I didn't waste any time. I headed straight back to the cave.
About a kilometer out, the smell of the tapir hit the rest of the family. Mom and Dad came charging out, fully alert, probably thinking an intruder had moved into the territory. When they saw me dragging that massive carcass, they just stared, eyes wide.
"Roar~~"
I dropped the tapir at their feet. They hadn't had a real meal in days, and they didn't wait for an invite. They dove in, tearing into the meat like they were starving—which they were. Zack and Zoe joined the pile, looking like they'd shrunk a size since the snow started. This one kill was big enough to keep us all fed for days.
Between bites, Mom and Dad let out these soft, chuffing rumbles directed at me. It felt like a thank you. The longer I live as a Sabertooth, the more I realize they aren't just animals. They have a lot of personality if you know what to look for.
Night fell, turning the world into a black void. With the family passed after eating , I crawled into a corner of the cave and pulled up the system.
[Spend 300 Gene Points to exchange for Clouded Leopard DNA?]
"Yes."
[Ding! Clouded Leopard DNA acquired. Begin fusion?]
"Do it."
I braced myself. I knew the drill by now, but it still sucked. A searing heat flooded my body, centering right on my tailbone. I felt the bone grinding and stretching, and the muscles in my rear pulling tight.
"Ngh... Roar..."
The heat was like a blowtorch against my spine. I tried to keep it down, but a low growl escaped my throat. I bite my teeth, shaking until the fire finally started to cool.
When the shaking stopped, I was exhausted, but the adrenaline kept me up. I whipped my backend around to see what 300 points actually bought me.
The change was insane. My old tail that useless stub that was barely the size of a finger was gone. In its place was a thick, powerful tail nearly a meter long, almost as thick as a man's arm.
For a Sabertooth, that stubby tail always felt like a design flaw. It was too short to balance, too short to swat flies, and too short to tuck for warmth. It was basically a cosmetic feature.
Now? I could feel the weight of it.
Looks like the leopard DNA rebuilt my vertebrae and beefed up the muscle attachments, I thought.
I gave it a test wag. It felt completely natural, like I'd been born with it. The fur matched perfectly. I could curl it, whip it, and even rotate it 360 degrees.
I slipped out of the cave to test it properly. I went into a full sprint and tried a sharp turn—something I'd failed at a dozen times before. This time, as I leaned into the corner, I snapped the tail out like a balancing pole.
The difference was night and day. I didn't skid or lose my center of gravity. I nailed the turn and kept my speed. I tried a few jumps and even scrambled up a tree trunk; the extra balance made me feel twice as agile.
If a paleontologist ever finds my bones, they're going to lose their minds, I thought. They'll have to name a whole new species: "Long-Tailed Smilodon."
I started thinking about the "Tiger's Tail" legends—how some stories claim a tiger's tail is like a steel whip. I tried a few "tail-swipes," but I had to wiggle my butt so much to get any power behind it that I felt ridiculous.
Yeah, okay, so it's not a whip. Against a human, it might hurt. Against a bison or a bear? It's just a tickle. Plus, using your tail as a weapon means turning your back on the enemy and exposing your weakest exit. Not a trade I'm willing to make.
I'll stick to the paws and the fangs. The tail is for balance.
Satisfied, I headed back into the cave to get some sleep. The Snow Trap worked, the lion was dead, and I finally had the agility I needed to actually survive for few more days in this winter.
That long tail is now a game-changer for my hunting .