Chapter 3: Payback

Hello readers,

I'm not sure if I'm happy with this chapter. The subject and perspective were very difficult to write, and I've done my best to make sure it's not confusing. However, should you find anything too difficult to understand please make sure to leave a review, as I do plan to come back to this chapter and change some details.

-x-

He knew a fight was happening. His sharp hearing could hear the movement inside the hollow rock. The faint smell of his prey was not that difficult to detect either. Despite his eagerness to jump into action, he stayed put, still undecided on how to handle the situation. More specifically, how to deal with his current competition.

The two dilos he spotted entering the hollowed rock had been a predictable, but still annoying problem. It was always like this, the longer it took to kill his prey, the more problems would appear. This hunt, in particular, had been going for longer than he ever anticipated, almost two sun cycles. He didn't expect that kind of cleverness and determination from his prey. The previous soft skinned creatures he had killed were much easier, all he had to do was follow the loud noises they made. He didn't even have to think. They had been slow and stupid, wondering randomly inside the jungle and not paying attention to their surroundings. The moment they had slowed down, thinking they were safe, he had jumped from the bushes and finished them quickly.

This new prey, however, paid close attention to its surroundings. It had avoided the denser areas of the jungle, making it harder to get closer. Its scent was weakened by the mud it had covered itself with and it barely made any noise. In fact, the only sound it made was its own breathing and the hard thuds of its feet.

He needed to be careful. While they were smaller and weaker than his kind, these… soft skins (as his people had turned to call them) carried strange objects with them. Dark greyish metal sticks with intricate details and mechanism, which could unleash fire and thunder against anything they aimed at. A thunder was the best way to describe it, a deafening sound that was accompanied by fire and a wave of force that could tear through flesh and bone alike. With enough numbers, the soft skins could destroy anything in their path, and his kind was no match. They had fought against them before but had barely managed to win.

He had been told stories from before his time. Of when soft skins watched over them like insects. Of when all their relics and hollow rocks that dotted this earth had a life of their own, made strange sounds and emitted light, like miniature suns. He had always been a bit skeptical about those stories, because even when seeing these relics with his own eyes, it all still sounded impossible.

Their ability to create and operate these wonders are, according to the elders, the main reason why he should be careful when hunting them. The soft skins, their watchers, knew how to use everything around them to their advantage, how to hide in unreachable places and how to hurt without exposing themselves. Their weapons were a prime example of that, capable of killing his kind in a single blow while denying his advantage in size and strength.

Those same elders were always proud to tell how one day they finally had the opportunity to get rid of the watchers. One night, when a massive storm raged over the land and broke their control over them. They told him how the once impregnable structures the watchers hid inside became hunting grounds. The elders had taken the soft skins by surprise and killed most of them. Only a few managed to escape beyond the great waters that surrounded the land.

When he had become old enough to travel on his own, the old structures of hollow rocks the soft skins once inhabited became a favorite place of his to explore. Inside, he would occasionally find little square pieces made of a strange material, almost like skin or hide with strange images and lines on them. They sometimes displayed things he didn't understand, but more often than not they had what he assumed were images of soft skins on them, from a variety of angles and poses. These squares were both intriguing and disturbing. They were like nothing else he knew. But then again, most relics from the watchers were strange. The sharp angles of these structures and rectangular rooms inside them were completely different from the organic mess that was the jungle. When he stepped inside them, it felt like stepping into a different earth altogether.

The soft skins themselves were equally alien to him. They looked very different from any creature he had seem. Strangest of all were the things on their bodies, more strange materials that covered them from head to feet. They were like his feathers, he assumed, but they were not natural. They reminded him of some creatures he once saw on the beach that would use large shells to protect themselves. However, these soft skin "shells", if he could even call them that, came in an insane variety of shapes, textures and colors. It didn't make any sense to him.

If he was to be honest, he had always been a bit curious about them. Seeing their abandoned relics everywhere he went made him feel a sense of… loss perhaps? It was like this obvious piece of the world that was missing. Something incredible all the elders knew about it, but he had been born too late to witness. He wanted to know if all the stories were true.

