After a month of doing this, and bringing Flight Leader with him because that wolfbat had experienced cooperation with other species, he had established a pattern. He and Flight Leader would spook prey towards them, or help them bring it down by a surprise attack if they had it surrounded. Then, when the prey was too large to eat in a single feeding, the flock was called in to claim the remains. Despite dropping remains of some small flock kills near screamer packs, there was no indication that any of the pack was appreciative, or inclined to participate willingly in hunts with a wolfbat. There was no apparent partnership developing, but rather a kind of tolerance of the wolfbat’s presence. They only left food behind for wolfbats when it was too much for them to consume.
Individually, a small screamer was easy prey for a wolfbat, although they were seldom found alone. Nevertheless, Flock Leader could have swooped down to catch one of the small tidbits if they were not on guard, and if he kept his wings from rustling and avoided creating a whistling wind stream on the fastest possible dive. He was frustrated at their lack of recognition that he was improving their hunting success, feeling so frustrated that killing one of them to refuel his metabolism was an idea growing stronger in his mind today.
He had spotted a drove of hairy black pig-like animals, which were large enough that even a squadron of eight wolfbats would be hard pressed to contain a medium sized one long enough to tire it and overcome its stamina. A large pack of screamers could possibly maintain continuous pressure and wear down one of these sturdy animals, by rotating out tired pursuers to let them rest for a bit. However, even a large screamer pack could not easily contain or turn the massive body of a fleeing pig, to prevent it from rejoining the drove of other pigs, and receiving their group protection.
Flock Leader turned back to the large hunting pack he’d been shadowing, and swooped low to make a cry to get their attention, trying to get them to follow him. That seemed easier than attempting to turn the pigs towards the screamers. In a group, the pigs had little to fear from a lone wolfbat, and clustered together for protection, with the weakest and smallest at the center of the drove, they could refuse to turn in the direction he wanted to herd them. He’d tried that before.
The little hunters looked up at him, but didn’t move in the direction he flew as he passed over. They looked around and didn’t see anything he had driven towards them, so they mostly ignored him.
On his third low pass to induce them to follow, two of the smaller and presumably younger and less experienced screamers actually leaped at him with snapping jaws. An agile turn avoided them, but this left him more annoyed that these inexperienced pack members actually treated him as potential prey.
Having worked with humans and rippers, he thought of a way to make his point that he was to be respected, and at the same time to get the pack to follow. He’d noticed they obeyed the typical pack rule, when they defended endangered pack members, and helped them if they could. He knew how to get them to follow, and hopefully understand shortly that he was not their enemy, despite what he was about to do.
On his fourth low pass over the pack of screamers, he kept his eye on one of those small ones that had jumped at him, the one that had reached the highest. It had discolored yellow-green topknot head feathers, marking it as slightly different from the blue-green color of the others. Staying alert for any full sized pack members that might decide to jump up at him this time, he flew over the targeted screamer. It obliged him by a short running start, and made a respectable four foot high leap.
Its resulting strangled sounding squawk was less loud than the normal scream of the bird-like two legged little predators. That was because it only was able to utter squawks, with a wolfbat’s jaws clamping onto its skinny neck as it reached the height of its leap. As Flock Leader lifted smoothly with the screamer wiggling below his jaws, it continued to squawk, alerting the pack that it was alive and calling for help.
Flock Leader traveled perhaps a hundred feet and landed on a large tree root, and looked back to the pack, the lightweight screamer noisily dangling from his relatively loose jaws. Initially a number of larger screamers ran after him, but assumed the pack member was lost to them, and would remain out of reach as it was killed and eaten in a treetop. They had halted their pursuit.
Seeing that the victim was still alive, and his captor had landed where they could reach him, the entire pack entered the chase. Flock Leader let them close to within thirty feet, then leaped into the air and climbed to perhaps ten feet, just above the pack’s frequently observed best possible leaps, and flew slowly, with the squawker still raising hell in his jaws.
It was hard to fly properly, because Flock Leader kept his head rotated to the side so that there was no sharp crimp placed on the neck of his captive. The entire plan would be a waste if he accidentally killed his lure. The pack was actually closing the gap, so he put on a bit of additional speed. They all continued to follow, perhaps thinking his prey was too heavy for him, or the wolfbat was hurt in some way.
The pack had entered their normal prey-tracking mode, which was free of screams, despite the fact that Flock Leader clearly knew they were following, and the sound would not alert him more than he already was.
Except for the incessant croaks of his unwilling “passenger,” the drove of pigs would not hear a large pack of screamers closing with them. Ahead, he could see the shaking of some of the tall ferns where the pigs were still rooting for tubers or grubs. Now he was undecided. Should he fly over and draw the pack with him or land and release their annoying little ungrateful pack mate, and hope they would see or hear the pigs and attack.
He landed, and released his captive unharmed when the pack was again thirty feet away, and he flapped directly towards the pigs, a short distance away in the ferns. His now released screamer raced towards the pack, but the dominate pack members in the lead of the chase went right past it, to make certain the wolfbat didn’t turn back, or perhaps was injured and unable to escape for some reason.
