#i always wind up aging up the pokemon protags when i write them because children are just not that relatable

[new-eyes-extra-colors]

@leavingautumn13 here. a fic snippet for @1-800-hellyeah featuring that deer hunting scene we were talking about, if you are still interested.

tw for animal death, gore, and blood. i cannot stress enough that an animal dies. also, dawn is like, 24 years old in this.

Dawn whistled, short and sharp, and the deer froze as its head jerked up and towards her, ears twitching—

Ori pounced in a perfect arc, flaring her wings at the last second before her talons slammed into the deer’s back. It squealed as its legs buckled under her full weight, and Dawn heard something crack as it hit the ground. The rest of the herd was gone in a heartbeat, bounding up the trail into the forest with white tails erect, sending birds scattering upwards across the clear blue sky.

The deer thrashed, eyes rolling and wide enough that Dawn could see the whites even from here, kicking its legs in a feeble attempt to throw off the gabite on top of it. Ori sank a talon into the back of its neck and her head arched towards its throat.

Dawn looked away.

Something crunched and then splattered.

It wasn’t any different than her sylveon hunting field mice, really. At least the gabite didn’t play with her prey.

Another heartbeat passed, and another, before Dawn could stomach looking down. Ori was standing still, one talon still gripping what was left of the deer’s neck, head tilted in Dawn’s direction but not making eye contact. Waiting for her flock leader. Right.

Dawn stood, noting impassively that her hands were shaking. She slid carefully down the embankment, and stepped around the rapidly widening pool of blood, moving warily toward her gabite. Ori was being remarkably still, and not hissing or booming, which was a good thing. She knew they were a team. Wasn’t going to turn all that ferocity on Dawn.

Ori chirped expectantly, peering at Dawn’s face for approval. Blood slicked her heavy jaw, and scraps of skin dangled from her teeth. Dawn reached out and placed a hand on her head, between her eyes, which squeezed shut. “Good girl,” she said quietly. Ori chirped again.

Now for the hard part.

Dawn untied her satchel, took off her jacket and gloves, and draped them across the low branch of a nearby tree. She rolled up the sleeves of her undershirt and plucked her knife from her belt. Turned it over in her hands. She could do this. Vertical slit from pelvis to breastbone. Let Ori deal with the offal and help crack the ribcage. Pack the body cavity with snow, drag it back to camp with the hide still on. Don’t get blood on your shoes.

Easier said than done.