He would never, of course, let the rest of his people know about his strange curiosity. It was a thirst he could never complain about. The elders were as scared as they were hateful of the soft skins, always making sure everyone knew what to do if they ever returned. Hunt them down and kill them before they could pose a threat. That was the rule.

Now, hearing the struggles from his soft skin prey and the two dilo pursuers, he couldn't help but to be confused at it. The stories from the elders were real, he could see it now, but it was still strange to see such a simple creature being capable of running from him for so long and fighting creatures much stronger. It fought and won against an enemy he himself had been unable to beat, doing so with a single blast of thunder.

He could still remember it as if it had happened a mere moment ago. He almost had the soft skin under his claws when the Carnotaurus appeared. Normally, he would just run away with his faster speed and wait until the massive predator was gone, but this time he couldn't. This time, somehow a hatchling had followed him all the way to his hunt and put itself in danger. He couldn't leave the youngling to die (even if he almost deserved it), for it was an unacceptable crime. Hatchlings were the precious future of his people, and he was willing to do anything to protect them, even if it meant facing a predator several times larger than him.

The fight against the Carnotaurus had been difficult and bloody. He used all his strength, his speed, and his agility, to inflict as many wounds as possible in hopes to dissuade the larger predator from continuing. However, none of that mattered, all that was needed was one mistake from his part, one move too greedy, for his enemy to launch him against a tree, knocking him almost unconscious.

Meanwhile, on that same tree that almost broke his spine, the soft skin had watched the entire fight. It felt almost humiliating, having to fight the Carnotaurus while his prey calmly watched from a safe place. He almost wished the soft skin had killed him with her thunderer just to spare him the shame. What he didn't expect, however, was for it to save him.

The massive blast of the weapon was little more than a whisper to his muddled mind. The ground shook beneath his body as the Carnotaurus stomped away in anger. Then, after a few moments of precious silence, he felt a strange sensation along his back. A small and delicate limb felt along his spine, almost making him shiver, and then touched his shoulders and chest, petting his feathers in a way he had never felt before.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the soft skin kneeling besides him and touching him. He had never seen one of them alive and so close to him at the same time. The red fur cascading down its head had been particularly intriguing to see.

Almost immediately, the soft skin noticed he was awake and promptly tried to jump away. It had almost been comical to see it stumble and fall while trying to point its weapon at him. Of course, there was little he could do, he hadn't recovered from the pain that assaulted his back. His legs felt like broken twigs and he could barely summon the strength to move them. When the soft skin finally had its weapon pointed at him, he decided to just close his eyes and wait for the end. He didn't want to see the fire that would bring his end. However, instead of a quick annihilation of his existence, he continued to live.

When he finally summoned the courage to open his eyes, the soft skin had stood up and slowly backed away, leaving him alive and puzzled. It had saved him and the hatchling from the Carnotaurus and let him live. He found that utterly impossible to understand.

Now, after another cycle of tracking and finding his prey, he found himself outside an old structure he had become familiar with many seasons ago. He saw when the soft skin stumbled into the central chamber, looking much worse than before it had entered. "Weak enough to kill," he realized. However, something inside him, an insane part that went against everything he knew, decided to stand still, and hide in the shadows of the forest.

There was still one dilo alive, he realized. He could smell it as it followed his prey. He could also smell the poison the dilos used. Focusing his eyes on the soft skin, he noted the dark splashes of poison on its upper appendages, its weapon and the materials that covered its chest. That's why the soft skin seemed weaker; the poison was taking effect.

Once more, he debated with himself about what to do. He could kill the dilo if necessary. They were strong, but not as much as him. They were also not very smart. If he waited a bit longer, the soft skin would succumb to the poison and become an easy kill. Despite all that, he once again forced himself to stay put. There was a burning curiosity about this prey, and he needed to satiate it.

He saw as the dilo began to approach. The soft skin answered by blasting a thunder towards it but missing. The two creatures moved almost in unison, one trying to approach and the other trying to escape. It had almost reminded him of a mating dance.

