The custom of Ursaluna sacrifice is perhaps the most dangerous ritual known to a land full of alpha pokemon; holy they may be, but Ursaluna do not depart easily for the land of the gods. A trainer's command is defied, for the trainer has in truth already broken their bond – or worse, they have gone rogue and declared themselves a god-king, so there will be no festival this year. Its hide is thick – too thick for arrows, even if every archer in the clan participates. Traditionally, it was finished off by a sword; in many cases, when the men proved too weak, fighting pokemon were needed to complete the sacrifice. A few times, even they lacked the strength, and a whole clan was devoured by an Ursaluna's wrath.
The line between mortal pokemon and legendaries is not always a bright one, and Ursaluna, like Arcanine and Mega Evolutions, challenges the notion of a clear divide. A sacrificed Ursaluna does not hang around like a ghost pokemon, but prayers made at its shrine are often answered, and the people of Hisui knew better than to tempt its wrath. Many pokemon have a strong sense of smell, and Swinub can dig up truffles, but there is no parallel to the tales of Ursaluna digging up centuries-old treasures to be turned into songs.
There is, admittedly, something about Ursaluna's tale that has the whiff of legend. The old clans which raised them are gone now, their descendants have turned their back on the old ways, skeptical historians often consider them to have been especially large Alpha Ursaring, the apparent differences in shape a matter of artistic iconography. But wiser residents of Sinnoh – whether descended from Team Galactic's villagers, clan members, or more recent migrants – have learned the hard way to respect Ursaluna's power.