	The rain and fog that let cold claim the mountains had proven to be evanescent, and gave way to sun and warmth as soon as two days after they had come. When they left, it seemed as if the wilderness of Route 11 had sprung back into glorious life from the dead of winter all over again. The proud calls of Braviary rung out in the open skies once again, only occasionally interrupted by the hideous, prolonged squawk of a Mandibuzz. Buizel and Floatzel could be seen swimming swiftly up and down the rivers and rapids in pursuit of  fish such as Basculin, or simply basking in the warm summer weather by the water's edge.

	Unfortunately, Cutlass didn't have the luxury of being able to relax and enjoy the weather the same way.

	For the last two days since she'd been exiled from her pack, she'd taken whatever feeble shelter she could find just outside of her father's domain. Once again, she'd been forced into idleness by her battle wounds, though this time, the damage only took two days to heal.

	The first night alone had been the worst of her life. Slowed by the various bruises and aches on her body, it took her until evening to hike down the mountain and safely out of her father's territory, all while shivering uncontrollably from the cold soaked up by her steel armor. She'd searched for nearly half the night to find suitable shelter from the persistent rain. Eventually, she'd taken refuge in an abandoned Seviper's den. Though she was exhausted through to her bones and her body pleaded for sleep, she hardly got any. What little sleep she did get was restless and dreamless.

	As much as she loathed the individuals who made up her former pack, she was still a Pawniard. All Pawniard, by nature and instinct, only truly feel safe and at ease with the protection and companionship of their own kind. Without anyone there in the den with her, without the comfort of knowing she was in her own protected territory, and without her brother there at her side, sleeping almost felt dangerous, as if she were leaving herself open to attack. That night's sleep had only come in short, shallow intervals between the long hours of lying awake with her mind reeling, listening to the pouring rain and distant rumbles of thunder.

	Thank Arceus that was all over.

	Presently, Cutlass had gotten the rest she needed and been traveling eastward from her former home territory for three days, only stopping to hunt every other day. This, as well, proved to be difficult without the help of another Pawniard, but she'd managed to kill and cook a Floatzel on her own, at least.

	Though adjusting to the life of a rogue Pawniard was not a fast or easy process, Cutlass was still strong in her resolve to remain independent. Before too much longer, she would evolve into a Bisharp, and be able to start a pack of her own the following spring—or at least, that was her goal.

Until then, her top priority was to get as far away from any Bisharp territory as possible  and find another suitable place to live. She took great caution in avoiding humans milling about near the bridge that led into their territory. Instead of moving out in the open, she crept in the cover of the lush trees to one side of the dirt path humans and their Pokemon normally didn't stray far from. Practice and skill made an easy task of avoiding detection. Cutlass knew exactly which angled patches of sunlight to keep her shining armor out of, how far away from the edge of the trees to stay, how quickly to move, and which direction to keep moving.

	She wasn't entirely sure how she would stay out of sight when crossing the bridge or passing through human territory, as she'd never actually seen either one, nor had them described to her. She thought it best to simply keep her mind on one task at a time. She would face that problem when she came to it. If all else failed, she could always pass through at night, when the humans would be asleep.

	She wasn't far off from where the trees ended and gave way to open ground when she heard just the faintest rustling of tall grass behind her. Knowing there had been no wind to cause it, she turned and took on an offensive stance, with both blades at the ready. She saw no immediate signs of danger, but after a moment had passed, she detected the scent of an enemy pack: Three Pawniard; two males and one female.

	As if on cue, Cutlass caught sight of movement in the grass not far in front of her and to the left. For a few second, the axes atop three red helmets peeked out over the tall grass and underbrush. Cutlass could tell that they were moving at an idle pace, which meant they didn't know she was there. She could avoid an unnecessary 1-on-3 fight if she got out of there quickly enough. She turned on her heel and took light, but hasty steps toward open ground...

	… Just as the wind picked up in front of her.

	The gust wasn't nearly enough to throw her off, but it brought her scent straight to the enemy Pawniard not far behind. Alarmed by the sudden sound of rustling plants coming from their direction, Cutlass tried to make a run for open ground, but it was too late. Within a moment, the rogue Steel-type found herself surrounded by an enemy afternoon patrol. She cursed her luck and raised her blades defensively, waiting for either words or attacks. The opposing female spoke.

	“Does Rapier think he has rights to the valleys around his mountain now?” she scoffed.

