment and getting the question off his chest. He quietly removed his holster and put the magnum back in it.
"So, still stick with it fully loaded, just for defense purposes?"
Wilson pulled out a thick, plastic wrapped container of raw venison from the fridge and gave an adamant nod.
"If you think you can handle six, then go ahead. Being extra sure is never a bad idea. Going out today?"
"With Cleo, yeah. You don't mind that, do you?"
Wilson looked backed for half a second, then to the floor, then back at the stove to prepare a meal for the two of them.
"I guess," sighed the hermit, "You already got your own Stantler with its help. To be honest, you've been more successful than I imagined. Of course, you can always ask me to go along with you."
The grandson had no intention of swapping out the Weavile for his grandfather as his guide in the deep north. It was the least he could do after getting her to a safe environment when she was badly ill, where she may have otherwise succumbed to other opportunistic Pokémon.
"I still feel comfortable with her. Damn good pair of eyes and instinct. Heck, without her I probably wouldn't have bagged that Pokémon. Oh, give me an extra plate with a hearty serving so I can feed her when I'm done. "
Wilson grumbled under his breath as he fired up the stove for their meals. It didn't take long for a large meal consisting mostly of filling, free-range protein-backed meat from the some of the most organic sources around. Jack slurped up all the liquid and drippings on his first plate, leaving the second one a hearty serving for his carnivorous companion. His stomach was ready to go for the day. Wilson finished his at the same time and brought out a small blue and tan box of ammo for the revolver.
First the outdoorsman sprayed himself in the scent masker like before. Next he fitted himself with his standard outdoor gear to stay warm, and finally came his single-shot hunting rifle and his grandfather's magnum to stay protected. His Encore's holster came first over his back, then the chest holster over his left hip. The young man removed both guns, opened them up, and fully loaded them; one in the chamber for his rifle and six in the cylinder for the magnum. Back snuggly into their holsters they went on safe as Jack made his boots extra tight. He started to feel closer to the big man he imagined himself as when he first arrived.
The black gloves slid onto the appropriate hands and balled into a fist a few times, giving his arms a protective shingling effect. The second plate of food was picked up and held by one hand, intended to feed Cleo. The spray bottle was sandwiched between his left armpit and left bicep. Though Cleo hated it as much as Wilson hated Sneasel and Weavile in general, it was a necessity for success.
"Be careful out there, Jack," spoke Wilson as he cleaned up the dining area. Jack gave a glance over his shoulder, nodded, and opened the door with his free hand.
The outside was as biting and numbing as ever. The sky was blue with few clouds moving swiftly underneath the sun, failing to cover it up. That also meant it was much windier outside, instantly blasting Jack's legs with chipping winter breezes and making him shiver just a tad. But a little wind never killed anybody, and there were more important things than complaining about the wind chill.
Jack almost stepped on the chewed, lifeless body of a juvenile Zigzagoon at the base of the door. Cleo had found it last night and made very short work of it, owing to her predatory instinct. She decided to bring it to the cabin as a little "present" for him. Jack scrunched up his face and sidestepped the Zigzagoon, wondering where Cleo was. Surely she did not abandon him to go out and reap the lives of other small Pokémon, right?
"Cleo!" called Jack multiple times, hoping she would respond to his voice. At the fourth call, the Sharp Claw Pokémon scampered from her napping place at Wilson's processing area and rushed to Jack's feet, rubbing her forehead against his legs.
"Can't keep away from the violence, huh?"
"[There you are! Did you bring more food for me? Oh, I hope so!]"
Cleo was energetic and lively at her favorite companion coming out with a large plate of Pokémon meat for her to dig into. The plate was set down in the snow, allowing her to feast.
As usual, the Weavile made many exaggerated lip-smacking noises as she tore into the plate, madly chewing it into wet, easily digestible pulps to swallow and further break down in her belly. Jack scratched his head once more.
"I also forgot you're a messy eater. Does it taste so good you have to be face-down in it?"
She stopped stuffing her face just long enough to thoroughly chew the food in her mouth, swallow it, and give a robust grunt. Juices and stray fibers of flesh were found on every corner of her mouth and cheeks as the Weavile resumed her feast.
(Up to this point I had to deal with scraps, and everything tastes so good now that I can fill myself up! And that's exactly what I'm gonna do!)
Jack propped his back and the sole of his left foot against the wall of the cabin, waiting for Cleo to finish her meal. He looked up at the clear sky once more and down to the distant tree line, wondering where he'll go this time. As Jack stroked his stubby but blossoming beard, he got an idea.
"Hey Cleo," he called as she was cleaning up the plate, "how about you decide where to go this time? There's plenty of ground to cover, and I feel like this one should be your turn."
The Sharp Claw Pokémon looked up with an even dirtier mouth but also with her eyes sparkling in inspiration. The Weavile turned her head past her right shoulder, staring at the small opening where she got the best view of those strange shapes. They passed through there yesterday, and no snow fell, so the tracks will still be there. A deep curiosity was burning inside her, trying to claw its way to her conscious to make her investigate them and see where they would lead to.
Jack looked on in the same direction as her, knowing that she was most likely going to lead him to that part of the wilderness.
"I don't think we've been there before. We can try it out if you want."
Cleo ate every last scrap of food off the plate and licked her mouth clean of any sauces or stray tendons remaining. Now she was set for a while on investigating that corner of the snow lands where those odd figures passed through.
That is, until Jack suddenly pulled out the can of scent masker and doused Cleo with it. She whined and waved her hands in disgust of getting sprayed again.
"[Come on! Do you really need to do that?]" Whined the Weavile in her native tongue, performing a full one-eighty turn on her current mood. Jack did feel a little guilty spraying her with it, but it was necessary, lest they wanted to get sniffed out and have every Pokémon with a functioning set of nostrils in a mile radius leave the area.
Jack picked up the plate and went back inside, quickly putting both the plate and bottle on the table and heading out to officially get Jack's third hunt started before the door shut on him. Wilson sat there at the table, mumbling about his grandson tracking in snow in between shots of whiskey.