Alexander stood silently behind the Queen, watching the two hunters lying on the ground.

  They were in bad shape. Blood streamed from one’s mouth, and two or three of his teeth were gone. It was obvious he had taken several blows to the face, but at least his condition did not appear fatal.

  The other hunter was in truly pitiful condition. His entire body was covered in wounds and bruises. It was clear he had been kicked many times.

  Alexander could see more than ten swollen, dark bruises across his body, along with scrapes scattered everywhere. But his real injury was something else.

  One of his forelegs lay stretched out on the ground at an angle that looked completely unnatural.

  The Queen stepped forward and approached the injured hunters.

  She did not speak.

  She simply looked at them.

  Her gaze was brief, no longer than a single breath, but Alexander understood everything in that instant. The pressure in the air shifted, subtle yet absolute.

  The hunter with the broken leg tried to stand. The limb collapsed immediately, folding beneath him. The bone was cleanly broken; even the angle made the outcome obvious.

  The Queen had already made her decision.

  He was no longer useful.

  There was no cruelty in that judgment. Only calculation.

  The broken hunter lowered his head, as if he too felt the weight of that silent verdict. The other injured drone lay motionless on the ground. Blood still seeped from his mouth, but his chest rose and fell unevenly. He could recover. Slowly.

  The Queen turned away.

  She left them where they lay.

  Instead, she moved toward the fallen prey.

  Two zebras lay on the ground, one dead, the other still weakly struggling to live. Its magnificent patterned hide had dulled under dust and blood, and its body was covered in bruises.

  The Queen was hungry.

  And she had no intention of waiting.

  Without ceremony, she sank her teeth into the dead zebra’s flank and tore away a thick piece of flesh. A faint steam rose into the cooling air.

  The scent of blood grew heavier.

  The rest of the swarm moved almost instantly. No command was needed. The rhythm was instinctive. They descended upon the carcasses, tearing, ripping, consuming.

  The wounded Nuxali were ignored.

  Alexander hesitated for a moment.

  For an instant, he felt something like empathy for the injured hunter.

  Only for a moment.

  Then he joined.

  He sank his teeth into warm muscle, tasting iron and something denser beneath it, richer, more concentrated biomass. As he swallowed, energy pulsed through him.

  The sounds of the savanna rose around them. Flesh tearing. Bones cracking. Heavy breathing.

  The broken hunter still lay where he had fallen.

  No one approached him.

  No one offered him meat.

  A quiet truth settled into Alexander’s mind.

  Strength determined survival.

  And usefulness determined worth.

  He tore off another mouthful and swallowed.

  There would be time to think later.

  For now, there was only biomass.

  They had been feeding for less than five minutes when a strange sound rose from across the savanna.

  It came from a distance. Somewhere between a moan and a scream, neither a true howl nor a full cry. An unsettling sound that rolled over the dry grass in waves.

  Alexander froze, the meat still clenched between his teeth.

  The Queen lifted her head at the same moment.

  She stopped feeding instantly. Her jaws were still stained with blood, but her posture changed completely. Her muscles tightened. Her gaze locked onto the horizon.

  The sound came again.

  Closer.

  This time, there was no doubt.

  The Queen rose fully to her feet.

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  The tension radiating from her spread through the swarm like a wave. Instinct overruled hunger. Chunks of meat fell from jaws. Bodies straightened. Heads turned in the same direction.

  All of them focused on the same point.

  Alexander’s eyes widened.

  Through the shifting grass, kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced, a massive pack of hyenas was rushing toward them.

  Even at first glance, their numbers were overwhelming.

  No fewer than forty.

  Perhaps more.

  Their shoulders were low, jaws open, their eerie laughter-like cries filling the savanna. Their eyes were fixed directly on the carcasses. On the blood. On the kill.

  They had caught the scent.

  The Queen straightened completely.

  A deep growl rose from her chest. It was not fear.

  It was a warning.

  The swarm rose with her.

  Alexander stepped back from the meat. The taste of blood still lingered in his mouth. His heartbeat quickened, not from panic, but from calculation.

  Forty hyenas meant numerical superiority.

  Numbers meant encirclement.

  The half-eaten zebras lay between them.

  Retreating meant surrendering biomass.

  The Queen did not take a single step back.

  Another growl rose, stronger and sharper. The drones answered at once. Growls and roars spread across the savanna.

  They would not abandon their prey.

  As the hyenas drew closer, they slowed slightly and instinctively began to spread out.

  They were preparing to form a circle.

  Alexander sensed the shift in strategy even before a command was given.

  Defend.

  The Queen’s presence hardened.

  They would have to fight for their meal.

  The distance between the two predator species closed rapidly.

  Instead of giving in to instinct, Alexander forced himself to assess his opponent.

  The hyenas were smaller. Nearly half the size of a Nuxali. Their bodies were leaner, more fragile in appearance. Narrow shoulders. Thinner legs. Their jaws were strong, but they lacked the crushing, dense musculature of a Nuxali.

  Individually, they were weaker.

  That was clear.

  But there were many of them.

  Far too many.

  The Nuxali roared as one, the sound rolling across the savanna. Instead of retreating, they stepped forward. Claws tore through the soil as they advanced. Some launched short bursts toward the hyenas, striking before pulling back.

