Through a Predator's Eyes Chapter 7

    It is hard to say what hurt the most after the…tussle that happened. For the rest of my life after I could never tell if my body or my pride was more hurt then, than it would be later on in life. At the time I had no idea what was to come, years later I am glad I did not. If I had…I would have done things much differently.

    I wish I could say I gave as good as I took in that first fight. I did not.  I can say I at least proved that to take me on with anything other than numbers in the kennel was stupid.

    At first, my first real fight started off in a one on one with the alpha of the aggressive group that belongs to the dragon that was now my owner, Iced-Death as I liked to call him. I never did, nor do I ever want to know that…thing’s name.

    Well anyways, the one on one was a brutal right from the start. I had my young age and the mussels from growing up in the forest, mistreated as they were. But my opponent had experience and mussels living in whatever hellhole they have been forced into. So it was a sort of an even fight. But that is not allowed…no, not here.

    The instant, and I mean the instant it appeared that it was an even fight, all of the other preds that made up the aggressive “pack” jumped into the fight. I did not even stand a chance. Oh sure, I put up a fight, as best I could given what I had. I probably injured near all them somehow, but I only really had the time to massively injure one before I got myself knocked out and massively injured.

    I could try and save my pride by saying I was knocked out from a blow. But in truth, the shock of the injury is what did it…after I screamed and howled in pain.

    When I next woke up I was in a small caged off area. It was bigger than the cages I had been in for such a long time. I guess I could say it was about the size of an examination room. You know the one that you would find in…what was the word? Oh yea, a veterinarian’s office. So rather small in all regards.

    I had bandages on most of my cuts and a small cast on one of my legs. I hurt all over, and it was not fun. At the time I was massively hopping I would never have to get into another fight like that. I would never admit it openly, but I was afraid, I was hurting, and I was missing my home, my friends, or even the old cages with all the other predators, at least I would not have been hurt as badly in either of those places.

    I had so few friends, and I was separated from all of them. No one to fall back on, no one to support me. It was horrifying, and up until that moment I had never truly realized it. But when I woke up then, all I had to comfort be was the pain and knowledge that my body would not move or else I would get more pain. Not even when I was starving to death did I think like that, I was too busy thinking about keeping strong.

    It was a deeply…I guess spiritual realization. And I did not like that at all, I kept wishing it had all never had happened. But I knew I could do nothing about it. And over the next several days as I laid there I thought about what I could do, and what I would do so that I could survive. Whenever I would wake up, I’d move as much as my recovering body would allow, especially after I woke up that first time, to allow my body to recover a bit more and so that I could eat and drink a little.

    I noticed that I would never see those that were taking care of my injuries, but every time I woke up my bandages would be changed or if the injury was recovered enough it would be gone completely. The cast would stay, I knew it would for even in the wild if we damaged a bone it would take a very long time to heal and all we could do was not use that bone, if it was a bodily bone we had try our best not to lay on the area that affected it and not move much period, in other words we became worthless until we healed…or died for some.

    I was alone almost the entire time I was recovering. I say almost because I would sometimes see other preds in distant cages, but not for long usually, and never long enough to talk.

     Such a lonely time…

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    About a month after I woke up in the cage, I started to finally get some company. The creature would come in and…basically train me through punishment. If he did not want me to do something he’d give me a good bonk on the nose and I quickly learned not to do that. I want to say I resisted, but pain is a great motivator, at least on the surface.

    I guess you could say I never let what they trained my body to do affect my mind, but I would again be lying. I did at least control it.

    They taught me what they wanted me to do. To guard, to track and to know.

    To Guard: that which my owner owned.

    To Track: that which does not long belong and that which does.

    To Know: how to respond to that which I find.

    I can proudly say the third one never completely set in the way they wanted it.

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    “So you’re the new predator everyone is talking about. Can’t say I’m all that impressed.”

    I had been taking a nap when I had my first real conversation starter. My injuries had mostly healed, but I was still stuck in that infernal cage.

    I was a bit shocked to hear another predator talking to me, so it took me a few seconds to register it all, confusion shooting through my body in the action, before I finally turned and looked at the source.

    I found it in a cage next to my own. A rather old, damn near ancient looking, predator. And from the looks of it, the only thing keeping him was pure willpower.

    “Well, you going to lay there all day with that stupid look on your face or are you going to say something.”

    “I would, if you’d give me a minute to think. I was sleeping damn it.”

    He did not even care and it showed, “Oh dear me. I woke the sleeping beauty. Well tough. I’m bored and I want to talk. So I’m going to talk. And you had better respond or I’ll dig into your cage and bite your ear off.”

    I could only stare with a look that I’m told is called the “WTF Face.”

