In normal circumstances, a sub-adult Smilodon would remain with its parents until reaching two or three years of age. At just over a year old, James should have been nowhere near the time for independence.
However, his physical development far outpaced his chronological age. Combined with hunting skills and combat prowess that bordered on the extraordinary, he had forced Mom and Dad to view him through a different lens.
The territorial war against the Xenosmilus family—where James single-handedly slaughtered the two rival brothers—was the turning point.
His parents no longer saw a cub in need of protection. They saw a peer. And in the world of apex predators, a peer is a competitor.
His presence was becoming a threat beside the throne. Much like a pride of African lions, as a young male matures, the resident king's attitude shifts from fatherly tolerance to cold hostility. Eventually, the patriarch will drive the young male out without a shred of mercy. To secure his own status and breeding rights, a father will not hesitate to discard the bond of blood.
James had mentally prepared for this inevitability. Yet, as the day approached, looking at the parents and siblings he had spent every hour with for over a year, a heavy wave of reluctance washed over him. For animal parents, once a cub leaves, they are like water poured onto the sand—gone and soon forgotten. Most animals do not view offspring as humans do; they reproduce for the continuation of the species, not for companionship in old age.
Once he left, James didn't know if he would ever see them again. And if they did meet, would it be as family, or as rivals fighting over a carcass?
Furthermore, the risks of a solitary life were astronomical. Even in the future, the mortality rate for nomadic male lions on the African savannah exceeds fifty percent. For a lone hunter in the Pleistocene, those odds were even grimmer.
"Better start planning for survival now."
James shifted his mindset. Mom and Dad hadn't kicked him out yet, but he needed to fix his roof before the rain started.
The following morning, while the rest of the family remained in a deep slumber, James slipped out of the cave to scout the environment.
They were in the southern reaches of the Rockies. The mountains here ran in parallel north-south chains, with jagged, emerald-green peaks piercing the sky. Clear streams wound through the valleys, surrounded by swaying wildflowers and the constant chatter of birds. It was a stunningly beautiful wilderness.
Rising above it all was Mount Elbert, the highest peak in the range, standing at nearly 4,400 meters. Its summit was lost in the clouds, a sea of white peaks covered in perennial snow and carved by ancient glaciers.
To avoid the Xenosmilus family to the east, James headed west. He eventually reached a wide river valley. Across the water lay the territory surrounding Mount Elbert—land he had never explored.
"This wouldn't be a bad place to settle. Maybe I'll even climb Elbert one day to see the view from the top."
He trekked along the bank until he found a narrow crossing and swam to the other side. Once on dry land, he entered the forest and began his primary task.
He needed to find a den.
Most animals only construct or seek out dens during the breeding season to serve as a nursery. During the rest of the year, they are nomadic, sleeping wherever it feels safe. James, however, retained his human psyche. The idea of sleeping in an exposed thicket felt wrong; a hidden cave provided a sense of security that a bush could not.
This was essentially buying a house in advance. When the day came that he was evicted by his parents, he wouldn't be a homeless wanderer.
Smilodons typically acquired dens by seizing them from other animals. In this ancient forest, burrows were everywhere, but most were useless. Rabbit or ground squirrel holes were too small. Only the excavations of mid-sized animals like the Flat-headed Peccary or the American Badger caught his eye.
After a thorough search, he found an abandoned Peccary burrow. The entrance was cleverly hidden behind a dense thicket, providing excellent camouflage. It sat on high ground, meaning he wouldn't have to worry about flooding during the spring rains.
James surveyed the area and nodded in approval. He couldn't fathom why such a prime location had been vacated.
He set to work on renovations immediately. He used his powerful foreclaws to widen the narrow entrance and then crawled inside to expand the living quarters. As he dug into the back wall, his claws struck something hard.
He cleared away the loose soil and paused. It was a chunk of ore, shimmering with a faint, unmistakable golden luster.
"What the... is this a gold vein? Is there a whole deposit under my house?"
James was stunned. He knew the Rockies were rich in minerals—gold, silver, and copper—but he hadn't expected to strike it rich while digging a bed. However, the excitement died as quickly as it had flared.
In this era, being a landowner with mineral rights was utterly useless. Gold couldn't buy a meal or keep him warm. He sighed as the ore mocked him in the dim light. He went back to work, a frustrated feline miner.
By late afternoon, the basic structure was finished. Next came the soft furnishings. James gathered dry grass and leaves from the thicket and layered them over the dirt floor. Later, he planned to bring back some furs to use as blankets.
Finally, he performed the most important ritual. He circled the perimeter of the den, leaving his own distinct scent markers to warn any intruders that this territory was claimed.
Mission accomplished.
Looking at the finished burrow after a full day of labor, James felt a sense of satisfaction. He finally had a place of his own.