  Hit and withdraw.

  Hit and withdraw.

  It achieved nothing.

  The hyenas did not scatter.

  They flowed around the Nuxali formation like a current.

  They circled constantly, shifting positions, their eerie laughter filling the air. They were not attacking blindly. They were waiting for openings.

  Alexander positioned himself closer to the carcasses, near the crippled hunter. He made sure not to drift toward the outer edge of the circle.

  Then the true clash began.

  The hyenas lunged in pairs and trios. Always low. Legs. Tendons. Throat. Their goal was to bring one of them down.

  Because once a Nuxali fell, another would be forced to break formation to help.

  And they knew it.

  They were not new to this.

  During the chaos, one Nuxali was seized by two hyenas. They leapt onto his body, claws and teeth working together as they tried to drag him down. A third snapped for his throat.

  But the first two could not sink their claws deep into the Nuxali’s hardened muscle. Their hides were thick. Their tissue dense.

  The Nuxali struck back.

  Claws flashed.

  The hyena that had lunged for his throat received a permanent scar across its face.

  Then the battle spiraled further out of control.

  Each strike tore flesh. Deep gashes opened across hyena bodies. One had its spine shattered. Another’s face was ripped apart.

  Blood mixed with dust.

  As the clash dragged on, the savagery intensified.

  Flesh was shredded. Bones cracked. Screams pierced the air.

  Alexander noticed one hyena nearly breach the circle and come too close to him. His instincts screamed to attack.

  Instead, he stepped back.

  He wanted to fight.

  But his body was not ready.

  He was only five months old.

  The battle was no longer controlled.

  The Nuxali could not hold the line against the incoming surge, and gaps began to open in their formation.

  The circle tightened.

  The Queen stood at the very center, and the hyenas around her were no longer cautious. Six of them pressed in at once. Their movements were not chaotic. They were deliberate. One drew her attention. Another lunged for her hind leg. A third leapt toward her shoulder.

  The Queen caught one in her jaws.

  There was a sharp crack of bone.

  But the others filled the gap immediately.

  One hyena latched onto her shoulder.

  Teeth sank deep into muscle.

  Another clamped onto her rear leg, hanging with its full weight. Claws raked along her flank, carving lines through flesh. Dark, hot blood began to flow.

  The Queen roared.

  Not in rage.

  In pain.

  And in that instant, the mental network erupted.

  Protect me.

  It was not just a command.

  It was pressure.

  A scream.

  A wave of will.

  The mental force slammed down like a hammer. The adult Nuxali surged toward one side of the circle at once. The formation collapsed inward. The defensive line folded toward the center.

  Bodies collided.

  Claws lashed out.

  One hyena was hurled into the air and smashed into the ground. Another was torn apart by two Nuxali. Those clinging to the Queen were ripped away by force.

  She was freed.

  But she was bleeding.

  Her shoulder sagged. Her hind leg could no longer bear full weight.

  Alexander moved too.

  He had to reach her.

  But he was still a juvenile.

  He forced his body forward and ran. His muscles were not fully developed. He could not match the speed of the adults. They moved like a storm, and he fell behind.

  In the chaos, the outer edge opened.

  At that exact moment, several hyenas slipped inward toward the carcasses.

  Alexander tried to push toward the Queen but was forced to change direction. Two adult Nuxali rushed past him. Dust, blood, and screams blurred his vision.

  One hyena noticed him.

  Young. Isolated. Not fast enough.

  It turned toward him.

  Alexander tried to close the distance to the Queen.

  He could not.

  The hyena came fast.

  The collision was brutal.

  Alexander was thrown sideways. The air left his lungs. He tried to rise, but the hyena drove its claws into his flank.

  Talons tore beneath his ribs, ripping through flesh.

  A hole opened.

  Hot blood poured out instantly.

  Alexander snarled and slashed reflexively, but the strike was weak. He only grazed the hyena’s foreleg.

  The hyena lowered its head to bite.

  Alexander tried to drag himself backward. Toward the Queen.

  Too slow.

  At that moment, an adult Nuxali saw.

  A heavy claw strike sent the hyena flying. There was the sound of breaking bone. The creature tumbled away.

  Alexander could not stand.

  His side was torn open. Every breath sent a fresh surge of pain through him.

  Still, he crawled.

  Stubbornly.

  Until he reached her.

  When he made it to the center, his legs gave out and he collapsed at her side.

  The defensive line closed around them.

  Meanwhile, the hyenas were dragging the zebra carcasses away.

  The swarm roared in fury. The Queen’s anger rippled through the mental link.

  But they could not advance.

  Nearly twenty hyenas still surrounded them, keeping them contained.

  And the Queen was wounded.

  Leaving her exposed was unthinkable.

  The carcasses were pulled farther away.

  Slowly.

  Methodically.

  The hyenas withdrew.

  No final charge.

  No reckless attack.

  They retreated as they had come, organized.

  Silence settled over the savanna.

  The ground was soaked with the blood of two species.

  The Nuxali remained standing.

  But the cost had been heavy.

  As Alexander lay on the ground, he could feel the Queen’s weakened breathing beside him.

  He could smell his own blood.

  He was only a juvenile.

  And the world did not care.

  

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