Number 13 plowed his way throught vast drifts of snow as he patrolled the edge of his territory.  Food was now increasingly scarce, although fortunately he and some of his older cubs had happened upon a small hollow where several Seekers were huddled, sheltering from the snow.  They had killed three on the spot, and crippled the rest, to keep them from escaping.  But these would not last long, given the ravenous appetites of his and Number 12's offspring.  

Stranglervine was available for the females in the feral pack to subsist on, but the older feral cubs rarely partook of it, even in emergency situations.  They preferred the warm energon of a freshly-killed Seeker.

Most of the other prey species were burrowed deep under the snow, in burrows or makeshift tunnels in the drifts themselves.  Occasionally Number 12, Number 13, or the more industrious cubs would dig out small creatures in the snow to eat.  But the larger creatures seemed to have moved on.  Forest-antelope had migrated to join their plains brethren further south.  Most of the feral Seeker-herds had also moved to warmer areas.  Some had not, but they soon discovered what folly it had been to remain.  Numerous carcasses of Feral Seekers, adults and cubs, had been felled by starvation that winter, and thus scavenged by the feral Sweeps.  And Number 13 found just such a carcass that moment.

The motionless Seeker had collapsed not 300 yards from a patch of stranglervine.  Many of the plants in the area were deciduous, and the loss of the leaves over the winter had put a severe strain on the available food supply for the herds.  Some had taken to stripping the bark off dormant trees in desperation.  Number 13 approached the fallen prey, latching onto a foot and dragging the carcass back with him to the den.  The cubs would need every scrap to survive on.

***

Slash and his pack eventually cleared out some of the snow around the den, and since successive snow accumulations were rather sparse, it ended up not being a waste of time to do so.  This made things easier for the cubs, who went hunting like usual.  Small rodents had made burrows in snow in the surrounding area, and the cubs eagerly caught them.  The adults went to the Plains to hunt, since the scarcity of prey in the immediate vicinity was of particular concern to the Pack-Leader.

Young Scourge and the other cubs sat up and eagerly waited.  Several pack members had brought in a large Plains Buffalo, after considerable effort.  Some of the hunters displayed visible scrapes from the horns and hooves of the beasts.  As always, Slash fed first, then the other adults.  Finally Slash nodded at the cubs and they were allowed to partake of their share.

"We will have to be careful," Slash was saying to Number 7 and Number 10, "Autobot patrols seem to have been extended to the area between our territory and the Plains.  We must take care that they do not spot us flying."

"That means detecting them before they can see us.  A simple enough task in the forest," Number 10 replied, "But the chance of them seeing us on the Plains at the same time that we detect them is quite significant."

"Indeed.  We may have to stay on the ground on the plains, or land in the forest first before proceeding, to ensure we are not seen in the air," Slash stated.

Number 5 went up to Slash, concern etched on his bearded visage.  He'd been out on patrol in the northern sector of the territory.  "My Pack-Leader, prey in this area is very scarce now.  And the Seekers have scattered, and most have left the northern reaches entirely, passing through our territory to do so.  We may have to expect invasion attempts by our feral brethren as they pursue the prey into our domain."

"I have considered that possibility," Slash stated.

***

Autobot patrols diminished because of the deep snow—it was difficult to plow through, especially in vehicle modes.  Most only followed established trails now, where snow was sparse or tramped down to form a pathway.  Although they saw tracks of both feral Sweeps and Seekers, the creatures were even more elusive than before.

Kup looked up at the sky.  It had turned quite grey and a few flakes were floating out of the clouds.  "I think we'd better get back to base," he grumbled, "I have a feeling we're in for a doozy of a storm."

Several of the Autobots accompanying him nodded in agreement, turning and following the Patrol Leader back to camp.  Halfway there, they found the carcass of a feral Seeker.  Although they'd found many carcasses that had been felled by Feral Sweeps, this one had not a mark on it.

"I wonder what happened to him," one of the other Autobots murmured.

"Eh, probably starved to death," Kup stated, "I'm not surprised.  There's hardly any food left for them around here."

They did not see the two glowing red optics hidden in the trees nearby.  When they'd gone out of sight of the carcass, a Feral Sweepcub pounced on the convenient meal.

***

Claw had dug around in the snow that had remained in his enclosure, and currently some Autobots were affixing a full removable roof to his enclosure to keep any further snow out—and thus keep him from escaping.  He'd already figured out that he could pack snow down and stand on it, and tried to get out of his enclosure with the amount of snow he had left.  Fortunately it was not near enough, and Perceptor intended to keep it that way.  While the work was being completed, the feral Sweepcub took a nap in his burrow, which he'd had to empty of snow.  

Unlike his feral brethren, who were at the mercy of the elements and the availability of prey, Claw was managing quite well.  The Autobots fed him regularly, although he still kept his hunting instincts.  He had no idea how tough this winter was on his wild siblings.

***

The winter ended up being longer and harsher than anyone had expected.  While Slash and his pack had ready access to various alternate food sources, both the feral Sweeps and Seekers were on the brink of total starvation.  By the time all the snow had melted, and spring returned, only a few feral Sweeps had enough energy to go hunting.  Most of the cubs that had survived stayed in their dens while Number 12 and Number 13 brought them their meals.  Several feral cubs had perished towards the end of the season.  As a result, the Autobots found several of the remains.  They were taken back to base and given to Perceptor for dissection and study.

To Perceptor's horror, not all of the Sweep cub remains were intact.  Most had been gnawed on to some degree or another, no doubt by their own.  Fortunately at least one was untouched.  Here was an opportunity to take one of the mysterious creatures completely apart.  He hadn't wanted to do so with Claw, because he wanted to observe the creature's live behavior.

First he decontaminated the remains, to remove all traces of harmful nanites.  Then he stored the ones he wasn't examining in a storage locker.  

Ultra Magnus walked into the Lab.  "Getting anywhere?" he asked.

"This is most disturbing," Perceptor replied, "Although all of these creatures perished of fatal energon depletion, there is evidence that something fed on some of them after they had deactivated.

"They were that desperate, eh?" Ultra Magnus remarked, shaking his head.

***

Slash and three of his most trusted packmates were reinforcing their claim on the territorial line bordering their domain with that of Number 13's when they came upon their own gruesome sight.  Partial remains of a Sweepcub, perhaps no older than Slash's youngest cub, was lying on the ground just over the border.  
Slash needed only take one sniff to realize what had happened.  "So, lacking fuel, they turned on each other," he stated.  For unlike the starved cubs the Autobots had found, this one had clearly been deliberately killed.  From the position of the body, it looked like the desperate victim had been fleeing pursuit when he was caught.  It was impossible to say whether he was unable to escape because of his own lack of energy, or whether his attackers were swift enough to run him down--or had taken him by surprise.

"I knew they would hunt us, if given the opportunity, but this…" Number 7 said, and shuddered.

***

Word quickly spread to the young Sweepcubs in Slash's pack of the discovery that had been made of the mauled feral Sweepcub.  It served as warning that the feral Pack would even turn on their own, if desperate enough.  That was certainly more than enough convincing the most curious of cubs needed to stay away from the territory of Number 13.

Young Scourge led the cub pack to the Quickling hunting grounds.  Since spring had come, the little beasts had emerged from hiding to take advantage of the new growth.  And they had multiplied during the winter.  The larger prey animals had not yet migrated back into the area, so a Quickling breakfast would have to do.  Likely a Quickling Lunch, as well.  It wasn't very challenging, but Quicklings were tasty.  And Scourge hadn't had any since the first snowfall.

***

The feral Pack was having trouble recovering from the harsh winter, as they had quickly depleted their food supplies.  Number 12 and Number 13 were forced far afield to feed themselves and their offspring.  Only a few Quicklings were available to be hunted in that area.

Number 13's eldest cub led the hunt for more Seekers.  Some had just started to return to their territory, and one was lagging behind its herd.  Number 13's eldest charged, knocking the Seeker down and seizing its throat in his jaws.  He was nearly half his father's size now, and very strong.  The Seeker tried to pry his attacker off, but the predator clamped down harder the more the prey struggled.  The others moved in to help hold the much larger Seeker down.

When the prey stopped moving, Number 13's eldest growled at his packmates, although most of them had already backed off by the time the Seeker stopped struggling.  He then began feasting, taking almost half of the kill for himself before allowing the others to partake.  

During the winter, Number 13's eldest had used his position among the feral cubs to keep himself mostly well-fed.  His actions, however, had indirectly cost several of the youngest cubs their lives, either by starvation, or by the desperate younger cubs being forced to attack each other to survive.  Number 13's eldest paid those no heed.

Number 12 and Number 13 finally found a sufficient supply of food, and moved the den and the cubs so they could best exploit it.  Luckily for Number 12 and Number 13's mates, there were also several healthy clumps of Stranglervine in the area.  It would then be a simple matter to replace the cubs that had perished in the winter.

***

"You've gotten bigger," Cyclonus commented.

"So have you," Scourge replied.  The two had noticed a growth spurt in each other over the time that they'd last seen each other.  It had grown less frequent, since the petrorabbit infestation had been dealt with.

Scourge's half-brothers were old enough to come along this time, to Chaar.  None of them could speak yet, but they meekly followed Scourge around.  Cyclonus was surprised at their eagerness to comply with their elder brother.

