The clearing turned into a chaotic slaughterhouse. Mom and Dad were doing most of the heavy lifting, drawing the attention of the bulk of the pack, but that still left a handful of these cackling bastards circling the three of us.
These hyenas didn't fight with honor—not that anyone does out here. They went for the throat, the spine, the legs, and yeah, the "backdoor." If it had skin and it was attached to us, they wanted to rip it off.
But while their swarm was relentless, a 250kg Sabertooth is a biological tank. Dad and Mom outweighed these guys five-to-one. In the world of physics, that means one good hit from a tiger is like getting struck by a falling boulder.
"ROAR—!"
Dad reared up as five hyenas lunged at him. He put his entire weight into a massive, hooked left swipe.
SHRED!!
One hyena tried to be a hero and jumped for Dad's throat. Dad caught it mid-air. The force of the blow didn't just knock it back and sent the thing flying like a ragdoll. I saw a spray of red mist—Dad's claws had unzipped its side, and the impact snapped its ribs like dry kindling.
"A-whoo..."
The hyena hit the dirt and tried to scramble up, but it was already a dead man walking. One of its broken ribs had punctured its heart. It coughed up a spray of blood, twitched once, and went still.
Dad killing one of them with a single casual slap definitely put a dent in their confidence. But Mom was the one they really had to worry about. She was in a blind, motherly rage, terrified for us and ready to turn every hyena in the valley into a rug.
The Hyena Queen, sitting back and barking orders, realized she'd underestimated the big cats. But she'd already lost two members of her crew. She couldn't back down now without looking weak. She let out a high-pitched, piercing shriek.
The command was clear: Keep going. Kill the small ones.
Three hyenas split off from the main fight, slipping around the flank to target us. They zeroed in on Zoe first, figuring she was the easiest mark.
"Get back!"
I stepped in front of Zoe, and for once, Zack didn't act like a complete idiot. He stepped up beside me, baring his teeth to protect his sister. But these weren't badgers; these were professional killers with specialized tools. They started circling us, their eyes glowing with that creepy, dark intelligence.
I knew exactly what they were planning. Being short-tailed cats, our rear-end is a massive tactical weakness. These guys are the ancestors of the modern "butt-rippers." They aren't great jumpers, so they don't go for the throat of big prey—they go for the softest parts they can reach.
"Not today, you freaks."
I remembered a trick from a nature documentary back in my human life. When a lion is surrounded by hyenas, it sits down. It protects the package and the hamstrings.
"Sit! Put your butts down!" I roared at Zack and Zoe.
They didn't get why, but they listened. The three of us sat back-to-back in a triangle, protecting our rears and keeping our claws facing out.
"Ah-whoo!!"
The hyenas were pissed. Their favorite move was off the table. Snarling, they shifted tactics, lunging for our front legs and bellies instead. One of them feinted toward my head, then dived for my back leg.
I caught him right across the skull. The impact sent a numb sting all the way up my arm, but it did the job. He hit the ground, his head bouncing off the dirt.
But the second hyena saw his opening. While my paw was extended, he lunged from the blind spot and clamped his jaws onto my right hind leg.
"ROAR!!"
The pain was unbearable. It felt like my leg had been shoved into a hydraulic press. I didn't hesitate—I twisted and hammered my claws into his neck until he let go.
"Dammit... that hurts. I think he cracked the bone."
Hyenas aren't called "bone-crushers" for fun. Their molars are built to turn femurs into dust. Even though I've got reinforced skin, my 10-month-old bones aren't fully hardened yet. I could feel the dull, throbbing ache of a deep bruise—or worse—starting to radiate up my hip.
Meanwhile, the third hyena was testing Zack. Zoe was jumping in to help him, but even two-on-one, they were barely holding the line.
I was stuck between two of them, my leg dragging, and the Queen was still watching, waiting for us to bleed out.
"I need a miracle," I thought, baring my fangs as the hyenas closed back in. "Or at least ..."