Another blast from his prey's weapon barely scratched the dilo's shoulder, and for a moment he thought it was over for the soft skin. The dilo jumped for the kill, but on the last moment the prey threw itself to the side, landing on the access to the upper chambers of the hollow rock. Then, just as the dilo recovered and prepared to kill it, the soft skin unleashed another thunder right at the dilo's chest. The sudden explosion of blood and guts was shocking, making him briefly wonder how lucky he had been to avoid that when he first fought against this prey. One wrong move and it would've been him with his insides spilling over.

The dilo was dead. His prey had once again outdone a larger predator. But it seemed to come at a cost. Its inability to remove the dead body from it was proof that the poison was reaching a tipping point.

The soft skin continued to try in vain to move, before falling unconscious, just as it began to rain.

Not wanting to become wet, he went inside the now quiet structure and accessed the situation. He approached the sleeping prey with caution, ready to jump away in case it woke up and decided to unleash fire and thunder against him. Once he was close enough, he could see his prey was definitely not waking up any time soon, as large parts of its body were covered in poison. Its breathing was very slow, much more then when he first attacked it.

He carefully pushed the dead dilo away with his right foot. Now he could see all of his prey, from its weird red fur cascading down its head, to the many things it carried with it. He took note of how much of these objects were strapped to its body, almost like vines in a tree trunk. It looked uncomfortable, he wouldn't want strange objects compromising his movement and messing with his feathers while he moved.

He always found their bodies weird to look at. While they stood on two legs just as his kind did, their posture was… Straight, for the lack of a better word. They didn't have a curved posture like his kind and reminded him more of a tree than an animal when they stood still.

As he continued to gaze down at his unsuspecting prey, he realized he had a decision to make. He had come all the way here with a purpose. He had chased his prey under the sun and the moon for longer than any of his people would normally do. All of that so he could kill it because he couldn't bear to think about failing his hunt. He was stubborn, when he decided to go after a prey, he would do so until the very end. It was such a strong part of him that his people named him after it.

His people called him Chaser. It was the name he earned when they finished teaching him how to hunt. He chased prey for much longer and with more determination than anyone else from his clutch.

Yet now, as he gazed upon his prey, there was something stopping him from killing it. No matter how much he thought about, debated on whether to use his teeth or his claws, there was something telling him not to. Why? He had never felt like this before. What was it about this particular prey that made him stop?

"Why didn't it kill me?" He thought.

That was it, he realized. His hesitation came from unanswered questions he had. When a predator had a chance to kill an opponent, they did it without second thoughts. It had always been like this. He himself had done it many times.

Yet this little creature he had hunted for so long didn't do it. It had instead just… caressed his feathers. His prey had the perfect opportunity to kill him but choose not to, even after he awoke. It knew he wanted to kill it, and it knew he would probably keep chasing it, yet it left him alive and well.

Chaser wanted to know why. He needed to understand this new behavior and he couldn't do it if his prey died.

He couldn't let it die…

"The poison…" his eyes focused on the black goo dripping from his prey's body. It was going to do his job for him if he didn't do anything. But how would he get rid of it?

In a normal situation, Chaser would simply walk to the nearest river and let the water take care of it, but there were none nearby and he didn't want to wonder outside in the middle of the night with an unconscious prey.

"The rain!" He looked outside and saw the droplets of water forming puddles on the old rocks by the entrance. He had to get his prey there, but how?

He stepped closer to his prey. It looked so fragile. Pushing it was too slow. He could try dragging it by the neck, but he was too afraid of accidentally snapping it. His previous kills had been very easy to break. Maybe by its leg? He looked at the weird cover on its feet and figured it was strong enough to handle his teeth.

He slowly and carefully bit down on his prey's left foot and began to drag it outside, leaving a trail of poison and blood (from the dilo). Once Chaser reached the outside, the rain began to clean the poison from the prey's body, while he stood near and slowly became soaked.

Chaser hated when his feathers got wet. He could imagine it was almost funny, he was getting soaked to the bone while trying to help his prey stay alive. All because he was curious about its behavior.

A few minutes went by and most of the poison seemed to have been diluted by the rain. The soft skin was still alive, Chaser could hear its breathing. That was good. Now he had to make sure it remained alive until it woke up…

He looked around for a bit. He was too far from any safe caves and natural nests he knew about. His only option was to seek shelter inside the hollow rock. Chaser dragged the now soaked prey back inside, noticing how cold it had become.