"So you're their leader, now?" Cyclonus asked.  Scourge nodded.

The cubs followed Cyclonus and Scourge around until they found the abandoned, burned-out nest that had once contained hellfire ants.  Scourge sniffed and found absolutely no signs of life.  One of the younger cubs detected an instability in the soil and began digging.  Soon he'd broken through to a massive pitted chamber.  His brothers joined him, eagerly hollowing the nest out.

"So you want to build a den, do you?" Scourge asked his siblings.  They all nodded.  "Alright, then that's what we'll do."  He joined in the digging, while Cyclonus stood nearby and watched.

The nest proved to be larger than the younger cubs had imagined, and the myriad small interwoven tunnels made excavating incredibly easy.  In no time at all the Sweepcubs had hollowed out several large den chambers.  And down in the depths of the nest, the Sweeps discovered the reason for the nest location.  It was directly above a hot spring.  They detected the heat, and a bit of dampness in the air, although they stopped short of actually digging right to the heated water itself.  Once they were satisfied and had removed all the excess soil, the three young cubs flopped down on the sandy floor of their new den and had a nap.

Scourge curled up next to them.  "A most suitable den site," he purred.  Cyclonus climbed down into the den and explored each chamber before joining them.

***

Slash found the Sweepcubs and Cyclonus still resting in their new makeshift den when it was time to go.  "Well, it looks like you put this former Hellfire-ant nest to good use," he remarked.  The youngsters made no protest at having to leave, although they did look longingly at their new playground as they were picked up and placed in Number 3 and Number 6's cargo holds.  Scourge was carried alone by Slash, since he was so much larger than his brothers.

Upon returning home, Scourge felt a change in his systems.  Previously, he'd never attempted flight.  But now, he found he could activate antigravs and rise up into the air.  Slash observed and smiled.  "I suppose it is now time to teach you how to fly, my son."

Young Scourge resettled on the ground, letting his antigravs power down gradually.  "Yes, please, teach me," he said.

"And I wonder, if you can also transform as well," Slash mused, "If you can fly, it is reasonable to assume your transform circuits would be functional.  Perhaps I should teach you that first."  The Pack Leader began shifting his forms, demonstrating slowly what transforming entailed.  Scourge had seen it many times, but Slash's habit was to transform as quickly as possible.  "Now you try it."

Scourge tried to visualize in his processor how to mimic what his father had just done.  Slowly, steadily, his wings folded around him and joined.  His head retreated into his chest until only his headcannon was visible.  And soon, he was a miniature version of his father's Sweepcraft mode—approximately half the size of a regular Sweepcraft.  He was absolutely dwarfed by his father's massive form, however.

"Excellent," Slash rumbled approvingly, "Now, can you shift your form back?"

The small Sweepcraft split apart, slowly reshaping itself into young Scourge's robotic form.  Once he'd completed the transformation sequence, he flexed his wings.  

"Well, now that we've established that you can transform, I think I can teach you how to fly."  Slash rose up on his own antigravs, and Scourge followed, activating his and matching his father's ascent.  "It is not enough to know how to turn on your antigrav units," Slash continued, "You must learn the secret of controlled flight.  It would not do for you to fly into a tree, or a mountainside.  So we shall take this slowly, to make certain you can maintain equilibrium."

Young Scourge nodded.  His fuel pump felt like it was about to burst from excitement.  He was learning to fly!

"Once you have learned to fly in this form, you will be better equipped to fly in your alternate mode," Slash said.

"I understand," Scourge replied.

***

The other Sweepcubs were fascinated at the sight of Scourge's flying lessons.  Most of them could not yet fly, although Number 9's first litter seemed to be close to being capable of learning.  The eldest of them smoldered in jealousy, growing more sullen than he already was.

Young Scourge was a quick learner, and soon was able to control his direction and speed in flight.  After a few weeks of practice in learning to control his antigravs, Slash deemed him ready to learn how to fly in Sweepcraft mode.  He started out by hovering in the air, then transforming.  Scourge watched his father hovering in midair in vehicle mode, and then copied him.  

"Now, you must learn to control your engines," Slash stated, and powered up his ion drives.  Slowly he inched forward, as an example.  Scourge soon figured out how to do the same.  All that day, Slash carefully showed Scourge the capabilities of his new form.

Both Sweeps were ravenous after the flying lessons, and Scourge noticed he was even more hungry and in need of fuel when he flew and when he used his alternate mode.  Fortunately, the Pack had brought in two Terrabore carcasses for dinner, and when Scourge's turn came to feed, he dug in as if he hadn't eaten in days.

"So you see why we do not often fly, or use our other forms," Slash said to Scourge, "While useful, it consumes a great deal of our fuel.  Thus we mostly use it in times of great need or emergency."

"And we wouldn't want to deplete the amount of prey, right?" Scourge asked.

"Exactly," Slash replied, "Now you may fly as much as you like, but make certain you can sustain it.  You will learn how much fuel you need.  You are smaller, and perhaps do not use as much fuel as would I."

The younger cubs were listening, of course.  The lessons given to Scourge would benefit them, when it was their turn to be taught.  The youngest ones even found a way to wordlessly beg Scourge to carry them while he flew.  He occasionally indulged their wishes so that they would be able to experience being in the air.  Other times he would shake his head and say, "Soon, my brother.  Soon you will be able to do this yourself."

***

It was not long before Number 9's oldest cub discovered how to fly.  Although it mainly fell to Scourge to keep track of him, Slash and Number 9 both helped teach control of antigravs and how to keep one's equilibrium.  Soon after, the other two cubs of the same litter were flying as well.  This made for some difficulties in keeping the cub pack together, since the ones who could not yet fly couldn't move anywhere near as fast.  And Number 9's eldest had a bad habit of taking off suddenly, and usually Scourge and one of his brothers had to chase him down.  He never went very far, but Scourge always pursued, lest someone catch sight of him, such as the Autobots.  If anything would draw suspicion about the Sweeps, it would be seeing them in flight.  One time as Scourge caught up, he felt a flutter of panic in his fuel pump.  He tackled his wingsib in midair, forcing him down, and growling at him to get him to remain quiet.  A small Autobot patrol was nearby, and the Sweepcubs stayed motionless in the tree canopy, watching and waiting for them to pass.  They were not spotted.  Scourge noted that they were on the very southeastern boundary of the territory, not far from the territory of the Feral Sweeps.  A stale, musty odor permeated the area, indicating that the Ferals had once again not been keeping their boundary markings fresh.  Perhaps regular Autobot patrols had forced them further north.

Once the danger of discovery was gone, Scourge leaped down from the tree and made his way back to the den, with his errant charge in tow.  If it came to blows, Scourge would be dragging him back by his collar by the time all was said and done.

Emerald greeted the two cubs as they returned, giving each of them a length of stranglervine that she'd gathered earlier.  Some of the younger cubs were around her, following her like a group of lost puppies.  Scourge eagerly gnawed on his, while Number 9's eldest chewed slowly, in his sullen way.

Even after Number 9's eldest was capable of speaking, he seldom did so.  It was something Scourge could never figure out.  And yet a silent, constant rage was evident in the cub's glowing ruby optics.  At first, Scourge thought maybe the lack of ability to speak was partially responsible.  But now it was clear that whatever the problem was, Number 9's eldest was stubbornly suffering in silence.  Scourge didn't understand it—the issue of dominance had been settled long ago.  That should have ended the problem.  But perhaps Number 9's eldest had a problem with pride.  

***

Food had become scarce in the southern reaches of Number 13's territory, forcing the Feral Sweeps further north and east.  Although Autobots passed through their territory, the ferals did not attack them.  Instead, they stayed hidden, knowing instinctively through their sense of smell that the carcasses would be foul-tasting.  Number 13 occasionally had a passing desire to kill one merely for sport, but there were always too many around to make a sneak attack like that feasible.  Given the weapons that the patrols carried, even a feral Sweep could figure out that an attack was too big a risk to take.  So instead, the hunters slunk into the shadows and went in search of prey.

***

Perceptor was amazed at how much Claw had grown during the winter.  Of course, it had been quite a long and harsh winter, although the Autobots had kept him quite well-fed.  Some burrowing creatures had taken up shelter in Claw's enclosure during the winter, and when spring came they provided the Sweepcub with a readily exploited food source, over and above his energon rations.

One thing that the Autobots noticed was although the feral Sweepcub was playful in the snow, his activity levels decreased dramatically when the temperature dropped quite a bit lower from what he was accustomed to.  It was as though he was trying to conserve fuel in order to keep warm.

Perceptor noted all the behavioral changes with interest, especially those that seemed to be brought on by temperature differentials.  However, he also found through experimentation that Claw could become accustomed to very low temperatures, if given time to adapt.  He also found that Claw was more interested in digging when it was colder.  That was probably due to the fact that prey was more likely to be in burrows then.

The Autobot scientist made regular experiments to test the growing Sweepcub's strength.  He was amazed at how powerful the little creature was for his size.  His jaw strength was measured at a level that was strong enough to crush the thin armor of a Transformer's neck, and he was able to drag a weight equivalent to that of a heavy minibot.