	“I'm not a part of his pack anymore,” Cutlass kept her voice even, remembering what had happened the last time she shot off her mouth without thinking. “I was only passing through here. I'll take my leave immediately, if you don't mind.” She bit her lip behind the mouthpiece of her helmet as the other female replied.

	“Wait a second...” she inclined her head and squinted at her a little. “You're his daughter?”

	“I am, but only by blood,” she answered, hinting that she would be worthless is they took her as a prisoner and tried to use her for ransom.

	“How could you tell that?” the Pawniard behind the former heiress and to her right spoke next, his question directed at his packmate. “She looks the same as the rest of Rapier's pack!”

	Cutlass restrained herself from saying anything while the other Pawniard shared a snicker. Were they insulting her fighting abilities or intelligence, she probably would have said something, but it was actually true that she was not a very good-looking female. In fact, she hardly looked female at all, now that she had the chance to compare herself to another Pawniard of the same gender, and roughly the same age. The latter had much more well-defined curves, wider hips, slightly thicker thighs... Cutlass didn't even care to compare other areas. There was no contest.

	Not that her looks mattered that much to her, anyway. After all, what would her former packmates have said if they caught her obsessing over how pretty she was like she was some kind of girl or something, instead of devoting that time and energy to something useful, like fighting?

	“She sort of does, doesn't she?” the other female laughed lightly, covering her mouth with her blade, even though her mouthpiece was already over it.

	“Sort of?” the male who'd been silent up until now wore a grin on his face that was nearly audible in his tone. “She looks just like her brother, save for the ugly blue color!”

	Out of reflex, the blades at the ends of her arms extended just beyond their normal length. That last comment had gone just a tad too far. She did NOT look just like Damascus, and even if she did, he wasn't ugly in the first place, regardless of being blue instead of red!

	“You might want to stop making this personal,” she spoke with her teeth clenched, “before someone gets hurt.”

	The laughter stopped. “Are you threatening us on our own territory?!” the other female scoffed.

	“No, just giving you fair warning.”

	“Fair warning!” she cut her eyes to the side incredulously. “You're outnumbered three to one on enemy territory.” She took one emphasized step toward Cutlass and raised her right blade. “If anyone here deserves fair warning, it's you.”

	“Sure, you're a threat when you're in a group...” Cutlass muttered under her breath, just loud enough to be heard, albeit not clearly.

	“What did you say?!”

	“I said: 'How did you get that huge gash in your leg?'”

	“What? I don't have a--”

	Before another word could be spoken, Cutlass had made sure the defending Dark-type was given a huge gash in her leg, temporarily immobilizing her. She stumbled backward, too dumbstruck by the sudden pain to even react verbally before she'd fallen on her back into the tall grass behind her.

	Her accompanying packmates leaped at Cutlass one after the other with their blades held forward, but she was just quick enough to dodge the anticipated attacks, and even gave the second offender a deep cut in his stomach as he passed her, narrowly missing his target. When the only uninjured Pawniard turned on his heel and tried to land a Night Slash, countering with an X-Scissor was all too easy. Other than the female, these Pawniard must have been at least a couple years younger than Cutlass, and therefore, less experienced, whether they outnumbered her or not.

	The X-Scissor had led Cutlass into something more akin to a sword-fight with her opponent than a battle. He lashed out at her with a vertical cut, but he wasn't close enough to make it unavoidable. Next, he tried a horizontal slash, but her blade blocked it. He then executed a nearly flawless forward thrust with both blades, but his lunge was just a tad too slow, and she leaped to the right. Upon evading that attack, she got in a swift Brick Break from the side. The defending Pawniard was sent tumbling away into the tall grass, toward open ground.

	Before she thought to turn back to the other two Pawniard, Cutlass received a hearty Slash attack to the back. She whipped around to face her attacker, drawing in a sharp breath through clenched teeth from the pain. Just as the opposing female was about to attack again, Cutlass landed a forceful Brick Break to her stomach. The defending Steel-type slammed into the tree just behind her as a result. When she fell into the grass below, she was still. The attack had only knocked her unconscious; with her helmet on, the damage was far from fatal.