Flock Leader passed a few feet above the pigs and they instantly squealed an alarm at sight of him, calling drove members to cluster together for defense, as usual. What he did that was not usual as he passed over, was to suddenly dip down and rake his jaws and claws along one side and flank of an old sow. He had identified her as the probable weakest member of the drove from his previous scouting. She obligingly squealed loudly, and bolted a few feet from the edge of the group.
No matter if the screamers were merely still in pursuit of Flock Leader, or had zeroed in on the scent and sounds of the pigs, the result was a sudden burst of the pigs from their fern cover, with the pack in close pursuit. The chase would not last long, because the screamers would soon realize they probably could not isolate one of the much larger pigs if they stayed clustered and ran as a tight group. However, Flock Leader turned and came at the same sow from the front and this time bit and clawed her other flank and side in passing. She was not seriously injured, but the sight of blood would definitely draw the screamers attention, and the sow lost close contact for a moment with her group as she recoiled again from the attack.
A dozen of the screamers leaped between the sow and the drove, which caused her to veer farther from her group protection. Flock Leader made a low frequency scream she would clearly hear as he again dove directly at her face. She pulled up her run just a moment before he climbed back up, which allowed most of the other screamers to catch up to her, and suddenly the bleeding sow was surrounded, at a standstill and watching her only protection recede into the trees.
Her snorts and squeals of terror had caught the attention of several of the other pigs, one a large tusked boar that seemed to be the dominate male, and he and two other male pigs were slowing, looking back. Flock Leader quickly dove at them to distract them, then pulled up and chased after some of the now exposed piglets, which were normally hemmed in by the protective adult pigs. They squealed in fear as he screamed loudly at them and bit one in passing. The boar’s choice became one of
returning to defend the surrounded old sow, or to go protect the future of the drove. The future won, and the pigs soon vanished into the underbrush.
The screamers began their task of wearing the sow down, with simultaneous bites coming from all sides, and leaping up to come down with their middle toe claw raking her sides, drawing more blood. It wasn’t going to be a quick end for the big sow, not with attackers a small fraction of her size. Even a squadron of wolfbats would have had to exhaust the large animal gradually. This was larger prey than either set of predators would normally have tackled alone. None of them had the bite force to clamp jaws on her thick short throat to close her windpipe to suffocate her, or jaws large enough to cover her mouth and muzzle for the same sort of faster kill.
Climbing above the trees, Flock Leader called for two squadrons he saw circling near the distant home plateau to join him. This prey would be far more meat than the screamer’s entire pack could consume in days. He suddenly heard loud screaming from the pack, down below the obscuring tree crowns. Had the drove of pigs returned after they saw the wolfbat depart?
Confident his two squadron leaders and the Flight Leader had seen him with their sharp eyes, and marked his location, Flock Leader dove back down through the overhanging branches, twisting and turning to get below their multilayered cover.
It wasn’t the return of the pigs that had the pack screeching, it was a large spotted feline thief that had arrived to claim the weakened sow as its own, a leopard analogue on this part of Koban. At roughly half the size of a female ripper, the light teal and deep blue spotted cat was still eight or nine times the mass of a wolfbat, and over fifty times the mass of an individual screamer.
The screamers had backed away from the much larger predator, which appeared to have already injured two members of the pack, seen limping out of range of another swat of those sharp claws. The sow, already wobbly on its thick stubby legs, and in no condition to run, couldn’t catch a break. One predator after another had her marked for a meal. The cat could easily bowl the tired unstable prey onto her side if it leaped and shoved her, but the task of suffocating it would take time. With its jaws on the pig’s throat, the cat would be vulnerable to darting attacks from the screamers.
The sow weighed perhaps two times the mass of the leopard, an animal slightly larger than the cat would normally try to kill if it was with its drove. This was an opportunity for theft of more than a week’s worth of meat, which seldom presented itself. However, it had a problem. There were no low trees below the light blocking towering forest giants, where it could climb above the screamers with this heavy prize, particularly if it were still alive and kicking.
Closer to the river, over a mile away, there was open sky along the banks and many smaller tree varieties grew there. Except the cat couldn’t carry the pig that mile, not with forty or so screamers biting at his haunches when his jaws were occupied.
Then his luck grew worse, as he caught sight of the wolfbat dropping down through the highest tree branches. He was more than a match for a thirty to forty pound wolfbat, but an entire squadron would be able to drive him from this prey. There was a “V” shaped cleft, formed by two above ground massive roots, which led to the base of the nearest tree from the leopard, only twenty feet away. It suddenly lunged for the front lower left leg of the sow and jerked it off its feet, and pulled with all of its strength to drag the fallen pig quickly towards the cleft. The huge roots rose over five feet high right where they merged into the tree’s trunk, with relatively smooth and vertically planar sides sloping up to the tree.
As the space between the high roots narrowed as the cat backed into the cleft, his flanks were protected from side attacks, and it only needed to release the pig’s leg three times to defend itself. Twice to bite and paw swipe at screamers that came too close, and once it leaped and nearly raked its claws along the leathery membrane of Flock Leader’s right wing. That would probably have proven fatal for the bat if he were injured and flightless, located where the screamers or the cat could reach him.