"Do you think he'll eventually become strong enough to break out of his enclosure?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"Perhaps," Perceptor replied, "We may need to reinforce it, just to be certain.  If he gets loose, there's no telling what kind of damage he could do."

***

Slash smelled a peculiarly different scent in the direction of the Autobot base.  It was distant, having been carried on the wind, but it was unmistakable—the fresh odor of Sweep.  And this despite the fact that the territorial scent markings of Number 13's pack had gone unrefreshed for months.  Yet the scent was clearly one of Number 12 or Number 13's offspring.  It puzzled him greatly why he would only be smelling one, and in that direction.  Had it been cast out from the others?  Well, whatever had happened, the scent was clearly from a source too distant to be of any immediate threat or concern.

***

Number 8 and Number 10 were out on patrol when they heard a soft, high-pitched whimpering.  They went to investigate, and found a small female Autobot cub at the bottom of a small pit.  She had apparently fallen in and could not climb out.  Number 8 reached down and picked her up, pulling her out.

"I wonder where she came from," Number 10 wondered aloud.

"We should take her to the den, and see what is to be done with her," Number 8 decided, "Whether she is the offspring of a Seeker, or of one of our Feral Brethren, she will likely have the plague of madness."

The female Autobot cub relaxed and curled up in Number 8's grasp, so it seemed likely that she had indeed been a result of a union between a Feral Sweep and a female Autobot.  But what she was doing out here, outside the ferals' territory, was a mystery.

Emerald was given charge of the female Autobot cub, and when Slash returned from hunting, his two subordinates told him everything.  Slash stroked his beard thoughtfully.  "If she were to be cured from the madness, she would be able to live a normal life," he mused.  He looked over at Emerald.  "Can your friends cure this one of the madness?" he asked, pointing at the cub.

Emerald nodded.

"Then it is settled.  I shall take the cub myself, to the Autobot camp.  Hopefully it is not too late," Slash murmured.

After the Sweeps had fed, and the female Autobot cub had been given some stranglervine, Slash gently picked her up in his jaws and made his way east.  That way, if he was spotted by an Autobot patrol, they would take him for a Feral Sweep, and he'd drop the cub and run.  But he hoped to be stealthy enough to avoid being seen.  For her part, the Autobot cub relaxed—much like Sweepcubs did when they were being carried in that manner.  She did not make a sound.

It did not take long for Slash to reach his destination.  He gingerly stepped out of the forest into the clearing that led to the Autobot encampment.  His senses told him where the nearest Autobots were, and he used whatever cover was available to sneak closer to the base.  Some shrubbery had grown up in the clearing since he'd last been there, so it was not very difficult to dart between bushes and clumps of young saplings.  He gently put his cargo down in an area where she'd be very easily discovered.  Then he departed quickly, although being just as careful leaving as he was arriving.  And he had timed it perfectly.  As soon as he was in the forest, he heard the whimpering of the female Autobot cub.  And the Autobots had as well.  Shouts of "Someone get Perceptor!" and "Where'd she come from?" echoed to the Sweep.  Slash sighed, satisfied that he had done the right thing, and headed back home.

***

"How is she?" Ultra Magnus inquired.  Perceptor was examining the female Autobot cub that had just been brought in by some sentries.

"She is in reasonably good condition," Perceptor replied, "Despite there being few sources of energon in the area, she is fully fuelled.  I also examined her processor, to determine if she is infected by the processor-destroying nanites, and indeed she is.  So as soon as I finish up here, I will give her the treatment and then reconnect any severed linkages."

"Any theories on where she came from?" Ultra Magnus wanted to know.

"I would have to run cybergenetic analysis to be certain, but I think there is a high probability that she's either the offspring of one of those feral Seekers, or those strange Decepticon predators."

"Well, let me know as soon as you find out.  When she's awake, I have found someone who will take care of her," Ultra Magnus stated.

***

The Sweeps of Slash's pack, notably the cubs, were reassured that the female Autobot cub was in good hands.  "She is one of theirs," Slash had told them, "They will treat her well."

For his part, young Scourge was relieved.  The dangers of the woods or the plains were great, and survival was certainly not guaranteed, either among the Feral Sweeps or the Feral Seekers.  

***

The female Autobot that was assigned to caring for the female Autobot cub found that her new charge liked to move about on all fours even after Perceptor cured the nanites and corrected her balance center.  But then, of course, most young Transformers started off crawling.  Some just did it longer than others.  And she was curious about everything.  Her caregiver had to keep a constant watch to make sure she didn't get into everything.  She even found a way to try to get at things that were placed well out of her reach.  Perceptor assessed her intelligence and found the little female cub to be quite bright.

"So then if she's cured, she'll have a normal life?" the Autobot-nanny asked Perceptor.

"Hopefully," he replied, "We will have to wait and see."

***

It didn't take long for the female Autobot cub to become accustomed to walking bipedally.  She began attempting to speak a few weeks after she was cured.  Ultra Magnus didn't think it was a good idea to introduce her to the other young Autobots in the base until she started forming complete sentences.  After all, she only started talking recently, when at her age if the madness had not struck her, she should have been speaking for at least a year or two.

Perceptor had thoroughly examined her cyber codes and discovered something interesting. Although the female cub's code markers shared commonalities with Claw, there seemed to be hidden code within the code itself.  And the Autobot Scientist was having difficulty in trying to study it, as it quickly hid itself again once it was exposed.  Even revealing the hidden sequences was difficult—it took extreme measures to reveal it and it was discovered purely by accident.  This was most perplexing and Perceptor had no idea what to make of it.

For her part, the female Autobot cub integrated well with the other youngsters, and they had no idea as to her origins.  Nor did they ask.  They just assumed that she was from one of the new arrivals.

***

Quintesson Journal 2175 Epsilon.  We have discovered that the feral Sweeps have increased dramatically in number, far more than we could have hoped.  It seems that they have depleted their food supply, so it seems we must remedy the situation.  We are releasing more Feral Seekers to the planet, and also we will be capturing some of the Feral Sweep cubs, and keeping those we deem to have desirable traits.

An alien poacher, hired to capture feral Sweepcubs, came into the Quintesson Scientist's Laboratory.  He held a net with five squirming cubs.

"Excellent, oh, Excellent," the Scientist enthused, "Bring them over here."  He pointed with a tentacle at a small cell that was used to hold test subjects for experimentation and observation.  The top of the cell opened, and the cubs were unceremoniously unloaded inside.  Once they'd untangled themselves from each other, the feral Sweepcubs hissed at their captor.  One of them tried to take a swipe at the Quintesson through the bars.  "These will do nicely," the Scientist added.  "Now, as to your payment…"  He tossed the poacher a small bag filled with credits.  "Bring me more, and I will double that."

The Alien nodded, and quickly exited.

***

The Autobots came across less and less evidence of the Feral Sweeps, but suddenly there seemed to be a tremendous boost in the numbers of both Feral Seekers and females.  And some appeared to be Decepticon Seeker females.  Not very many, though.  And they were very skittish, and rarely observed.  Besides brief glimpses by Autobot survey teams and patrols, the only other evidence was the stripped vegetation in several areas, as well as a rebound in the population of feral Seeker cubs soon afterwards.  They had no idea that the Quintessons were releasing the new adults.  In fact, they weren't even aware of the Quintessons or their part in this.


Live poaching of feral Sweepcubs seemed to even out the number of competitors among Number 12 and Number 13's offspring.  With the sudden influx of new food sources, the feral pack slowly made its way back to their original range to take advantage of it.


Slash soon grew aware that the feral pack had returned to the immediate vicinity, and he made certain that his own territorial border was quite secure.  Some of Number 12 and Number 13's cubs were as big as Scourge, and highly dangerous.  Slash had seen a small group of the oldest cubs hunting a Seeker, while he was patrolling from the air.  Even though the feral Seeker was much larger than the cubs, the dominant cub in the group was able to dispatch the prey pretty much singlehandedly.  The others waited for their share while the lead hunter fed.


Slash had occasionally flown over Feral Sweep territory in order to determine their location and movements.  He did so carefully, so that no Autobots were around to see him.  The feral Sweeps could not fly, and so he was able to safely observe them.  He did notice the sudden appearance of new adult Feral Seekers.  Idly he wondered if the Masters had released them here.

***

Slash occasionally found what appeared to be abandoned female Autobot cubs.  Only a very few, and some had the scent of Seekers hanging about them.  The Pack-Leader surmised that the herd they originated from had been decimated and the survivors must have fled too quickly to save themselves.  He took each and every one of them to the Autobot base, taking care not to be discovered while he was dropping them off.  And he ensured that the drop locations did not form a pattern, so that the Autobots would not come to expect him the next time he was leaving a female Autobot cub with them.  


The younger Sweepcubs wondered why they were giving away all the female cubs.  Those old enough to voice their curiosity said so, and Slash told them that they had to be cured of their madness and the Autobots were the only ones who could accomplish that.  He understood their disappointment that they were not kept there to play with them.  And additionally, Slash also knew, but did not tell the youngsters, that if any of the females were to be potential mates in the future for the young Sweeps when they grew up, it was best if they were not raised with them.
For their part, the Autobots thought the abandoned female Autobot cubs were due to the stresses placed on the feral Seekers and feral Sweeps—especially due to the previous harsh winter.  But why females only, they couldn't figure out.  