	Cutlass took a moment to catch her breath and regain her bearings, ignoring the sting in her back. Open ground was to her left now. Once she'd rested a minute or two, she would have to get moving in that direction again. Arceus only knew when more members of the pack that owned this territory would come along and--

	Her thoughts were interrupted by a bright red arm with a blade at the end of it wrapping quickly and forcefully around her throat. She was pulled in close to the body of the first male from the enemy pack, and the external ribs on his torso stabbed into her already-injured back. She could smell the blood welling up from the cut she'd given him across the stomach, as well as her own wounds.

	His arm tightened around her throat and cut off her breathing. When she began to struggle, a blade was brought just before her eyes, warning her to stop moving. Regardless, she dug her own blade into his thigh, hoping he'd let go, but all that did was make him tighten his grip even further.

	Her mouth gaped for air, though it was in vain. She was deep within an oxygen debt now, and she could feel herself weakening. Desperately, she tried using both of her blades as knives to cut into his legs, but in her condition, she was only able to leave relatively small cuts.

	Though she still showed defiant resistance, it was hopelessly futile at this point. Adrenaline rushed through her oxygen-deprived blood. She felt her consciousness slipping. Her vision was going black...

	The sound of a body being hit with great force just behind her was the last thing she heard before the ground rushed up before her, and she blacked out.

xxxxx

	“Cutlass...?” a distant, but familiar voice called her name. Along with it came an odd sort of buzzing sensation in the back of her head. She groaned, as it was sort of painful. She was being shaken by the shoulders. Someone was trying to wake her up. “Cutlass, can you hear me?” The voice sounded closer and less muted now.

	Slitted, yellow eyes cracked open, squinting and narrowing at the sudden light they took in. Once adjusted and no longer blurred, they were met with the sight of identical ice blue eyes.

	The former heiress brought her arm to rub across her forehead, her eyes shutting tight again for a moment, still in a daze. She pushed herself up to site, and the face she saw came into clearer focus. Big, round, blue eyes, the left of which had a dark ring around it. Fangs protruded from the sides of his slightly ajar mouth.

	“Damascus...?”

	Upon hearing her speak his name, the shiny Pawniard threw his arms around his sister and pulled her body into his, though he was careful not to upset her back. Profoundly confused, but still overjoyed to see her brother, she returned the embrace.

	“What happened? How did you find me out here?”

	“You would have been killed...!” his voice cracked as he stifled tears and held back sobs, entirely ignoring her question. His grip tightened minutely. “If I'd gotten there just a minute later, you would have been killed...!”

	At first, his words confused her, but then she remembered the on three Pawniard she'd run into, and the fight that had followed. Damascus was right: If he hadn't shown up exactly as soon as he did, she would have been choked to death. And to think! She hadn't even known she was trespassing in enemy territory until it was too late...

	“We're safe now, though, right?”

	He nodded, unable to answer on account of the lump in his throat. He began to tremble.

	“It's okay, Damascus.” She put the flat side of a blade to his back, a little unsettled by how upset he was. She'd seen him upset, sure but she had never seen him cry before. “I'm still here...” she rubbed his back up and down a few times. Another moment passed in silence before he let go of her, wiping his eyes.

	“So why are you here? How did you even find me?” Cutlass repeated herself.

	“I left a night, two days after you did, when the weather got good again,” he started. He had obvious trouble keeping his voice from shuddering as badly as his body was. “I couldn't stay there anymore, Cutlass. Not when you weren't there with me.”

	That was understandable enough. The siblings were all each other really had in the world, and always had been. She'd missed him immensely the past five days and nights; she could hardly imagine how he must have felt. He fussed over her for nothing all the time, and now he'd actually had reason to worry. Were she put into that position, she'd have done the same thing he did.

	“Then... Then who's going to lead the pack when Father dies?”

	“When Rapier dies,” Damascus emphasized the name as if he were correcting her, “the pack can rot in the ground with him for all I care.” He placed the flat side of his blade on her shoulder, looking her square in the eyes. “You've always been more important to me than any of that ever was. If becoming the pack's leader means living without you, I'd rather not live at all.”

	She held her puzzled expression for a moment. The urgency in his tone and eyes told her that he wasn't exaggerating; he meant every word he said seriously. He honestly would have preferred death over being a pack leader, something any and every Pawniard dreamed of, if he couldn't be with her. If she had been killed just a short time ago, he would have followed her, rather than live out the rest of the life ahead of him.

	“... If you say so...”

