The night was quiet, but Arin knew quiet meant danger. The city whispered around him. Every shadow seemed to move. Every alley carried hidden sounds. The events of the day—the fight with the dark flufflet—kept replaying in his mind.
He crouched low behind Lysa's shop. She was asleep inside, soft breathing filling the room. Arin's small body twitched with tension. He had survived scavengers, hunters, and even the city's tricks. But the warning in the shadow's voice echoed in his ears: "Potential alone will not save you."
He licked his tiny paws, keeping himself quiet. Hunger gnawed, but he ignored it. Preparation mattered more tonight.
Then he heard it—a soft metallic click, followed by a scraping sound on the cobblestones. His ears pricked. His eyes scanned the street. Moonlight reflected off metal.
Hunters.
Not ordinary hunters. These moved slow and deliberate. Every step calculated. Every motion silent. They were searching, not for small pets, but for something rare. Something that thought faster than usual. Something dangerous.
Arin's tail twitched. His mind fired. Patterns. Steps. Sounds. Weaknesses. Predator's Mind flared faintly inside him. He could see where the hunters would place traps. He could see the angles of attack.
The first hunter stepped into the alley. He carried a net, sharp at the edges, meant to trap any moving creature. Arin flattened himself against the wall. The hunter paused, scanning the shadows.
A second click. Another hunter appeared, carrying a small cage with iron bars. Their eyes glinted. They moved like wolves, silent and deadly.
Arin's heart hammered. This was no mistake. They had been sent. They had a target. And the target was him.
He crouched low, calculating every possible path. Jump to the left? Too risky. Slide under the crates? Too narrow. Leap over the wall? Too loud.
Then he noticed it—a shadow along the wall. A pipe low enough to crawl under. He made a choice. Timing mattered. He would move when the second hunter lifted the cage.
One, two, three…
He darted. Small paws made almost no sound. First hunter's foot swung close, but he ducked under a crate just in time. Second hunter slammed the cage down—almost catching him—but Arin rolled sideways, landing softly on the other side.
The hunters hissed. They were clever, but Arin was faster. Smaller. Smarter.
He ran, weaving through narrow alleys, darting over discarded barrels, slipping under crates. Every step counted. Every breath counted. He could feel Predator's Mind working, showing him the hunters' weaknesses.
One hunter reached for a rope trap stretched across the alley. Arin flicked a pebble with his paw. The rope snapped. The hunter stumbled and cursed. Another corner, another crate—Arin led the hunters into a maze of obstacles.
But then—
A shadow fell over him. Larger than any hunter. Faster than any alleyway should allow. Its eyes glowed in the dark. Its claws scraped the cobblestones.
Arin froze. This was not a simple hunter. This was a predator. Bigger, stronger, faster. A test.
He hissed, small but fierce. Predator's Mind surged. Patterns of the predator's movement appeared in his vision. Weak points. Gaps. Angles.
The creature lunged. Arin rolled, narrowly avoiding sharp claws. His tiny body pressed against the wall. He studied. It was fast—but predictable. Every strike left a gap of half a second. That was enough.
He leapt onto a low barrel. The predator followed, too large to balance well. A swipe of its claw sent Arin tumbling, but he landed on his paws, ready to strike again.
Predator's Mind whispered: Evolution is possible. Danger triggers growth.
Arin's eyes narrowed. Every instinct, every calculation, every memory of past dangers focused into one point. He would survive. He would grow stronger.
The hunters from before watched, frozen in awe. They had expected a small, weak flufflet. They did not expect this.
Arin made his move. One jump, two paw strikes, three timed rolls. The predator stumbled, surprised. Arin bit a weak spot under its leg. Sharp claws, small teeth, and precise timing. He rolled away before it could react.
The predator growled, retreating slightly. The hunters whispered, impressed and fearful.
Arin's body trembled from the effort. His mind raced. Predator's Mind pulsed, faint light showing him the path forward, showing him more ways to survive. He understood, in a way he never had before, that he was growing stronger with every danger.
The night deepened. The hunters finally backed off, leaving the alley. The larger predator vanished into the shadows.
Arin curled up on the barrel. His small body shook with exhaustion, but inside, something had changed. Confidence. Awareness. Strength. Predator's Mind had grown. The spark was now a small flame.
Then he heard it—a soft voice, familiar now, from the shadows. "Well done, little hunter. You survived your first true test. But the city has more for you. Are you ready?"
Arin's tiny eyes gleamed. He pressed his paws together. "I am ready," he whispered.
The moon shone pale and cold above. The city slept, but Arin knew it would never rest. Danger was always moving. Danger was always watching.
And he would be ready.