The leopard backed deeper into the narrow juncture at the base of the tree, its haunches touching the thick high roots on either side, its tail touching the trunk. The wiggling pig providing protection from screamers that could only reach him by climbing over the pig. One enterprising, but not terribly bright little screamer, worked its way up the narrow crest of one of the long sloping roots, and poised itself above the leopard. It belatedly realized that alone, it would be suicidal to leap down onto the cat. Its precarious position nearly proved fatal anyway, when the cat leaped up after the poor planner. It was a narrow escape as it dropped down the opposite side of the root, the leopard’s claws sweeping the air where it had just been.
The cat pulled sideways on the pig’s leg to turn it fully onto its back, exposing its throat. With a glance at the screamers, and the circling wolfbat, it knew it could bite down on the sow’s windpipe and still keep both eyes on potential threats, positioned as it was between the walls formed by the roots. It clamped its jaws on the grunting animal’s throat, and pressed its neck frill down against the pig.
A significant part of the joy of the kill for any of Koban’s cats was to use their contact telepathic ability to experience their prey’s fear of them, and receiving their last thoughts and images. The leopard pressed the soft, organic superconducting nerve filled neck frill against the pig, as it clamped its jaws tight and shut off the flow of air.
The pigs fear of dying, and the savage images sent from the cat’s mind triggered a delectable “flavor” of mental terror from the sow, which produced the sense of dominance that all felines of Koban had evolved to relish. One byproduct of what humans called frilling was the enhanced communication this telepathic ability provided between cats of the same species, and between different varieties of cats, with the means to pass on learning to their young, experience, and facilitating peaceful social interactions.
Flock Leader, having shared thoughts directly with rippers, at first with humans acting as intermediaries between them and the feared rippers, was experienced enough to know what to expect. When the pig’s life started to fade, the cat would be mentally distracted despite its open eyes. Just as humans could act as a filtered, slightly insulated two-way conduit for thoughts between a ripper and a wolfbat, the pig, while still alive could do the same. Any of Koban’s life forms, with their universal superconducting nerves, could link a cat’s mind to any other creature touching the same animal that the cat frilled. That would permit shared images and emotions between all three creatures. In this case, the pig’s thoughts were irrelevant.
This was a moment where Flock Leader had to take a risk if he hoped to form the hunting partnership he’d wanted to forge. He’d done this sort of link with humans and rippers many times, but never with a wild feline who had never shared a wolfbat’s thoughts, and probably never had a peaceful meeting of the minds with another species. He would have to risk turning his back on the screamer pack, and place himself in dangerous proximity with the leopard.
The two squadrons he’d summoned would be here soon, but he couldn’t wait for the reinforcements. The weakened pig would probably be dead by then, and the cat would break the link when it released the sow’s throat. The Flock would flourish better here, as they did at home, if he could make the cat understand the advantages of cooperation in hunts.
Swooping down silently, he passed over the heads of the forward edge of the largest and most dominate pack members, squawking and stamping their small feet in agitation in the wider part of the root cleft. The screamers had largely ignored the wolfbat after the leopard arrived. Startled, they pulled well back from the pig as he swept over them, wings rustling for air braking as he landed. His recent snatching of one of them was made fresh in their thoughts by this close passage.
Using the pig’s thick bulk for cover, Flock Leader crawled low to reach the animal’s hindquarters. Closer to the head would strengthen the mental connection, but that would provoke an attack from
the cat. The ass end would have to do.
As he placed his muzzle on the sow’s nerve dense genitalia region, the frill link was established. Two years of practice with humans and rippers had taught Flock Leader how to withhold transmitting its own mental images. That was a learned tactic, to withhold information in order to negotiate the size of a food reward for scouting reports for humans. Unlike rippers, humans always offered less than he considered a fair payment in meat cubes, and he learned to withhold his mental images until he received more than was offered.
He blocked his own thoughts from the cat now, in order to receive the unguarded thoughts of the leopard, which would remain unaware of the wolfbat’s mental presence. Other than verifying that the pig still lived, Flock Leader ignored its fatalistic desperate thoughts. Predators couldn’t be concerned about the prey’s objections to being eaten.
The leopard was in a blissful mental state, as expected, and although his view of the area was monitored by some autonomous part of its mind, watching for obvious threats, its awareness was focused on the delectable dying thoughts and fear from the pig. It would require only a couple of minutes for that to end, so the cat sometimes relaxed its bite to extend the process.
The first thing Flock Leader noted was that there were no images of cubs to feed, or a mate with which to share this bounty. That was good. Those would have complicated the negotiations. The cat was determined to eat its fill, but was resigned to not being able to retreat to a safer place, to preserve the entire carcass for its sole later consumption. That was a point for negotiation, an offer of future bounties like this one.
Flock Leader gently inserted a thought that the wolfbat had made this possible, by leading the screamers to such a large prey animal. His intention was to show the cat that a wolfbat could find more large prey from their silent position above the forest floor, using their rapid mode of travel, and lead the cat to animals too large or dangerous for a wolfbat to attack.
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