Young Scourge had been greatly upset by the demise of Number 4’s cubs, but when he was introduced to his new brothers, it seemed to ease the pain of the loss.  He nosed each one carefully, memorizing their scents.  He then curled up beside them, purring.  

Slash observed and was relieved that Scourge was taking an interest in the cubs.  “You wish to help look after them?” he asked his eldest son.

Scourge looked up at his father and uttered a nonverbal affirmative.  It was clear that he wouldn’t let anything happen to his brothers.  He carefully settled himself, so as not to roll on the other, much smaller Sweepcubs.

Pandora was curled up beside the cubs, keeping them warm.  Presently, Number 4 entered the burrow, carrying some energon-rich strangler vines in his jaws.  He gave them to Pandora.  She began nibbling on them to extract the energon, and saw Scourge staring up at the vines in anticipation.  She broke off a small section of vine and gave it to him, and the Sweepcub gnawed contentedly on it.

For the few weeks that Scourge’s brothers were too small to go outside, he kept a constant vigil beside them during the day, only returning to his father’s den to sleep.  He was bound and determined to keep an eye on them, lest they befall the same fate as Number 4’s cubs.  Pandora was impressed by the young Sweep’s devotion and concern for the cubs’ welfare.  She rewarded him with bits of strangler-vine, which he eagerly devoured.  Slash or one of the other pack members brought food for Scourge during the day as well.

Once the three cubs were old enough to venture outside the burrow, Scourge stuck with them, making sure they didn’t get into trouble.  Other pack members were also on watch, but Scourge could get into most of the same places that the younger cubs could, and had an easier time retrieving an errant cub than an adult would.  He quickly learned how to pick up a cub by its collar and hold it gently but firmly in his teeth—much like his own father sometimes carried him.  It turned out to be the easiest way, because that way a cub couldn’t scratch or bite him if it protested—instead, they relaxed completely.  Scourge quickly found out that the cubs were attracted to the vines that hung from trees.  These were harmless; however, Scourge had to be careful when they discovered a patch of strangler-vine.  Although the vines were very good to eat, a foolish cub could quickly have his energy drained and sleep forever in the thicket if he got in too far and stayed in contact with rooted vines for too long.  Snapping off a few lengths of vine and tossing these to the cubs was usually enough to keep them from wandering where they shouldn’t.

When Slash’s second litter was a few months old, Number 9 went away from the den area and was gone for several hours.  He had made several trips like this occasionally before, but this time he returned with five cubs in tow, just as twilight crept across the sky.  Three were around Scourge’s age, while the other two were a few years younger.  He approached Slash and began to explain the situation.

“These cubs have been with their mother all this time,” Number 9 stated, “But that was because she is a research scientist, in a small cabin away from the main Autobot base, and did not often have visitors.  However, my sons have become a bit unruly while in their mother’s care, and she had trouble handling them.  There was a danger that they may be discovered, as there was to be an inspection of her facility tomorrow.  So, I agreed to bring them home with me to the Pack.”

“A wise decision,” Slash murmured, “So, they have difficulty following instructions?”

“They usually listen to me,” Number 9 stated with a shrug, “Perhaps my mate had difficulty asserting dominance.”

Scourge’s young brothers were asleep in the burrow with Pandora.  Scourge was outside with his father when Number 9 brought his cubs in, and he gazed at the newcomers with curiosity.  His optics fell on the oldest of the five, and he knew instinctively that he was going to have trouble with this one.  Already he could sense that the eldest of Number 9’s cubs had an air of dominance about him; a pecking order had been well-established within that group, and the four younger ones all lowered their gaze when looking at their oldest brother.  As yet, none of the newcomers challenged Scourge, but he had a feeling that such a challenge was imminent.

“Follow me,” Number 9 told his cubs suddenly.  There was a bit of delay, but after a low growl from their father they obediently padded after him into his personal cave.  He had made room for them some time ago, no doubt anticipating the day they’d be brought to the den.

Young Scourge looked up at his father and uttered a nonverbal expression of concern about the cubs that Number 9 had brought home.  He knew all too well the importance of immediately obeying his father’s instructions.  Slash looked down at his son and smiled.  “Things will work themselves out, my son.  Do not worry.  I sense that Number 9’s cubs may be lacking in discipline; but that will soon be remedied.  Perhaps you may be the one that helps them to best understand the workings of the Pack, and how they must behave.”

The next morning, Scourge went out to hunt for his breakfast, as usual, while Pandora attended to his brothers.  Number 9’s cubs were already out of their den and they followed Scourge to the Quickling hunting grounds, which were not that far from the den.  But it soon became apparent that they did not know how to hunt properly.  The middle cub of Number 9’s first litter made no attempt at stealth when he saw a Quickling, and as Scourge expected the creature quickly fled into a nearby burrow.  Its pursuer then began digging, in an attempt to flush the creature out.  Scourge knew this was pointless.  Quicklings often used tunnels—dug by other, more competent excavating creatures--that ran in an intricate network of escape passages and chambers, cleverly situated so that many of the tunnels ran through dirt that sat beneath a layer of solid rock--and any attempt to excavate them from there would take far too long.  Scourge shook his head in disgust and prepared to locate and stalk his own prey.  After scenting the air and ground, he carefully made his way to where another Quickling was eating fruit that had fallen from one of the trees in the area.  It was the perfect opportunity—the creature had its back to the Sweepcub, and did not hear the predator’s approach.  Scourge’s approach was noiseless--since the rodents tended to rely on their sharp hearing to alert them to danger--and he was nearly in position to pounce when the unmistakable sound of a branch breaking on the forest floor caused the Quickling to turn in his direction briefly before fleeing.  The predator turned to see another one of Number 9’s cubs, in plain sight just a few feet from his position.  Scourge growled his displeasure at having his prey chased off, although the other cub just sat there, apparently clueless at what he’d just done.  Two of the adult Sweeps was nearby, although out of sight, and Scourge approached one of them and uttered a nonverbal complaint.

“Ah, you’re upset because the others are foiling your hunt,” Number 6 mused, “Perhaps Number 9 should personally oversee his cubs’ hunting training.  I have a feeling if this goes on much longer, you won’t get your breakfast today.  Very well, we shall see what can be done.”  He nodded at Number 5, and then returned to the den area.  Very shortly, he returned, accompanied by Number 9.  With a little difficulty, the father called his cubs away, to teach them hunting in another area where they would not interfere with Scourge.  The Sweepcub sighed in relief as he resumed his hunt.

***

Slash looked on as the group of frisky Sweepcubs played near the den site.  So far, Number 9’s offspring were still a little undisciplined, although they were getting better.  His own litter—Scourge’s half-brothers—stayed in the den with their foster mother, Pandora.  They had been introduced to Number 9’s cubs carefully, and Slash felt he had no need to worry that the older cubs might harm or pick on the younger ones.

Young Scourge came back into the den area, having been Quickling hunting earlier that morning.  One of the tasty treats was still hanging from his jaws.  The oldest of Number 9’s cubs saw that Scourge had food, and went over to him.  Scourge had brought this meal for his half-brothers, since they were now ready for solid food.  He glared at his rival through narrowed optics, and uttered a low warning growl when the other cub attempted to take the prey from him.  The other answered his growl with one of his own, deliberately staring Scourge directly in the optics.  Well, that was it.  The prey dropped from Scourge’s jaws and he snarled, pouncing on the rival cub.  After a brief struggle, Scourge managed to get his jaws around the other’s throat and clamped down.  The other cub whined, but struggled to get free.  Scourge responded by clamping down harder, shaking him slightly to get the message across.  The defeated cub relaxed, uttering a pitiful whimper.  The challenge for dominance had gone in Scourge’s favor.  When Number 9’s eldest cub got up, he dropped his gaze and slunk backwards, allowing Scourge to retrieve the dead Quickling.  The victorious cub huffed, then delivered the meal to his waiting brothers.


The three youngest Sweeps dug in eagerly to the meal that Scourge had brought them.  It wouldn’t be long before they’d be able to hunt for themselves.  They were already capable of grooming themselves.  Scourge watched his brothers feed, flopping down nearby and resting after the fight with Number 9’s eldest cub.  After they’d eaten and washed, the entire litter curled up around their elder brother, quickly drifting off to sleep.  Pandora stroked them gently as they slept.

Slash had stepped up patrols on the outskirts of the boundary his pack shared with Number 13’s pack.  With so many Sweepcubs running around, the temptation for one of the rogues to cross over into their territory in an attempt to snatch one was very great.  As a result, the pack only occasionally hunted together as a full unit; instead, a few Sweeps were delegated to find and secure food when the need arose.  Those on patrol usually found incidental meals while they were making the rounds.  And the patrols often spotted well-grown cubs, some as large as Scourge, slinking through the vegetation on the opposite side of the border.  They would hiss and retreat further into the underbrush if they knew they’d been spotted.  And the frequency of the sightings and the different scents the patrols picked up on indicated that the numbers of offspring sired by both Number 12 and Number 13 was greater than even Slash had imagined.  Fortunately, the Feral Seeker population had rebounded somewhat.  Apparently the Autobots had been convinced to stop killing them on sight.
An Autobot patrol came upon a strange sight one day.  One of the leghold traps set near the base contained a hissing, snarling feral Sweepcub.  Previous traps had netted nothing, which was why this was so surprising.

“What are we going to do with him?” Outback wondered.

“We should take him back to Perceptor’s Lab,” Ultra Magnus decided, “We need to study these creatures.”

“Yeah, we’re lucky we got this one,” Kup commented, “The little fraggers are so elusive, I thought we’d never catch one.”

A low stun setting was all that was needed to render the feral cub unconscious.  Ultra Magnus then pried the trap from its leg and picked it up.  He then ordered everybody back to base immediately.

Perceptor was intrigued by the specimen that the patrol had found.  Ultra Magnus handed him the still-unconscious Sweepcub and the Scientist used an inhibitor to ensure the cub remained asleep.  After performing a thorough study and examination, the cub was placed in a cell.  Long-term study of the creature was going to be required, so several Autobots got to work on a special enclosure for the Sweep to inhabit, like at a zoo.

“So what did you find?” Magnus queried.

“This creature is most unusual,” Perceptor began, “For some reason, a certain variety of nanoprobes are present in all his vital systems.  They seem to have been programmed to disconnect particular linkages in the processor.  The result is a Decepticon that cannot reason, nor can he speak.”

“Who would have done this to him?” Magnus pressed further.

“Unknown,” Perceptor replied, “I will have to do some studies on the nanoprobes themselves, and determining their origin could take some time.  But in the meantime, his behavior can be studied.”

The cub soon awakened after the conversation, and began uttering a frightened growl.  Perceptor thought it best to leave the room to allow him to settle down.  Energon was provided and the cub lapped it up hungrily.

*

Slash’s pack was unaware that a feral cub had been taken by the Autobots.  The feral pack, if they did know, didn’t seem interested in retrieving their missing cub.  Perhaps the pressure of having to feed all the others was a factor.  The Autobots had to put up with a few nights of the cub’s whimpering for its mother and packmates, but after awhile (and after adding some heated oil tanks to the cub’s enclosure), the cub calmed down.
“Do you think we should give it a name?” Ultra Magnus wondered, stroking his chin.  He was watching the cub through the plastic barrier of its new permanent home.  The creature had been stalking a rodentlike creature—not a Quickling, though—and eagerly pounced on the prey.  Its jaws snapped suddenly and the meal was gone in a twinkling.

“Ahhh, I dunno,” Kup said, “I suppose we should.  Nothing’s coming to mind right now, though.”

Perceptor was standing off to the side, recording behavioral data.  He noticed that while the cub was devouring the prey, his bowl of energon was over half-full.  “Interesting,” he remarked, “That creature prefers devouring those organisms to drinking energon.”

There were a number of objects scattered in the enclosure.  Most of these had been chewed on.  Some had been datapadds and other objects that Perceptor had hoped would indicate just how intelligent the creature was.  So far, the results indicated that either the cub lacked intelligence—which Perceptor highly doubted, given the cub’s cleverness in catching prey—or it simply was incapable of understanding the function of those devices due to either the cub’s young age, or perhaps its apparent lack of sapience.  Most Autobots of the same age or even younger could already speak, and the Scientist found it odd that this creature did not.  An amazingly diverse array of vocalizations was demonstrated by the cub, including squeals, growls, purrs, and even chirps.

The plastic barrier had been polarized, so that anybody could look inside and observe.  However, the cub could only see someone on the other side of the barrier if they practically put their nose up to the plastic.  This was done to disturb the cub as little as possible, so as to not skew its behavior.

“Let’s call him Claw,” a passing female Autobot remarked, stopping briefly to look at the cub.

“Well, I suppose that fits.  He sure does like scratching things,” Ultra Magnus remarked.  

*

The feral cub soon became a curiosity among the Autobots.  For those who had been lucky enough to catch glimpses of Feral Sweeps in the wild, being able to have a good long look at one up close was exciting.  It was fortunate that the cub could not see most of the gawkers on the other side of the polarized plastic barrier.  However, it had taken to digging around its yard, which was composed of a clay-based soil.  Soon it had created its own den, which it had taken to resting in.

Perceptor often examined the cub, but he had to use inhibitor to render his patient unconscious.  The one time that the Scientist had tried to handle the cub while it was still awake, he’d gotten a nasty scratch from its claws, and had nearly been bitten as well.  Extensive studies were undertaken, and the Scientist was aghast at how much damage there was to the cub’s neurocircuitry when examined under his microscope lens.  He discovered that the nanites were replicating themselves using material from various circuits and components—particularly those that contained the higher functions, such as complex logic chips.  For some reason, the nanoprobes avoided destroying all the logic chips, so that enough of the rudimentary logic chips were still active for the creature to function at what could only be described as a bestial level.

Perceptor had considered repairing the damage, and called Ultra Magnus into his office to discuss the possibility.

“My theory is, if we act quickly, we can restore his sapience,” Perceptor explained.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?  Think about it.  This creature is clearly a Decepticon.  He’s a lot less dangerous to us if he can’t even comprehend the Decepticon Cause,” Ultra Magnus reasoned.

“I suppose you’re right,” Perceptor said, “However, I believe the nanites are contagious.  I should at least remove the infection, to lessen the risk to ourselves.”

“Agreed.  Only cure the infestation.  Don’t repair his existing damage,” Ultra Magnus stated.

Claw was rendered unconscious and placed under a special radiation emitter, set to a frequency that would be lethal to the nanoprobes.  The treatment took several hours, and then the cub was released back into his enclosure.  Perceptor had wondered if the treatment would affect the cub adversely, but it appeared that Claw had suffered no ill effects—as soon as he was awake, he was up and trying to climb up one side of his enclosure.

Perceptor noticed other things about the cub.  Whenever a female Autobot walked by, the cub would come near where there was a small open seam, where the outside air exchanged with the air in the enclosure.  He would sit there, sniffing for as long as the scent lasted, sometimes even pawing at the wall.  The scientist soon learned that objects marked with synthesized scent from a female, when placed in the enclosure, would attract the cub, who would then curl up around the object, and calm down if he was being hyper.

Many of the female Autobots thought the cub was adorable, and wanted to hold him, but were not allowed to.  As per Ultra Magnus’ orders, nobody was to touch that cub or even go inside its enclosure--unless it was Perceptor, or someone who had special permission to assist Perceptor in his research.

*

Perceptor was observing his subject, as usual, when he noticed the cub once again move to the corner of the enclosure, next to a gap in the wall.  Usually the cub just sat there sniffing, but now a series of insistent-sounding chirps and whimpers began emanating from him.  The Scientist was puzzled.  What had caused the sudden change in behavior?  He turned to look around, and spotted one of the female Autobots, who was tending to some landscaping.  She was new here, having been transferred soon after Aura had left.  She had the same body type as a female Autobot they’d glimpsed in the woods a while ago.  When they had tried to approach the one in the wild, she’d fled, disappearing quickly into the woods.

