Monica ran towards her mate, Rick was hurting, Rick was in danger, she was going to protect him. This was a fight, and she was good at fighting. She could smell the hunter, a tricky hunter, a strong hunter, an experienced hunter. Monica knew by scent alone she could not underestimate the hunter.

She saw Rick, she pounced.

She would get him out of there.

Except the hunter came out, and Monica changed tactics. She tackled the hunter and pulled her into darkness. The hunter’s strength was great, comparable to Monica’s, and she forced both of them out of the shadows.

But they were further away from Rick, Monica could fight.

So she did.

“Wait!”

The hunter spoke, but she moved to fight as well. Monica clawed at the hunter’s arms, testing defenses and reactions, seeing her pulling away and raising her paws. Scowling, ready to fight, but not fighting. Though she smelled of fight, it was a trick, a fake not-fight to trick and then strike.

“I said wait!”

Hunter growled, Monica growled louder.

Monica jumped into the darkness and came out on the tall grass, this time she jumped for a kick. The claws on her paws grazed the clothes the orange hunter had, she dodged, twisting sideways and clawing at Monica’s face. The strike was deflected, Monica elbowed the wrist and tried to claw her gut, she deflected the claw and stepped slightly to the side to punch at Monica’s head, Monica raised her arm and grasped the other’s. A mistake, the right knee came up and smashed against Monica’s chest.

The exchange of blows had been fast, and it would not be the last. Monica pounced right back into the extremely close range, claws slashing and being deflected just as much as she deflected the other’s attacks.

A flurry of claws and fur, each swipe potentially deadly or critical.

And with every exchange, it would come out the same. The orange hunter would kick or knee or hit Monica. Monica could only growl in frustration, she had to beat this enemy, but it was fighting like Monica. Except better than Monica.

“You’re nothing but a cub, you can barely know your powers. Stand down.”

More strokes, growls, threats. The words didn’t mean much to Monica, but the annoyance in the voice said enough. The orange hunter wanted to show Monica she was inferior, weaker, smaller, that she should withdraw her claws.

Not after Rick had been hurt.

Monica dove in, she remembered the bad tough-tough-one in the castle, she saw her fight. She stopped clawing, instead she punched and kicked, copying what she’d seen the other one use. Monica’s foot knocked the orange hunter’s knee away, she lost balance, Monica punched her face.

It knocked her down but she was back to her feet, Monica couldn’t punch again.

The orange hunter became angry.

Monica jumped as darkness extended all over. One of the tricky tricks. Monica stared, frowning, watching the shadows come out and try to hurt her. She could see now how the orange hunter controlled them. Monica jumped and kicked and tried to jump into the shadows, but the tricky spiky shadows were not for her to jump into.

“Do you really want to stay in that city with the filthy humans?” Orange hunter roared, extending claws, glaring. “I smelled your frustration, you stink of it, you don’t want to be there.”

Many words, some Monica understood, but many she did not. She understood some of it, yes, she was frustrated. She leaped between the spikes, dodging, keeping her distance, conserving her strength. Better to let orange hunter tire.

“You hurt Rick. My mate!”

That makes her angry. The shadows darken, more spikes emerge, like sharp trees with sharp branches that hurt. Monica cannot dodge them all, she has to run, she has to move, and even when she runs and moves, it starts to hurt. The spikes are scratching her, but not enough. Superficial.

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“He is a pathetic human.”

The words are about Rick, and it has a new word, but Monica heard the word before, it’s a bad word, even if she doesn’t understand what it means exactly, she remembers it’s a bad word.

“Rick strong.”

“He’s weaker than a normal human!”

Large black spike shoots from the shadows, no longer remaining sticking to ground. This new trick comes too fast, the darkness hits Monica’s shoulder and she holds back from crying out. She would never show weakness, not after the Baron. She was strong now.

“Rick my mate.”

Her roar declared it as true, her power declared it as true, her chest was hot and warm and true. She glared at orange hunter. The orange hunter did not like Rick, Monica did not care, she did not like orange hunter either.

And yet.

The shadows went away.

Orange hunter glared. “Then bring him, whatever, keep him as your pet. You are young and naive, you are weak.”

“Am strong.”

“No, you are not.” Orange hunter crosses arms and glares.

“Am strong.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Fine, then prove it!” Orange hunter roars challenge and steps back, opening arms wide, snarling. “Make me bleed.”

Bleed? Monica frowned, looking at the orange hunter. She did not have a scratch. Monica looked down at herself. She had many many scratches and bruises. Her lips thinned, orange hunter was strong. But Rick taught her, he had said so. One could be stronger or strongest, and other could be strong too.

“If you can’t make me bleed, I’m taking you to the village.”

“Monica not understand. New words.”

That angers her. “Your owner treats you like a pet.” She snarls. “How many years has he had you, and you can’t even talk properly?”

“Year.” She understands the word, this one Rick taught her. Each year was ten and two months. Three months made time of rain. Three months made time of hot. Three months made time of sleep. And three months made time of cold.

“One cold snow, one year.” The orange one touches her chest, thinking Monica did not understand. “I am twenty and five cold snows.”

“Monica and Rick zero cold months.” She proclaimed proudly. “Monica and Rick months of rain, and months of hot. No months of sleep or months of cold.”

Surprise, wide eyes. “Someone else must have taught you.”

“Rick mate, only mate. Rick teach Monica all the words, every day.”

More surprise, more wide eyes, arms fall and orange hunter looks in forest direction. There is a frown of thought, Monica knew that frown, she had it when learning new complicated things.

“Then take him with you. Come with me.” Orange hunter speaks with soft words now.

“You hurt Rick. Monica hurt you now.”

There were words, there was talk, orange hunter was confused and didn’t want to fight.

She copied the dark shadows, letting them grow and expand over the ground and cover area bigger than orange hunter had. She copied the spikes, and she made them large, and she pounced.

More surprise and shock. “How!?”

Monica did not answer, she did not hesitate. She struck. Too fast for the surprised orange hunter to completely stop her. Her claws drew blood over the orange hunter’s arms, deep and red.

She screamed, she roared, and the spikes Monica made scratched at her.

Then she roared, and Monica was pushed back. Her ears were ringing, this was a roar louder than any she had heard before, louder than her own. A trick? Or just strength? It gave her pause and she jumped back.

But the orange hunter did not attack.

She looked at Monica with strange eyes, not angry, not sad, determined, but different. Dangerous. Monica understood, very dangerous.

“If he’s so important to you, then…”

Shadows, this time they were not spikes. They were vines, and they formed not around the orange hunter but ahead of her as she began running. Monica chased right away, because she knew that was the direction Rick was in. The shadows latched onto her, however, slowing her down.

She wouldn’t make it in time.

Monica broke free from the vines, she ran into the shadows, emerging where she knew Rick was.

There was someone else.

Two others.

One she knew, the tough-tough one from the not-mountain with green hair and the name Monica refused to remember.

The other was a new one, but Monica noticed her scent was on Rick recently.

The two stood still, along the orange hunter, and now Monica.

Tough-tough one was pointing one sword at New-one and another at the orange hunter. New-one was kneeling next to Rick, holding his neck. Orange hunter was growling.

Only one sound broke the tension.

Laughter.

Rick was laughing, laughing hard. Monica stared as Rick laughed louder, and louder, holding his gut and coughing and laughing some more.

Everyone stared.