The grey mountain lynx trotted down a deer trail, feeling tired and forlorn. He wasn’t in the mood for anything, though the sun was shining and a small breeze tussled the fresh leaves on the trees and shrubbery.

What use was a perfect spring day to him after all?

His beloved mate and his cubs were gone. Killed by a pack of beast wolves while he had been out hunting for his family. He couldn’t shake the horrific images he had seen when he returned to their den and found his mate and their day old cubs torn to pieces. Only paw prints in the surrounding earth had told the story of the attack.

First, he had been stunned and shocked and then lost in grief and desperation. He hadn’t wanted to believe that it was true, that his mate and their offspring were gone forever.

Later, he had felt rage at the beasts who had killed them, at the world who had allowed them to be slaughtered just like that, and at himself, who had not been there when his family needed him.

He had sworn revenge on the beasts that had killed his family. He would kill them all. But when he had at last picked up the trail that had led him to the den of the black wolves, he had seen that there were too many of the beasts for him to fight. He was a fierce fighter, but there were twelve of the beasts. Alone, he stood no chance in an attack against them. Of course, he didn’t need to attack them from the front. And so he hid and waited and chanced an attack from ambush whenever he could get one or two of the beasts alone. He had accounted for five of them already, and it was only a matter of time until he would take out the rest.

But though he was fiercely determined to kill them all, today he found himself in the clutches of grief and desperation again. He knew that he should hunt. He needed his strength for his crusade against the beasts, but he drowned in listlessness. No matter how many beasts he killed, it wouldn’t bring back his family.

He arrived at a small clearing in the forest at last. It was a good place to fish or to lie in ambush for some careless ducks or wild geese. Sighing, he hid himself in the shrubbery, laid his head on his front paws and prepared to wait for some imprudent fowl.

An approaching noise startled him out of his trancelike state a few minutes later. He raised his head and pricked his ears. A female two-leg appeared in the clearing and sat down on a big rock.

Disgruntled, he huffed softly. With her sitting there out in the open, his chance of finding easy prey vanished. He saw that she was a half-grown cub, and wearing some cumbersome foreign furs, like the two-legs were wont to do, not being sensible enough to grow their own.

Did she not know that it was dangerous to sit out here in the open? There were many beasts out in the forest, not only the black wolves, but grey lizards and dire-bears, among others.

He knew that the two-legs had no claws to speak of and their fangs were ridiculous. Though sometimes they used sharp sticks from afar to hunt. Those were perilous, as he had found out when he was barely grown up and convinced of his own invincibility. Some two-legs hunting with those sharp sticks had almost put paid to his life, when he imprudently had shown himself out in the open. He had learned his lesson, to curb his curiosity and to avoid the two-legs. It was not difficult, after all. Most of them couldn’t see him even when he was barely a paw’s breadth away. He was a master of stealth and those two-legs lacked any perception to speak of. So he could run rings around them, and that was as it should be.

But that female two-leg had no sharp sticks and no metal claws, that some of the hunters carried, either. What were her parents thinking, letting her go that far into the forest alone and weaponless? Once again, he huffed softly to himself.

Best if he showed himself and scared her away. Safer for her, anyway.

Slowly, he stood up and stepped forward, the leaves surrounding him rustling. The two-leg looked up and saw him. She stiffened and stayed still for a long moment, obviously scared.

Satisfied, he retreated back into the bushes. There. That should do it.

The two-leg stood up at last. He expected her to return to her den as fast as she could. But to his surprise she approached the place where he was hidden. Dumbfounded, he retreated to the deer trail.

Cubs! Always curious and no common sense to speak of. He should have thought of that.

The two-leg had found the deer trail and started to follow it. Grumbling to himself, he hid in the shrubbery to the side of the trail. The cub passed him on her way, close enough to reach with his claws.

The lynx followed her stealthily. Just to make sure no beasts would attack her. Of course she wasn’t his responsibility, but what could he do? If her own parents weren’t willing to look out for her, somebody had to take up the slack. He didn’t want to see her slaughtered like his family.

Hours later, he saw her vanish into the surroundings of the two-legs' dens. Fine, from here on she would be safe. Too many two-legs around here for any beasts to appear. He had followed the she-cub all afternoon and had taken out a few beast lizards that had shown an unhealthy interest in her. Not that she had noticed it. She had explored the valley completely oblivious to everything that had been happening around her. She was definitely not safe out on her own and he was relieved that she had finally returned to her brethren. Maybe now he could finally hunt some fowl without further disturbances.

Surprised, he noticed that he was starving. It had been a long time since he had worked up an appetite. Since his family had been killed, he had only been eating to keep up his strength for the hunt, everything tasting like mud anyway.

Two days later, in the middle of the night, the lynx was drinking at the stream in the narrow valley, when he once again was startled by a disturbance on the downwards trail.

What a noisy beast, he thought, lazily flicking his ears. He had accounted for two more of the black wolves yesterday and felt - not good exactly - but halfway satisfied that he neared his goal of eradicating the pack. Maybe he could sleep then. Just lay down and wait and be reunited with his mate and cubs finally.