It seemed strange to Slash as well, given the rarity of females in general, and female cubs especially.


Quintesson Journal 2774 Sigma.  A concerted effort to separate some female cubs from their respective origins has proven to have interesting results.  Any females found by the sentient pack find their way to the Autobot base, where they are cured of the nanite infestation.  While not precisely what we had in mind, it nonetheless may prove beneficial in the long run.  They can always be reinfected later.

***

Summer came to the planet, after a mostly uneventful spring.  And the lengthening days brought with them an increase in the amount of feral Sweepcubs, in response to the sudden influx of feral Seekers.  Fortunately, plant growth had been phenomenal in the spring, so the Seekers had plenty to eat.  The hunger that resulted from the harsh winter was already forgotten.


The Autobots had started to explore further south for energy sources, finding nothing of consequence in the area bordering Slash's territory and the territory of the Feral Sweep pack.  Perceptor had some samples of stranglervine brought in for study after a feral Seeker was observed consuming some.  There were clumps of the vines near the Autobot camp, enough to be considered emergency rations.  However he determined that large-scale extraction of energon from the vines wasn't feasible and might deplete the food of the creatures in the area too greatly.


It had long since been determined that the Feral Seekers posed no threat.  They invariably fled when approached, and never once did a group of them attack either Autobot patrols or survey teams, despite the fact that the groups of Seekers sometimes vastly outnumbered a small Autobot patrol group.  The memory of being attacked in previous years was too strong in the older feral Seekers, and they taught their young by example.


Slash was relieved when he discovered that his feral brethren were no longer in immediate danger of starvation.  This would put fewer pressures on the organic prey that his own Pack depended on for survival.  


He did however, notice that the new Seekers that appeared in the area had a foreign scent on them, as though they had been dumped there, much like the Cyber-buffalo of the Plains.  This disturbed him, but he had no idea as to the extent of the problem.  He did, however, make up his mind to try to put a stop to the practice of feralizing Transformers, when he could.


That night, Slash had another strange dream of the Void.  Swirling purplish dark clouds, like a strange nebula, began forming around him.  This was the only light source.  A sound much like a low growl echoed through his mind.  And then there was the Voice.


You are mine, it said simply.  


The Sweep awoke suddenly, panting as if his systems were on overdrive.  He looked over at Scourge, who was curled up sleeping nearby.  The cub was fast asleep.  Slash felt a premonition that whoever it was that was talking to him in his dream was a distinct threat to the Sweeps—and especially to Scourge.

***

The others tried to reassure Slash that his dream was nothing more than a nightmare.  But the Pack-Leader was not so certain.  Something about the dream felt more than just a collection of his own random processings rearranging themselves.  The rest of the Pack had had no similar dreams.


Emerald was helping keep an eye on the younger Sweepcubs, so Scourge would often take the older cubs hunting while the youngest ones stayed near the den.  But sometimes Emerald would show Scourge and the older cubs some very important things, like which plants were dangerous even to Transformers.  It was fortunate that she'd retained that knowledge from when she was with the feral Seeker herd.  In very short order, Emerald was able to pass what she knew on to the cubs.  There was even a plant that if ingested, would help purge a fuel tank if something harmful had been accidentally consumed.  There was also one that would induce temporary motor paralysis, but was otherwise harmless.  Emerald used this sometimes to calm down and immobilize a Sweep or Sweepcub that had damaged himself and needed repairs, so that Pandora or one of the adult Sweeps could operate without the patient squirming.


Number 10 and several others had been busy working on a long deep tunnel that led from the den to an isolated area, as a sort of emergency escape tunnel.  This would provide a fast and hidden getaway if their den was discovered by hostile strangers.  Slash had agreed that this was an excellent idea, although he hoped that they'd never have to use it.  He'd grown quite attached to the area that he had chosen as their living quarters, and the thought of having to abandon it suddenly, perhaps never to return, bothered him greatly.  It took a long time to complete the tunnel, given the distance involved and the fact that they needed to make it large enough for even Slash to pass through it—though on all fours.  It started in one of the side burrows that wasn't plainly visible from the den site, in one of the back chambers.  This way, it would not be immediately discovered.  However, Slash had a tunnel to that burrow from his own den, in case he had to flee without exiting his burrow.

***

Number 7 awoke suddenly.  He had just come out of a dream that was most peculiar, but strangely resembled a dream that Slash had mentioned having.  A swirling purple nebula in otherwise utter blackness, and a threatening deep rumble or murmur seemed to echo through his mind.  Rushing to Slash's Den, he shook his Pack-Leader awake.


Slash awoke, and gazed up at his brother.  "What is it?" he asked sleepily.


"I have had a dream, much like one you yourself described having," Number 7 said, "Complete with the sound of a deep growl.  Perhaps you are right—your dreams are not ordinary.  A premonition of some sort, perhaps?"


Slash rubbed his beard.  "It may be," he said, "Or it quite possibly be some sort of entity trying to contact me, and the only way it can do so is through my dreams.  Whatever it is, it feels…evil.  I want nothing to do with it."


Over the course of the next few days, other pack members related having the same kind of dream.  Slash was then fully convinced that this was no coincidence.  Someone, or something, was deliberately trying to send a message.  Fortunately, Scourge and the cubs seemed immune.  Slash was relieved when he discovered the cubs had not had any nightmares lately, nor dreams of the nature the Pack had been having.  This was stress they didn't need.

***

Time passed, and the Sweepcubs continued to mature.  But young Scourge hadn't realized how much until on one trip to Chaar, Cyclonus had looked at his face with a raised optic brow and asked what was on it.  Scourge went to look at his reflection and saw the beginnings of a small goatee growing on his chin.  Slash walked over, and chuckled.  "So, you are maturing," the Pack-Leader remarked, "Soon you will be an adult, and ready to take your place in the upper echelons of the Pack itself."


Scourge and Cyclonus were both half-grown at this point, and they both started noticing, besides Scourge's sudden sprouting of facial "hair", that each other's voices were getting deeper.  Scourge also noted that the three eldest of Number 9's offspring were showing signs of the beginnings of "cyber-puberty".  Number 9's eldest almost looked like he wanted to challenge Scourge again for dominance.  But he always backed down before it came to blows.  But something was clearly seething under the surface.


Slash told the cubs that upon full maturation, they would be allowed to take a series of tests known as the Trial of the Hunt.  He did not elaborate on what the Trial would entail, but stated that they would be told what they must do when the time came.


"If Scourge passes the Trials, will he still lead the cubs?" Number 9's third cub asked.


"He will still have authority over you, but a new cub-pack leader will have to be selected," Slash replied, "For when any of you, Scourge included, join the pack as full members, you will have to go out in patrol groups and may sometimes be gone for days at a time.  The cub pack will then need a leader that is with them at all times."

***

The Feral Sweep population explosion-in response to the influx of new food sources—was not yet placing a strain on the food supply.  The oldest cubs found even adult Feral Seekers relatively easy prey, probably due to the lack of fear initially in the new herds.  But they soon learned that the sight or scent of a Sweep meant death—and those that did not, paid for that mistake with their lives.  At least the population of Quicklings had rebounded nicely, as had the forest antelope.  The organic creatures were the primary prey of Slash's pack, although the feral Sweep pack members sometimes resorted to hunting organics.


So far, no Autobot had been attacked by a feral Sweep, although Ultra Magnus feared that it was inevitable.  After all, the creatures were clearly Decepticons, and undoubtedly savage killers.  Perceptor pointed out that they were feeding on members of their own faction—the Feral Seekers—and thus, faction was unlikely to be a factor in what the creatures chose to attack.


The Autobot scientist was curious as to the hunting methods of the feral Sweeps, though he still did not know what they were called.  He had a survey team set up remote recorders in an area that was frequented by herds of Seekers, deep in feral Sweep territory.  Several carcasses had been found there, so it was identified as a possible hunting ground.


Back at his lab, Perceptor watched the feed from the remote cams with interest.  A herd of Seekers and a few female Autobots came into view.  They were attracted by a small patch of stranglervine and began feeding.  One of the flanking cameras detected movement in the bush.  Then suddenly, a feral Sweep rushed from cover, clearly targeting a juvenile Seeker.  The prey had no time to react—the Sweep had its jaws locked around his throat before he knew what had hit him.  The herd was alerted to the startled, muffled cry of the doomed Seeker and fled in all directions.  The triumphant hunter dragged its prey off into the bush, while its brothers ambushed the panicked herd.  Three more Seekers met their deaths in the jaws of hungry feral Sweeps.


The apparent teamwork and strategy used by the hunters impressed Perceptor.  He had surmised that the creatures lived and cooperated as a pack, but fleeting glimpses could not confirm that.  

***

"So they do hunt in packs," Ultra Magnus mused.  He was standing in Perceptor's lab, watching the recording of the feral Sweeps hunting.  He looked at Perceptor, rubbing his chin.  "Any ideas as to why they haven't attacked an Autobot patrol yet?"


"There are several possibilities," Perceptor began, "The most obvious being, for some reason they do not perceive us as potential prey.  Their habit of hunting other Decepticons is baffling on its own."


"And what about that creature we have penned just outside?" Ultra Magnus continued.


