POV - TAD

Life is just so fragile. And yet it also is obstinate, tenuously hanging on by that thread of defiant refusal to succumb to the inevitable ennui. This dichotomy is completely engaging, demanding your interest and the investing of your energy. And life requires investment. For if you don't invest in your life then that fragile thread is so much thinner and weaker.

The emotes with which the kits regaled me of their heritage was moving. The sheer persistence of such a fraught and difficult and knife edge existence was inspiring.

I reflected on my own experience. It was nowhere near as long or difficult. And I had felt super fragile. In a new environment, displaced from all I knew and understood to be immutable, no sooner had I started to feel established but to be displaced yet again.

Yes, I totally understood the fragility of life. The preciousness of it. And that made this task of Auntiehood just so much more important.

While an apex predator, the [Otto Sapiens] held no delusions about their position within the dynamics of the System. They were outnumbered, out-resourced and outgunned. Not that they knew what guns were. Perhaps a better term might be out-sheeped.

And while not the most dangerous of the various challenges that confronted this nascent society of sapients, the [Stormsheep] were certainly one of the most prolific.

And while not predators per se, the [Stormsheep] were also at the top of the food chain. This was simply because they had no natural predator preying on them. Probably due to their annoying habit of blowing themselves up.

And when left to multiply endlessly, these [Stormsheep] became extremely and exceedingly dangerous. Thankfully it seemed that their max Level was capped and that the romp was able to thin the numbers of newly spawned sheep as they migrated through the city. Still, it was a dangerous and thankless task. One that required a level of danger and sacrifice for no immediate reward. No, the reward was one of simple survival in the future.

And this segued into our current dilemma. The kits needed to reach a body of water and rejuvenate their coats. While totally amphibious and able to spend extended periods of time either on land or in water at a time, prolonged absence from either of these environments would have some detrimental effects.

And the water was not safe. No, and there were dangers much more overwhelming than the [Stormsheep] in the water. And so it was that the Ottos’ main habitat had become the land with only lightning raids into the water for hunting and retreating before they attracted the attention of the more dangerous aquatic monsters.

And thus the Ottos had carved out a tiny fiefdom alongside the river, using the deserted city as a refuge. And then Ssrah had been banished. Not because of any infraction or disobedience, but because there was no room at the top for more than one dominant female. And Ssrah had levelled up and had been perceived as becoming a threat to the current [Matriarch]. And exile was especially challenging as she needed to establish a new holt and build a new Romp up from nothing just about by herself.

Normally a number of Ottos would break away from an over large romp to form a sister outpost. However, Ssrah had the misfortune to level up in the same engagement which also decimated her old romp. And the current leader’s misfortune of driving prey through a nesting colony of [Minor Wyverns] was laid firmly at Ssrah’s paw and she was banished with just her own kits. It was a death sentence. She had survived where her sisters had not. Her support within the holt was cut down and she was isolated, a distant niece to a [Matriarch] who herself was under pressure from a bad call.

And taking her kits with her was both a blessing and a burden. A blessing because they were hers and a burden because, despite her close bonds, they were a considerable hindrance and severely impacted her ability to survive. But there was absolutely no question of leaving them. No, such an abandonment was inconceivable.

I was surprised to discover Dozer and Scrabble were each three full season cycles old. This was much more than I had estimated previously. From what I could gather, kits and pups generally didn’t reach Level 1 until they were between six and seven cycles old with the earliest previous graduation they knew of at five and a half cycles. That was a long babyhood and a massive drain on the Otto Sapiens’ resources. Reaching Level 2 was nearly as fraught with only two thirds surviving. Normally this took another four to five years. This was on top of only one in two reaching Level 1 to start with. No wonder they were teetering on the edge of extinction.

Dozer and Scrabble both understood so much more of the dynamics of family life than I had expected and the flavours of the various emotions were both raw and unfiltered. I reeled under the intensity of their feelings. And yet they understood the dynamics in play. While it was raw and recent, the kits were also pragmatic. They were old beyond their years. And now they were advanced well ahead of their years. They were Level 3 where all of their agemates were still Level 0, and likely to be so for a number of years still.

I was determined to help. Dozer and Scrabble were understandably completely delirious with joy on having levelled up yet again and were now young Level 3 adults. They weren't as big as Ssrah, maybe three quarters though. Pretty good for three days work. Hah, it was so good to be able to game the System. And I knew if we were going to be able to make a difference we needed to act fast. I was just guessing now but if… no, I corrected my musings, not if but rather when. Yes, when Ssrah was acknowledged by the System as sapient, then it was likely she would be upgraded to a [Participant] seeing her species was already part of the System.

This would make levelling up a lot harder as it would then require getting Stats rather than getting XP. And chucking a clam in the pan required absolutely zero exertion. It was a loophole for the Ottos and it would close as soon as they were uplifted to [Participant] status. If I could reach out to Ssrah’s old romp, and any others we could locate and help them level up their youngsters before the predicted isekai they would fare significantly better as a new uplifted species.