At the end of the trail a two-leg appeared. He laid back his ears. Had the hunters found the valley?

But no, it was the she-cub again. Wearing those clumsy foreign furs of hers and making a lot of noise with her passage through the bushes.

Exasperated, he flicked his tail. What was she doing here in the middle of the night? A proper two-leg should be asleep at this hour, safe behind walls and in the company of other two-legs.

He looked on, amazed, as she wandered along the river and finally vanished under a weeping willow. When he approached the tree on silent paws and peered under the low branches, he saw that she had bundled up and laid down, sleeping right there on the ground.

He sat down, pondering, his tail flicking wildly. Really, even a half-gown cub should know better. It would serve her right to wake up to a beast attack. Maybe that would teach her the dangers of the wilderness weren’t to be taken lightly.

Huffing softly, he grudgingly decided that he would keep his eyes on her. He had gone to all that effort to keep her safe a few days ago, it would be a pity if that had all been in vain.

Sighing, he looked for a good spot to hide himself and keep an eye on her at the same time.

A day later, he was still exasperated. Instead of following his own plans of hunting the black wolves, he was once again keeping an eye on that she-cub. He had shown himself to her fully yesterday, hoping she would take it as a warning and flee, but no such luck. She had even talked to him, stupid cub. She had built a rough den for herself on the slopes of the valley. He couldn’t understand why she was staying here, instead of with the other two-legs in that assembly of dens of theirs. But he had found, almost against his will, that he had developed an interest in her well-being. Several times he had tried to leave her to her own devices and follow up with his own hunt, but in the end he couldn’t do it.

Though he knew she wasn’t his family, he didn’t want to come back and find her bloody remains in the aftermath of a beast attack. Even he could be stupid, he supposed, grown-up or not.

She had started her day and was climbing down from her den to the stream. The lynx followed her with his eyes lazily. He had already caught a goose, early in the morning, and was feeling pleasantly full and drowsy right at the moment. Sudden movement on the hills surrounding the valley attracted his attention. He lifted his head from his paws and pricked up his ears. Something was coming. Abruptly he sprang up. It was the pack of black wolves, decimated by his hunt, but still more than dangerous enough for the she-cub. Already, they had almost reached her at the stream.

Desperately, he started to run down the hill. He shouldn’t have let her get so far away from him. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.

The wolves had almost surrounded her. One of them pounced at her and bowled her over. With a sinking heart, the lynx thought that he was too late. To his astonishment, the wolf remained lying motionless on her and a few moments later she heaved its body to the side and stood up. Still, the other wolves approached her, more slowly now. He arrived and sprang at one of them, biting and severing its neck. They hadn’t seen him coming, concentrated on their prey as they were.

The she-cub was fighting another one of the pack and he was faced with two enemies, who were aware of him now. Not an optimal situation.

Snarling, he slashed his claws at one of them and sprang back, turning to engage the next one. He kept slashing and evading for a little while but finally miscalculated and one them pounced at him and bit at his flank. He yowled in pain and slashed the muzzle of his enemy, scoring deep scratches. The wolf let go, yipping, but his pack mate was already there. The lynx was hard-pressed to evade him, and realized he was bleeding freely. He needed to end the fight swiftly, or he would lose too much blood and his enemies would prevail.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the two-leg was wounded, her arm bleeding. But to his surprise, she had managed to take a second enemy out of the fight. So she had some teeth after all.

He kept engaging both wolves, but was weakening fast. The she-cub was approaching slowly and finally clumsily jumped on one of the wolves and attacked with her metal fang. He chose that moment, when his enemy was distracted, to bite its neck and kill it. The last one had no chance against his superior agility, and he soon ended its life.

Panting, he lay on the ground. Slowly, he turned his neck and licked at the wound in his flank. He had already lost a lot of blood. He would be reunited with his family shortly, he thought, dazed. The last of the black wolves had been taken out now, in this fight together with the she-cub. So it was all right to just let go.

All of a sudden, his flank began to tingle, and astounded he saw that the bleeding had stopped and his deep wound began to close. Bewildered, he stared first at his flank and then at the she-cub, whose own wounded arm started to heal, too. That must be magic. His mother had told stories of two-legs who could heal or hurt with magic, but he had always thought that it was just a story, not reality.

Flicking his ears, he pondered. That two-leg got more interesting by the minute. Now she was talking to him and was working her magic again. The deep wound healed some more. Maybe he really would survive this. But did he want to?

The she-cub was talking to him again. He couldn’t understand her. But one word stood out.

‘Ankou’.

He realized suddenly, that she had given him a name in her own language.

Something settled in place inside of him, and some spark, that he had believed extinguished, came alive again. Puzzled, he realized that he had started to care for this two-leg. He still grieved his mate and cubs bitterly, but somehow, in defending her, he had found an interest in life again.

The she-cub said something to him and started to walk away. Slowly, he heaved himself to his legs and started to follow her. Someone needed to keep an eye on her and keep her from killing herself with her ignorance.

Apparently, that someone was going to be him.