The cub continued to alternate between chirping and whimpering.  Perceptor realized that the gap in the partition was large enough that Claw could see the female.  He took her aside and got her to move, out of the line-of-sight of the gap.  The whines grew more prolonged and high-pitched, replacing the chirps almost completely.

“You should go,” Perceptor said, “At least until he settles down.”

The fembot nodded.  “My presence is upsetting him, eh?”

“You could say that,” Perceptor replied.  He didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was very likely that she reminded the cub of its mother.  A few minutes after she had gone, the whining ceased.

Claw returned to the little burrow he’d dug for himself, settling himself and curling up around a heated oil tank.  The cub missed his brothers, and the oil tanks, while warm, could not play or interact with him.  His processor still contained a hint of his mother’s scent, and the odor he’d detected earlier was not identical, nor was the female’s appearance, but it was close enough.  He uttered a high-pitched whine before allowing recharge to claim him.

The next day, Perceptor was instructed to make certain that the cub could not see out of his enclosure.  A screen was put over the gap, to prevent Claw from looking out from there.  He clawed at it in protest, though his talons did little damage to the hard material.

*

Slash noticed that the feral pack had become more wary, and there were fewer territorial skirmishes.  This made things safer for the cubs, although he dared not relax his vigilance.

Scourge still accompanied him to Chaar when necessary, in order to supervise Cyclonus.  Slash’s second litter was still too young for the trip, and Number 9’s cubs were a little too unruly still.

One such trip, young Scourge and Cyclonus were out exploring, as usual.  Cyclonus decided to run ahead of the Sweepcub.  Scourge decided to hold back and then overtake him in a flurry of quadruped speed.  However, before that could happen, Cyclonus seemed to fall into something, and he yelled.  The Sweepcub came running, and saw that his friend had unintentionally broken through the nest of a particularly nasty robotic stinging creature similar to an ant.  The minute pests swarmed over Cyclonus, stinging repeatedly with their diamond-hard injectors.  The venom was actually a potent acid, and it would eat away at the young Decepticon’s armor.  Scourge stopped short of the nest itself, growling nonverbally.  He then turned and raced off to find the adults.  He returned with Slash and the other two Sweeps who’d accompanied them.  Quickly Slash plucked Cyclonus from the nest, using his headcannon on a low setting to burn the bugs off.  The other two Sweeps set a fire and burned out the nest.

“We must neutralize the poison,” Slash said, “Quickly!”  

Number 5 nodded, dashing off to a soda deposit he knew of.  Slash and the others followed.  There was some water nearby, though not very much.  However, it would do.  First Cyclonus was dunked into the liquid to wash off any acid, then the adult Sweeps clawed fistfuls of soda, crushing it in their fists before sprinkling it on his wounds.  The young Decepticon had been whimpering in pain, but the quick actions of the Sweeps brought swift relief.  There were only tiny pinpricks where the creatures had stung, and no serious damage had resulted.

“Good, we caught it in time,” Slash murmured, “Thank you for alerting us so quickly, Scourge.”  He examined Cyclonus’ armor more closely.  “Automatic repairs should be completed soon.”

Cyclonus nodded.  “I don’t want to fall in anything like that again!” he said fiercely, “Because Scourge and I are going to search and destroy every nest we find!  Aren’t we?”

Scourge growled an affirmative.

*

For the rest of the day, young Scourge followed his nose, leading Cyclonus to Hellfire-Ant nests.  The scent of the creatures was unmistakable, and the reliance of the bugs on pheromones and the chemical scent-trails actually worked against them, because Scourge—with his enhanced senses--picked up their trails easily.  Finding the nests was as easy as catching an oyster.  Also evident was the harsh, acrid odor of foul formic acid that they secreted.  The Sweepcub snuffed at a particularly strong scent, growling as he got closer to the target.  Cyclonus was a few paces behind him, carrying a torch and a container of fuel oil, to set the nest ablaze.  They came upon a depression in the ground, much like at the previous location, and Scourge gingerly tested the surrounding soil with his claws.  He didn’t want to accidentally step where the ground could give way, and find a horde of Hellfire-Ants swarming over his chassis.  He found a spot where Cyclonus could stand without disturbing the nest, in order to pour the oil.  Not much was needed—just enough to set the nest ablaze.  There were other flammables inside the nest itself; they only needed a firestarter.  Then they held the torch to the edge of the fuel-spill, near the edge of the nest, and watched in morbid fascination as flames leaped up, spreading quickly into the hole.  The two young Decepticons backed up when the heat started to become apparent under the soil.  Ants were trying to escape, but they were already immolated, and thus doomed.
“I think that one is finished,” Cyclonus said at last, “Come on, Scourge, let’s go find another one.”

*

Number 2 was dashing through the underbrush, chasing after an errant cub.  Number 9 was not far behind, but Number 2 had a headstart.  One of Number 9’s younger cubs had inexplicably decided to go off on a lark, streaking out of the supervised area.  Chasing the cub was difficult, because it managed to dart under thick overgrowth, which proved to be a nuisance for an adult to get through quickly.  Finally they made it through, in time to see the cub approach a very dangerous trap.  In that particular part of the forest, giant snakes were known to live.  While the serpents never bothered the Sweeps, some alien poachers decided that a serpent’s hide was valuable, and thus set traps to kill the beasts instantly.  The traps consisted of two halves, the bottom half containing the anchor and trigger, and the upper half containing a large piledriver with very long, sharp, diamond-hard spikes, which were designed to pierce the serpents’ hide and crush their internal organs.  The trap was joined with a very powerful spring mechanism, much like a mousetrap, although not looking exactly like one.  They were set in places where the snakes were known to slither through, so they’d accidentally be caught.  They were often baited with small animals that the serpents were known to relish.  Slash and the others stayed well away from these devices, and made certain the cubs did as well.  

The errant cub nosed at the trap, curious at the traces of alien scent on the device, and a small, struggling Quickling dangling just a short distance from the ground.  Number 2 saw, to his horror, that the cub was nearing the trigger mechanism.  If the trap sprung, the cub would be crushed.  Just as the Sweepcub stepped on the trigger, Number 2 leaped in desperation.

A sudden roar of pain echoed through the forest, but it was silenced as quickly as it was elicited.  Number 9 could only watch helplessly as the serpent-trap crushed his brother to death.  The cub was safe, however, having been shielded by the doomed Sweep.  

Number 9 nosed and pawed at Number 2, but there was no response.  No life signs, either.  The light was gone from his optics.  The cub tried to wake the fallen Sweep and whimpered plaintively when he did not.

Three other Sweeps came running.  They were horrified at the sight.  Immediately they began to assist Number 9 in removing Number 2’s body from the trap.

“Now you know why you must never go near here,” Number 9 growled at his son, half in anger, half in sadness at losing a packmate.  “The price is too high!  If not for Number 2, I would have lost you!  But he sacrificed himself instead!  Promise me you will not do this again!”

The cub whimpered softly and uttered a nonverbal affirmative.

*

Number 2 was buried not far from where Slash had buried Ballista.  When the Pack-Leader returned from Chaar with Scourge, Number 9 told him what happened.  A grave look passed over Slash’s bearded visage.  “Call your sons,” he stated, “It is time I discussed something with them.”

Number 9’s cubs were summoned, and brought before the Pack-Leader.  They sat there nervously, not certain as to what was about to take place.  Scourge sat by his father, listening intently.  Pandora brought out Slash’s second litter, who were by now old enough to understand what was going to be said.

“As you know, you nearly lost one of your brothers, as a result of his own foolishness,” Slash began, staring the cubs directly in the optics.  “However, his survival was at no small cost to the Pack.  Number 2 was killed in the line of duty, doing as he was sworn to do, to protect you as if you were his own.  This could have been prevented.  Now, I know you are young, and wish to explore.  I do not deny you the opportunity to do so.  However, this Pack has rules, and it is time I made you aware of each and every one of them.  These laws are for your own safety as well as the good of the Pack.  Memorize them, for knowing them may save your life.”  He paused as the cubs took in what was being said.

“The First Rule of the Pack is, do not hunt the feral Seekers—the metal winged ones that you have seen migrating through our territory.  Indeed, hunt no Decepticon at all, nor Autobot.  Hunt none that look like us, nor any that resemble us in any way, whether they go on two legs, or four.  There is a madness that will steal your mind, making you like those in the feral pack who used to be our Brethren.  As it is my First Rule, it also carries with it the harshest punishment.  Any who break this law are to be banished forthwith, never to rejoin the Pack.  Am I clear?”  Slash uttered a short, low growl.

All the cubs nodded in agreement.

“The second rule is no less important than the first, however, the punishment is not as harsh,” Slash continued, “All pack members are subordinate to me.  This means that my commands are to be followed.  If you have a concern and wish to raise it, I will listen, but I will tolerate no insubordination.  If you disobey me, you will be punished.  First offence, you will be confined to your den for a week.  Successive offences will merit stricter punishment.  Even my patience has limits; you would be wise to remember that.  And I am not the only one who will be handing down discipline.  All the adults of the pack have authority over you cubs.  If you disobey them, they may cuff you if warranted, or confine you to your den.  Depending on the severity of the offence, I too may take action.  However, punishments are to fit the crime.  I will not be unreasonably harsh.”

*

The cubs sat there quietly as Slash went on.

“The Third Rule:  When the Pack makes a kill, I feed first.  Then others may feed, in small groups, according to rank.  Cubs feed last, and I will not allow any cutting in line for your share.  However, exceptions to the order of feeding may be made, depending on the circumstances.  However, if one of you makes a solitary kill, you may feed on it first, but if the prey is large enough, you must share it, and immediately relinquish it to one of higher rank when they approach.”

A shocked look on the faces of the cubs brought a slight smile to Slash’s face plates.

“Relax, I am not going to demand a share of your Quicklings,” he said, “This applies mainly to large prey such as Terrabores or Plains Antelope.  Such beasts are not within your capability to hunt yet, but it is important for you to remember this for future reference.”

A small collective sigh of relief escaped from the cubs.

“The Fourth Rule:  You are not to enter the territory of the Feral Pack.  This is one rule that carries with it no punishment, for to break this rule would almost certainly result in your death.  Our former brethren have no love for us, and have made many attempts on the lives of young Sweeps.  Once, they succeeded--while invading our Territory, no less.  If they found you trespassing on their domain, they would not hesitate to tear you to shreds.  To them, you are but a competitor for prey, and a potential meal.  You are especially at risk, because you are still cubs.”

The cubs’ optics went wide at the revelation that there were fellow Sweeps out there that would cause them bodily harm.  But the dangerous ones were not of the Pack, which was some consolation.

“The Fifth Rule:  You must put the interests of the Pack ahead of your own.  If you make a kill, and it is sufficient to feed two other Sweeps as well as yourself, then do not hoard the meal.  Sometimes when prey is scarce, it may become necessary to share at a level where not all may feel full, but neither will any starve.  If a strange sentient creature spies you, do not allow them to follow you back to the den site.  Lead them in another direction, then find a way to make them lose your trail before returning.  I wish for as few hostile contacts as possible between ourselves and others who are not of the Pack.  Circumstances may develop where we must be as secretive as possible, disappearing like ghosts into the forest if some stranger is about to approach.  In short, take no action that would place the Pack at undue risk, and remember that as a Pack, we must work cooperatively if we are to survive—regardless of our own personal feelings.”  Here he pointedly glared at Number 9’s oldest cub, who had seemed to have taken an instant dislike to Scourge the minute he’d met him.  

The Pack-Leader paused again, watching each cub’s reaction closely.  So far, so good.  There were no signs of imminent objection or rebellion.  “Now that you know the Rules of the Pack, you will be expected to follow them.  And from this day forth, I decree that my son, Scourge, is to be a Leader among the Cubs.  This will prepare him for the day when he will eventually lead this Pack.  All cubs are to defer to Scourge, and obey him as if it was myself.”

Even though Scourge was still unable to speak, his use of nonverbal communication was more than enough to get his fellow cubs to listen to him and do what he wanted them to.  For his part, young Scourge gazed up at his father.  He had not expected this—nor had it entered his mind that as Slash’s heir, he was next in line to lead the Pack.  An inquisitive sound emanated from the Sweepcub’s throat.

“Yes, my son, you are ready,” Slash told him, “The responsibility that you will have as Pack-Leader will be great, and the sooner you learn, the better.”  He patted his son on the head.  

*

Young Scourge soon found himself having to herd his brothers, which at times seemed like herding wild felines.  However, once he’d asserted dominance, he had less trouble with them.  Usually it only took a stare and a growl to ensure compliance.  He used several different nonverbal vocalizations to indicate that he wanted his brothers to follow him, as well as to halt, and to be quiet.  The other cubs learned quickly.

While Number 9’s oldest cub seemed to not get along with Scourge very well, the others came to accept Scourge as if they’d had the same sire.  A closeness developed between Scourge and the next-oldest cub of that litter, who appeared to genuinely look up to the son of the Pack-Leader.  This seemed to spark some resentment from the hostile elder brother, who was annoyed that Scourge had supplanted him for dominance among his brothers.  However, overall Scourge was handling his new responsibilities very well.  Slash and the others had not had to discipline the cubs very much since Scourge became the Leader of the cub-pack.

Hunts went more smoothly as well.  Scourge was able to coordinate the rest of the cubs in order to bring down more challenging prey.  Quicklings were still on the menu, and a single Sweepcub could easily make a meal of those on their own.  But with numbers on their side now, the Sweepcubs combined became a force to be reckoned with.  Their first successful group hunt targeted a forest-antelope fawn.  The adult antelopes were lithe and swift, and capable of great leaps.  Adult Sweeps were capable of catching them, although it took careful planning and coordination to bring one down.  The fawns were easier to catch, and the right size for a small pack of at least 6 Sweepcubs to try to take down.  Scourge had discovered that the fawns were often left alone while their mothers went off to feed.  Despite the fact that the fawns did not give off any particularly noticeable scent to most other predators, they could not hide from the keen enhanced senses of the Sweeps.  Since the fawns were almost always lying motionless, relying on camouflage to avoid detection, they were at a distinct disadvantage when confronted with these predators.  When Scourge led the other cubs to a fawn, it didn’t move even when the Sweepcub leaped forward to tackle it.  Only when Scourge’s jaws closed around its throat did it get up, Scourge dangling in the air, attempting to flee or shake off the hunter.  The other cubs quickly pounced, three of them attacking the fawn’s legs to force it down again.  Another cub leaped on the fawn’s back, attempting to sever the spinal cord.  Scourge’s jaws clamped tighter and tighter, until the prey lost consciousness.  One of the other cubs managed to hamstring the creature, forcing its legs to buckle underneath it.  It thrashed momentarily and was still.  Only then did Scourge release his grip on the throat.  He then moved to tear the side of the carcass open, and began feeding.  The other cubs waited patiently for their turn—since Scourge was the ranking Sweepcub, he had the right to eat first.  As soon as he’d had his fill, he stepped aside to groom himself while the others fed.

*

Claw was deposited back in his enclosure after a long day of tests.  Perceptor had wanted to record the cub’s reflexes and various other responses.  They’d had to sedate him to remove him as well as to put him back in his den, to avoid being clawed or bitten.  He’d run a maze several times with variances, he’d pounced at fast-moving wind-up toys, and batted at a laser-point light, among other things.  He’d also been put on a special enclosed treadmill, to determine his top running speed on all fours, as well as endurance.  This statistic was quite impressive, as it indicated that a quadruped Sweepcub could easily outrun a bipedal Autobot.  From there, Perceptor estimated that the quadruped speed of an adult Sweep was enough to outrun an average Autobot in vehicle mode.  The cub’s endurance was impressive as well, indicating to Perceptor that the creatures could literally run their prey down if they had to.  However, Perceptor had not been able to test the running speed of the feral Seekers, so he didn’t know whether the Sweeps could actually outrun them as yet.  He had, however, dissected the remains of feral Sweep-kills, including several of the Seekers.  From examining those remains, he was able to determine that the Sweeps—although he did not yet know what they were called—killed Seekers by crushing or ripping out the throat.  Other prey killed by Sweeps tended to show equal amounts of throat trauma as well as severed neck vertebrae, indicating that the predators adapted their methods to the situations.  From all the tests he ran on Claw, Perceptor was convinced that despite the cub’s apparent lack of sapience, there was an underlying intelligence that wasn’t immediately obvious.  Ultra Magnus dismissed such ideas, rationalizing that the beasts were just acting on instinct.  The fact that the Feral Sweeps avoided Autobot contact tended to bear out Perceptor’s hypothesis, but the Autobot Commander simply attributed it to the fact that the creatures were Decepticons, and thus would naturally be wary of Autobots, especially since they didn’t appear to exist in sufficient numbers to mount an attack.

