When Oscar woke up, it was mid-afternoon, and Diego was nowhere to be seen. He hadn't shown himself for over a week, but when Oscar visited the hidden carcass to eat, he found it being a few pounds of meat lighter than when they'd hidden it, and there was Diego's fresh scent and teethmarks on it.

In the meantime, Oscar started to move around and about quite a lot- running, climbing trees and rock, exploring the possibilities for a next hunt; whatever, only to keep him moving and rebuilding the considerable amount of muscle he'd lost. Before his illness, he'd imagined that ideal life would consist of lying down, giving out orders and having a pack of devoted hunters to provide him food. Now that he'd escaped death so narrowly, he only wanted to feel his body. Every muscle strain was a pleasure, reminding him that he could still feel; every hair in his fur wanted to be windswept, no longer minding the cold; running was a pleasure even if it did leave him breathless and wheezing, because it meant that he was still breathing; pain was welcome, because it made him feel alive.

But he still wouldn't dare hunting alone. Despite the growing hunger, he knew he couldn't do it; not only was he still too weak, but he'd never in his life hunted alone; hunt had always been a matter of practiced team work. He wondered how long it took Diego to adapt…how many failed hunts, how many hungry nights he'd endured since their pack perished; and how much self-restraint it took him to spend nights and days among prey animals and withstand the temptation of the easy kill; how fond exactly he had to be of them to not want to make them his next meal in times when prey was scarce?

He mused about that on one cloudy dawn about a week after their first hunt, fairly hungry and irritable, returning to his den from a short scouting trip, and found Diego waiting for him there, as bad-tempered and evil-looking as Oscar had ever seen him, walking in circles in front of the den, growling under his breath and apparently in even worse mood than Oscar himself.

"Where've you been, you worthless waste of fur? D'you think I don't have anything better to do except to wait for your sorry hide to honor me with its presence? Let's go!"

"Go where?" Oscar snarled back, deciding to skip the part where he wasn't obliged to wait for Diego to appear and order him around. It seemed wiser to skip that.

"Admiring the beauty of nature", Diego rolled his eyes. "Hunting, Oscar! There's a herd of deer in passing, northwest of here, and I'm not gonna skip the opportunity of catching a week-worth of meat because you're dragging me down! Let's go, now!"

The mere mention of hunt made Oscar's heart race and his mouth water. He didn't need to be told twice.

And that was one of their several successful hunts they carried out in the next few weeks. What was a difficult, demanding, taxing business for one lone hunter was much more easily ventured by two tigers that worked in unison. They had a well-defined strategy that worked for the most of times: Oscar was the one to cause diversion and panic among prey animals, sending them right into Diego's gripping claws and serrated teeth. It was actually downright disturbing, the ease in which, after all that time and with all the bad blood between them, they slipped into their roles and how smoothly their cooperation worked. Oscar didn't want to cooperate smoothly with Diego. And he didn't want to have Diego once again in charge and in lead.

But wishes were one thing, and reality was something very much different. Currently, his reality was, among other things, constituted of the fact that he hadn't yet brought any prey down himself. Diego had been in charge, and Diego hadn't ordered him to, and what was worse…he hesitated. Bringing large prey down demanded enormous strength, and Oscar, still unsure of his strength, not wanting to jeopardize the success of their hunts- and much more important, reluctant to gamble away the remnants of his pride and dignity before the whelp if he fails- hesitated.

But he couldn't hesitate forever, he knew. Diego's patience was bound to wear out soon. No saber was inclined to tolerate the presence of another saber on his territory, unless the said other was a member of his pack; soon, Diego would have him packing, one way or another, and Oscar would prefer to have it his own way, if possible.

Days passed, Diego's visits were now limited only to once in seven to ten days when they needed to hunt, barely speaking at all except when it was strictly necessary, and with every day that passed, Oscar knew he was one day closer to the moment he'd have to hit the road.

One cold morning, after a successful hunt, when they- as was the cats' ancient custom- laid down to sleep after having their fill of food and water, Oscar found himself stirred from his slumber by the sound of Diego clearing his throat repeatedly.

"Heck, kiddo, drink more water, or somethin'…I'm tryin' to sleep here", he drawled drowsily.

But after a few minutes…

"Um, Oscar?"

"Whaat? What now?"

"I'm sorry. About…you know. Everything."

What the…?

Oscar shook his head to clear his eyes of sleep, dumbfolded, and stared at Diego, who suddenly looked significantly subdued, ears flattened to his head and his eyes not quite meeting Oscar's. How could any person on the Earth go through such drastic changes in attitude in such short span of time? Minutes ago, he looked calm, strong and indestructible. Now he reminded Oscar on a clumsy cub that had just did something messy and was mortified for it. Actually…

…actually, he reminded Oscar on one of his own kids. One that didn't live to see adult age, because he was so fragile and clumsy, and simply too much of a runt of the litter. Strong, capable, witty Diego had never before reminded Oscar on him until this point. Not even when he was a cub.

He didn't like this train of thought of his at all.

"Didn't you say it yourself, not so long ago, that it's Soto's children to whom you should be saying that?"

"I'm sorry", Diego continued quietly, softly, "for being the reason that the rest of our pack scattered like this."

"Well…" this did make sense. But Oscar too much drained of energy to hate now. And he liked this repentant Diego even less than the bossy, competent one. It was downright…weird. He just wanted to sleep, and to dream, if possible. Dream of the old days. "…you just finished what humans had started. It was bound to happen."

"Yeah." Diego was still looking away. "I'm sorry anyway."

"Oh, give me a break. Would you have done anything different if you had a chance?"

This caused Diego to look at the other tiger with startled, large eyes. Obviously this thought had never occurred to him. He took his time before answering: "Some things I'd do different. But I'd protect Mann…the mammoth…and the kid… all of them…just the same."

"Well, there you have it. I kinda thought so. You're hopeless. Now go to sleep. I'm bloody beat."