"He does scratch and bite if someone attempts to handle him, but he's never caused serious injury," Perceptor replied, "Certainly there is no intent on his part to kill."


"This doesn't make any sense," Ultra Magnus sighed, "Do you think you'll ever be able to figure out how they got here, along with the Seekers, and why they seem to hunt mostly Seekers?"


"Perhaps in time, with more study," Perceptor suggested, "If I could affix radio transmitter collar onto one of the feral ones, we could track them."


"That'll be a challenge.  We only usually get a glimpse of them and they're gone," Ultra Magnus said, "They haven't been triggering any of the traps we've set to catch them.  We were lucky we got Claw."


"I have an idea," Perceptor added, "I have been working on a special inhibitor that can be injected by a dart that pierces the armor and delivers the substance directly into the systems.  This would render them immobile very quickly, enabling us to capture one.  It should be ready soon."


***

Although Perceptor's new inhibitor dart gun was ready in a few days, it was weeks before any Autobot patrols saw even the steel hide or whisker of a Feral Sweep.  The first attempt failed to hit its intended target, but a second attempt nailed a half-grown Feral Sweep and caused it to collapse on the ground in moments.  Perceptor figured that the one they ended up stunning had been curious, which enabled the Autobots to get more than just a fleeting glimpse.


"We must work quickly," Perceptor said as the creature slumped to the ground.  "There's no telling how long he'll be out."  One of the other Autobots handed him the transmitter collar, and he affixed it around the Sweep's neck.  It wasn't a very bulky collar, but noticeable.  Then he and the others left the area.  Once they were back at the base, Perceptor picked up the signal from the transmitter on receiving equipment in his lab.


The feral Sweepcub awoke and pawed at the foreign object around his neck.  He didn't like it, and kept clawing at it until it had been shredded and dropped off.


Perceptor noticed after awhile that the signal from the collar wasn't moving.  There were several explanations for that, including deactivation of the wearer, or simple recharge sleep.  But then a patrol passing through the area found the discarded collar.  So it was back to square one.

***

Perceptor was discouraged that the first collaring attempt had ended in such abject failure.  So then it was clear that a less obvious or noticeable means of tagging the creatures had to be devised.  That would take some time, for Perceptor had already minimized the size of the collar as much as he could while still leaving room for enough battery power to last a few years.  And worse still, soon after the attempted collarings, the feral Sweeps seemed more elusive and flighty than before.  


For the time being, he had to be satisfied with remote cameras sparsely dotted along the main pathways that were in the heart of the feral Sweeps' territory.  They had to be placed just right, because if a Sweep or a Seeker found one, they would investigate and remove it out of curiosity, and more often than not end up dismantling it.


Fortunately, the Autobots had placed no cameras anywhere near Slash's territory.  Since the Autobots had no idea that there was a separate pack, they really had no reason to do so.  Slash made certain that all evidence of their existence was as sparse as possible outside the main den area, other than the claw marks on the territorial border that indicated the boundary.  No Autobot had seen those marks at those locations, for they had not trespassed that far.  They had seen trees that feral Sweeps had used to sharpen their talons.

***

Slash had sensed increasing Autobot activity deep in feral Sweep territory, and reminded the Pack that if an Autobot patrol managed to spot them, to behave as if they were one of the mindless Feral pack.  Precautions such as travelling on all fours when patrolling the territorial boundary became even more important.  Slash also instructed that anyone speaking outside of the den area should only do so in low whispers, lest any Autobot overhear.  He was confident that the Autobots could not hear them from the den site, and in any case he had sentries posted well outside of Autobot audio-shot who could warn of any approach before they were heard.


But it became apparent that a silent means of communication would be needed, as even growls and snarls could be overheard.  Slash devised an ingenious system of hand signals, and taught it to the entire pack—including the cubs.  This would enable them to communicate within visual range without making any noise.  Scourge then taught Cyclonus the next time he went to Chaar.  Galvatron was quite impressed by it.


And the hand signal training came none too soon.  Scourge was leading the pack of cubs through a northern section of the Pack's territory, on an extended hunt for forest-antelope that seemed to have migrated in that direction for some reason.  At a section where the treeline broke into a large meadow, Scourge stopped short.  On the other side of the meadow were two poachers.  The Pack had seen them before, though mercifully the poachers hadn't seen them.  But on at least one occasion a patrolling Pack member had seen reptilian-porcine humanoids with a bag filled with squirming feral Seeker or Sweep cubs.  Beside the poachers was a cage containing several seeker cubs, who were whimpering or trying to paw through the bars.  It was nightfall and the two aliens were settling in for the night.  Once they'd crawled into their tent, Scourge signaled to Number 9's second-eldest, telling him silently to make his way around the wooded perimeter from the east.  He himself took the west, and quietly crept to the cage.  The occupants were asleep as well, which was fortunate, since the presence of any Sweep would terrify them and the resulting noisy panic might awaken their captors.  Scourge found he could pick the lock of the cage with his talons, and pulled it off quietly, opening the door and leaving it wide open.  He then replaced the lock in such a manner as if it looked like the poachers themselves had neglected to lock the cage properly.  The Sweepcub then slinked off back towards Number 9's second-eldest cub.  


Scourge signaled a question—did the other cub detect any feral Sweeps on the east side?  The silent response was a negative.  He sighed in relief.  Now when the Seeker cubs awoke and escaped, they wouldn't be walking immediately into the jaws of death.

***

Scourge remained crouched in the bushes at the far side of the meadow, observing the poachers' camp.  Once day broke, the feral Seeker cubs in the cage awoke and noticed their prison was open.  They wasted no time exiting and heading back in the direction of their herd.  About an hour after the Seeker cubs had fled, the poachers awoke and came out of their tent.  One went to check on the cage and shouted in alarm when he discovered the cubs were missing.  "Hey, you forgot to lock the cage properly last night!" he snapped at his comrade.


The other poacher was taken aback.  "I swear I shut it properly and everything!" he protested.  He scratched his head as he examined the lock.


"Our employers aren't goona be very happy," the first poacher grumbled, "Now, come on and help me find some more!"


When the poachers grabbed their capture gear and headed off in the direction of the Seeker herd, Scourge and the cub pack left the area.  But Scourge was determined to foil as many captures of Seeker cubs as possible.


"Why are we bothering with these creatures?" Number 9's eldest said with a sniff of irritation.  This was one of the rare occasions where he thought it necessary to voice his opinions, and the tone of his voice indicated he thought it was a waste of time to free the Seeker cubs.


"If we don't, then Number 12 and Number 13's cubs might run out of food," Scourge replied.
Number 9's eldest merely snorted in reply.

***

Young Scourge told his father what the cub pack had seen, and about how he had stealthily effected the release of the feral Seeker cubs.  The Pack-Leader nodded in approval.  "Well done," he said, "But you should only do that sparingly.  If you were to do it too often, the poachers may become suspicious.  As it is, there is a surplus of Seeker cubs, at least for now."


"I wonder what the poachers wanted those cubs for," Number 3 mused.


"It depends on who was paying them to capture them," Slash replied, "And that could mean any number of possibilities."

***

The Autobots had run into poachers, though they usually didn't interfere with the captures.  After all, the captives were all Seeker cubs—for some reason, the patrols never came upon poachers who were taking feral Sweep cubs—and since those were Decepticons, the Autobots figured good riddance.  The only time an Autobot patrol stepped in is when poachers were after some rare beast.  The poachers would complain loudly, but they were outmatched and gave up.


Perceptor wondered why anyone would want to poach Seeker cubs, although he suspected they were wanted for experiments.  After all, it would be easier than capturing an adult Deception Jet and trying to run tests.  And this way, the Decepticon Leader would never find out.

***

Some of the Pack members decided to excavate various tunnels and passageways outside of and unconnected to the den area, known only to them and not visible unless someone was practically on top of it, and perhaps not even then.  This would provide a means of escape and concealment, to avoid detection.  They had previously made use of whatever cover was available, including random caves and enlarged burrows.  If a Sweep wanted to hide, it was almost as if he could do so successfully using a single leaf as cover.


The feral Sweeps also made instinctive use of natural topographical features and underbrush to melt into the background and escape detection.  It was also their habit to dig random burrows for hiding in, although extensive tunneling was not normally practiced by them.  


Tunnels by Slash's pack were exceptionally plentiful around the southeastern border.  Autobot activity had been getting close to there of late, and the Pack-Leader wanted to make sure that contact was kept to an absolute bare minimum.  Concealed underground tunnels would keep above-ground sign to a minimum, enabling a Sweep to pass by an Autobot patrol or survey team completely undetected.


The cub pack dug their own tunnels, specificially for themselves.  Large enough for their entry, but not big enough for an adult Autobot to enter, should the tunnel entrance be discovered.  Side chambers were also added, as emergency rest spots.  At one site, Scourge ended up having to dig deep vertical side tunnels to allow the draining of water, since during a downpour that particular tunnel turned into a small underground river.  The Quicklings in the area quite appreciated this, since the tunnels they customarily used were often flooded in inclement weather until the drainage system was in place, and during dry spells the deep tunnels became emergency reservoirs.