After some deliberation, he decided to go to a chamber near the opposite end his prey had entered from. It was a small room with a single small opening, too small for any predators to slip into. The floor was made of strange furry material that was dirty, but much warmer than the rock floor that covered most of the structure.

He dragged the wet and unconscious prey there and saw how it was shivering. The wetness was making it cold. Chaser didn't like that. He took a tentative step forward, thinking about how he could lay down near it so his feathers could help warm it up.

Chaser stopped dead on his tracks. What the fuck was he doing? It was one thing to be curious about his prey, but now was he going to warm it up like a newborn hatchling?

The soft skin continued to shiver. It's not like there's anyone else to judge him, he reasoned. Besides, he had come too far already, he couldn't just stop. He was too stubborn to stop now. "A fitting name," He mused. He always chased his goals till the very end.

Careful not to press his weight into the fragile looking prey, he settled down as close as possible, making sure his feathers were in contact with the strange materials his prey wore. Slowly but surely, the heat of his body began to radiate to it.

It was strange to be so close to it. Realizing this was a unique opportunity, Chaser moved to sniff his prey and try to discover what it was carrying. There was a large metal… claw attached to its hip. Next to it was a small pouch with a series of… small red cylinders with a yellowish metal disk on the lower end. He could understand the metal tool. It looked sharp and probably served the same purpose of his own killing talon. The red tubes, however, were a mystery to him.

One thing in particular caught chaser's attention. The prey's chest seemed a bit more pronounced than normal, when compared to its belly. Was it hiding something there? His previous kills had very flat chests, with the exception of a few pronounced muscles. This prey, by comparison, seemed like it was slightly inflated, as if there a bit of extra mass strapped to its upper chest.

Chaser carefully moved his head closer and touched it with his nose. What he found was… a pair of soft bumps beneath the material it was wearing. He was extremely confused. Pressing his nose once more, he tried to figure out what they were. It was almost like a pair of sacs of water… or maybe fat. They would move and change shape a bit when he pressed his nose and pushed. It was strange and intriguing.

Actually, now that he thought about it, they were strangely comfortable, and he almost wished to just lay his head on top of them. But why did his prey had them?

Thinking back to his previous kills, they had nothing like it. Maybe some of them had these and some just didn't? Taking a more careful look, Chaser realized this soft skin was also slimmer and a bit curvier than his other kills…

"Maybe… it's a female?" It was the only conclusion he could think. The two other preys were male, he had discovered that when they were eaten by him and some of his people. It wasn't possible to tell when they were covered with these strange materials, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It would explain why this prey had so many differences in body structure and appearance. Is this why the fur on its head was longer than the others?

Chaser's thoughts were interrupted by his prey moving for the first time. It… she moved closer to him, pressing herself against his body. Probably because of his warmth. Everything that was happening was surreal to him. His prey, this… female was pressing herself to him almost like a youngling seeking its parents. It was seeking his warmth, the one who had tried to kill her multiple times.

It was strange to think of it as a she instead of an it. It made her less like another predator he had to kill, another prey to hunt, and more like one of his kin. He shook his head in anger, he had to stop these thoughts, they were going to get him in trouble. Either with the elders or with the soft skins.

Enough was enough. The soft skin female seemed to be better. It was no longer shivering, and her breathing was steady. Only time would tell if she would survive.

Chaser carefully extracted himself from the female, who tried pitifully to seek out the receding source of heat. "I did what I could, now it's best to leave before it… she wakes up" He could imagine it wouldn't be nice to wake up facing a larger predator right on top of you.

As he made his way out, he came across the dilo's body and the discarded weapon of the soft skin. It would be best to move the body away to avoid bringing more predators, but what about the weapon? It might be better to get rid of it too, but…

Chaser looked down on his killing claws. How would he feel if he woke up missing them? As much as he didn't like the risk, he figured it was only fair to leave the weapon with her. It was her main way to protect herself. He carefully grabbed the weapon by his jaws and left it next to her.

After making sure the dead dilo was far enough, he settled down outside and waited. He would have to stand guard until she woke up. After that… he would figure something up.