Facing down a dozen Dire Wolves at once had left James with a singular, satisfying feeling: absolute exhilaration.
The advantages of his Lv2 Skin Hardness had been proven beyond a doubt in that chaotic melee. Even with their bone-crushing jaws and sharp claws, the wolves had been unable to do any real damage, leaving behind nothing but superficial nicks.
In stark contrast, James's counterattacks had been completely lethal.
Still, James felt a lingering sense of insatiability; he had only managed to kill four of the wolves before the pack shattered, banking a clean 140 Gene Points. It was a good haul, but it left him wanting more.
Before long, James guided Aurora back to the safety of the reservoir.
"ROAR~~"
Once she was certain the perimeter was secure, Aurora dropped the peccary carcass directly in front of James and gave a low huff.
James wasn't polite. Freshly killed, warm meat was infinitely better than the days-old, frozen Ground Sloth leftovers he had been tearing into. He began to feast, swallowing massive chunks of meat, but after a minute, he noticed Aurora was simply standing by, watching him in silence.
"ROAR~~"
He gave a short roar, gesturing for her to dug in.
Aurora hesitated, shifting her weight, but under James's persistent gaze, she finally stepped forward to share the kill. It was clear she was near the point of starvation; James intentionally left her the thickest, fattest portions of the flank, which she bolted down in a matter of seconds.
Watching her eat, James felt a quiet warmth settle in his chest. Having a companion in this brutal landscape felt entirely different than patrolling the territory as a lone hunter. More importantly, he didn't want a mindless hunting machine; he wanted a reliable, trustworthy partner who could hold his back even if the whole world is standing against him.
Once they had eaten their fill, James stayed put. He settled his heavy frame into the cool dirt, intending to tend to his battle injuries.
The wounds were minor, mostly skin-deep scrapes. Thanks to the reinforced immunity he had inherited from the alligator genes, he didn't need to burn any System points for basic healing; his own saliva would act as a sufficient antiseptic.
However, a cat can only reach so far. While James could easily lick the gashes on his forelimbs and flanks, the deep bite marks scattered across his shoulders and spine were completely out of reach.
He twisted his neck, trying to reach a particularly stubborn sting on his shoulder blade, before giving up entirely.
"Forget it," he thought, laying his head down. "The armor stopped the deep damage , They are just superficial scratches anyway. They'll heal on their own."
Just as his eyes began to close, the faint, rhythmic thud of heavy paws broke the quiet. He didn't need to look up to know the scent; it was Aurora.
She stopped just a foot away from where he lay. James kept his eyes half-closed, observing her. She looked uncharacteristically hesitant, her head slightly lowered, as if she wanted to initiate something but couldn't quite figure out the mechanics of it.
The clearing fell into an awkward, heavy silence.
"ROAR~~"
James finally raised his head, giving a low, questioning rumble. "What are you planning to do , Trying to kill me while I'm asleep?"
Aurora's front claws gave a nervous, instinctive scratch against the dirt. Then, gathering her resolve, she stepped around his flank, lowered her muzzle, and began to gently lick the raw, bitten skin along his spine.
James froze. A sudden, warm jolt seemed to travel straight down his nervous system, leaving his muscles surprisingly numb. It was a completely different sensation than when his mother used to groom him as a cub.
"Keep it together, James," his mind commanded, forcing his body to remain completely still so he wouldn't ruin the moment. "It's just a standard grooming routine. Don't make it weird."
Aurora, entirely unaware of the monologue running through his head, simply kept working. In her world, when a partner was wounded, this was exactly what her parents had done for each other. It was the fundamental language of the pride.
*******************************************
Ever since his older brother had packed up and left the family territory to strike out on his own, Zack's life had become significantly more difficult.
With James gone, the parents had dialed up the performance expectations by several notches.Zack could no longer just ride on his brother's coattails or be an observer; he was now expected to pull his own weight in every single hunt.
Today, the targets were a herd of Przewalski's Horses.
The family had been trailing the herd's deep hoofprints through the mud for the better part of the day before finally spotting the animals grazing on an open slope. Once the prey was sighted, the roles were quickly established.
The parents, possessing the massive bulk and experience required for a terminal strike, would set the ambush in the high brush.Zack and his sister, Zoe, being lighter and faster, were tasked with the flush and chase.
The execution started beautifully. The mother lunged from the cover, fracturing the herd's formation and sending them into a panic. She focused entirely on an older, slower horse, cutting it away from the main group until it was running blind.
That was the cue for the sub-adults. According to the plan, Zack and Zoe were supposed to flank the old horse and force it to change it's direction toward the thicket where the father was waiting.
"ROAR——"
Zack bellowed, bursting from a side trail while Zoe closed the gap from the opposite flank, attempting to force the horse into a turn.
But this old horse was a veteran of the plains. It recognized the trap instantly. Instead of turning away from the younger, smaller cat, the horse lowered its head and charged straight at Zack.
THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD.
The heavy drumming of hooves kicked up a blinding screen of dust. Seeing a 350kg mass of muscle and bone hurtling directly toward him, Zack's first instinct was to dive for cover.
He was barely a year and a half old, weighing just over 150kg. A head-on collision would break his ribs. But if he dodged, the meal would vanish into the trees, and the hunt would fail.
Driven by a sudden, reckless surge of adrenaline, Zack didn't run. He dug his hind legs in and launched himself straight at the oncoming stallion.
In Zack's mind, the movie version of this move ended with him slamming the horse to the earth with catastrophic power, driving his teeth into its throat for a clean, cinematic kill.
The reality, however, was much more unforgiving.
BAM