***

Young Scourge's beard was coming in more fully, although it was now only a half-beard.  Frequently he wondered to himself when he would be ready to take his place among the adults of the Pack, going on patrols and on the Hunt on a regular basis, instead of merely leading the cub pack.  Number 9's second-eldest would be his choice for cub pack leader, most certainly, when his duties as cub pack leader were completed.

Number 9's eldest knew instinctively that he was not going to be selected as cub pack leader when the time came for Scourge to join the full Pack.  He was still selfish, sullen and quiet, and not at all suited to be a leader of any sort.  But this didn't stop him from desiring the position.  And sometimes, his hostility to his younger brother, Scourge's apparent successor-in-waiting, erupted in sudden bouts of unprovoked clawing.  It was usually nothing serious, although the perpetrator was roundly scolded and disciplined each time it happened.

The cub pack found their meals to be plentiful, as the Quickling population stayed high.  There had been no disasters lately to put a dent in the numbers of the tasty little critters, and the area that had been burned-over had long since grown out with lush vegetation of the sort that Quicklings preferred.  Occasionally they would find metallic objects lying on the ground—sometimes random screws or bolts, or a lone metal bar.  These scrap items were usually hauled back to the den site and given to Number 6, who had an interest in such things and would use the pieces to invent or construct various useful items.  He had learned to use his headcannon at a particular setting as a welding torch, so that bits of scrap could be fashioned into makeshift spare parts or tools.  Some of the salvage was clearly discarded or accidentally dropped by the Autobots, although some others were obviously from wrecked spacecraft.  The site where they'd first come off the Masters' ship was quite rich in such materials.

Number 6 reasoned that there would be a scrap pile in or near the Autobot base, but Slash warned against approaching there unless absolutely necessary.  But he did however, find a vein of titanium-laden ore in the Northern Hills on one patrol, that had been exposed by weathering.  He used his claws and headcannon to remove some of the raw ore, and brought it back to the den.  Deep in the tunnels, Number 6 had constructed a small forge, and it was deep enough so that any smoke created through their crude smelting process would be masked by an ingenious filtering system.  He'd also learned how to construct molds to pour molten metal into, and made casts of various Sweep parts so that replacement equipment could be made.  He often wished he did not have to work with such primitive tools, but under the circumstances the work he managed to turn out was amazing.

***

Eventually Number 6 was able to fashion better tools to work with, so the crudeness of his finished product was greatly reduced.  Some of the other Sweeps showed an interest in learning how to fashion components for repairs or replacement, as did Pandora and Emerald, when they weren't busy looking after cubs.

Some of the Pack dug such deep tunnels that they found lumps of ore.  This was more convenient than trying to survey a far-off location to find resources.  The leftover slag that remained from refining this ore was stored deep underground, so as not to give them away as sentient beings.  And one thing the young cubs discovered, was that the deeper one went, the warmer it was.  

Scourge knew from the volcanic activity on Chaar that the heat was from molten magma, deep underground.  He cautioned his fellow cubs not to dig so far that they released it, for this would surely flood the tunnels and perhaps damage and trap or destroy them if let loose.

***

A vicious fight had broken out among the feral Sweep cubs.  One of the cubs was trying to challenge Number 13's eldest for dominance.  The aggressor had tried to seize Number 13's eldest's throat in his jaws to force him to yield, but his opponent had quickly twisted around, wrestled him to the ground, and was now crushing the back of the instigator's head in his powerful jaws.  Eventually the challenger began whimpering in defeat, but the jaws kept closing.

Number 12 saw this, since the aggressor was one of his own cubs, and came over and swatted Number 13's eldest away from his son, as if to say he's already been defeated so let him be.  Number 13's eldest growled fiercely, but relented.  Number 12 nosed at his cub, uttering a warning growl when the cub got up and snarled at Number 13's eldest.  Instinctively Number 12 knew that his brother's eldest cub had intended to kill his cub in that fight.  He chased his son off to his den, aware that there was damage to him.  And the only way the damage could be fixed is if his son rested and let his automatic repair systems kick in.

***

One of the younger cubs of Number 9's second litter came up to Scourge, disappointment etched on his face.  "We've been robbed," he said.

"Robbed?" Scourge echoed, "What do you mean?"

The younger cub took him to where the very youngest cubs had a cache of shiny pebbles that they used for games.  It was just outside the main den area.  The little hollow was completely empty of the prettiest ones.  Only the dark and grey dull stones were left.  "Who would have done this?"

Young Scourge stroked his half-bearded chin.  "Not who.  What.  This is the work of Quicklings," he explained.

The other cub head-tilted at the Cub Pack Leader.  "But why?"

"They seem to be attracted by bright, shiny objects," Scourge explained, "That is why Quicklings are often found by the river or the creek when the sun has just come up.  The angle of the sunlight enables them to find treasures among the stones underwater."

"Isn't there any way we can get our pebbles back?" the other cub continued.

"Perhaps, but it depends on where they took our treasure," Scourge replied.  "We might find it scattered about on the forest floor, or they may have taken them right into their burrows."

The other cub sighed.  "In the meantime, I'll go find some replacements."

Scourge nodded, and soon the whole cub pack was at the side of the river, gathering shiny pebbles.  "This time, we shall keep our treasure in our own dens.  If any Quickling ventured in there, they would quickly become lunch."

***

Near the northeastern border of the Pack's current territory, an unfamiliar type of prey had migrated.  The creatures had strange long necks, and long gangly legs, which made them at least as tall as an average Sweep.  Slash had seen them before, in flyovers, but had not hunted them yet.  Not long after their arrival, however, some of the Pack members became quite curious about what the "Longnecks" tasted like.  

Number 7 and two of his brothers circled around a small herd of the beasts.  The creatures were clearly herbivorous, as they used their height to reach the tender foliage high up in the trees.  The forests here were not very thick, and the trees not that close together, though they were fairly tall.  There was plenty of cover for the Sweeps, and Number 7 peeped out from cover to observe and formulate the best tactic for taking the prey down.  Other than their hooves, the creatures looked like they had little in the way of practical defenses, and he was certain those would have little effect on a Sweep.

The Hunter burst from hiding as one of the Longnecks passed close to his position.  Fangs met hamstring and the creature uttered a strange bleating cry as one of its hind legs were rendered useless.  Number 7 quickly did the same to the other leg, and the Longneck quickly collapsed.  By then Number 3 and Number 10 had moved in to assist.  Number 3 seized the beast's throat in his jaws, while Number 10 found its spinal cord and snapped through vertebrae easily in one bite.  The three Sweeps then settled down to feed, unconcerned over who had the right to eat first.  The flesh of the Longneck was discovered to be quite tasty, so much so that when they had satisfied their own appetites, the trio brought down another one and dragged it to the den.

The cub pack was on hand when the carcass was brought, and most of the other Sweeps were out on patrol or resting.  Slash was present, and took his share immediately.  However, he allowed the cub pack to feed right after he was done.

When they were finished and all grooming and licking their chops, Scourge asked where the beasts could be found so that the cub pack could hunt one for themselves.

"We could escort you on a hunt to find them," Number 3 replied.

***

Not long after the appearance of the Longnecks, two Adult Sweeps agreed to accompany the cub pack on a hunt for one of the beasts.  The sheer size of the Longnecks made the supervision by adults necessary, although Scourge was certain he could take down the prey without their help.  He didn't complain, however.

Once the hunting grounds were reached, the adults waited while Scourge formed a hunt strategy.  The cub pack leader observed the behavior of the Longnecks carefully, just as the adults had before.  And as he watched, Scourge noted that the back legs were quite vulnerable.  The neck of the creature would be an easier target once it was brought down.  He signaled to two of his comrades and motioned for them to move in.  He then suddenly burst from cover and attacked, severing a leg tendon with near-surgical precision.  The beast uttered a bleating cry in pain and alarm, but was powerless to escape once Scourge had gotten done with the other leg.

As the beast went down, the two cubs that Scourge had told to move in had seized the creature by the throat.  Very quickly it was dispatched, and young Scourge opened up the carcass and began to feed, as was his right.  When he was finished, he relaxed and began grooming while his brothers fed.  Suddenly Number 9's eldest attacked one of Scourge's younger brothers without warning, nipping him on a forearm.  Scourge's other brothers immediately jumped in to defend their sibling, and two of Number 9's siblings joined the fray as well.  Soon the entire cub pack was in an uproar.

"Stop this at once!" Scourge shouted, getting up to restrain his brothers.  The two adult Sweeps likewise moved in to separate snarling, snapping Sweepcubs.

If this had been a battle over dominance, the adults may have let it go, but this clearly was not.  Number 9's eldest was finally calmed down, but he glowered at the others.  "Back to the den.  Now," Scourge ordered, pointing at the miscreant.  The guilty cub growled in protest, but a full-on stare from Scourge prompted him to drop his gaze and head back in the direction of the base.

***

When the cub pack finally returned to the den, Number 9's eldest was nowhere to be found.  Scourge shook his head in disgust.  The cubs went to their sires' dens to bed down for the night.  Number 9 wondered where his cub was.  

"Probably just sulking, as always," Scourge replied.  This was not unusual behavior from that particular cub.  He'd been known to slink off for days before reappearing with an even more sullen look than before.  

"Ah.  Perhaps it's better to let him cool off, then," Number 9 stated.  Previous attempts at retrieving the cub during these bouts of absence usually resulted in greater conflict than waiting for him to return on his own.