The Autobots had not discovered Slash’s pack of Sweeps, and the Sweep Pack-Leader intended to keep it that way.  Some of the Autobots could have sworn there were more of ‘those beasts’ out there, but the sentient ones were very secretive, and very elusive.  Since they could detect the Autobots long before they themselves could be spotted, they enjoyed a significant advantage in keeping their presence a secret.

^^^^^

Slash and two of his companions arrived on Chaar again, with Scourge in tow.  Galvatron stood there with Cyclonus, waiting for them.

“There is some vermin stealing my energon,” Galvatron stated, “Can you help me eradicate the pests?  If I let this go on, I’ll have to make more frequent trips, and I wish to avoid that at all costs.”

Slash nodded.  “Easily done,” he rumbled, “Show us where the energon was kept.  We will be able to track your energon thieves from there.”

Galvatron led them to one of the shallow caves.  There were only two energon cubes left—enough for Cyclonus’ meal as well as his own—and about three gnawed cubes.  The energon had leaked from the damaged cubes.  Scourge went up to one of the puddles of energon and began lapping it up.  There wasn’t much, but no sense in letting it go to waste.  Then he sniffed the area, and managed to pinpoint a scent that didn’t belong there.  There were little clawmarks in the dust, too, and Scourge followed his nose to a small hole in the back of the cave.  He growled and began digging.  The other Sweeps joined him, and managed to excavate right into the nest of some Petro-rabbits.  Instead of fleeing, though, the two adults in the nest stood their ground against the much larger Sweepcub.  Young Scourge pounced, tackling an adult Petrorabbit and crushing its cranial chamber in his jaws.  Since this was an extermination, he quickly moved on to other live targets.  There would be plenty of time for feasting later.  The second adult tried desperately to shield its helpless young, but to no avail.  Scourge easily dispatched it, and then destroyed the litter.  He came up from the burrow with one of the dead Petrorabbits in his jaws, which he intended to eat.

“Excellent!” Galvatron enthused, “You have done well, Scourge.”  He turned and walked out of the cave, and flew off to replace the lost fuel.

Cyclonus wasn’t in the cave, as he had no desire to see Scourge feasting on prey, even if that particular prey was robotic.  He sat down, staring off into space.  He was startled suddenly, by someone calling his name.  He didn’t recognize the voice at all.  It seemed like a youthful voice, but gravelly and raspy at the same time.

“Cyclonus!” the voice called again, more insistently this time.  

Cyclonus turned, and saw Scourge staring at him.  

“Why are you just sitting there?” Scourge asked.

Cyclonus was taken aback.  “You can talk?”  He himself had been able to talk for a few years now, but up until this point, he’d never heard Scourge speak.  And now the Sweepcub was talking as plainly as if he’d been doing it all along.

The Sweepcub rolled his optics.  “Of course I can,” he said.

“Interesting,” Cyclonus mused.

*

Cyclonus ran to where the three adult Sweeps were resting, with Scourge not far behind.  “Scourge can talk!” he shouted.

Slash raised his head, fixing his optics on the two cubs.  A smile crossed his bearded face.  “Can he, now?” he murmured sleepily.

“Yes, father,” Scourge piped up.

“What I don’t understand is why he didn’t talk before,” Cyclonus said.

“Don’t you think I wanted to?” Scourge told him, “It’s very frustrating trying to form words, and finding that all you can do is growl.”

“And you just discovered you were able to now?” Slash inquired.

Scourge nodded.  “It was like something inside my head clicked.  Then I found I could do it.”

Cyclonus turned towards Scourge.  “So now that you can talk, what do you want to do?”

“Let’s play find the prey,” Scourge suggested.  “Oh, did you want the other petrorabbit?”

“No thanks,” Cyclonus replied, making a face.

“Alright, I’ll eat it,” Scourge said, “Now, do you want to be the prey, or the predator?”

“I want to be the predator this time,” Cyclonus said, “I think it’s my turn.”

“Fine,” Scourge replied, then darted off.  He soon disappeared off among the ruins.  Cyclonus counted silently to 25 before attempting to track Scourge.  While his senses weren’t anything approaching Scourge’s in accuracy or sensitivity, he had learned much about how to track from the Sweepcub.

Scourge climbed the side of a ruined building, perching up high and looking down at everything below.  On the ground, he saw Cyclonus following the Sweep’s tracks, which were easy to spot in the dirt.  But the Sweepcub had made several false trails, and Cyclonus was currently being fooled by one of them.

The rules of Find the Prey were simple.  The Predator had two megacycles to find and locate the Prey.  Neither cub could fly at this point, so that made that issue moot.  Scourge watched with amusement as Cyclonus ran out the clock, discovering a dead end to the trail he was following, and going back to find another.  He sensed his time was running out, and as he passed the ruins that Scourge was perched on, he did not see the talon marks left by the Sweepcub, as they were on the other side of the wall.  In frustration, Cyclonus punched the wall.  It started to crumble, and then there was a squeal as the wall, and Scourge, came tumbling down on top of him.  As soon as the dust had settled, Scourge pawed at the debris, freeing Cyclonus from under the wreckage.

“I found you!  I win!” Cyclonus crowed, as Scourge helped him up.

“That was luck,” Scourge muttered.

“Anyway, I’m thirsty.  Wanna get some energon?” Cyclonus suggested.

“Sure,” Scourge agreed, “And I can finish that other Petrorabbit.”

“Scourge, why do you even eat stuff like that?” Cyclonus protested.

The Sweepcub looked at Cyclonus as if he’d lost his mind.  “Because it’s tasty,” he said blankly.

*

Galvatron returned with a full load of energon, and was amused by the fact that Scourge had suddenly begun talking.  He was surprised that it had occurred so suddenly.

As Slash and the others prepared to depart, Scourge suddenly thought of something.  “Father, do you suppose we could bring Cyclonus with us to the den sometime?” he asked.

Slash smiled.  “That would be up to Galvatron,” he stated.

“I suppose we could arrange that,” Galvatron mused, “Sometime.”

Scourge nearly purred. “You can meet my brothers,” he said.

“You have brothers?” Cyclonus exclaimed.

“Indeed he does,” Slash replied.  He gathered up Scourge and transformed.

*

Back at the den, the other Sweepcubs were surprised when they found out that Scourge could speak.  For his part, Scourge still used nonverbal vocalizations with them, but now he could make his intentions precisely known.  His rival, Number 9’s eldest, narrowed his optics and uttered a short hiss the first time he heard Scourge using words instead of growls.  The adult Sweeps, however, were quite pleased and relieved that Scourge was now verbal, as it made it easier for him to convey complex ideas to them.  They had always suspected that Scourge was highly intelligent, but his lack of ability to speak had seriously hampered his ability to communicate.  Slash was impressed with some of the ideas that Scourge came up with, especially when it came to hunting.  The cub seemed to have a knack for strategic placement of pack members in order to successfully bring down more challenging prey.  He also had some ideas on how to make prey tastier, based on the results of a small brush fire that he’d put out which seemed to have been caused by a lightning strike.  A small rodent had been caught in the flames, and when the Sweepcub had investigated the carcass, had found that cooking it had given it a different, but very intriguing flavor.

Slash agreed that using fire on meat would do for a nice change, but only as an occasional treat.  He did not want smoke to attract the attention of interlopers.  To avoid suspicion, fires would only be made if it could be mistaken for the results of natural causes like lightning, or in an area where there was absolutely nobody to discover them.

A few weeks of intense Autobot activity near the borders of their territory almost had Slash considering moving the den site, and he sent several pack members to scout for suitable replacement sites, should the need arise.  Number 6 and Number 7 discovered an area that would make a particularly suitable emergency shelter, in case they needed to evacuate the den.  It was at the far end of their territory, towards “no-man’s territory,” and quite distant from all the Autobot encroachment.  

The activity of the Autobots had also caused a disturbance in the feral Pack.  Number 13 had moved his own den site at least three times, after the Autobots stumbled upon it.  Fortunately for the feral Pack, they cleared out before the Autobots actually spotted any of them.

“I’m positive this is a den site,” Perceptor mused, examining the burrows where Number 12 and 13 and their mates and cubs had been occupying not quite half an hour before.  There were claw marks in the dust, gnawed animal bones and Seeker parts lying about—the Ferals were quite messy with their kills—and a lingering musklike odor hung about the air.

“Well, they’re not here now,” Ultra Magnus stated, “They must have cleared out in a hurry.  Do you think they’ll come back?”

“Doubtful,” Perceptor replied, “They may have permanently abandoned this site, as many creatures do if their lair is discovered.”

*

The feral cubs were quite numerous, although there was a shockingly high mortality rate.  Mostly cubs were lost to starvation, when food became extremely scarce.  A cub here or there might perish in a trap, or be taken or killed by an alien poacher.  Little did anyone know, but several poachers were working for the Quintessons.

On a Quintesson ship, hovering in the shadow of one of the planet’s moons, a poacher brought an electro-net, containing four struggling feral Sweep cubs.

“Excellent work,” the Quintesson Commander said, “We will pay well for these.  They appear to be in excellent condition.”

“It appears my experiment went well, then?” one of the Scientists spoke up.

“Indeed.  Allowing the pressures of natural selection to work on our Hybrids has had considerable success,” another Scientist stated.

The squirming feral cubs were deposited in a cell and an inhibitor was administered to keep them quiet.  

“Once we have tamed them, they will serve us, as they were intended to,” the Quintesson Commander commented.

*

The capture of several cubs from the feral pack lessened the strain on the food supply somewhat, so there was less pressure on Number 12 and Number 13 to find food for their fast-growing cubs.  Although the oldest cubs were capable of taking down small prey, the most recent litters were still too young to feed themselves.  In addition, Number 12 and Number 13 expanded their territory northward somewhat, in response to pressure from Autobot patrols.  Overall, this had the effect of fewer conflicts with Slash’s pack.  

No recent attempts were made by either Number 12 or Number 13 to try to destroy any of the cubs in Slash’s pack, although the Pack-Leader knew better than to let down his guard.  Sometimes one of the feral cubs would wander near the boundary, but not cross.  All it took was a hiss from a sentry to send them on their way.  Slash did not want to stoop to killing his rivals’ cubs, nor did he want his brethren to.

As the leader of the Cub pack, Scourge was entitled to assist in the territory-marking.  Although his scent gland on his chin was not fully functional, he could make scratch marks on trees, or scrape marks on the ground.

The small band of cubs was searching for some suitable prey in the middle of the pack’s territory.  A small stream passed through the area, which was teaming with fish.  Scourge was in the mood for a change, after eating a lot of Quicklings and forest antelope.  He waded into the stream, then climbed onto a rock in the middle, so he could have a vantage point for snaring fish with his claws.

Some of the younger cubs sat by the bank of the stream and whimpered.  Number 9’s eldest cub avoided the water, climbing onto a log that was overhanging the stream.  He leaned over, and a flash of silver darted within his grasp.  But when he reached forward to grab it, the log broke, depositing him into the water.  Young Scourge laughed.  “Didn’t want to get your feet wet, eh?” he asked, as the other resurfaced and growled.  

The soaking wet cub made it to shore and shook himself dry.  Then he lay down on the bank, watching Scourge intently with a little bit of a glare in his optics.

Scourge paid the other no mind, but began watching for his slippery, fast-moving quarry.  A fish darted near the rock, hoping to find a hiding place.  Scourge expertly speared it with his talons, dragging it out as soon as it was hooked.  A quick bite to the fish’s head quelled any further thrashing.  The Sweepcub then began feasting.

Most of the other cubs were watching Scourge fish, intent on learning by example.  Pretty soon some of the older ones had enough confidence to try to enter the stream.  Through trial and error, they soon discovered the optical illusion that made it difficult to catch a fish if one’s talons weren’t in the water as well.  Scourge helped them figure out how to calculate where exactly to strike, and by the end of the afternoon most of them had the hang of it.

Scourge saw to it that each cub had his fill of fish, but not so much that they’d spoil their dinners.  He thought he saw Number 9’s eldest try to steal a fish from one of the other cubs, and growled at him.  For his part, Number 9’s eldest looked innocent when confronted.  

*

Slash was proud of how his son was handling his responsibilities towards the other cubs.  Soon Scourge’s younger brothers were big enough to join them in play, and it was the Cub-pack leader’s responsibility to make sure they were not treated too roughly by their over-playful peers.  They had already been taught how to hunt, and were quite adept at catching Quicklings in a very short period of time.

Scourge had often wondered why Number 9’s eldest cub was such a handful.  When he was finally able to speak, he asked Number 9 about it.  “I suspect his mother overindulged him, all those years when she was taking care of them,” came the reply, “She let him have everything he wanted, with none of the responsibilities.  Now he must learn differently, but I hope the lesson has not come too late.”  Number 9 sighed heavily.

Scourge nodded silently.  He too wished for that particular cub to smarten up, since it would make his job a lot easier—and make for less stress for the rest of the cub pack.

*

The next time Galvatron needed to procure energon, Slash went with one pack member to pick Cyclonus up, and returned with him to the den.  The young Decepticon was amazed at the lush vegetation on the planet.  It was so different to what he was used to on Chaar.

Scourge allowed his brothers and Number 9’s cubs—all now together considered as “brothers”--to approach Cyclonus, one at a time.  He didn’t want the whole of the cub pack mobbing his friend.  They each sniffed at the newcomer, and seemed satisfied that he was not a threat.  Number 9’s eldest cub was civil, at least, and behaving himself.

“Well, this will make hide-and-seek a lot more interesting,” Cyclonus commented, after each cub greeted him.  He looked over at Scourge.  “Can any of them talk?”

“Not yet,” Scourge replied, “Although that one there,”—here he indicated Number 9’s eldest—“He should be soon.  He’s around my age.  Same with two of his brothers.  Oh, I added a new rule to hide-and-seek.  The place where you count, is the safety spot.  If you’re hiding, you can try to make it there, and you’re home-free, if you don’t get caught.”

“Interesting.  So, who will be ‘it’?” Cyclonus wanted to know.

Scourge went over to a hole that had been dug recently, and deposited some pebbles into it.  “Each of you grab a rock.  The one who picks the shiny one is it.”

Each Sweepcub took his turn pulling a rock out of the hole.  It was deep and dark enough in the hole that the shiny pebble did not betray itself.  Cyclonus also took a turn, then Scourge.  

Cyclonus unclenched his fist to find a glittering jewel of a pebble in his grasp.  “Looks like I’m it,” he said, and turned his back to the cubs, leaning against a tree trunk.  He began counting.  The cubs quickly darted away to find hiding spots.

When Cyclonus was finished counting, he followed a trail of trampled foliage to look for the hiding cubs.  He recalled what he’d learned from Scourge, and soon enough, one of the younger cubs was located, crouched in some bushes.  The cub uttered a whine at being caught, then slunk off to the waiting area.  Cyclonus continued to find evidence of cubs having been past recently, and found three more in rapid succession.  When he turned to look at the counting tree, he saw Scourge and Number 9’s eldest and second-eldest.  They had made it to home base while he’d been searching for the others.  Cyclonus found the rest, although it was harder to find the last two.  They had left the least clues as to their whereabouts.

Slash’s youngest cub was “it” for the next round, and he quickly located Cyclonus.  This should have been no surprise, as even a very young Sweepcub had very little trouble tracking, especially when it was a relatively unfamiliar scent.

