Transfer of Spirit

Peals of thunder crashed all around the rocky wastelands in the middle of the Amp Plains. No rain hit the ground, but lightning flashed and burnt patches of black into the dry, yellowed grass all the same. A tense but invigorating atmosphere for all who lived in these vast wastes; perfect weather for a Transfer.
A huge Luxray strode forward, bright golden eyes shining through the gloom. At his flanks walked small groups of Luxio, huddled defensively for their own sakes as well as the Alpha’s. On the opposite side of the stony clearing, the dazzling fur patterns of a grizzled old Zebstrika stood out amidst the gray. She, too, was joined by her own seconds, a handful of Blitzle with dour looks cast across their faces unbefitting their rounded, youthful features. The group circled around a half-functional cart salvaged from the remains of a trade wagon, little more now than a wheeled platform and a yoke by which to pull it. On that wagon, in turn, the Zebstrika had personally piled up their recent dead.
Three Blitzle and another Zebstrika lay piled motionless on the wooden platform. A Blitzle in the crowd, one of the living, hung their head and locked eyes with one of the corpses for several seconds and then several more before a gentle nuzzle and whispered condolence from one of their neighbors snapped their attention away. Craning around the crowd, the Luxray Alpha regarded the bodies carefully. Each was mostly well-preserved, minor signs of decay showing around a couple of the faces... but it was clear that these were recent deaths. And the haul was sizable, too. It would have to suffice.
“Honored Alpha!” the Zebstrika called. Deference and disdain made an odd pair in her voice, to form a sort of begrudging reverence. She inclined her head as the Luxray approached and continued coldly, as if reciting a script. “We beg that you accept our meager tribute, all our newly departed. To the tradition of our two herds, let these empty vessels quell our latent lust for war as Pokémon, and barter for my family, that we be given safe passage throughout the Plains for thirty moons hence!”
The sky flashed a blinding white a split second before a peal of thunder punctuated Zebstrika’s declaration. All eyes rested now on the Alpha. His gaze passed from Zebstrika backwards to her subordinates before resting for a long moment on the herd’s offering.
“We accept!” boomed the Alpha. “Zebstrika. We take gladly of your dead, that we may allay the hunger of our great curse for a while longer yet. For this offering, my pride pledges our protection to those among you who still draw breath. You shall tread freely on our Plains, and our aid against their present dangers is yours to take as needed. Bring them forth now, and let their names be heard one last time.”
Zebstrika nodded and motioned for two larger Blitzle to take the yoke of their corpse-wagon. The wheels squeaked, almost mourning, as the crowd parted to bring the restful dead front and center. Then, after the cart-carriers had retaken their spots in the crowd of onlookers, she came to the front of the cart where the head of each departed Pokémon lay.
“Grazes-From-Stone!” she bellowed. “Ever eager and keen of perception, he never let an opportunity pass him by! Rest him well!”
“Rest him well!” The gathered Blitzle echoed the call in unison. Zebstrika tapped one hoof gently on Grazes-On-Stone’s forehead and drew herself back, head inclined in silent prayer for several moments. This same process was repeated for Steadfast-Gaze, Flash-in-the-Dark, and Bounds-Like-Lightning. Each fallen Pokémon was named, then remembered, and finally dismissed.
“Rest her well,” came the final chant. The Blitzle in the rear of the pack stared at the corpse of Bounds-Like-Lightning again, repeating the prayer quietly apart from the chorus. Thunder rumbled underneath, nearly drowning out their mournful whisper.
	How they had died didn’t matter. Sometimes sickness or exposure took them, sometimes hunger, and most often of late a battle gone too far. Individually, though, each was given the same respect, the same memory. Dwelling on the how would only lead to negativity, vengefulness, or further conflict. Memories were kept, lessons learned, but never could the death of one of their family be perverted to bloodlust in such a way. Herbivorous by nature, the Zebstrika herd retained this tradition in order to minimize needless bloodshed, curbing a tendency of losing battles as well as the hunting instinct that gnawed at the heart and belly of every Luxray and their kin.
	“Go now, Zebstrika,” said the Alpha. “You and your kin, with the wind at your backs and our blessings by your side. And take solace knowing that these few snuffed lives can sustain so many others.” He sighed and sat, motionless, and the Luxio around him followed suit. Zebstrika cast her eyes down at the Alpha, nodded once, and turned about, leading her fellows away from the threat of a most grisly sight.

	Per tradition, neither the Luxray nor his underlings moved from their seated positions until the last Blitzle vanished out of sight around a rocky outcropping. Then, at last, the Alpha stood. “We take the smallest Blitzle for ourselves,” he decreed. “The rest will feed our pride for weeks to come.”
“Sire!” At his command three Luxio stepped forward to claim the body of Steadfast-Gaze. The process of dragging the body forward was slightly messy and more than a little unflattering, but all the pomp and circumstance of the exchange was gone with Zebstrika and her kin. Now came the pomp and circumstance of the meal, Luxray’s end of the divine bargain. He stood over the dead Blitzle, glowering.
“We thank our good fortune for allowing us this feast,” he began, “and in the same breath we damn the wicked Devourer who instills in us this ravenous curse! We graciously accept the sacrifice of Steadfast-Gaze and his kin, whose few lives are thus recycled to sustain so many more. May your spirits forever shine!” The Alpha howled, and sparks began to dance on his pelt, increasing rapidly in number as a sharp whine pierced the distant rumbling of thunder. Many lightning bolts had ravaged down upon Amp today, and now one shot back up from the ground as if in retaliation. He breathed deep, and turned to address his kin.
	“Now, children, we eat. Make bloody your maws, and in doing so, live in hopes that someday we may right this wrong.” Imitating a killing blow, the Alpha craned his head down and bit down hard, ravaging the stiffened neck of the Blitzle below him. At the sound of tearing meat and the enticing stench of stale death, the gathered Luxio descended on their meal like a pack of ravenous beasts.