We packed away and concealed the supplies we were not carrying with us and set out.

~Excitement.~ Scrabble was literally bouncing all over the show.

~Caution.~ Dozer was more watchful.

~Cautious excitement.~ Scrabble agreed.

Both kits were now wearing some custom leather bandoliers, courtesy of Auntie Tad. I was quite proud of my somewhat inept handiwork. I had taken note of how accurate Ssrah was with her throwing skills, simultaneously throwing with both hands and taking out the heads of the Cerberam with pinpoint accuracy. It stood to reason that her kits too would have some skill in this respect and we had had a brief competition. Very brief. They both beat me in very short order. It was most unfair. They were only three years old. I was most put out. They thought it was hilarious.

~Silly Auntie. Look where throwing.~

“I am looking at the target.” I was disgusted. With myself. I needed some serious practice. Or a Skill. Yes, [Marksmanship] or something like that. Then I’d show them.

~Funny Auntie. Look at the target not at rock beside target.~

Okay, so their paw eye coordination left my hand eye coordination for dead. But we could work with this. I loaded their bandoliers up with various darts. After all, why just use rocks when we could get much more devastating results by leaning on the resource of the Shop. And it was great fun. Shopping that is. Explosive darts, poison darts, debuffing darts. Darts that slowed, darts that confused. This was similar to my sling ammo. But there were significantly more options for the darts. And the one that stood out was Sleep darts. Hmmm. These gave us options to defend ourselves without resorting to killing our opponents. And seeing I wanted to approach other holts, this was most excellent. Nonlethal for the win.

But first, the river.

We made our way carefully down and through the city. The ruins were feeling more homely now. Less ominous. The overgrowth in this humid tropical jungle was incredible. If I hadn’t already wised up to the fact that this was the remnants of an incredibly ancient city, I would never have guessed we were even in one as we progressed further out towards the edges.

Twice we hid. Once as a hippo sized [Behemoth Frog] crossed our path with ground shuddering jumps. It would take a full romp to even try to take one of these monsters down. And even then they would take casualties, and for by no means guaranteed success. No, that would be a desperation fight, where other hunts were unsuccessful and the prey thin on the ground.

The second time was as a flight of [Lesser Wyverns] winged their way south. These were the grey-green geese I had seen in the distance that first day. Luckily they announced their flight with loud honking cries and we were able to take cover.

~Scary.~

~Deathabove.~

~Luckytoo~

“Lucky?”

~Not hunting.~

~Finished already hunt. Or just moving.~

“Oh?”

~Not-honk in hunt.~

Ah. That made sense. If they were hunting they scarcely would announce themselves to their prey. I added [Lesser Wyverns] to my litany of things to [Prospect]. Hopefully this would give us some warning of airborne lurkers.

We reached the river. Both kits knew what to do.

~Quietwatching.~

~Still and silent.~

~Auntie guarding?~

“Yes. I will stand guard. How long do you need?”

~Quick dip.~

~Not fishing trip.~

“I will whistle an alarm.”

Both kits had been immensely intrigued by my ability to whistle. And I was in turn immensely amused by their attempts to emulate me. But Otto mouths are not formed to whistle. Despite their best efforts, which were considerable, it was simply impossible.

And so, on their graduation to Level 3, I had presented them with a gift to celebrate. A silver whistle each. They were now hung on a leather strap around their necks and tucked into their bandoliers. We had even practised some basic calls. No doubt these would get refined as we grew more proficient but at the moment it was just the three. One sharp note; alert, enemy sighted. Three sharp notes, under attack, help. And the final one being one long one short; meaning meet up and regroup at the nominated base.

This would allow us to communicate to some degree even when separated. The kits were most enthusiastic. This was something new and different and allowed them to be at greater distances than even their emotes could reach. And seeing I was nearly entirely emote blind, it enabled me to communicate with them without being right there almost touching them.

~Good Auntie.~

~Best Auntie.~

I knew I liked them. They were good at words of affirmation. And even better they weren’t even words. They were emotes. And they were unmistakable in their genuineness. I tried to emote back at them.

~???~

~Auntie needs go bathroom?~

Hey. Okay already.

~Funny Auntie.~

~Not worry Auntie. Soon back.~

We were as prepared as we could be. After a good half an hour of silent surveillance the kits glided down to the river edge and, with barely a ripple, slid under the surface. I was on tenterhooks. I had good visibility of anything approaching above the water. But below? I could see nothing. I just had to trust that they knew what to watch out for.

And then they were back.

Ahhhh. That was excellent. My tension lessened. Mission accomplished. That was Stage One complete.

Now. Stage Two of the plan.

My turn for a bath.

And then…

Then we would take it to the Sheep.