	He removed his blade from her shoulder, and she took the chance to familiarize herself with her surroundings. They were still in the same general forested area of Route 11, and she could faintly hear the river a short distance from their current location. Peering through the treetops high overhead, she could see that it was nearly sunset. She'd been unconscious for half the day. She dared not even try to imagine how exhausted her brother was from worrying all that time.

	“Good. Now that that's settled, where are we going?” Damascus inquired so casually it was almost funny, except the question itself asked something that was too serious to be funny.

	“I don't know any more than you do,” Cutlass admitted. Neither of them had ever ventured beyond the borders of their former territory until the last few days. They had no idea what was ahead of them. “I just know I want to get away from Bisharp territory for now. I was planning to come back once I evolve, and start my own pack, but something tells me you'd be more suited for that...”

	“Probably...” he glanced off to the side. “I do have the right training for that...” he trailed off, and was quiet for a moment. “Then again, that's not to say we both couldn't lead a pack,” he offered, cautiously.

	Some Pawniard packs were, in fact, governed by two Bisharp who'd joined their packs into one. However, this was uncommon, and had only been done by Bisharp who'd chosen to be permanent mates. It was seen as the most significant possible kind of commitment among mated Bisharp, like two humans getting married. Cutlass had never heard of two family members running a pack together, and knowing it usually meant what it did... it sounded awkward, to say the least.

	“Um... Are you sure that's a good idea...?” she grimaced. “Wouldn't it look a bit weird if we...?” she didn't want to say it, for how odd it would sound out loud.

	He hid his disappointment. “I guess you're right. That would be too weird,” he grinned. “We can figure something out later, though, right?”

	“Right.” She grabbed her helmet and put it on, coming to a stand to stretch her legs. She ignored the pain in her back as she did so. “Think we should get moving and find somewhere to sleep?”

	Reunited, the Pawniard siblings continued to travel eastward along the Unova region, stopping only as needed for food or rest. Passing through human territory was more difficult than they'd anticipated, as it consisted of open ground with no cover, save for the shadows cast by some of the taller buildings. At night, however, they had the advantage of moving under a cover of darkness. Their eyesight was adapted to it so that they could see well enough, and what little amount of humans were outside their nests at this time avoided the Pawniard, rather than interfering. Only a very, very few of the humans they came across had Pokemon with them, and those Pokemon—for whatever reason that neither Cutlass nor Damascus could fathom—obeyed every command given to them by the humans to keep their distance. That was just as well; the last thing they needed on their journey was a fight against an enemy the likes of which they'd never encountered before.

	Beyond the first human territory they passed through, the land briefly returned to familiar stones and trees. Beyond that, however, the terrain was sand, ocean, wind, and the tall, rocky structures that weaved through it all. The Pawniard elected to keep to themselves atop the cliffs, as humans  and their Pokemon idled on the beach below, acting much as the Floatzel and Buizel did back in the rivers flowing through Route 11.

	The next town, they were able to avoid entirely. It was wedged tightly between the tall rock cliffs the siblings kept to, and the ocean tide washing up on the shore. It was remarkably small, compared to the last one.

	The vast wilderness adjacent to that town very much resembled the siblings' former home. It consisted of smaller mountains and much more frequent waterfalls, but it was largely the same type of terrain, with a very similar structure of stone and plant life. Though neither Pawniard could recognize any of the other Pokemon species residing there, they knew one thing for certain: There were no Pawniard or Bisharp among them. Better still, this place, which they overheard humans call “Route 14,” was significantly larger and more spacious than Route 11.

	But even that wasn't the end of it! This route, rather than being surrounded by human territory, as their old home had been, ran into a massive forest. It was overgrown with lush plant life, and marked by trees that grew so tall, their top branches could hardly be seen. Surely there would be good hunting here, if nowhere else. They may even be able to eat some of the plants, if they had to!

	Upon this discovery, it was decided that the Dark-types would remain here, entirely undisturbed by enemy Pawniard packs, free to roam and hunt as they pleased. Instinctively, they hiked up the stone slopes that jutted up between the rivers until they came across an abandoned den of some sort carved into one side of a cliff. It was not a natural occurrence. Whatever had lived in this den had been huge, and powerful enough to create the hollow in the solid stone wall by itself—it was even bigger than the den they'd slept in back on Route 11. It was more secluded, as well. Trees and tall grass hid it from the glances of passers-by, if there would even be any this high up. It was perfect!

	They found it not a moment too soon, either, for by this time, summer had reached its end.