Several days passed.  Then one evening, Number 9's eldest slunk back into the den area.  He was covered in mech fluid.  Immediately Slash cornered him.  "What are you doing all covered in mech fluids?" he demanded, "Explain yourself."  But the cub only growled in response.

Slash instinctively knew from the scent what the source of the mech fluid was, but he needed to find the point of origin, and quickly.  "Scourge.  Bring two of your fellows and follow me," he said sternly, "The rest of you, do not let –him- leave."  He pointed at Number 9's eldest.  Immediately three of the Pack members circled around the errant cub, keeping him hemmed in.

Number 9's second cub and one of Scourge's brothers accompanied Slash and young Scourge, following the trail of mech fluids left behind.  A few miles outside of Pack territory, in the Neutral area unclaimed by either Slash's Pack or Number 13's Pack, under a rock overhang, they found the carcass of a feral Seeker.  It was almost half-eaten and had obviously been killed by a Sweep.  A look of sheer fury passed over the Pack-Leader's face.  "Back to camp!  NOW!" Slash bellowed, and immediately sprang into the air, transforming and speeding back towards the den in Sweepcraft mode.  Scourge and the other two cubs wasted no time in following.

***

The Pack Leader sped far ahead of the three cubs that were behind him, so that when Scourge and the other two returned, the Den was already in a flurry of activity.  Slash had Number 9's eldest pinned against a rock wall, and the defiant cub was snarling and lashing out with his claws, trying to wriggle free.  Other Pack members were systematically sanitizing whatever leavings of the Seeker that Number 9's eldest had dripped, incinerating any mech fluid drops, lest nanites spread to the Pack that way.

"Do you see?  He's lost his ability to speak, and certainly his ability to reason!" Slash exclaimed, so that the entire pack could hear him.  "That is why I told you that you must never eat those tainted Seekers.  They have a disease!  And when you consume them, the madness falls on you!"  Number 9 was pacing and growling, shaking his head in disgust at his son's actions.

While still holding the squirming cub firmly by the chest, Slash looked over his shoulder, fixing his piercing crimson gaze upon all the Pack, old and young alike.  "You all know the consequences.  Then look well on them. And know this:  The same fate shall befall ANYONE  who defy my edicts.  This rule is for the good of the Pack, and for the Pack, I now pronounce you…BANISHED!"

Slash turned his attention back to the snarling, fighting cub.  He slammed Number 9's eldest facedown onto the ground, holding him down with his knee.  His talons struck quickly, severing several junctions that controlled antigravs and flight systems.  His headcannon warmed up and a tight beam fired from it into the howling cub's back, damaging the engine pods at the base of his wings.  "You will never know the Sky again, and as your mind slips away, you will not know the Pack again."  He flipped the cub over right side up, batting the cub's claws away as he hissed and continued to fight, optics wide and lit up with manic energy.

"Enter our territory again, and you will be terminated.  This I vow," Slash growled at Number 9's eldest.  He grabbed the cub behind the arms, lifting into the air.  He took him towards the plains outside the Pack's territory.  He deposited the cub on top of a mesa, leaving him to make his way as the Fates willed it.

When Slash returned, the other Pack members, Scourge included, noted that his face was filled with pain and sadness as much as it was filled with anger.  "Come.  We must find the remains of the Seeker and give it a decent burial," he said to several Pack members.  Scourge knew the carcass would be incinerated to eliminate the nanites, and to prevent the remains from attracting feral Sweeps from Number 12 and Number 13's pack into their territory.

***

Number 9's eldest did not try to return to the Pack.  Young Scourge suspected that he'd wanted out all along.  Number 9's other cubs were of mixed emotions at their elder brother's departure.  On the one hand, he was not there to bully them, but on the other hand, they were still brothers and retained a sense of closeness to him.  But this incident was a dire lesson for them all that they were not likely to forget.  All of them reaffirmed that they would never disobey the Pack Leader's First Rule.

The exiled cub found himself in unclaimed territory.  There was plenty of food for him there, and now that he was no longer bound by the rules of Slash's pack, he hunted feral Seekers nearly to the exclusion of other prey.  He dug his own den for himself, for shelter when he wanted to rest.  While a part of him missed the other cubs, his stubborn nature and Slash's dire warning—which he had just barely understood as the feral madness overtook him—kept him from attempting a reunion.  Before his rational mind slipped away completely, a thought came to him.  Why, he could start his /own/ pack!  

***

Occasionally the Pack noticed signs of the exiled cub's activity outside their territory.  But apparently Number 9's eldest remembered enough about his banishment to avoid his former packmates completely.  

Several months passed by with no incident.  Then Scourge and the cub pack came across a gruesome sight.  A halfgrown Sweepcub, about his age, or what was left of one.  Half the torso was missing, the head had been severed and torn off the body, both wings were ripped to shreds, and the entire lower half of him was missing.  Scourge growled as he smelled the scent of several feral Sweeps.  But the one who was killed was not of Number 13's pack.  

Number 9's second son went up to the remains, sniffing.  His optics looked wet.  "It's him, Scourge.  I can tell by the scent," he said sadly.

The cub-pack leader managed to sort through the scents and confirm what the other was telling him.  Indeed it was Number 9's eldest who had met this terrible fate.  But how had this happened?  Why had the exiled cub gone near any members of the feral pack?  Had he been targeted or ambushed?

---EARLIER---

Number 9's eldest made his way to the border of Number 12 and Number 13's pack.  He did not cross this border, but waited there, to see if any of them would accept him.  After all, he too was an outcast.  And perhaps he could convince some of them to join him as allies.  In the course of waiting, he advertised his presence by rubbing his half-beard against a tree that had been similarly marked by one of the Feral Sweeps.  The scent-marking would surely be checked, as the scent that was there already was a few days old.

He did not have long to wait.  Four feral Sweeps, two of which were his age, while the others were a bit younger, approached him and growled savagely.  Number 9's eldest then made a fatal mistake.  He met their growl with one of his own, holding himself high and using a dominant posture.  This enraged the four, and they sprang upon him.  One of them immediately seized him by the head in its powerful jaws, while the others tore at him savagely.  The Exiled cub whimpered and tried acting submissively, but by then it was too late.  In their frenzy, the four ferals tore their opponent to pieces.  They must have been hungry, because they then began to feed on the carcass.

***

The rest of the pack was quickly informed of the demise of the exiled cub.  Number 9 was allowed to take the remains and bury them somewhere on the border of the pack's territory and unclaimed territory.  Slash shook his head sadly as the exiled cub's father finished covering the grave site.  "I had feared this would happen," he said.

"As had I," Number 9 replied, "Somehow, I knew my son was likely to rebel like that.  I only wish I could have prevented it.  I should have brought them to the Pack sooner."
"Indeed, but what's done is done," Slash rumbled, "We shall see to it that this tragedy does not duplicate itself."  

The surviving siblings of the exiled cub were saddened at their older brother's death, although his exile strangely seemed more traumatic by comparison.  It was as if he had died when he had been sent away in his madness.  For several weeks after their brother's remains were found, the rest of Number 9's cubs stayed close to Scourge, like a magnet—even so far as to sleep in the den, curled up beside him.

***

Quintesson Journal 2391-Alpha.  It has been discovered that Sweep cubs retrieved from the planet are excellent hunters.  Preliminary tests show, however, that subjects do better if their sires taught them to hunt prior to their acquisition.  An ingenious plan has been put into place to train cubs that have not been taught to hunt.  

"Okay, I did like ya said.  I got ya some really young ones," a Scuxxoid trader told the Quintessons.  He held a squirming sack.  One of the Quintesson guards took the sack and emptied the contents out onto a medtable.  Three newborn Sweep cubs were deposited onto the surface of the table.  "Now, where's my money?"

One of the Quintesson commanders tossed a small bag towards the Scuxxoid.  It clinked as the poacher caught it.  He peeked inside, counting the credits.  "A pleasure doing business with ya," he said as he exited.

"The pleasure was all yours," the Quintesson High Commander murmured after the poacher had left.  He then turned towards one of the Scientists.  "Now then, you are certain you can train these cubs to hunt, without using an adult Sweep as a teacher?"

"Oh yes indeed," the Scientist said, "It's very simple, really.  We must slowly introduce them to the concept that other Transformers are their prey.  These are too young to ingest solid nourishment, of course, so we'll feed them energon at first.  But not just any energon.  We must make sure it is drained from its future prey.  Then when they're capable of devouring solids, feed them dismembered prey.  After they're accustomed to that, feed them whole but deactivated prey.  Then we work them up to live prey that has been immobilized, then partially immobilized.  Soon they will learn that they must kill their prey, and that is when we can throw them meals that are alive and kicking."

"Intriguing," the Quintesson Commander mused, "I look forward to seeing the results."

*** 

The Quintessons found themselves having to send poachers to recapture Seekers and Seeker cubs in order to feed their captive Sweepcubs.  This resulted in a precipitous drop in the available prey for the feral Pack.

