A White SabertoothTiger! No no it's a Shiny Sabertooth tiger!!
Last winter, James had allowed himself a brief, childish fantasy of what it would be like to possess a rare white coat. It was the ultimate camouflage jackpot, promising to make him an invisible predator in the snow. He'd never actually seen one, though. Until now.
This wasn't an Albino, strictly speaking; Albinos have pink eyes and zero pigment. This female was Leucistic (a recessive gene that reduced pigments, leaving her eyes a chilling blue) or perhaps a carrier of the Chinchilla mutation, which turned the typical tawny-orange base coat to stark white while keeping the dark stripes sharp. Visually, she was a masterpiece.
Biologically, there was no difference between her and a standard Smilodon, but her specialized camouflage was useless in this lush, green forest. White fur in a forest environment wasn't an advantage; it was a loud neon sign that said, Here is a large carnivore.
It made James wonder why she was down here in the treeline instead of patrolling the snow-capped tundra of the high peaks where she belonged.
Based on his predatory instincts, James could tell she was a young female. She looked roughly two years old, placing her in that difficult transitional phase of early independence. Female sub-adults faced a slightly easier road than males, though.
In the world of Smilodon, the strategy was simple and ruthless: sons are assets that must be liquidated to prevent inbreeding, while daughters are investments. A prime Smilodon pair would often arrange their daughter's territory adjacent to their own, sometimes even carving off a slice of their best hunting grounds as a final gift. They could remain within calling distance, sometimes even continuing to hunt together. A son, however, was driven far away, forced to carve out his own kingdom or die in the attempt. He was essentially told, "Go build your own business, the daughter inherits the estate."
"ROAR!!"
Just as James arrived, the Pale Princess—the white female—mowed down the frantic Giant Beaver, pinning the massive rodent to the forest floor. The beaver might have possessed the bulk of a black bear, but its defense stats were effectively zero. It was completely helpless against a hunter of her caliber.
The beaver had been safe in the reeds just moments ago, harvesting timber, but it had made the fatal mistake of venturing onto the bank. In the water, it might have outmaneuvered her; on land, it moved with the agonizing slowness of a wounded turtle.
The white cat pinned the squealing rodent with her massive forelimbs, her ivory-white sabers dropping toward its throat.
"SQUEAL! SQUEAL!"
As the beaver shrieked in terror, it suddenly saw another Smilodon bearing down on them.
This cat was a regular. He was always here. Oddly, he had never shown any interest in eating the beaver, preferring the much easier, scaled protein source in the pond. Because they had shared an uneasy peace, the beaver had never bothered to move. It had no idea what was happening now, only that a second monster had joined the party.
Suddenly, the white female sensed James's arrival. She paused her kill, turning her head with a look of predatory confusion. Her icy-blue pupils contracted sharply as she registered his bulk.
"ROAR—"
A thunderous roar shattered the air, echoing like a thunderclap across the waterway. He didn't wait to test her reaction time. He lowered his shoulder and high-tailed it straight at her, launching himself in a massive, coordinated pounce.
The white female didn't cower. She abandoned her kill and reared up, meeting his bulk with a massive, two-fisted swipe.
BAM!
A dull thud resonated. A momentum of raw power traveled down the female's limb, nearly breaking her balance. She stumbled, forced to backpedal several steps just to stay upright. In that single collision, she learned that James's Strength attribute wasn't just higher than hers; it was in a different zip code.
Possessiveness is the primary language of predators, and she wasn't ready to yield her kill just because he had big muscles. She adjusted her stance, lowered her center of gravity, and launched herself back at him.
James didn't back down. He matched her charge, but instead of another collision, he relied on his Agility. He moved with a speed that left her swinging at empty air.
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!
His paws moved like a wind gale. He landed a flurry of paw strikes across her jaw with a hand speed that was simply impossible for a normal sub-adult. He boxed her ears, the blows raining down so fast her head started to bob like a dashboard ornament. Her eyes actually rolled back in her head, unable to keep up with his input.
" Snow Princess. Fighting a guy with a cheat system is a bad idea. You're self-sabotaging."
James didn't believe in chivalry. In the Pleistocene, chivalry meant getting killed by a bigger cat. Natural selection didn't care about gender, only results. If a beautifull tigress/fierce woman tries to take his sustainable development project, she's going to get the same heavy-fisted output as any other rival.
Up close, he had to admit she was stunning. The stark white fur and blue eyes were the genetic equivalent of a supermodel mutation for a Smilodon. She looked less like a wild beast and more like a proud little princess. But right now, James was 모테 감정 (Mote Gamjeong: lacking emotion). A beautiful face didn't get a pass when it came to property rights.
"If I kill her, do I get the 'Shiny' fur?"
The dark, intrusive thought flickered in his mind. But he quickly dismissed it. A white coat was a deathtrap on the plains and in the forest. It was only useful in winter, and even then, he'd rather spend his Gene Points on a "Squid" or "Chameleon" gene that would let him change skins on command. That was true utility.
WHACK!
James ended the flurry with a final, open-pawed slap that sent the white female tumbling into the mud. She scrambled up instantly, a single drop of blood on her muzzle. The proud look was gone, replaced by a cold dose of reality. She knew she was outmatched. With a final, annoyed huff, she turned and bolted, abandoning her kill and his territory.
"Good choice. Now go invest in a life insurance policy." James thought, watching her sprint away. He decided to let her go. Leucistic cats were rare; he didn't feel the need to destroy something so unique.
When the snow princess was gone, James turned around.
The Giant Beaver was still there, trembling like a leaf on a branch. The poor thing was so overwhelmed by the battle of Big cats that had just unfolded over its head that it had completely forgotten to run away. It just lay there, a 150kg quivering mess.
"ROAR~~"
James gave a low, "get lost" roar and added a sharp tail-slap to its flank for good measure.
"SQUEAL! SQUEAL!"
The beaver finally registered that it was free. It saw James baring his teeth and assumed it was next on the menu. It scrambled up with sudden, panicked energy and dove back into the water, vanishing into its lodge.
James watched it go, then began methodically marking the perimeter of the pond. He spent the next hour drenching the logs and stones in his scent.
"Buffet closed. Private property. Trespassers will be eaten. That goes for all you, dire wolves, bears, and fancy white cats."
He left the quivering, confused beaver behind, having made it clear that this reservoir had a sole owner.