The warm summer sun hung lazily in the late-afternoon skies of Unova Route 11, its light glistening beautifully off the cascading waterfalls found there. Two young Pawniard, one red and one blue, made their way down the sheer height of the stone masses that constructed the majority of the area, keeping themselves concealed as best as possible in the trees and tall grass.

This year's spring had brought a bountiful harvest of prey. To a wild Pawniard, this meant several things: Easier hunting, less disputes with neighboring packs over the food supply, and lastly, a better chance to prove their worth by contributing to their pack.

It was common knowledge that any Pawniard unable to serve their pack sufficiently would either be killed or exiled, depending on their age. A pack member who couldn't serve their purpose properly was nothing more than dead weight to carry, and another mouth to feed.

The two Pawniard siblings kept on opposite sides of the dirt path humans would take through the route, moving quickly but keeping silent. The female clad in red-and-dark gray armor halted when she caught sight of a rather plump Zangoose rooting around in a patch of tall grass a bit closer to the male. He, in turn, stopped as well. The Zangoose was enitrely oblivious to their presence, no doubt hunting for suitable prey.

The irony was that the Zangoose itself was being hunted.

As the cat-ferret Pokemon was closer to the male Pawniard, he would wait for his sister's signal before initiating the ambush. In the meantime, he simply inched closer to the edge of the cluster of trees he hid in, taking utmost care to keep his bright blue armor out of sight.

To alert him of her readiness, his sister held the blade extending from the end of her arm under a ptach of sunlight that broke through the trees above, aiming the reflected light at her brother's icy blue eyes with precision driven by experience. As his pupils dilated into thin slits from the sudden intake of light, he gave a brief nod.

The very moment the Zangoose had its back turned to him, he rushed out from the trees and leapt onto it, shoving a blade into its right shoulder so as to weaken any slashing claw-based attacks it may have used, as well as providing a temporary distraction for his partner. The younger sibling then lashed out at the Zangoose's chest and stomach before it could recover and defend itself, painting the green grass red with its splattered blood.

Before the Normal-type could return the attack, the shiny Paniard on its back shoved his other blade into its left shoulder and twisting it, halting the intended attack just long enough for his sister to slash through the white fur adorning the Zangoose's throat. It moved to lunge at her, but she was fast enough to dodge, allowing her brother to force the defending Pokemon face-first into the ground with a hearty shove. It struggled to regain its footing and get up for a short moment, giving a sickening gurgle as it choked and suffocated on its own blood. Before even another minute had passed, it ceased movement altogether.

The blue-and-gray Steel-type dismounted the carcass he stood upon, coming to his sister's side. "I can't wait to see the look on Father's face when he sees us bring this back to the camp," he beamed, shaking some of the blood from his blades.

"Let alone the look on Switch's face," his sister smirked. "I'll have bragging rights for at least a week or two for being the first in the pack to kill a Zangoose."

"Y'know, Cutlass," he gave a light sigh, "for hating him so much, you sure do value his opinion."

"Just grab the legs, Damascus," Cutlass rolled her eyes, using both arms to lift the Zangoose's upper body. Damascus did the same on his end.

With teamwork, the two Pawniard were able to haul the carcass up the steep cliffs and rocky strusture dappled with deciduous flora, getting it back to their camp within a few short hours.

The camp consisted of several adjacent areas. There was a small cave carved out of the stone structure of the route that served mainly as a place to sleep and store prey. There was a thick ledge that led from it out to the right, into a small clearing with large boulders placed about it used for sparring sessions, and a nearby clearing with little more than a pile of timber for firewood used to heat prey before consumption. That clearing was, fortunately, quite close to a calmer part of one of the rivers that ran through the route and led to waterfalls, in case of any fire accidents. The camp, as a whole, sat on top of a very tall cliff, only a short height down from the very peak of the small mountain.

It was a difficult area to reach, but that also made it nearly impossible to invade or fight any large battles on, should any neighboring packs get any bright ideas about expansionism. One Pawniard could quite easily knock another off the edge of the cliff. Even if the defending Pokemon didn't hit land, they would surely sink and drown in any of the whitewater rivers that roared around two sides of the cliff. If not, they would simply be crushed under the sheer weight of the waterfall those rivers ran to, while being speared by the sharp rocks at the bottom.

