Replies

Funny that you mention that. Saber-toothed cats are a thing in the fantasy novels I’m writing, if not widespread. My world contains some critters that are extinct today and others that are amalgams of extinct ones. There’s a certain Pleistocene feel to parts of my continent. And at one extreme are critters called rakka. They’re the last (at least on this continent) surviving land dinosaurs. They’re ill-tempered natural predators the size of a horse and can be ridden by someone slightly built, though hard to raise. But they’ve had to evolve to hold their own against mammals that have become ascendant. They’ve become warm-blooded omnivores which is evident in their jaws and teeth. They’ve also become at least as intelligent as wolves and operate in packs.

Rhora followed Caeffel into the tavern, with Adif behind. The sun had recently set, and they found many of what she presumed to be off-duty soldiers already inside. However, as soon as they entered, one approached and led them to an empty table near the center.

The evening began smoothly, with idle talk and ale Rhora found particularly good. Three men played various melodies from a corner and Caeffel struck up a conversation with some soldiers about life in Falconreach.

She recalled what Caeffel had told her and couldn’t resist, turning to a graying soldier. “Tell me, has anyone here ever seen a saber-toothed cat? A big one?”

By mute reply the man pointed to a far corner and her jaw dropped when she saw the mounted head. “Only half the lookouts we send, lass,” he said. “You don’t travel west alone if you wish to live long, and you watch those trees around you. If one jumps on you, you’re finished.”

Adif had overheard and turned to him. “And east of here?”

“We kill every one we find that side of the mountains,” the man said. “Can’t have them killing our families, now, can we? But the ones in the west? They’re as much a danger to enemies as they are to us, so we leave them alone.”