Winning the hunt was one thing, but now it was time to actually eat.
I have to say, this peccary's hide was ridiculous. It was thicker than anything else I'd tried to bite through so far. I spent way too much time hacking and pulling with my claws just to get the skin open.
Once I got in, though, the meat was surprisingly solid—good texture, too. After a few chunks of pork, my mind drifted back to the food I used to eat in my old life. Back when I was human, I wouldn't touch organ meats or anything too fatty. Too much cholesterol, too much grease, and a straight shot to a heart attack.
Now? I don't have the luxury of being picky. Filling my stomach is the only thing that matters.
Actually getting to the brain wasn't easy, though. It took some serious effort to pry the skull open. Looking at the mess of white and red inside, a dark thought crossed my mind about how fragile life really is. One minute you're running around, the next, someone is looking at your gray matter.
The thought made my own skin crawl.
I scooped out a mouthful of the soft tissue and swallowed.
"I'm becoming a real beast," I muttered to myself. If you'd told me when I first woke up in this body that I'd be eating raw brains, I would've called you crazy. Now, I did it without a second thought like It was just another meal.
There's still one line I won't cross yet: scavenged rot. Sabertooths aren't scavengers by choice. If things get desperate enough and I'm starving, I might have to scrap with the vultures for rotting meat.
I hope it never comes to that. But hey, if it's a choice between eating trash and dying, I'm picking survival every time.
After eating my fill, I wasn't in a hurry to get back. I spent some time wandering through the woods, but my luck had run dry. I walked until the sun started dipping toward the mountains without finding so much as a squirrel.
The light was fading, so I gave up and started heading home. Guess I shouldn't have gotten cocky.
On the way back, I spotted a familiar shape.
"Wait, is that Zack?"
I thought another predator had wandered into our territory, but when I crept closer, I saw him acting all sneaky in a patch of bushes. Wasn't he supposed to be out with Mom and Dad learning how to hunt? What was he doing here alone?
I followed his gaze and saw a long-tailed weasel under a tree stump. Its white fur made it almost invisible against the snow.
"Look at him go. He actually knows how to stalk now."
I didn't jump in to ruin his moment. I just stayed hidden, curious to see if he could actually pull this off.
The weasel was fast and its senses were sharp. For Zack, catching something that twitchy was going to be a nightmare. It scurried around, sniffing for bugs, completely unaware.
Zack copied Mom and Dad's movements, keeping his belly low to the ground and inching forward.
I actually felt a little nervous for him. But then, I noticed something else moving in from the side.
An American badger.
The thing looked almost cute—tiny head, flat body, short legs, and fluffy fur. But it was way more experienced than Zack. It had already set up an ambush right in the weasel's path.
As soon as the weasel got close, the badger exploded out of hiding. Its shovel-like claws pinned the weasel down before it could even blink. Then, the badger clamped its jaws onto the weasel's neck and crunched down.
Snap
The weasel's neck broke instantly. It twitched for a second and went limp. The badger didn't even stop to eat; it just grabbed the prize in its teeth and started to bolt.
"Roar!!"
Zack lost it. He was fuming. His hard-earned meal had just been snatched right out from under his nose. He wasn't about to let some small fry rob him. Without thinking, he went charging after the badger.
The badger heard him and looked back. It finally noticed the young Sabertooth, but it didn't look scared. Instead, it dropped the weasel and turned around to face him.
"Is he seriously going to scrap with a badger?"
I'd caught up by then and watched from the shadows. Zack was way bigger—he was eight months old, nearly four feet long, and weighed about ninety pounds. The badger was barely two feet long and maybe thirty pounds. On paper, Zack should've crushed it.
But badgers are built different. They don't care about size. They're mean, tough, and they don't back down from anyone. A badger half the size of a dog will still put up a fight that leaves the dog wishing it stayed home.
"Fine. Let him get a taste of the real world," I thought.
I decided not to help. Zack needed the experience. I climbed a small tree nearby to get a good view of the fight. If I had some popcorn and a soda, this would be perfect.
"Roar!!"
Zack clearly didn't know what he was looking at. Seeing how small the badger was, he was full of himself.
He didn't expect the badger to be even more confident than him. It moved fast on those short legs, lunging straight for Zack's front leg and sinking its teeth in. Zack yiped and stumbled back.
The badger realized pretty quick that this tiger was a total amateur. It didn't stop. It pulled a sharp u-turn and went for Zack's back leg.
Zack wasn't ready. The badger's teeth ripped right into his muscle, leaving a bloody gash.
He was beyond angry now. It was one thing for his big brother to mess with him, but now this little rug was taking chunks out of him? He wasn't going to take that.