The siblings brought their catch into the cave's opening and were met with varied reactions from the five pack members there, their expressions of either impressed disbelief or skepticism much more clearly visible with their helmets removed. The siblings set their catch down in a hollowed-out part of the lower cave wall off in a far corner that was meant to store food, just before one Pawniard in particular spoke up.

"How on Earth did you get that Zangoose carcass away from the Mandibuzz?" The question was not meant as an insult, but was a genuine question.

"We didn't." Damascus removed his helmet, allowing the blades at the back of his head to reveal themselves and help redirect sound so he could hear better. "Cutlass killed it," he gestured to his sister.

"Cool story, bro," the Pawniard named Switch that Cutlass had mentioned before spoke next, folding his arms over his chest. "Now tell the one that's not a lie!"

Laughter broke out among the other four pack members.

"That Zangoose wouldv'e seen your bright blue ass from the other side of the mountains, and there's no way a girl could have killed it if the rest of us couldn't."

At that, Cutlass abruptly shoved another of the Pawniard aside to stand directly before Switch, holding a blood-stained blade only a short distance from his eyes, and glaring daggers at him all the while.

"If this –" she nearly jabbed his eye on the second word – "isn't proof enough for you, then go check the wounds and just try to tell me it was killed by something other than a Pawniard's blade."

Switch made a face at her before taking her suggestion into action. He rolled the dead body over so that it lay face-up, and briefly examined the slash wounds.

"... So you slit its throat because you couldn't cut into its gut deep enough?" He turned back from the torso up to face her.

"I had to," she scoffed. "That thing's fatter than your ego."

"You still killed it like a girl."

Immediately, Damascus attempted to step between Switch and Cutlass, knowing full well what her reaction would be, but to no avail. She maneauvered around him and held the same blade that ended the Zangoose's life to Switch's throat.

"Maybe we should take this outside so I can kill you like a girl!"

"That's quite enough, the both of you," a third voice broke in, far deeper and more mature than the other two.

Seven pairs of slitted eyes widened minutely, all looking in the same direction at once.

A Bisharp stood at the mouth of the cave, towering over the four Pawniard at his sides, armor gleaming in the setting sun. He removed his helmet, making the look of disdain on his face clearly visible.

"Damascus, what's going on here?" he looked to his primary heir and the oldest of his pack for answers first.

"Switch was harrassing Cutlass, Father," Damascus extended one blue arm out to Switch. "I was just attempting to intervene when you got here."

No one even had to be told to move out of the way when the tallest of the Steel-types collectively made his way to the two Pawniard spoken of.

"Cutlass, is this true?"

"Yes, Father." She ducked her head a tad lower in his presence. "Damascus and I killed a Zangoose earlier, and when we brought it back here to store it until dinner, Switch accused us of lying. Even worse, he mocked me for the methods I used to kill it."

The Bisharp glanced to his first-in-line, who nodded in agreement. His gaze held more contempt when it fell upon Switch. "Does anyone else have another version of the story they'd like to share?" he addressed the entire group, though his eyes remained on Switch.

Though Switch had several close friends in the pack that were present, they dared not try to lie to their leader. It had been known among everyone even very early-on that Switch was prone to putting down others with more skill in fighting or hunting than him in a childish effort to make himself bigger. Cutlass and Damascus, of course, made the perfect targets. They were both considerably different than the rest of the group (Cutlass being the only female, and Damascus having a coloration that was nearly unheard of for a Pawniard), not to mention they were the oldest of the pack other than Rapier himself, and by extension, the most skilled. On top of all that, they were both in line to take Rapier's place as leader once he was deceased.

The above-mentioned Bisharp leaned down a little closer to Switch and lowered his voice to the kind of calm, quiet tone that a parent would use to make their child know they were in serious trouble.

"Do you deny it?"

"No," Switch mumbled, hanging his head. His slitted eyes stared disconnectedly at his own feet when Rapier spoke next.

"Then you will go without dinner tonight, you will take the night watch, and you will lead the dawn patrol tomorrow, starting at the northern border."

"But that's not even – !"

" – Would you also like to take up the afternoon patrol?" Rapier's voice hardened almost alarmingly when Switch talked back to him. The younger Dark-type glanced around briefly at his packmates, all of whom were either staring at him or their leader in complete silence, not even daring to exchange murmurs. He then turned forward to face Cutlass, who despite having the majority of her face covered by her helmet, still held a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

"... No..." he sighed in defeat, letting his arms fall to his sides.

"I had thought as much," the tallest Pokemon present stood up straight again, visually surveying the pack he governed, or at least the part of it that happened to be present. They all had their full attention on him and stood as straight as he did, save for Switch.