The game went on for a few hours before Slash called them all in.  He had an energon cube for Cyclonus, and the Pack had brought down a Plains Cyberbison for their own—and the cubs’--meal.  The cubs waited patiently while the adults had their fill, then dug in with gusto when it was their turn.  For his part, Cyclonus preferred not to watch the Sweeps feast.  It was altogether too messy, in his opinion.  However, the Sweeps always groomed themselves after feeding, removing all traces of the dirt and filth.  

After their meal, the cubs all flopped down for a nap after grooming.  A full Sweepcub was a sleepy Sweepcub, and even Scourge was curled up, next to his brothers, lapsing into recharge.  Cyclonus wasn’t that tired, but he too decided to take a nap.  One of Scourge’s younger brothers curled up next to him, purring.

*

After the nap, the younger cubs stayed in the den area, under the watchful eye of several adults, while Scourge and Cyclonus wandered around on their own.  They were nearing a thicket of strangler-vine when they heard a whimpering sound.  A small feral Seeker cub was lying in a patch of the vines, and was too weak to move.  

“We’ve got to help him,” Cyclonus exclaimed, rushing towards the Seeker.  

“Cyclonus, wait!” Scourge called out, “Don’t stay in contact with the vines for too long!  That’s why he can’t move.  His energy is almost drained.”

“Then what do we do?” Cyclonus wondered.

“I have to cut the vines,” Scourge said, “You help him out.  He’ll get too scared if I try to pull him out.”

Cyclonus raised an optic brow at Scourge.  “Why would he be afraid of you?” he wondered, mystified.

“I’ll explain later,” Scourge said, and went over to where he could sever the vines without being in the Seeker’s direct line of sight.  One by one he snipped the vines with his teeth.  “Okay, it’s safe now,” he said to his friend.

Cyclonus went over to the Seeker cub, who was about half his size.  The cub did not seem to fear him, thankfully.

“Feed him some of the vines,” Scourge instructed, “That’ll give him his energy back.”

Cyclonus nodded, and brought a vine to the weakened Seeker’s mouth.  Energon dripped from the cut end, and the Seeker cub lapped at it.  Eventually it got enough fuel into it so that it could sit up weakly.

Scourge had hidden himself in some nearby bushes, so as not to spook the Seeker cub.  Cyclonus continued to assist until the strange cub was fuelled enough to gnaw on the vines with more gusto.  Fortunately, Scourge had severed all the vines in the surrounding area, so the cub could feed without getting in trouble for a while.

Suddenly the wind changed direction.  Scourge had been careful to be downwind of the cub, but the change in the breeze brought the full scent of Sweepcub to the Seeker’s olfactory sensors.  A panicked look crossed the Seeker’s face plates, and it turned and ran as fast as it could back towards the herd.

Scourge emerged from the bushes after the Seeker cub fled, padding towards Cyclonus.

“So are you going to tell me why he was scared?” Cyclonus asked.

Scourge sighed.  “Because there’s others like us,” he began, “Other Sweeps, but none of them can talk; not even the grown-ups.  They hunt the Seekers and eat them.”

Cyclonus looked horrified.  “Eat them?” he echoed.

“Yeah, and they’d eat you, too, if they caught you,” Scourge cautioned him, “That’s why we don’t go outside the boundaries of our territory on the East side.  That’s their territory.”

“You wouldn’t……eat…..one of those Seekers, would you, Scourge?” Cyclonus asked, regarding the Sweepcub suspiciously.

Young Scourge shook his head.  “Father has forbidden it,” he stated, “Anyone who kills and devours any other Transformer will be banished from the Pack.  Besides, I heard that if you eat them, you lose your mind.”  A lopsided grin appeared on his faceplates as he realized something.  Laughing out loud and patting his friend on the back, he said, “Don’t worry, Cyclonus.  I wouldn’t dream of eating you.”

*

There were still some severed stranglervines left, and Scourge began gnawing on one eagerly.  He glanced over at Cyclonus.  “You should try some,” he suggested.

Cyclonus looked at the vines.  Although they looked somewhat unappetizing, the energon leaking from them had a delicious fragrance.  And the feral Seeker cub they rescued hadn’t seemed to have had any difficulty devouring his fill of vines.  So, Cyclonus broke off a length of vine and gingerly tasted the energon that dripped from the end.  A grin crept across his face.  “This is the best energon I’ve ever tasted,” he commented.

“Told you,” Scourge said.

“Well, you always eat such strange things, Scourge.  Mostly things I wouldn’t dream of ingesting.  But you were right this time,” Cyclonus replied.  

After the two had their fill, they returned to the den site.  It was nearly time for Slash to return Cyclonus to Chaar.  The other cubs were playing in the common area.  Two of the younger ones were wrestling, playfully trying to pin each other down.  One cub squealed as his opponent nipped him.  Scourge watched to make sure that the two didn’t take it too far.  It would not do for them to actually cause injuries.  Cyclonus was amused by the playfulness of the young Sweeps.  “They remind me of you, when you were smaller,” he remarked.

Scourge grinned.  

Slash came over and bent down towards Cyclonus.  “It’s time to take you back to your father,” he said.  Cyclonus allowed the Pack-Leader to pick him up.  Slash quickly transformed, shifting the young Decepticon into his cargo hold.  Number 7 also transformed and accompanied Slash into Outer Space.  Scourge sat there watching until the glow of their ion drives faded against the backdrop of the stars.

*

The day after Cyclonus was returned to Chaar, Number 4 and Pandora came out of the woods and back to the den site.  They’d disappeared a week ago, heading into neutral territory.  Number 4 had whispered something to Slash, and the Pack-Leader had smiled knowingly and nodded, before they had left.

Pandora’s duties had been significantly lessened as Scourge had taken charge of the cub-pack, although she was still there to comfort a cub who’d gotten a diamond-rose-thorn in his paw, or play with several of them by tossing a ball of twine and watching them scramble over each other to retrieve it, or to help settle down a hyperactive cub with soft words and stroking.  And many of the cubs liked to spend the night curled up next to her.  She had a genuine affection for all of them, despite the fact that not one of them was ‘biologically’ hers.  Even the devilry of Number 9’s eldest cub seemed to be curtailed significantly when she was around.

*

 Slash decided to take the Pack to the beach again. The cubs were old enough, and they were going to be provided with adequate supervision.  Pandora went along as well, riding in Number 4’s cargo space.  When they arrived, various pack members unloaded squirming Sweepcubs from their cargo bays, and the youngsters took in the new surroundings and frisked about, chasing each other briefly before turning their attention to what the sand and ocean had to offer.

Scourge knew what he wanted the moment he arrived.  He headed for the clam beds and started digging furiously, to catch the swiftly-escaping mollusks.  Two of the other cubs approached and watched closely.  They squealed when Scourge caught up to his prey, and a squirt of brackish water got one of them in the face.  Scourge quickly pulled the clam out of the sand and cleverly separated the shell at its hinges with his fangs.  He then eagerly devoured the contents from one of the half-shells.

The cubs quickly learned, as Scourge had, that tasty things lurked beneath the sands, and identifying what lurked where was all a matter of identifying what type of burrow it was.  Clam burrows were almost perfectly circular.  Shrimp burrows were larger, and more angular.  And worm burrows—which held unappetizing things and were thus avoided—usually had a stringy pile of sand sitting atop them.  Some cubs favored shrimp, while others favored clams, while still others seemed to equally enjoy devouring both.

After the cubs had their fill of molluscs and crustaceans, Scourge led them to the water to do some fishing.  The cubs already knew how to fish, after practicing in the stream in their territory, and the fish found here was quite tasty.

Three of the adult pack-members had gone deep-sea diving, and soon they returned with the biggest clam shell that Scourge had ever seen.  It would require more than fangs to open this monster.  Slash examined the shell, rubbing his beard thoughtfully as he searched for a weak point.  Then he fired a blast from his headcannon, right at the hinge.  The beam was just the right intensity, so that it did not obliterate the shell and the tasty contents inside, but made it a lot easier to open.  Slash pulled the top shell off and began detaching the tasty adductor muscle.  He gave some of it to Scourge, who gnawed on it eagerly.  The meat of the clam itself proved less tasty, although the cubs found it adequate after the adults passed on the opportunity to taste it.  They didn’t want to fill up on that—they wanted to leave room for oysters.

The oyster beds were teeming with even more shells this time, and it seemed as if the population of the creatures had increased.  In fact, they desperately needed thinning out, as there was less and less room for oysters to grow without practically stacking on top of each other.

Slash cautioned his pack not to deplete the oyster beds too much, but announced that there was plenty there for each Sweep to have their fill.

While most of the fare didn’t seem to interest Pandora, she did seem intrigued when Number 4 opened an oyster and offered it to her.  She accepted his gift out of curiosity, and consumed the contents.  She stood there for a moment, allowing the flavors to register on her electro-palate.  Then she smiled.  “Can I have another one?” she asked.

“You may have as many as you like,” Number 4 replied.

Scourge had only seen this behavior twice before—when Number 4 brought stranglervines to Pandora, and when Slash had taken a bundle of stranglervines and disappeared for a night.  Each time, the ranks of the cubs grew in number.  Scourge went up to his father questioningly.  “How come Number 4’s feeding Pandora oysters, all of a sudden?” he asked.

Slash smiled knowingly.  “He is insuring that she gets adequate sustenance for her condition,” he replied cryptically.

“Condition?” Scourge echoed, still not fully clued in.

“Pandora is with cubs.  Number 4 wants what is best for them, so he will do everything in his power to make certain that they are healthy.”

“How can you tell?” Scourge pressed further.

“Did you not detect the change in her scent, since they returned from their little holiday?” Slash asked.

“I guess I did, but I didn’t know what it meant,” Scourge replied.

Slash reached down and patted his son on the shoulder.  “Scourge, eventually you will learn that scents can tell us many things.  You know you can smell the fear of the prey, and you know when the Energon-trumpets are in bloom.  But occasionally it conveys more personal information.  I would know immediately if you were sick, just by your scent.  Analyzing an odor isn’t just a matter of identifying a target, but learning nearly everything there is to know about it.  A forest-antelope will not merely have the scent of itself, but also of how healthy it is, whether it has been frightened, and whether it is male or female—and if female, whether or not it is in season, or with fawn.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Scourge replied, “I see now.”

*

Young Scourge decided to go swimming, and began to explore along the bottom.  Fish darted everywhere, just out of reach, and the sand was littered with seaweed, and the odd empty shell.  A large creature similar to a shrimp, only with much larger antennae and claws, was crawling along on the seafloor.  Scourge grabbed it and headed for the shore.  It tried to nip him with its pinchers, but they had no effect.

The other cubs saw the treat that Scourge had retrieved from the ocean, and came up to him.  Its size was tremendous, and there was enough for each cub to have a taste.  The first thing that Scourge did was dispatch it with a bite to the creature’s head.  The cub’s fangs crunched noisily through the carapace.  Extracting the meat from the shell was not too difficult, although there was some small fragments that had to be removed when the larger pieces were cracked open.  Scourge ensured that the prey was divided equitably, taking his own share first.  He found the meat had a sweet flavor that he really enjoyed.

When each cub had finished their share, they all fixed their gaze upon Scourge.

“So, you want more, do you?” he said, “Fine.  You three, come.”  Here he pointed to Number 9’s elder cubs.  They followed him into the water, and Scourge showed them where to find the tasty armored crustacean.  They had learned how to swim quite quickly, and soon the four of them came upon a small group of rather large lobsterlike creatures.  One of them was nearly as large as one of the Sweepcubs, and Number 9’s eldest headed for it.  Unfortunately, the creature did not take well to being seized, and a struggle ensued.  The prey was stronger than Number 9’s eldest had assumed, and it took all the cub’s strength just to keep it from wriggling free of his grasp as the Sweepcub’s talons attempted to find purchase.  Finally the claws of the Sweepcub dug in between some armor plating and held fast, but he was still having difficulty.  The three other cubs had all chosen much smaller prey, and Scourge sighed and dispatched his before going to assist his greedy wingsib.

It was all Number 9’s eldest could do to keep hold of the giant lobster; he couldn’t even maneuver to find a place to sink his fangs and dispatch his prey.  The creature’s claws came up in the way, to prevent the cub from biting down on something far more vulnerable.  While it was thus distracted, Scourge came up behind the creature and crushed its head in his jaws.  The ‘lobster’ thrashed momentarily in reflexive death throes.  Now Number 9’s eldest could take his prey to the surface, and he did so, accompanied by his brothers.  Scourge retrieved his meal and joined them.

The adults looked with amusement at Number 9’s eldest, dragging the huge crustacean out of the water.  The struggle had exhausted the cub, and as soon as he made it to dry land he flopped down on the sand, panting.

“I had to help him,” Scourge murmured, “He bit off more than he can chew—AGAIN.”  Number 9’s eldest had a bad habit of attempting to take on prey alone that he was very often in no position to successfully take—and often needed bailing out by Scourge and his brothers.

There was plenty of meat to satisfy all the cubs.  The monstrous lobster had proven to be the sweetest treat of all.  They all took a nap after filling up, stretching out or curling up on the soft sand after grooming themselves to remove salt deposits left on them by the seawater.

Pandora was snuggled up next to Number 4, relaxing on the sand.  “We should come here more often,” she commented.

“Indeed,” Number 4 replied.

Slash looked over at the pair and smiled.  “That can be arranged,” he said agreeably.

*

Quintesson Journal Entry 3977-Alpha.  It has been determined that some Consumer Goods units are coming too close to discovering the craft that had contained some of our experimental test subjects.  Destroying the vessel was considered, but the explosion from either weapons or induced critical stage meltdown of the fusion reactors would leave too much evidence.  A salvage operation will retrieve the ship, to avoid the information contained therein from falling into the wrong hands.
Slash and the others were making their way back to base.  The Pack-Leader noticed a spaceship, similar to the one they’d arrived on this planet on, suddenly appear out of nowhere somewhere near the horizon.  He transformed and passed a very sleepy Scourge off to Number 5 before nodding to Number 6 and Number 7, indicating that they should follow.  

The three Sweepcraft stayed just above the treetops, trying to avoid detection as they approached the ship.  Slash finally returned to robot mode and continued on foot, along with the other two.  They made it to the clearing where the landing site of their own ship was, just in time to see a tractor beam slowly pull it upwards.

“I wondered when they would take back what is theirs,” Slash mused aloud, stroking his beard.  The once-grounded ship seemed to lurch to one side suddenly, as there appeared to be a power interruption in one of the tractor beam emitters.  Before the tractor beams could compensate, something dropped out of one of the open hatches.  It landed on the ground with a heavy thud.  Slash was intrigued, but waited, choosing to remain hidden until the ship was taken away.  Eventually the two ships were in very close quarters, and they promptly vanished.  The Sweeps waited until the sound of the engines indicated a great deal of distance had been put between the vessels and the clearing.

Slash warily stepped out of the cover of the forest and approached the object that he’d seen fall from the ship.  It was a metal box, and he could easily pick it up with both hands.  He did so, and then proceeded to open it.  The instant he did so, he found his senses were dulled.  The smells that he’d been able to separately identify moments before had all become mushed together in one barely distinguishable odor, and his audio receptors found it more difficult to isolate and identify various sounds.  His other sensors seemed somewhat scrambled, and he found it difficult to get his bearings.  He opened the box all the way, and inside was a large round object that seemed to be radiating some sort of strange disruptive energy field.  Handling the sphere in one taloned hand, Slash examined it closely before returning it to its case and shutting the lid.

“What in the Void was that?” Number 7 wondered suddenly.

“So you were affected as well?” Slash wondered.

“It was as if something were stifling my senses,” Number 7 replied.

“I, too, felt diminished while that object was out of its container,” Number 6 added, “ What manner of device was that?”

“Judging by its effects, I would say it was one meant to counter our abilities,” Slash replied, “We must take this with us, and hide it.  If we are fortunate, it is a prototype, and not yet mass-produced.  The Masters would no doubt love to retrieve this contraption.”

