"These wild horses… they should be Przewalski's horses, right?"
Jas watched the herd carefully as they thundered across the plains. They looked very similar to modern dostic horses, with brownish-yellow coats and sturdy builds. These horses usually lived in grasslands and harsh environnts, often moving in large groups. When they ran, they ford long lines, one after another, creating a powerful and organized movent. During the Pleistocene, North Arica had several species of horses, but most of them eventually went extinct.
Only Przewalski's horses managed to survive into later tis. Seeing thousands of them galloping together like this was sothing else entirely.
This ti, Mom and Dad didn't leave. Instead, their eyes locked onto the herd with clear intent, and Jas imdiately understood why.
Compared to animals like bison or mammoths, these horses were easier prey. They weren't as aggressive, and they didn't run as fast as pronghorn antelopes, making them one of the more suitable targets for saber-toothed tigers. After the herd slowed down, they began spreading out across the grassland in smaller groups, so alone and others in groups of three or five. This was exactly the mont predators waited for.
Mom lowered her head slightly and made a soft sound toward Jas. He understood imdiately—she wanted him to join the hunt.
A small spark of excitent rose in his chest. This ant his ability had finally been acknowledged. Zack and Zoe, on the other hand, were left behind. They simply weren't ready yet. Jas didn't let that distract him. He followed Mom and Dad closely, carefully observing every movent, knowing there was still a lot he needed to learn.
The first step was choosing the right target. Mom and Dad lay low in the tall grass, their eyes scanning the scattered horses. No matter the predator, there was always one simple rule—catch the easiest prey with the lowest risk. In simple terms, pick the weak one. They didn't look at the strongest or healthiest horses. Those were too dangerous and required too much effort. Instead, they focused on individuals that stood out for the wrong reasons—old, injured, weak, or thin. It didn't take long before they found their target: a limping horse.
Even after choosing the target, they didn't act imdiately. The next step was judging the wind direction, which was just as important as selecting the prey itself. Many herbivores had an extrely sharp sense of sll, and if a predator approached from the wrong direction, its scent would give everything away instantly. In open terrain like this, where the wind constantly shifted, it beca even more critical. Jas watched closely as Mom and Dad judged the wind based on the movent of the grass and the way their fur shifted. They were currently positioned upwind, aning their scent wouldn't reach the horses, but they stayed alert, ready to adjust if the wind changed.
The final step was choosing the hunting thod. Saber-toothed tigers mainly relied on two approaches—ambush or stalking. Ambush ant staying hidden and waiting for prey to co close, while stalking ant slowly closing the distance before attacking.
In this situation, the choice was obvious. These horses were extrely alert, and any sudden movent could send them running. Ambush was the safer option.
After observing the surroundings, Mom and Dad seed to predict the path the horses would take. They moved into position, and Jas followed them into a patch of dense grass. All three of them lowered their bodies and remained completely still. They didn't stay together in one spot either. Instead, they ford a triangular formation—Dad at the front, with Mom and Jas positioned on either side behind him. It was a coordinated setup, clearly ant to block escape routes.
Not far away, the small group of horses continued grazing as they slowly moved forward. Ti passed, and the sky gradually darkened as evening approached. Jas could feel his limbs starting to ache from staying in position for so long.
For a mont, he felt the urge to relax, but when he glanced at Mom and Dad, both of them remained completely focused and motionless. He forced himself to stay still. A good hunter needed patience—there was no shortcut around that.
Then, suddenly, Dad shifted slightly. It was a small movent, but it was enough. His body lifted just a little, and the muscles in his limbs tightened instantly. Jas's focus sharpened.
The target was close. The group of horses had unknowingly walked straight toward the ambush point. At the front, a male horse lifted its head and sniffed the air cautiously, clearly on guard. But the conditions were perfect.
Dark clouds covered the sky, the air was heavy with moisture, and the wind direction remained in their favor. Their scent stayed hidden. The horses, eager to feed before the rain, continued moving forward without realizing the danger.
Closer… closer…
Jas locked onto the target.
The limping horse had stepped directly into the kill zone.
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