"Ideally, this should be yet another lesson to all of you," the ruler's voice sliced through the silence as fluently as his blades had sliced through so many fallen soldiers of packs who dared defy his own.

"It disheartens me that these types of petty skirmishes are still taking place among you." His eyes sweeped about the cave with disapproval as he spoke, making eye contact with each and every individual Pawniard. "The youngest of this pack of thirteen members has just reached the age of fifteen at the start of this year's spring. This behavior is utterly unacceptable for anyone who has passed the age of twelve."

He began to slowly move about the gathered pack, the sound of steel scratching against stone accompanying his every step. "Furthermore," he continued, the pace of his speech picking up a little, "desecrating the honor of your own packmates, let alone your future ruler or rulers, my very own blood, is an offense not to be taken lightly." He stopped in place and nodded to Switch. "This time, Switch's punishment is hard work on top of lack of food and sleep. Next time, the penalty is loss of hunting rights, and then..." he paused, making a sweeping motion with one arm, as if gesturing a slowed-down version of a horizontal cut, "... I may just take away his breeding rights so as to prevent future generations from taking on this deplorable behavior from him."

No one even so much as giggled, but Cutlass had a bit of trouble holding back a snicker.

"If that will be all," her father turned from the torso up to the Zangoose, "we will start preparing dinner. Two of you, bring that carcass with me to the burning grounds right away."

"Y-yes, sir, Rapier!" one of the youngest Pawniard choked a little on his sentence, taking up one end of the load as another carried the opposite end. The two promptly followed the Bisharp out of the cave and to the right with their heavy luggage in tow. There was still a group silence among the nine remaining Pokemon for a moment until Switch gave Cutlass a look of disgust, and grumbled the follwing words:

"Daddy's little girl..."

Many things happened at once. Cutlass inhaled a sharp breath through her clenched teeth, attempting to lunge at him just as Damascus stopped her short, seizing her by the somach and chest from behind, previous experience making it easy to hold her securely in place while avoiding any accidental stabs to her back with his "ribs." The rest of the pack either laughed or backed away from her still-flailing arms as she made a vain attempt to free herself, or at least injure someone in the process.

"Cutlass, calm down..." Damascus attempted to console her, though he already knew from years of experience that she wouldn't be calming down for at least five more minutes.

"I'll be calm at his funeral!" she snapped, still trying to jerk away from her brother, but with no success. She ceased for only a short moment to pull the mouthpiece of her helmet down under her chin, allowing for clearer speech.

"I'LL BE CALM THE MINUTE I TEAR HIM FIVE NEW ASSHOLES WITH HIS OWN BLADES AND DUMP HIM HEADFIRST INTO THE RAPIDS!"

Damascus merely rolled his eyes and heaved a frustrated sigh, mentally reprimanding himself for even trying. This sort of thing had long been routine for the siblings. While Damascus could easily ignore being poked fun at for his unusual coloring, Cutlass had a much shorter fuse, a lot less patience, and a vastly larger amount of teasing and insults to put up with. He had to hand it to her, though – she was a lot stronger than anyone else in the pack ever gave her credit for. He found himself having to either tighten or adjust his grip often.

Within a few minutes, the other Pawniard left, either for lack of further interest, or to go do their duties. Cutlass's struggling had subsided even before then, but Damscus still held onto her for just a few more drawn-out moments before finally letting go.

No words of consolement could be spoken that already hadn't been several times over, leaving a brief but heavy silence.

"... Why do you always do that... ?" she shook her head lightly, turning to look back at him with thick eye pupils.

"Do what?"

"You never let go right when I stop. You always wait a little while first. Why?"

He swallowed, choosing his words carefully.

"Maybe I just feel like I don't hug my sister enough sometimes." He bit the inside of his lip, cutting his eyes to the side for just a split second. He couldn't bring himself to look straight at her while he said this, knowing what she didn't.

"Oh..." Her eyes fell to the stone floor they stood upon as she adjusted her mouthpiece back to its former position over her nose and mouth.

"... I'm going out to the peak," she mumbled. "I'll be back by dinner."

"See you then."

He watched her exit the cave and turn left, leaving him alone. He stood in place for what felt like half an hour, watching the sun sink outside.

"... I'd better go help with dinner," he sighed, putting his helmet back atop his head, leaving the cave in the opposite direction Cutlass had.