“Then why have they not come for it sooner?” Number 6 wanted to know.

“Perhaps its existence was forgotten,” Slash stated, “In which case, when they took their ship back, they were not expecting to find it.”  The Pack-Leader glanced over the area again, finding nothing of interest.  “We should go,” he said finally, transforming and heading for home.  His two subordinates quickly followed.

*

At first, Slash kept the device—in its casing—under his bedding in his den.  But then after a while, a thought came to him.  When young Scourge reached maturity, there would need to be testing to make sure that he could prove himself ready to join the full pack as an adult member, and not merely lead the cubs.  Trials that would not be impossible, but very difficult—just enough so that passing them would prove that his son was indeed mature, and could have an accomplishment to be proud of.  He dug the box containing the sensor-dampening device out of his bedding and opened it briefly, gazing at the glittering metallic orb.  His senses were momentarily dulled until he closed it again.  The device was shiny and several crystalline components on it glittered if light hit it at the right angle.  He had seen the Dire Eagles that nested in cliffs far to the northwest of his territory.  One time he had observed a nest, and noted that the matriarch of the rookery had a thing for shiny objects.  She was also very protective of her eggs, and nesting season was about to start.  If Slash were to place the egg in the nest, the Hen would no doubt treat it like one of her own eggs.  It was the most secure place he could think of to keep the device.  However, he would not be able to leave it in its casing.  He would take that back with him.

The trick was finding an opportunity when the Hen and the other eagles were otherwise occupied.  Slash figured that the courtship phase would provide plenty of distraction, enough for him to quickly approach the nest, drop the device in, and make his getaway.  However, he knew that he would not be able to fly back.  Further testing had proved that the dampening effects extended to his antigravs and engines, and he would be forced to traverse on foot until he’d gone out of range of its effects.

The mountain that the aerie was situated on was riddled with many tunnels and caves, and with successive scouting trips Slash soon learned of a pathway that led directly to the main nest itself.  He noted the route before returning to his den site to collect the dampener, in its case.  Then he transformed and flew to the mountain.

The matriarch Dire Eagle was engaged elsewhere, probably hunting, when Slash approached the aerie.  Two Tiercels were nearby, but not close enough to be a threat.  The birds were large, and were formidable foes.  The talons on them were sharp enough to dig into a Sweep’s armor, and the beaks were capable of shredding nearly any metallic substance.  Fortunately, Slash had mainly seen them prey on organic creatures, although they sometimes took the odd feral Seeker.  It seemed they used their talons and beaks to their full potential only when defending their nests, or when gathering nest materials from such things as crashed shuttles.

The Pack-Leader transformed and landed on the ledge containing the nest.  Reaching into  subspace, he quickly took out the box and opened it, grasping the dampener and placing it into the nest.  No sooner had he done so, than a shriek from above assailed his dulled audio sensors.  The matriarch had returned, and though no eggs were yet in the nest, Slash was an unwelcome intruder into her territory.  The Sweep felt the gust of her wingflaps as she initiated a controlled descent, preparing to lash out with talons.  

Slash quickly turned and darted into the nearby cavern opening, the matriarch hot on his heels.  The passageway narrowed somewhat, and he was forced to drop to all fours.  Fortunately, however, this slowed down his pursuer.  The speed he gained from quadruped locomotion put him well ahead of her, and she soon gave up on the chase altogether.

While the Sweep navigated through the tunnels, the matriarch Dire Eagle returned to her nest.  She laid an egg, and looked at it.  Beside her own egg was the device that Slash had left behind, and the shiny object mesmerized her.  She turned both “eggs” and settled down, uttering brooding chirps.  The intruder was forgotten.

Slash eventually made his way out of range of the dampener, although the area of effect was quite large.  He chose not to fly the rest of the way, opting instead to go quadruped.  After all, there were some things missable by air that could be picked up on while on the ground.  There was an area that he had to pass through that had recently been burned down in a forest fire, and although the fire had not reached the den area, it had quite an impact on the organisms in the area.  He was relieved to see green shoots springing up in the ash-covered ground, next to charred stumps.  Once-bare scorched tree trunks now started showing leaves.  And there was evidence that Quicklings and other small animals had started to repopulate the area.

When he returned to base and had feasted on some plains antelope that two of his pack members had brought down, he retired to his den and began to consider other tests.  He decided there need only be three tests, covering three days.  If Scourge could complete such tests in the time allotted, it would show how resourceful and mature he had become.  He already knew his son was very intelligent; he had no doubt that Scourge could figure out how to do what would eventually be asked of him.

Scourge was curled up in his own bed nearby, fast asleep.  He was not yet of an age where he would be required to prove himself, but Slash knew the day would come soon.

*

Pandora had taken to retiring to the burrow she shared with Number 4 and Scourge’s half-brothers.  Previously, she’d been out and either helping supervise the youngest cubs, or doing some exploring of her own.  But a number of months had passed since she and Number 4 had taken a one-week vacation.

Scourge had been occasionally taking naps in the den with his brothers, and it was during one such naptime that Pandora began going through the process that would bring her new cubs into the world.  The young Sweepcubs watched with a mixture of interest and disbelief as three tiny Sweepcubs made their appearance, uttering soft whimpers.  Instinctively Scourge investigated them, and helped to clean them off.  Pandora allowed this, knowing Scourge would never harm them, and then granted the new cubs access to her energy supply.

Scourge made certain that his half-brothers did not crowd the new arrivals.  He curled up next to the newborns, purring softly.  His sense of duty was strong, and he would protect them with his life, if necessary.  “As long as I function, Number 13 won’t get them,” he vowed.

Number 4 returned from patrol and looked in on his mate and cubs.  “I am sorry to have missed their arrival,” he said, “I did try to return in time.”  He carefully inspected his offspring, and seemed satisfied that they appeared to be in excellent health.

“That’s alright,” Pandora replied, “Scourge was here to protect them.”  She patted the Sweepcub on the head affectionately.

Number 4 yawned, stretching as he made his way to the bedding.  He curled up around Pandora, nosing her and purring before drifting off to sleep.  She leaned against him in response.

The next morning, Slash was made aware of the new litter, and he was quite pleased.  “I promise that I will not allow them to fall prey to the same fate that claimed their older siblings,” the Pack-Leader stated, “No doubt Number 13 will soon be aware of this new development, and we must double our guard.”

Number 4 nodded.  “I agree,” he said, “Perhaps I should spend more time with my mate and cubs, to improve our chances of warding off an attack.”

“Indeed,” Slash murmured, “That would be wise.  And perhaps I should spend more time with my own sons.  I feel lately as if I’m neglecting them while I am focused on my duties.”

“My pack-Leader, your responsibilities are great.  Perhaps we can divide the labor more equitably, so as not to over-burden you?” Number 4 suggested.

“Perhaps,” Slash agreed, “I shall think on this.”

*

Scourge watched as Number 9’s eldest cub climbed a large tree just outside the general den area.  A furry treeglider had scrambled up the trunk to evade its hunter, and the determined Sweepcub pursued it to a large overhanging branch.  The treeglider hesitated as the Sweepcub followed onto the branch, scampering into the thin twigs.  It was attempting to find a good vantage point from which to glide either to another tree, or to a part of the ground that was relatively free of Sweeps.

A sudden crack heralded the breaking of the branch that held both Sweepcub and treeglider, with the latter spreading out its limbs and gliding towards relative safety.  For his part, Number 9’s eldest yelped as he fell, and hit the ground with a heavy thud.  He was slow to get up.

Young Scourge shook his head, then turned and observed the treeglider’s path.  He quickly darted towards the creature, catching up with it as it neared the ground.  There was not much it could do now, and it was snapped up in the Sweepcub’s waiting jaws.

Number 9’s eldest growled softly when he saw that Scourge had gotten the treeglider instead.

“You’re too impatient,” Scourge told him.  Number 9’s eldest responded by slinking off into a grassy hollow beneath one of the larger trees and sulking.

Slash observed all this, as he watched over the group of cubs.  He had been spending more time with them, playing with them, and helping teach the youngest ones the finer points of hunting.  “He will learn,” he said to Scourge.

The other cubs had been playing play-wrestle, and now were ready for a nap.  They curled up next to Slash and dropped off into a light slumber.  Scourge joined them, stretching and yawning before settling down, flaring his wings slightly and then drawing them in closely, almost like a blanket.  It was overcast, and thus not that warm out.

Slash raised his head, sniffing the air.  He expected rain, but not for a while.  He let the cubs snooze for as long as they needed.

After the nap, Scourge led the cubs to an area where Energon Trumpet vines grew.  The plants had been out of bloom for at least a month, and now juicy energon-filled fruit took the place of fragrant, energon-nectar laden blossoms.  It was rare for a plant-based meal to appeal to a Sweep, but so long as it contained energon, it was acceptable.  Scourge sniffed and the fragrance of ripeness hit his olfactory sensors.  He eagerly went up to a small tree that had a tangle of vines encircling it.  There was some fruit just within reach, and the Sweepcub devoured it eagerly.  The flavor was much sweeter than regular energon.

The other cubs soon had their fill of the tasty treats, and burned off the extra energy by chasing each other around.  They were so full of Energon Trumpet fruit that they were still running when they were led back to the den area.

*

Ultra Magnus stared at the feral Sweepcub inside the polarized enclosure.  Claw was currently gnawing on a large bone that one of the Autobots had found while out exploring.  The Autobot City Commander stroked his jaw thoughtfully, as questions swirled in his processor.  Where had this creature come from?  Why did it appear to be little more than a beast?  And why did it appear to have a preference for feeding on things other than energon?  He shook his head and returned to the control room.

Two young Autobots stood in the alleyway near the enclosure.  One of them held a bag that squirmed and squealed.  “I wonder what would happen if we dropped this Seeker in there,” the one youngster said.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the other said.  He followed his cohort to the adjoining building that housed Perceptor’s lab.  After scaling it and reaching the roof, they walked over to the edge where the feral Sweepcub was.  They unceremoniously dumped out the contents of the bag into the enclosure.

Claw went over to investigate the intrusion.  The tiny Seeker cub whimpered, and trembled as the Sweepcub approached.  Claw recognized the creature as prey, and immediately pounced.  His powerful jaws locked around the Seeker’s neck and tightened.  The Seeker whined as the viselike grip of the predator crushed vital circuitry.  

The two young Autobots watched in horror.  They had not expected this.  They had not been made aware that the Feral Sweeps preyed on the Feral Seekers.  They did not snap out of it until the Seeker stopped whimpering, and the Sweepcub began feeding.

Claw purred as he dug into his meal with gusto.  It had been ages since he’d had a taste of his favorite prey.  And now here one had dropped in practically out of the sky.  When he was nearly half-finished, a group of Autobots had gathered, observing in morbid curiousity.

Perceptor pushed his way through the gathering crowd.  His jaw dropped when he saw what everybody was curious about.  “How did that Seeker get in there?” he asked.

Nobody standing there had any idea.  “Should we remove the Seeker?” Outback wondered.

“No, there’s no point,” Perceptor replied, “It’s too late.”

The two guilty Autobot youngsters had long since vacated the roof.  They were making their way back to the living area, when they were cornered by Ultra Magnus.  They had forgotten to discard the incriminating sack.

“And just what are you two doing?” Ultra Magnus demanded, “What was in that sack?”

Both youngsters studied the ground.

“That Seeker that we found in the enclosure—was that your doing?”

Both slowly nodded.

“Why on Cybertron would you do such a thing?” Ultra Magnus continued.

“We only wanted to give him someone to play with!  We didn’t know he was going to EAT him!” one of the youngsters wailed.

Ultra Magnus glared sternly at the pair. “You two are confined to your rooms for the rest of the week,” he stated, “And thank Vector Sigma you two didn’t decide to go in there yourselves.  Now off with you.”

The two young Autobots scurried off.  As they departed, Ultra Magnus began to realize just how dangerous the creature inside the enclosure was.

*

Perceptor sighed as he placed Claw under the radiation emission device that was used for destroying harmful nanite infestations.  Apparently the young Autobots’ prank did more than cost a feral Seeker cub its life.  It had also reinfected the captive Sweepcub.  It took a couple of hours before the process of decontamination was complete.  Claw was under the effects of an inhibitor, naturally, to prevent any scratching or biting.  While that was getting done, the interior of the cub’s enclosure was being scrubbed down and decontaminated as well.  The remains of the Seeker cub—what little was left—were retrieved and incinerated.  It would do little good to decontaminate Claw only to have him reinfect himself again somehow after he was returned to his den.
While the machine did its job, Perceptor wondered whether the creature was programmed to hunt Seekers, or was merely taught that they were prey.  Considering the cub would devour just about anything that moved, the Scientist surmised that a basic predatory instinct was definitely hard-wired into Claw.

Although he had studied the nanites closely, Perceptor was no closer to discovering their origin than he was when Claw had first been brought to him.  He found this most frustrating.  However, his research did result in more creative ways to get the cub to consume energon.  He discovered that placing a gel pouch of energon into a wind-up toy was very effective.  Claw would chase the contraption, pounce on it, and tear out the energon pack and feast on it.

Perceptor was certain that whoever had created this creature, it was probably for the purposes of either hunting or exterminating something else.  He shuddered to think of what that would entail.

*

Quintesson Journal 3998-Delta.  Training of recaptured Sweeps is proceeding according to plan.  Taking them while they are still young has enabled us to establish dominance over them easily, and they quickly learn to respond to simple commands.  However, their usefulness will be limited until they reach their full size.

A Sharkticon held a squirming feralized Seeker cub, just out of reach of a hungry feral Sweepcub.  The Sweepcub looked hungry, and stared anxiously at his prey.

“Sit,” A nearby Quintesson ordered, and a Reptilian robot helped to force the Sweepcub into a sitting position, much like a dog trainer would do with a puppy.  The Sweepcub whined, but obeyed.  The process was repeated several times until the Sweepcub sat on its own without being pushed down.  Once it had learned to sit without being forced, the Quintesson gestured to the Sharkticon and it dropped the prey.  The squealing Seeker cub had barely hit the floor when the predator was upon him, jaws locking onto the vulnerable throat.

“Excellent,” the Quintesson said, in a tone that sounded far too pleased.

*

An Autobot patrol suddenly came upon an unfamiliar female Autobot that appeared to be caught in a trap.  But she was not behaving normally—she was acting more like the feral Seekers that frequented the area.  When the patrol approached, she grew frightened and tried to pull away.

“What do we do?” Kup wondered, “We need to get her out of that trap, but we don’t want her to hurt herself while we’re doing it.”

“This is the perfect opportunity to test Perceptor’s new inhibitor darts,” Ultra Magnus stated.  He took a dart out of subspace, loading it into his weapon.  Aiming carefully, he took the shot and the dart hit the female Autobot in the shoulder.  A few moments later she went limp, and Ultra Magnus went over to her and pulled the trap off her leg.  He then picked her up and carried her back to the base, with the other Autobots following along behind.

Inside Perceptor’s lab, the strange female Autobot was examined and found to have an infestation of nanites.  The standard treatment protocol was administered, and then Perceptor began the delicate work of repairing the damage to his patient’s processor.  It was very exacting work, and took many hours.  On top of that, he did a thorough examination.  

Ultra Magnus entered the lab.  “What did you find out?” he wanted to know.

“I have no idea who she is or where she came from,” Perceptor stated,  “But I do know that she is with cub.  From what I can tell from the scans, they’re Seeker cubs.”

“Seekers?  But why—?” Ultra Magnus began.

“It is possible that the nanite infestation removes memories or the ability to recognize factional enemies,” Perceptor replied.

“So then what do we do?” Ultra Magnus wondered.

“I’ll know more about how to answer that question after she wakes up,” Perceptor told him.

*

The inhibitor took a long time to wear off.  The female sat up, holding her head, but had to lie back down.  “Wh-where am I?” she began.

“Good, her language processor is working,” Perceptor commented.

“You’re among friends,” Ultra Magnus replied, “We found you in a trap in the forest, and freed you.”