    But that old predator did exactly as he said he would. He talk, he talked and he talked. I was forced to listen to his endless ramblings about life in the complex we were in, about how bored he was, about his thoughts of the predators we lived with, about how bored he was, about his aches and pains, about how bored he was, about how much he missed a few predators he used to know, about how bored he was….I think you get the idea.

    I tried to talk as well, but he just kept on going…and going…and going…

   The only time I seemed to get anything end was when he mentioned a name that sounded familiar, from a time that seemed so long ago.

    “Gem…Gem? Did he tell me to tell some predator named Yuk that He said ‘peal over and die you old crod.’?”

    And though I said it, I’m certain it was half a whisper, but looking back now, I think that old predator had a smile on his face when I said it.

    I never did find out his actual name, he talked for three days, fourteen hours each day, the rest he was sleeping or eating and those were the only times I was gladly doing the same. For by the second day I was reading to bite my own ear of. But on the fourth day, I was slightly shocked to no longer see/hear him.

    I was silently disappointed, while he was annoying he was a well of knowledge about all sorts of different things he had experience. And after some thought later in life, I pretty sure some of the things he talked about helped save my life.

    It’s too bad I never did see him again.

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    When I was finally let out of the cage, it was right back to that kennel. One attempt at another fight for dominance, and we all got a good pop, no one really tried after that. I just became a “Rouge” of the group. Forced to work together but not part of the pack and as long as we kept out of each other’s ways that was that.

    I eventually claimed a little corner as my own in the kennel. It was alright, though uncomfortable. But it was mine and after I damn near destroyed the first two who tried to enter it my point was made…with all three of us getting pretty banged up but still my point was made.

    It was also along that time that I started to do what I was…acquired for. To patrol the Iced-Death’s larger territory/complex. I had to use my training to know what was there and what should not and then react accordingly.

    Usually all I found was a stray animal that found its way in, some I killed for a quick snack, others I just scared the crap out of for fun, and other still I ignored because I did not give a one bit about them at the time (pissed those that had to watch me off to NO end when they found out).

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     There were times when I found those that were not just stray animals.

    Iced-Death was “rich” and thus different creatures wanted what he had. So from time to time we’d get a creature “sneaking” into the complex. It’s kind of hard to hide one’s scent in way that is not noticeable.

    Most of the time when I smelt someone who should not be there, I gave an “alert howl” and that sent them running. If I felt like it, or the sneak was being a bit of an ass I chased them, sometimes gave them a good bite to remember me by. But a few I let get away with only having to make an appearance to ease those that watch me, I think they were called handlers.

    There was one though. He had entered the complex over the wall next to one of the better hiding spots there (something I thank the only predator for knowing about). He did not move once he was there, and I think he knew I was watching him the whole time, most of the night actually. Just before I was about to be forced to the kennel I moved closer to him.

    I found out the creature was a cheetah and looked like he’d been through hell. And he just sat there when I approached, watching me. I stared at him for a bit before a handler started to call my given name, saying something about leaving whatever animal I had found alone and get back to the kennel.

    If I had thought more about it then, I would have sprouted an evil smirk, for I did just that.

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    That cheetah came around several times. Sometimes he came when I was already out, sometimes before. He did not seem to have a real schedule when he was and was not there. But for the most part I ignored him, sometimes I decided to scare him a little by sneaking up to him in the hiding spot and then brush past him, I laughed every time he gave a tensed and almost jumped when he did that.

    One day, during a really long day, I decided to lay in that spot with him there. He was a little tense at that, but then he gave me a small thing of food he had on him. I ate without hassle and kept laying there, and he went back to whatever it was he was doing.

    I did that several times. And after a little bit I figured out he was watching the patrols. He was actually being smart, trying to figure out the best time to try and get past the other predators and the private security Iced-Death had. This is where my training should have taken over and I “ratted him out.”

    Instead, I decided to do the opposite. I liked him, he treated me better than the handlers and was alright. There were times he would sit there watching while talking about his life, I think it gave him something to do. I could have cared less but when I was laying there next to him, it was an interesting way to pass the time. Found out the guy was down in the dumps and needed cash to take care of his family, so he stole when he could not do real work. And in the end, he figured that stealing from Iced-Death once would be enough to last him long enough to get a stable job.

    Now the story…Yea I did not care one bit. He could have been the world’s most infamous thief, he was still better than Iced-Death and his a-hole workers.

    So I spent my time in the complex roaming the grounds, looking for want to be criminals, scaring the crap out of any creature I could just for fun, keeping control of my area of the Kennel, and spending some relaxing time with that cheetah.

    It was an alright life.

    Sadly…all things come to an end, as all things must.