The female Autobot was silent for a moment, as if searching for the words she wanted.  “Fo-rest,” she pronounced, as if halfway through Hooked On Phonics.  She shook her head.

“Perhaps we should let her collect her thoughts,” Perceptor suggested, “We do have a spare quarters we can let her stay in, correct?”

“Affirmative,” Ultra Magnus said.  He held out his hand to the stranger.  “Follow me,” he said.

The female Autobot got up from the medtable, and gingerly accompanied the Autobot City Commander.

*

Confusion wracked the mind of the female.  Clarity of thought was all but impossible, as a flurry of input and processing overwhelmed her.  It had all been so simple before.  Now she was having to decipher language.  Even though her language processor had been replaced and was working correctly, she had been too long without the benefit of understanding.  And while in the lab, she’d caught hint of a scent—the scent of her mate and cubs’ most feared enemies.  The Bearded Clawed Ones.  While they did not really pose much of a threat to her personally, she had seen entire litters destroyed by the beasts.  A great longing filled her—a longing to be back where she felt she needed to be.  Here, she felt like an alien.

The Autobots were kind, and tried communicating with her, but she found understanding them, while possible, very difficult.

Her door was not locked.  Apparently Ultra Magnus had assumed that she’d want to stay.  Quietly, in the dead of recharge-cycle time, she slipped out and returned to the forest.

*

Ultra Magnus was worried.  One of the female Autobots on his team had gone to check on the strange newcomer, and returned with news that the stranger had disappeared.  He couldn’t fathom why.  

“I think we should go after her,” he told Kup and Perceptor.

“Eh, that might not be such a great idea,” Kup said, “After all, she did leave on her own.”

“But she was confused and frightened,” Ultra Magnus objected.

“Maybe so, but we might be making things worse if we try to take her back,” Kup pointed out.

“An excellent point,” Perceptor added, “She may develop an aversion to us if we force her to remain with us.  And there’s something else.  I fear the damage she had sustained is permanent.  Even if she were to recover all her functions, it is highly unlikely that she will ever be able to live a normal life.  If I had caught the infestation sooner…”

Ultra Magnus sighed.

*

Slash was patrolling where his territory bordered that of the Feral pack.  He heard something moving through the bushes and he raised his head, staring intently in the direction of the disturbance.  It was not one of the feral pack, nor was it a beast of the forest.  Rather, it was a female Autobot—one Slash had seen before, accompanying a herd of Feral Seekers.  But that herd had migrated deeper into his territory a few days ago.  And while she was attempting to walk bipedally, she was having difficulty.  She stepped into the clearing, took one look at Slash, and exclaimed, “Bearded—clawed-one!”  She then angled away from him, heading deeper into his territory, but clearly avoiding the Pack-Leader.

Slash raised an optic brow.  A whiff of various Autobot scents were all over her, and he surmised that someone had tried to treat the madness that had afflicted her for so long.  While she could now speak, though haltingly—something that surprised Slash—she seemed to be using the same mindset as when she was still infected.  The Pack-Leader shook his head pityingly.  “A shame,” he murmured, and continued on his way.

*

The disinfected female approached the herd of Seekers—the herd she had been part of for a very long time.  Something was off, though.  The first thing she noticed was that several of her previous litters were missing.  As she drew nearer, she tried to call out for them.  The Seekers and their mates looked at her in alarm.  Her upright stance also made them suspicious.  The herd leader huffed, and bolted.  The others did so as well.  When she tried to follow, they increased their speed.

She was confused.  Why were they fleeing?  There were no predators, no Clawed-Bearded-Ones, nearby to frighten them.    And worse still, her own mate acted as though she was a stranger.  Crestfallen, she turned and went her own way.  A sudden surge in her internals brought her attention to her current condition.  She quickly found a temporary shelter—a burrow that the females of the herd sometimes used as nursery dens.

*

Hours passed.  The female lay on the floor of the den.  Something was wrong.  Two Seeker cubs had made their appearance, but they did not move.  No amount of nudging made any difference.  There was no light in their optics.  It took some time for the would-be mother to realize that her offspring were stillborn.  She dug a small hole outside the den, and buried them, before wandering towards a clump of stranglervine she knew of.  She was low on energon, so she was eager to replenish her fuel supply.

*

The female tried to rejoin the herd several times, but was rebuffed.  Finally her own mate chased her off, rather surprisingly aggressively.  He had never behaved this way to her before.  This was all it took to get her to give up completely.  She wandered off away from them, striking out on her own.  Eventually she ended up not far from the den area of Slash’s pack.

Seekers were deathly afraid of the Bearded Clawed Ones, even those of Slash’s pack, of whom they made no distinction from the truly feral Sweep pack which preyed upon them constantly.  But something clicked in the female’s head, when she remembered that she had heard Slash speak, even as she was trying to stay well away from him.  She did not know who he was, of course, but she would know him again by his size.  No feral Sweep was anywhere near as large.  In her muddled processor, something told her there was something special about that one.

She knew a Sweep would not attack her, feral or not, because she’d seen one of the Bearded Clawed Ones lure a female or two away from the herd, usually soon after the female’s mate—and any cubs--had been preyed upon.  

Young Scourge and the cub pack noticed the strange new scent in the area, and wanted to investigate.  Slash was with them.  He too picked up on the scent, although he recognized it.  “Let her be,” the Pack-Leader told his son.  “She is frightened and confused.  She will come to us when the time is right.  Until then, we should give her plenty of space, so as not to alarm her.”

*

A few weeks passed, and Slash’s pack became accustomed to the scent and fleeting appearances of the female.  She was a light green color, with white highlights, which at this time of year was perfect camouflage.  The Sweeps did not flee on her approach, so she became accustomed to their presence as well.  She saw Pandora and Number 4, and how attentive the Sweep was with his mate.  But she had not yet worked up the courage to approach one of the others.

One night there was a change in her processor.  This was not due to either the residual effects of the nanite madness, or a result of the cure.  It compelled her to approach the den area and seek out the occupants.

*

Number 3 came out of his den, looking pleased with himself.  He noticed a similar appearance on the faces of several of the others.  “I had an unusual visitor last night,” he stated, “It was that female that’s been hanging around lately.”

“As did I,” Number 7 said.  Several of the others nodded in agreement.  

Slash emerged from his own den, his optic brow raised.  The scent from the others told him that the female newcomer had been near them.  “I suppose she has not made up her mind which of us she wants,” he commented.

“But then how will we know--?” Number 3 began, but Slash shook his head at him.

“Could you not sense it?” Slash asked him, “She carries a similar scent as Ballista used to, after Scourge was born.”

The other Sweeps gaped in realization.  Ballista had never had another litter after Scourge, though not for lack of trying.

“So then she cannot…?” Number 7 asked, in disappointment.

“She cannot,” Slash confirmed, “However, we will not turn her away if she wants to be with us.  We are duty-bound to show her every hospitality.  Given her current condition, if we give her the attention she now seeks, she will remain nearby.  I saw her own herd chase her away after they realized she was different.  This was no doubt due to the curing of her madness.  She would not survive out there on her own.  If we do not supply her with what she needs, she may wander over to the other Pack, and perhaps even become reinfected.  And I would hate to think of what Number 13 would do to her, if she went to him and he ever realized he could sire no cubs through her.”

*

The strange female soon settled into the den area, and was soon less skittish.  The Sweepcubs fascinated her, and she often played with them.

“She seems to be having a problem with speech,” Pandora observed, as she watched the newcomer interact with the older cubs.  

“Indeed,” Number 4 stated, “She was once part of a herd, but someone cured her of her madness.  But perhaps she has been mad for so long, she could not be restored completely.”

“As I feared,” Slash added.  “This is further proof that although someone can attempt to cure it, there comes a point where there is permanent damage.”

“Now, the question is, what do we call her?” Pandora wondered, “Do you think she had one before?”

“It is possible, but her name, if she ever had one, may be lost, along with her memories,” Slash stated, “But you’re right, we should name her.  But I will ask her beforehand, just in case she recalls.”

The Pack-Leader approached the newcomer.  “What is your name?” he asked, slowly and clearly.  He gazed into her optics, hoping that she had understood what he had just said.

The female stared at him, and paused as she attempted to access her memory banks.  Then she shook her head.  She couldn’t remember.

Slash looked thoughtful.  “No name, eh?  Would you like me to name you?”

The female thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Your name shall be Emerald,” Slash decided.  He placed a taloned hand on her shoulder as he said it.

The female smiled.  She put a hand on Slash’s shoulder.  “Slash,” she said.  Then she pointed to herself.  “Emerald.”

Slash’s grin widened.  It was a relief to him that she’d understood.

All the Sweeps were informed of the new female’s name.  They all nodded in approval.  Number 7 went to harvest some strangler vine, and brought it to her.  She eagerly accepted the gift and began refueling.  As she was feeding, Slash gathered the others around him.  “Now we must be careful that she doesn’t attract attention to our den,” he said, “Whoever cured her might look for her.  We must keep her hidden.  Keep an eye on her, but don’t let her think we’re spying on her.  Since she’s with us now, she will probably stay in our territory.  Let her go where she likes, so that she does not feel she is being kept.  But be prepared to be a distraction, to lead away any who might find her.”

The others nodded.  

*

As Slash anticipated, Emerald did not wander far.  She seemed to instinctively avoid crossing the boundary that led into the territory of the Feral Sweeps.  And any time she though she heard or saw an Autobot, she was quick to hide herself or flee.  So that was one less thing the Pack-Leader had to worry about.

One thing did concern him, however.  He’d noticed an increasing number of traps in the area just bordering his territory and that of the Feral Sweeps.  Some of the traps had a strange alien scent, and consequently the Ferals avoided them as well.  Slash did not yet know the purpose of the traps, nor precisely who was setting them.  But he kept an eye out, to make certain that whoever was doing it wasn’t targeting his pack.

*

Quintesson Journal 4005 Gamma.  We have successfully trained the Sweep cubs to attack on command, and to halt when we give the order.  They are more obedient than any other slaves we have created so far.

A small group of Sweepcubs were being kept in a special enclosure on a Quintesson ship.  There were large doors that led to a feeding area, and the light level was about 50% that of normal.  One of the scientists had suggested this not only as a power-saving measure, but to also play to the creatures’ natural tendency towards hunting at night.  This, the Quintessons theorized, would limit the Sweeps’ desire to sleep, and would encourage them to stay active.

Keeping control of the Sweepcubs had not been difficult.  The Quintesson merely needed to exert dominance, and if a Sweepcub was disobedient it was immediately punished.  Usually a zap from a ray gun or a quick lash with a tentacle was enough to get the message across.  If that wasn’t enough, prey was withheld until the cub complied.

For their part, the young Feral Sweeps found this no different than when they were in their pack, although there was the added necessity of learning how to respond to spoken commands.  They quickly learned who the boss was, and the withholding of prey always caused them to acquiesce to the Master’s demands.  The Quintessons had already decided to keep the Sweeps hungry, to make them more obedient and more motivated.  Unlike their sapient brethren, the Feral Sweeps did not notice that their Masters were deliberately underfeeding them.  They only knew that the Masters gave them access to prey, and that on its own was worth their loyalty.

One of the scientists had put forward the idea of capturing one of the Sentient Sweeps to study and experiment on.  But this idea was quickly shot down.  

“Unicron would be most displeased with us if we did,” the Quintesson Commander stated, “He has told us those Sweeps belong to him.  However, the Feral ones are ours to do with as we see fit.  Limit your experiments to them for the time being.  In time, perhaps Unicron will give us the sentient ones as well.  But until he does, they are strictly off-limits.”

*

Slash was fast asleep in his den.  He was having a very strange dream.  The Pack-Leader appeared to be in a swirling dark purple and black mist, almost reminiscent of a black hole or dark nebula.  A low growl echoed from somewhere, but he knew not where.

“Who is there?” the Pack-Leader demanded, looking around.  He saw nobody, although he was positive he sensed a presence.  It was overwhelming, and it felt like a huge weight was pressing down on him.  Someone or something was forcing him to kneel.  

The Pack Leader awakened with a roar.  Scourge, who had been sleeping in his own bed nearby in the den, also woke up.

“Is something wrong, father?” the cub asked.

“Never mind, Scourge, go back to sleep.  It was only a nightmare,” Slash assured him.

*

The next morning, Slash awoke to a feeling of great uneasiness.  Far from seeming like an ordinary dream, the experience had him thinking there was something more to it.  But what?  Well, only time would tell.  The others sensed that something was bothering the Pack-Leader, but he told them it was nothing.  At least, he hoped it was nothing.

Slash thought no more about it until another dream two weeks afterwards.  This time there was utter and complete blackness.  He couldn’t even see the talons in front of his face.  A low, rumbling voice said something in the darkness, but even with his enhanced senses he could not seem to make out the words.  The tone of the voice made him very nervous.  Whatever the source of the Voice, it felt…evil.  It was something Slash wanted no part of.  He was certain that it posed a threat to his Pack.

He awoke suddenly, with the feeling that it had not just been a dream.

*

Number 13 had noticed the sudden influx of cubs in Slash’s pack lately, but lacked opportunities to eliminate them.  Slash’s ordering of the patrols made it too difficult for either Number 12 or Number 13 to slip over the border unnoticed.  But he had recently expanded his territory northward, where there was an as-yet untapped population of Feral Seekers.  And to make things easier, these Seekers were naïve and initially had little or no fear of the Sweeps.  The first encounter resulted in a massive slaughter of Seeker cubs.  Number 12 and Number 13’s offspring—the ones who were old enough to hunt for themselves—seemed to go into an energon-thirsty frenzy and kept killing more cubs than they themselves intended to eat.  But from then on, the Seekers were far more wary, and thus not so easily caught.  The remaining Seeker cubs had learned to hide from predators and poachers in burrows, but the feral Sweepcubs would go in after them, and dig them out if necessary.

Several more of his cubs had mysteriously vanished without a trace, but his mate was with cub once again, so that made little difference in the long run.  Number 12 was temporarily absent, attending to his own mate.  Number 13 had been up all night patrolling the area, keeping an eye out for Autobot encroachment.  He instinctively wanted to be ready to move to a new den site in case this one was discovered.  He was flopped down at the entrance to his personal den.  Four of his offspring dragged the carcass of an adult Seeker into the camp, with three more following behind.  He rose, uttering a low warning growl, and they scattered to let him feed first.

His sons had become adept hunters, though they were not yet even half the size of an adult Sweep.  And given their smaller size, they used their numbers to their advantage.  Although a lone Sweepcub of that size could quickly latch onto a Seeker’s throat and administer the killing bite, sometimes it was difficult to sneak up on one in order to attack it effectively one-on-one.  A literal mob of feral Sweepcubs, however, could quickly overwhelm and drag down the prey, even a fully-grown Seeker.

Presently Number 13 had his fill and he left the remainder of the carcass for the cubs.  They fought only a little over who would get to feed first, since dominance had mostly been established within their ranks.  Number 13’s vicious eldest son was the cubs’ undisputed leader.  None had challenged him since one of his siblings attempted to take the top position, and was nearly torn to shreds.  The sibling had survived the attack, but was now the lowest-ranking of the cubs.  That was most likely due to the severe injuries inflicted in the dominance battle, which he had not quite recovered from completely.  Number 13’s eldest also had a bad habit of randomly attacking siblings, or cubs belonging to Number 12, for no discernable reason.  If Number 13 was sentient, he would have been concerned that his eldest would kill one of the other cubs someday.  As it was, Number 12 did not take kindly to having his offspring mauled out of the blue, and a few cuffs managed to keep the incidents down to a minimum.

*

The next time Slash took Scourge to visit Cyclonus, he also brought along his next-eldest son and one of Number 9’s more well-behaved cubs.  By now, all of Number 9’s first litter were speaking, although his eldest was very quiet and sullen.  Slash had promised to take two cubs each time on a turn basis, if they behaved.  This tactic worked like a charm.  The cubs were as good as gold.

Galvatron had moved his living area, but not so very far that the Sweeps couldn’t find it on the first try.  Such a move had been made necessary due to a sudden infestation of petrorabbits in the energon storage caves.  Galvatron couldn’t stand the sight of the creatures, and cannoned them whenever he saw one.  But no matter how many he shot at, two seemed to appear for every one he blasted.

“This is your mission,” Galvatron told the cubs, before departing to gather more energon, “There is an infestation of Petrorabbits in the caves.  They have burrowed deep, and some are in the Forbidden Area.  You cubs will not handle those; but Slash will.  You will go and root them out in the areas that are not dangerous.  I cannot have these beasts stealing all my fuel.  Last night Cyclonus only had a half-ration of energon left.  If this keeps up, Cyclonus could starve.”

Scourge nodded.  “I don’t want Cyclonus to starve,” he said.  He nodded at his fellow cubs, and they followed him.  

Scourge led the other two Sweepcubs into the area of the caves, nose practically to the ground as he tracked the prey.  The scent of Petrorabbit was thick in the area, almost overwhelming to the Sweepcubs’ sensors.  Cyclonus tagged along, although keeping his distance at Scourge’s insistence so that he did not spook the intended targets.

Slash and his two minions, Number 5 and Number 7, entered the Forbidden Cave to do their part of the eradication.  Getting past the Spider creature near the entrance was easy, since all the Sweeps had to do was fly over the gap that the web spanned.  They discovered that the pests had burrowed through the wall past the Spider’s lair, in order to get to the safer caves where the energon was.  Perhaps the beasts were counting on the Spider to keep away other predators.  With any others, that tactic might have worked.  But this would not be an effective defense against Sweeps.

Slash began methodically digging into the small burrow he found just past the Spider’s Lair.  The other two waited behind him, poised to spring in case a Petrorabbit tried to dart past and escape.  It was some time before the Sweep’s talons broke through to a main chamber, where there were several of the creatures hiding.  Slash guessed that Scourge had caused them to flee here by digging into the tunnels at the other end, and now the prey had nowhere to go.  The Pack-Leader lashed out with talons, and a single blow broke the neck of the nearest Petrorabbit.

Two other Petrorabbits tried to dash around the Sweep, and were quickly slain.  Another made it past only to be pounced on and have its spine crushed by Number 7.  A large group of the robotic bunnies tried to stampede their way to safety.  The Sweeps pounced, getting most of them.  Two slipped past, heading deeper into the cavern.  Number 5 gave chase.  Suddenly a hail of black things dropped, nearly covering both the escaped Petrorabbits, and Number 5.

“HELP ME!” Number 5 screamed, “THESE THINGS ARE DRAINING MY ENERGY!”

Slash reacted immediately.  “Low power,” he instructed to Number 7, and they both used their headcannons to shoot the small black parasites off of Number 5, who sighed and then made his way back over to the others.  The Petrorabbits were not so lucky.  Unable to rid themselves of the leeches, they writhed and twitched, falling still and silent after a few minutes.

“Well, that’s two Petrorabbits we won’t have to worry about,” Number 5 commented.

*

“Stop pushing,” Scourge growled, as his over-eager packmates followed him into a burrow that proved to be a nest of petrorabbits.  His younger brother backed off to give him some space as the trio filed through the tunnel on all fours.  Their wings were tucked in tightly against their bodies, to streamline themselves and make passage through the tunnel easier.  Cyclonus had decided not to accompany them into the narrow space; Scourge suspected he had a mild case of claustrophobia.  The Sweeps had no such problem, being quite used to pursuing the prey into any conceivable nook or cranny they could reach.

The cub-pack leader sniffed the air that wafted into his olfactory sensors from the tunnel ahead.  Yes, the prey was close by.  The main inner chamber was devoid of life, but Scourge knew the beasts had scattered, attempting to flee using one of the emergency escape tunnels.  Scourge sniffed at each point of egress, to determine where the Petrorabbits had gone.  He snorted loudly at one tunnel.  A stale, dusty odor permeated that entrance, indicating a cave-in.  There was no escape through there, and no prey had gone that way.  Another tunnel, leading towards the surface, had no scent of recent escapees, either.  There was only one other tunnel left; it led deeper into the caverns.  It was narrower than the other tunnels, indicating it had been dug in haste.  Scourge and his brothers would have to widen it before they could pass.  The Sweepcub sighed and began scratching at the dirt at one side of the tunnel, while one of his packmates helped widen the other side.

*

Slash and the others watched for any more escape attempts, but they also observed the fallen Petrorabbits that had been attacked by the leech-parasites.  Eventually the wormlike creatures abandoned their prey, though slowly.  Slash sniffed, and noted that the parasites had drained all the Petrorabbits’ energy.

“Amazing that something so tiny could be so deadly,” Number 5 mused.

“It is their numbers that make them dangerous,” Slash replied.

A scratching noise alerted them, and they focused their full attention back on the escape tunnel.  Part of the wall gave way, and Scourge broke through.  “Wow,” the Sweepcub exclaimed, as he took in the sight of the cavern.  There was a waterfall near where the parasites had dropped from.

“Do not come in here, Scourge,” Slash warned, “It is far too risky.  There are creatures here that would drain you of your very life.”

Scourge nodded, and turned towards his brothers.  “Let’s go back the way we came.”

*

The Sweepcubs made their way back towards where Cyclonus was waiting.  When they arrived, they found he had curled up and gone to sleep.  Scourge and the two other Sweepcubs were exhausted from all that digging, so they flopped down around him and went to sleep.

Slash and his brethren carefully exited the Forbidden Cave.  The Petrorabbit infestation had been eliminated.  Several of the carcasses were consumed by Number 5, who needed the energy boost after the encounter with the parasites.

When Galvatron returned, Slash told him what they’d found.

“Ahhh yes, the energon leeches.  I have seen them,” Galvatron mused, “I have also learned how to avoid them.  The further recesses of that cave would be an ideal place to hide something of value.”

“Indeed,” Slash murmured, “Intruders would find it quite impassable, I can imagine.”

Cyclonus awakened before the others, and found the three Sweepcubs curled up beside him.  When he moved, Scourge stirred.

“Did you get them all?” Cyclonus wondered.

Scourge yawned, his silvery fangs visible for a brief moment.  “Yeah, we got them,” he replied.  He was about to curl up and go back to sleep when he heard Slash calling them.  He got up and stretched, flaring his wings.  “Come on, wake up.  We can finish this nap later,” he told his packmates.  

“Do we have to?” Number 9’s second-oldest son whined.

“Yes, we have to.  Now come on,” Scourge insisted.  The two other Sweepcubs reluctantly got up and followed Scourge and Cyclonus out of the cave.

Galvatron handed Cyclonus an energon cube.  The young Decepticon eagerly drank his breakfast.  “I trust that no more Petrorabbits will be stealing your fuel supply,” Galvatron said.  He turned to Slash and the other Sweeps.  “I am grateful for your help,” he said.

Slash nodded.  “You are quite welcome,” he replied.  He gathered up Scourge, while the other two adult Sweeps each gathered up one of the other Sweepcubs.  “Farewell, until next time,” he said, and he transformed and headed back to his own world.

*

The Sweepcubs had come to accept the new female, now called Emerald.  While Pandora was still considered a mother to most of them, Emerald proved to be a very competent Sweepcub-sitter.  Since she had once been feral, she had instinctive insight into Sweepcub behavior that Pandora had to learn.  As it turned out, basic patterns of cub behavior, whether Seekers or Sweeps, was quite similar.  There were even dominance struggles among Seeker cubs, although they differed in how they approached the issue.  There was no need to interfere in dominance struggles, although the adults all knew that they'd intervene if one cub was on the verge of killing another.  Fortunately, this situation never came up.  

Slash's territory had expanded somewhat from its original range, due to the discovery of previously unexploited fuel sources just outside the northern borders.  The cubs' need to explore also drove the expansion effort, as Slash realized that it was safer to allow the cubs to wander in an area that was his own territory, rather than risk danger in "no-mans' land".

Young Scourge led the cub pack out fishing.  There was a shallow stream in the new expansion territory, which had some fish, but also had something else that the Sweepcub had found to be tasty.  The creatures resembled the clawed armored deepsea creatures that the Sweeps had caught on their trips to the ocean.  They were smaller, but almost seemed tastier.  Scourge also found a double-shelled creature resembling the clams he dug for, but they sat on the rocky stream floor like an oyster.  While not salty like the clams and oysters at the sea, they still had a flavor that the cubs found more than palatable.

The small minnows that inhabited the calmer areas of the stream weren't much for a hungry Sweepcub to subsist on, although occasionally one of the younger cubs would snap one or two up.  Scourge recognized that they were juvenile forms of larger fish, and cautioned his brothers not to consume too many.  After all, if left to develop, they'd grow into large tasty fish that would make a fine meal for a Sweep.

After the cubs returned to the den, one of the youngest of Number 9's litter looked like he was feeling ill.  He'd flopped down in the common area, not even wandering back into his father's den.  He sounded like he was overheating.

Emerald looked at the cub in alarm.  She immediately went over to him and began checking him.  Soon the other Sweeps came to investigate as well.  

"What is wrong with my son?" Number 9 wanted to know. "Something seems…off, about his scent."

Pandora also came over.  "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he's had something poisonous," she said.  "But if that's the case, I'd have to find out what it was before I could help him."

Emerald began sniffing the panting cub's breath.  She then immediately ran off into the forest.  She was gone for half an hour, but when she returned she was holding a rootstock in her hand.  Slash recognized the plant attached to it; Sweeps often nibbled the leaves of the plant if they thought they were having indigestion.  She crushed the rootstock in her fist, and held the cub so that she could drip the juice from the root into the cub's mouth.  Then she stroked his throat to induce the swallowing reflex.  

The cub indeed swallowed the juice, although he didn't find it very palatable and made a face.  But as time passed, he stopped panting and started to get up.

Slash looked at Emerald questioningly.  "Do you know what it was that made him sick?"  

Emerald nodded.  

"Show us," Slash requested.  

Emerald grasped Slash's arm and led him off on the same path the cubs had taken back from the stream.  Several of the other Sweeps, including Scourge and the other cubs, accompanied them.  Pandora stayed with the stricken yet recovering cub.  Eventually they came to a clump of spiky leaves not far from the path.  The telltale bite marks of a Sweepcub were evident on one of the stalks.  Emerald pointed at the plant.  "Poison," she said.

"She must have seen this poisoning in Seeker cubs," Slash mused, "And what's more, she knows the antidote.  This is very valuable knowledge."  He questioned Emerald once more.  "What happens to cubs who do not get the antidote?"

Emerald fumbled for the right words for a moment.  "Shut-down," she managed.

"So the plant is deadly," Slash said, "Scourge, you must keep an eye out from now on.  Do not let your packmates consume this plant.  But if it comes to pass that one of them is foolish enough, remember the antidote."

Scourge nodded.  "I'll make sure, father," he replied.

^^^^^

The plant that had poisoned the Sweepcub was thankfully quite rare.  But an Autobot survey team came across a different clump of it, inside the territory of the Feral Sweeps.  "Now this is a goofy-looking plant," Kup mused, "I don't think I've ever seen it before."  He reached out to pull off some leaves.

"No Kup, don't touch that!" Perceptor shouted, pulling Kup back by the arm.  "That plant contains potent cybertoxins."  The Autobot scientist donned a pair of plastic HAZMAT gloves, and took out a pair of shears.  He used them to snip off a tiny piece of leaf, as well as a chunk from the stalk.  These he deposited separately in glass containers and put them in his sample case.

"Cyber-whosits?" Kup murmured.

"Cybertoxins," Perceptor explained, "Substances that are capable of interfering with the life-sustaining processes of a robotic life form.  The particular chemical in this species interferes with fuel processing.  It also causes the temperature regulator to malfunction, causing overheating.  If no antidote is given, it can cause death."

"So whaddaya want this stuff for, anyway?" Kup wondered.

"I am studying it to determine whether minute quantities of the active properties are of any therapeutic use," Perceptor replied.

"Wha…?" Kup scratched his head.

"He means, mate, that he's gonna see whether he can use it for something," Outback told him.

There was a rustle in the bushes nearby, and the Autobots were on their guard.  Although they'd never been attacked by the feral Sweeps, there was always a first time for everything.  Even though they were barely glimpsed at the best of times, Ultra Magnus was certain that since they were Decepticons, that an attack was inevitable.

However, it was not a Sweep that Kup and Outback found in the bushes.  It was a female Autobot cub.  She was whimpering, and strewn nearby were Seeker cub parts.  Apparently the entire litter, save for the female cub, had been destroyed.

"Hey, Perceptor, c'mere," Kup called to the absentminded scientist.

Perceptor approached and bent down.  "We should take her to my lab.  I have a theory that if a victim of nanites is cured in time, they may lead normal lives."

"I wonder what happened to the mother," Outback mused.

"She's probably off feeding, and plans to return later, most likely," Perceptor reasoned.

"And then those beasts found 'em and did away with the lot of them," Outback snorted, "But what I don't get is why they let her live."

Perceptor shrugged.  "I'm not certain.  It could be that they're intelligent enough to know that she'll someday reach maturity, giving them an opportunity to continue their own line."

The whimpering Autobot female cub was soon scooped up by Kup.  "There there, we'll take care of ya," he said softly.  The cub responded by putting her arms around Kup's neck and clinging tightly.

^^^^^*

The Sweeps were very grateful to Emerald for saving the life of Number 9's youngest son.  Slash thought it prudent to have her point out plants that she knew were safe for curious Sweepcubs to gnaw on, and which were not.  Scourge especially had to take note of this, as he was the one who was around the cubs most of the time, although Pandora wished to learn, as well.  Her cubs were now old enough to be left in the care of the other Sweeps while she went out.

As it turned out, there were very few plants that Emerald cautioned them against.  Of those, only the one that had made Number 9's youngest cub ill was toxic enough to cause a Transformer to shut down completely.  The rest interfered with functions but the effects were mostly unpleasant rather than truly damaging or permanent.  And then, there was the matter of antidotes.  The root that cured the deadly poison came from a plant that was fairly common, thankfully.  And there were other plants that counteracted the less dangerous ones.  The Sweeps all learned the scent of each plant as well as appearance, to provide more accurate identification.

For his part, Number 9's youngest was not all that keen on vegetation after his unpleasant experience.  At most he was willing to eat Stranglervine and Energon Trumpet fruit.  And quite frankly, Scourge didn't blame him.  Curious cubs might try to eat everything in sight, but adults far preferred meat to vegetables.

One day, as Slash and a few of the other pack members were scouting the perimeter of Slash's territory to the southwest, they noticed something strange.  A ship had landed, not of any design they recognized.  It was an oddly boxy-looking craft, perhaps a transport vessel.  The area was mostly savannah, with huge grasslands interspersed with small patches of trees, forming several thickets that were large enough to hide a few Sweeps.  The plains-antelope lived here, cousin to the smaller forest-antelope.  A heavyset, greenskinned alien had opened the back hatch of the vessel, and was using a rodlike device to coax some bovine creatures out of the cargo hold.

The beasts were large and cattle-like, although they clearly had cybernetic components.  The lead animal snorted and tossed his horns, but a few jabs from the rod, which seemed electrified, caused it to turn and thunder down the ramp.  Soon its fellows were joining it.  Once all the beasts had been released, the alien got back in to the front part of the transport and lifted off.

The beasts took no notice of the departing craft, but instead immediately began grazing.  In all, Slash figured there were over 300 head of the creatures.  Why the alien had deposited them here, he did not know.  But he did realize that he was hungry, and one of the beasts would surely feed the entire pack.  Nodding to his brothers, they circled the herd, trying to find a weak individual.  The horns on the cyber-buffalo were large and dangerous-looking.  "We must attack from behind.  I have an idea that those horns could pierce our armor," the Pack-Leader whispered.  He circled, staying low in the tall grasses and shrubbery, until he found a suitable target.  Rushing in quickly on all fours, Slash leaped and sunk his talons into the rump of an individual that seemed to have a limp.  The creature bellowed as it was attacked, and a few of the herd members started to move towards the Sweep.

The other pack members, Number 5, Number 7, Number 10, and Number 11 dashed in quickly to assist their pack-leader.  While Number 11 and Number 7 distracted the angered herd, Number 5 and Number 10 took their place alongside Slash in the anchor position, trying to drag the prey down while avoiding the beast's wildly swinging head and deadly-looking headgear.  

Distracting the herd was no easy task, but finally Number 11 and Number 7 managed to lure them away from the prey.  When they returned, the beast was frothing, but a sudden bite by Slash to the armored back and spine caused its hind legs to collapse under it.  A sound midway between a bellow and a moan erupted from the beast, and Slash quickly moved to the beast's front, seizing the exhausted bull's throat in his jaws.  Clamping down tightly, the Sweep held on until the prey was still.

Slash opened up the carcass and had his fill before allowing his brothers to partake.  The exertion required to bring such a monster down had taken a toll on the Sweeps.  The creature was only a bit larger than Slash was, and it was one of the smaller ones, but its strength was incredible.  The Sweeps flopped down to rest after feasting.  The flesh of the beast was tasty, definitely worth the effort required to bring it down.  Fortunately, Slash was able to carry the remains back to the den quite easily, to let the others finish off the rest of it.

^^^^^*

The cyber-buffalo seemed to thrive on the plains, and Slash occasionally saw more ships offloading more of the creatures.  At one point, he overheard one alien talking to another about the creatures they were dumping.  Slash was surprised he could understand them, but it was clear that the cyber-buffalo were some experiment in animal husbandry gone wrong.  It appeared the beasts were too aggressive to control, and very dangerous.  But, rather than slaughter them and start over, the creators of the buffalo decided to turn them loose.  After all, if they made poor ranch animals, they would make excellent big game targets.  Slash couldn't argue with that.

The aliens did once see some Sweeps taking down a cyber-buffalo calf, but made no attempt to stop them.  The beasts were no longer their concern.  Once the last load of beasts was unloaded, the aliens did not return.

While the cyber-buffalo were difficult targets, and required at least four Sweeps to successfully take one down, Slash found the effort extremely worthwhile.  Well, the ranchers had gotten something right.  The flesh of the beasts was quite tasty, and Slash preferred it to Terrabore.

The cub pack was warned to stay well away from a herd of Cyber-buffalo.  Even a single adult Sweep was at risk if the herd was approached too closely; they were extremely protective since it was calving season.  Slash feared the herd could trample a Sweepcub—or even the entire cub pack—to death, or at least, cause serious injury.  Number 3 found out the hard way that the horns on the animals were not just for decoration—they were diamond-hard and capable of tearing into a Sweep's armor.  He wasn't very seriously hurt, but he did get a nasty gash in his side from being tossed.  Fortunately, the rest of the pack pulled down the offending buffalo, and feasted.

The plains extended only a short way into Slash's territory, so it was not likely that Scourge and the cubs would come in contact with the herd of buffalo on a regular basis.  Number 9's eldest cub once tried to take a newborn calf that he thought was unguarded, but had to be bailed out by Scourge and two of his brothers when the enraged mother burst out of a thicket and charged.  While the cow chased after the original attacker, Scourge and the others descended upon the calf.  Fortunately the herd was some distance away, so it was not a forbidden target.  Scourge managed to deliver the choking bite that would finish the prey off before the cow returned in response to her calf's bleats of terror.  Once the prey was secured and silenced, the cow trotted back towards the herd, losing interest.  She knew any further actions were futile.

Slash and three of his subordinates surveyed the plains from a raised outcropping.  The sun was high, radiating welcome heat.  Number 11 yawned, baring his silvery fangs.  Three separate herds had formed from all the buffalo that had been abandoned, each with a dominant bull.  Slash kept well away from those bulls, even though he was certain that one against one, he would prevail.  "How fortunate for us that those beasts were delivered to our territory," Number 6 stated.

"Indeed," Slash replied, "Though I doubt they were placed here specifically for our benefit."

Number 11 pointed at the dominant bull of the nearest herd.  "Do you suppose you could take him out?" he asked his Pack-Leader.

"Perhaps," Slash replied, "But I do not wish to.  My senses tell him he is of good stock, and he is worth more to us alive than dead."

"An impressive animal, is he not?" Number 7 commented.

"Quite impressive," Slash replied, "And not to be underestimated."

Scourge and the cub pack wandered over to the adults, having just groomed themselves after their meal of cyber-buffalo calf.

"It was a good hunt, my son?" Slash inquired.

"A very good hunt," young Scourge replied, "I think I'm going to like hunting here."

^^^^*

The Sweeps soon learned that they could easily outrun the cyber-buffalo.  The beasts were built for power, not speed.  And Scourge discovered that shinnying up a tree in one of the thickets made for a great vantage point in order to hunt.

While cyber-buffalo were the most desirable prey on the plains, they were by no means the only ones.  Besides plains-antelope, small burrowing animals lived there too, similar to Quicklings but more compact and stout.  The Sweepcubs soon discovered that these were tastiest just before winter, when the creatures would be fully fattened up before hibernation.  A smaller variety of hog, not quite as large or troublesome as a Terrabore, was also present in the area, usually found near watering holes.  Adult Sweeps didn't usually bother hunting these, but the Sweepcubs found them to be an acceptable challenge.  The boars weren't armored, but did have sharp tusks.

There were some predator species around as well, but the Sweeps generally paid them no mind.  Some of them did on occasion catch one to see how it tasted, but then they found that they preferred their usual prey.

Slash sniffed the air as he was on patrol, taking in various scents.  His olfactory sensors detected an increase in moisture in the air, combined with sudden cooling.  He expected rain, and plenty of it.  He sighed.  Once the rains came, he'd have to go right back over each place he'd marked with his scent, and reapply it.  At least the water did not wash away his claw marks that he left on tree trunks, although it might obliterate the digging marks he'd made on the ground.  The Pack-Leader decided to halt his marking ritual and return to the Den.  There was no point in continuing.

Patrols had found nothing out of the ordinary, and when Slash arrived the rain had already started falling.  It quickly morphed from a light drizzle to a deluge of huge drops that made an audible roaring noise as it bounced off Sweep hulls and off the ground or the treetops.  He shook himself off before entering his den, letting himself drip-dry at the entrance before settling into his bed.

Scourge was in his own bed already.  The Sweepcub didn't like the rain—it erased scent trails and made the prey retreat into their own hiding places.  "I wish it would stop already," he complained.

"As do I," Slash replied, "But it has been dry for long enough.  The vegetation needs it, and the prey need the vegetation.  If it did not rain regularly, our food supply would be in serious trouble."  He stretched out, then curled up, wings pulled in tightly like a blanket.  "Besides, it is good to rest and relax after all this constant patrolling."  He yawned, and let recharge claim him.
^^^^

Young Scourge awoke one morning, and found something was amiss.  His systems didn't seem to want to respond very quickly.  He felt overheated, even though the air inside the den wasn't that warm, and the air outside was very cool.  He struggled to his feet but fell over as a wave of dizziness swept over him.  His internal gyroscope was malfunctioning.

Slash noticed this and sniffed at Scourge.  "You are not well," he murmured, "You should stay in bed.  Some nanovirus is no doubt interfering with your systems.  I will see if I can find anything to help ease the symptoms, but I believe your systems will eventually give you immunity to it."

Scourge nodded weakly and curled up.  He needed energon, and Slash understood.  So the Pack-Leader ventured outside into the pouring rain, and returned some time later with some stranglervine.   This would be an easy meal for the stricken Sweepcub.

None of the Sweeps had much desire to venture outside their dens during the rains, so if Scourge was contagious, he didn't get much opportunity to pass his illness on.  Slash found a plant that he discovered was completely free of nanoviruses—in fact, his finely tuned sensors told him that nanoviruses were destroyed by the extracts of the herb.  He consumed some himself to avoid getting ill as Scourge had become, and brought some to his son to assist in his recovery.

The Sweepcub snuggled down into his bedding, pulling his wings around him.  His temperature regulator had been fluctuating wildly, and now he felt a chill.  His father moved over beside him, allowing his own heat to radiate and add warmth.

^^^^

The ferals likewise had bedded down mostly during the rains, and were seldom even glimpsed by any Autobot patrols.  They only left their dens to find food—not even bothering to refresh their territory markings.  Several of the feral Sweepcubs had come down with a similar or identical nanovirus that Scourge had contracted, so the adults had to bring them food right into the dens.  Something more virulent swept through the feral Pack, however, and several of the cubs died.

^^^^

"What's wrong with me, Perceptor?" Kup groaned, as he lay down on a medtable.  The Autobot scientist was examining him after Kup had wandered in complaining of various symptoms, including dizziness and overheating.

"Ahhhh," Perceptor mused, in microscope mode, as he looked at a slide containing some energon from Kup's fuel line.  "It appears you have contracted a nanovirus—a nanite that causes havoc and illness in Transformers and other robotic or cybernetic life forms.  I can give you something for it, fortunately," the Scientist replied.
"Good," Kup replied, "Hey, this isn't the little devil that makes Autobots and Decepticons go mad, is it?"

"Definitely not," Perceptor told him, "This nanovirus is specifically programmed.  It interferes with functions such as energon absorption and the internal balance mechanisms.  I suppose a severe enough infection could cause death.  But most patients recover with treatment in a few days."

^^^^

Young Scourge found that his symptoms subsided not long after his father gave him the medical herb.  Slash was careful to regularly dose him with it, to ensure that all the nanoviruses were eliminated.  He spread the word among the other pack members, and they too partook of the plant if they felt themselves becoming ill.  Pandora managed to have a stash of medically useful plants in the den she shared with Number 4.  Fortunately none of the plants were of the 'keep out of reach of Sweepcubs' variety.

^^^^^

Of all the cubs at Slash's den, only two others became ill.  They too recovered quickly after being medicated, and while they were lethargic for a few days, they were soon their old hyperactive selves again.  While the rains continued to curb their outdoor exploration, the cubs dug themselves a network of tunnels and chambers in the den area itself, to play in when the weather was not agreeable.

Slash looked at the ominously dark clouds that moved into the area after a brief respite from the rain.  His sensors told him they were heavy with precipitation potential, but also told him something else.  The temperature had dropped significantly—that first clear morning after the near-constant downpour had frozen all the puddles.  The youngest Sweepcubs pawed at it curiously, obviously mystified as to what had made the water go solid.

Scourge had seen winter before, although due to the peculiar nature of the planet's orbital timing, he had not seen it very often.  His father had started to grow concerned when the prey they brought down lately had uncharacteristically thick coats.  Even the Quicklings were veritable balls of soft fur—and deliciously plump, on top of that.  It was as if the creatures were preparing for something.

Slash hurried to the nearest strangler-vine patch and began snapping off several long vines, dragging them into his den.  Others of the Pack did the same.  As the cloud cover spread over them and cast an eerie pall of darkness, the cubs were hustled into Number 4 and Pandora's den.  And not a moment too soon.

A fierce, bitterly cold wind suddenly howled, making the trees wave back and forth as if it would snap every one of them off at the base.  The noise frightened the youngest cubs, and they huddled next to their mother, trembling.  Scourge curled up next to them, lending his courage as well as his warmth.  He watched through the entrance as flakes of white began to be driven by the high winds.  At first the flakes did not stick, but were blown around.  But eventually the entrance to the burrow was nearly obscured by a sheer mass of them.  The Sweeps all dropped off to sleep with the sound of the tempest still ringing in their audios.

In the morning the wind had died down somewhat, but the tunnel was completely blocked.  There was a pawing sound, and Slash broke through the wall of snow into Number 4's den chamber.  He had dug a network of tunnels between each Sweep's den, under the snow.

"It will be a harsh winter this time," he said, "Before it is over, we may have to travel a long way to find our meals."

Number 4 nodded.  There was always the other planet, if the Sweeps wanted to hunt in a distant area without the Autobots spotting them.

Scourge got up, and pawed at the snow that lined the tunnel.  He began digging upwards, at an angle, so that he could get to the top of the snowbank.  After a few minutes, he poked his head out through the hole he excavated.

Everything was absolutely covered in the cold, white powder.  A few trees had obviously blown down in the storm, and the trees that were still standing sparkled in the sunlight.  The wind was light, and it was only partly cloudy—whisps and lumps of airborne water in the most fantastic shapes imaginable hurried across the sky, as if they had somewhere important to be.  The top layer of snow had a hardened crust on it, and Scourge gingerly stepped out on it.  He sunk down somewhat, but found he was able to move along quite well.  He ducked back into the tunnel to summon his brothers.  He was about to show them the perfect playground for a pack of Sweepcubs.

^^^^^*

At the Autobot base, great drifts of snow piled against the various buildings.  The enclosure containing the feral Sweepcub was filled with snow, and Perceptor feared that Claw would dig his way out of the snow and be able to escape.  Several Autobots were on hand to tranquilize the cub, then the snow was mostly removed and a roof installed to shed most of the precipitation.  Once that ordeal was finished, Claw reawakened and played in the little bit of remaining snow that was on the ground.

^^^^

Scourge led the cub pack up the tunnel and out into the snow.  One by one they popped out of the hole and gazed at the sparkly white blanket that had inundated their den.

The older cubs had seen snow, but not nearly this much of it.  The youngest cubs frisked about, chasing each other and pouncing.  Tackling a wingsib into the soft powder was a lot more fun that pouncing on them on grass or bare dirt.  Scourge went a short distance away, and picked up a handful of snow.  He packed the handful tightly in his taloned hands until the lump of snow was a spherical shape.  He then pulled his arm back, then whipped it forward, releasing the ball and letting it fly.  It hit one of his younger brothers on the wing, splattering as it made impact.  His brother turned and uttered a sharp growl, but then a wicked grin formed on his face.  He scooped up his own handful of snow, packing it tightly before aiming it at Scourge.  But the young leader of the cub pack was ready for him, and leaped to the side to avoid being hit.

The younger cubs wanted to join in the game, and Scourge eventually decided to split the pack into two teams.  He then had each team construct a wall of snow and assemble "ammunition"—snowballs—for a snowball war.  The younger cubs especially needed practice with aiming and throwing projectiles, and this game would be perfect to test their reflexes and accuracy.  The rule was, if a cub was hit by more than 7 snowballs, they were casualties and had to sit out.  In this way, the teams were pared down until only the winner was left.  While the walls of snow afforded some protection, the trick was to throw a snowball to hit an opponent that had peeked up from their own wall to throw at someone else.  The cubs on both sides soon learned to employ decoy strategies to lure their opponents into a false sense of security.

Small holes were dug in the wall, for peeking out of.  These were used cooperatively—one cub would spy while another would be ready with a snowball.  It was also soon apparent that a bombardment of snowballs would make a dent in the defensive walls, and the cubs realized they had to keep hammering away at the opposing side, for if they demolished the wall, their opponents would be much more exposed and easier to hit.

The youngest cubs were employed in making snowballs, while the older cubs took turns throwing and spying.  Scourge mostly threw snowballs, nailing Number 9's eldest with his 4th hit.  Three more and he'd be out.  Another flurry of snowballs sailed over their heads.  Some of the cubs had learned to throw the balls underhanded, causing it to go above in a wide arc.  If aimed correctly, it could hit opponents even behind the wall.  Two snowballs made contact, one hitting Scourge—that was one for him—and the eldest of Slash's second litter.  The cub pack leader stroked his chin thoughtfully.  "I have an idea.  Everyone take two snowballs.  Now, on my command, underhand them into their base, all at once."

The other cubs, including the youngest who had been feverishly working to keep the ammunition supply up, each grabbed a snowball in each taloned hand, and threw as Scourge directed, on his signal.  A howl of protest erupted from behind the other wall.

"Do you yield?" Scourge called out.

"We yield," Number 9's eldest said sulkily.  He was quite miffed at not prevailing.  However, the defeated mood of the cubs under him didn't last.  

*

 To be continued!