The ferals tried following what remained of the Seeker herds, but they had retreated east, past the Autobot base.  One night Number 13's eldest was tracking one of the herds, and came upon the compound.  Immediately he knew he would have to keep to the shadows, to avoid being spotted.  There were sentries in the area, though not as many as in years previous.  His keen sense of smell led him to the dwelling area, and an open window.  He climbed through it and found a sleeping young Autobot.  His sensors registered a potential meal, and quickly his jaws closed around his prey's neck, crushing it.  The victim perished without awakening, and Number 13's eldest took his meal and escaped, climbing back through the window and stealthily returning to the forest.  He was not spotted.

Once he had gotten back to the safety of Feral Sweep territory, Number 13's eldest settled and began to feed.  While not as tasty as a Seeker, it was tasty enough.  He consumed most of the carcass, but left some for his curious packmates and siblings to investigate.  He allowed them to finish it, choosing to curl up and sleep.

*

Ultra Magnus was worried.  One of the young Autobots had vanished mysteriously in the night, and there were absolutely no clues as to what had happened to him or where he might have gone.  Search parties were sent out, but they turned up nothing.  

To complicate matters, one of the youngster's friends spoke up and said that they had often snuck out at night to go exploring.  Sometimes he'd gone alone.  The Autobot City Commander got the friend to give the locations he could possibly have gone to.  Searching those places also proved fruitless.  

At the time, the Autobots did not suspect foul play.  There was certainly no signs of a struggle in the missing youngster's room.

Someone thought that maybe he had climbed into Claw's enclosure and met an unfortunate demise there.  So, Perceptor had Claw tranquilized while the den was searched, and Claw's fuel tank contents were pumped out and analyzed.

"Well whatever happened to him, Claw didn't eat him," Perceptor told Ultra Magnus, "There's no evidence that anyone went into his enclosure last night."

*

Slash's pack was unaware that one of the Ferals had preyed upon an Autobot.  For his part, Number 13's eldest did not hunt another one for a very long time.  The Seeker population rebounded suddenly, so there was no need.

*

Cyclonus and Scourge, and some of the other cub pack members were running through an obstacle course on Chaar that Galvatron had set up for Cyclonus.  They each took turns, and the Sweep cubs turned out to be much quicker at clearing the course than Cyclonus was.

"No fair, you guys are on all fours," Cyclonus complained, "And your weapons are attached to your hands."

Young Scourge smirked.  "Our weapons are our hands," he says, "But don't forget, those aren't our only means of attack."  He grinned, baring his razor-sharp fangs.

"And you can jump farther," Cyclonus added.

"Well, what's stopping you from doing it our way?" one of Number 9's cubs asked.

Young Cyclonus sighed.  "Fine, I'll try it like that," he said.  He braced himself, waiting for the mark, so that one of the others could begin timing him.  Crouching down, as soon as Number 3 told him to go, he darted forward.  But he was unaccustomed to that mode of travel, and wasn't nearly as swift as the Sweeps, who were well-practiced part-time quadrupeds.  He had trouble judging the effort to put in his leaps as well.  His time was a little quicker than usual overall, but he flopped down when he was done and rested.

Scourge nosed at him.  "Perhaps you need more practice," he purred.

*

Cyclonus groaned as he started to get up.  Scourge stood up and offered a taloned hand to help him up.  "I guess you should do it your way, and I'll do it my way," he said, "Besides, it's harder to see where I'm going when I'm on all fours.  But I suppose you don't have that problem."

Scourge grinned.  He rubbed his chin, pondering what to do next.  His olfactory sensors picked up the aroma of prey, and he nodded at his packmates before dropping down into a stalking posture.  The scent was quite strong, so the source of it was very close by.

The other Sweepcubs that accompanied him likewise dropped to all fours and followed.  They were able to pick out the individual scents of at least 5 separate retro-rats.  And for some reason, they'd gotten really big and fat lately.  They hadn't been getting into Galvatron and Cyclonus' energon supply, however.  

The trail led the hunters to a burrow that they could just squeeze into.  Several retro-rats were curled up asleep and didn't realize that there were invading predators until it was too late.  Each Sweep caught one, and one was allowed to escape.  Scourge wanted to see where they were feeding.

After the Sweepcubs finished wolfing down their meals, Scourge followed the remaining retro-rat.  After several twists and turns in the tunnel, it opened out at the surface in an area that the cubs didn't frequently go to.  There was a small oasis and a small patch of vines.

"I didn't know stranglervine grew here," Scourge remarked.

"It doesn't," one of the Adult Sweeps spoke up, coming into view over the ridge.  "I planted it here.  It will make a fine emergency fuel source for us, and if it fattens the prey here, so much the better."  He went up to the patch of vines and nodded approvingly.  "It is doing well," he stated, "Even gnawing by retrorats can't destroy it."

*

Cyclonus was quite happy that the Sweeps had planted some stranglervine on Chaar.  After all, he was quite willing to consume some if he was hungry.  And when Galvatron knew of it, he was pleased, as well.

"So, this plant can create usable energon for us to consume?" Galvatron had asked Slash.

"Indeed," the Pack-Leader stated, "But if the patch grows large, it would be advisable not to remain in contact with the rooted vines for extended periods.  Otherwise it will drain you of your fuel.  Severing the vines prevents them from doing so, however."

When the Sweeps returned home, Scourge went to check all the local stranglervine patches.  Sometimes feral Seekers would get caught in the thickets, and would have to be pulled out.  Fortunately, there were only a few foolish Quicklings lying comatose among the vines.  Scourge snapped these up for a quick meal.  Idly he wondered if the Autobots had discovered stranglervine.

*

Quintesson Journal 2419 Epsilon.  We have determined that the perfect fuel for the feralized nanite-infested Seekers on the planet is a cyber-plant that is related to the Morphobots.  But unlike that predatory plant, this species is completely sessile and passively absorbs energon from any living thing it comes in contact with, and it also can create energon via cyber-photosynthesis.  It seems to rely more on captured energon when it grows in dense thickets, where competition for light energy is strong.  It has been determined that the best energon is produced by cyber-photosynthesis, and the flavor of the energon may be influenced by the type of creatures it may have absorbed energy from.

*

The Autobots were still no closer to locating the young Autobot that had mysteriously vanished one night.  The Sentries were told to be more vigilant, and Ultra Magnus sighed and tried to assure himself that if someone tried to sneak out, that they would be seen.

One night one of the Sentries saw movement out in the edges of the camp, but it turned out to be a native feline, whose glowing reflective eyes had attracted the Autobot's notice.  The creature was far too small to pose a threat.  The Sentry sighed and went about his perimeter patrol.

*

Young Scourge was eagerly anticipating the day when he would get to take the Trial of the Hunt—where he could prove to his father and the rest of the Pack that he could be considered an adult.  For a little while, Slash told him that for now, it was best that he continue to lead the Cub Pack.

Then one early morning, Scourge was summoned into the forest to a semicircle of Sweeps; Slash and several of his most trusted advisors.  Their expressions were unreadable.  The young Sweep looked at his father anxiously.

"It is time, my son.  Today you will take the Trial of the Hunt," Slash said.

Scourge's energon pump seemed to leap in his chest.

"You have three tasks, to be completed in the space of two days," Slash continued, "The first, capture twelve Quicklings.  But they must be brought back alive and –unharmed-.  Secondly, bring a carcass of a Terrabore that you hunted and dispatched yourself.  And finally, the most difficult task:  You must go to the great cliffs in the Northern Outskirts of our territory, and find a jeweled device in a nest.  The Matriarch Thunder-Wing Cyber-raptor fancies it as some kind of egg, and broods over it as if it were her own.  You must bring that device back to me.  And remember—none are to assist you in your Trial.  You must complete all your tasks alone."

Scourge took it all in with a giddy feeling that seemed to render all other outside sounds as a vague haze.  He snapped out of it momentarily as his father addressed him again.

"Your time begins now, my son.  Make wise use of it," Slash said, and then rose up on his antigravs.  The other Sweeps with him followed, leaving Scourge by himself in the forest.

*

The Quickling Hunting grounds were not far from where Scourge was standing.  They were most active at dawn and dusk, preferring to head underground during the brightest daylight hours to avoid predators that relied mostly on sight to hunt.  As he made his way there, he stopped in mid-stride.  How in the pit was he supposed to catch a dozen of the things without even harming them?  "The Masters' glowing balls!" he swore as the enormity of the task hit him.  A dangling vine brushed across his shoulder as he moved forward again.  "I guess I'll have to make a trap," he said to himself.

Usually a well-aimed rock, a swipe of talons, or a crushing bite dispatched the prey quickly.  To catch one unharmed was practically unheard-of.  Scourge headed for the stream, where a glint in the water caught his optic.  He nearly fell over laughing, realizing how easily he could accomplish his task.  He recalled years ago, when he'd first been allowed to go Quickling Hunting with the rest of the cub pack and a few adults, he found a quickling that had its paw stuck in a fallen tree trunk.   As Scourge approached, the Quickling had hissed and howled viciously as it tried desperately to pull its hand from the trunk.  After a quick kill, Scourge had torn open the hole in the trunk wider out of curiosity and had found a shiny pebble clutched in the mammal's paw.  "They won't give up their treasure," he chuckled to himself, "I'll set treasure logs in the glens—enough so that I'll have my dozen Quicklings by the time I come back from the Terrabore fields this evening!"  The Sweep then went about making several log traps.  The holes were wide enough for Scourge to deposit an obviously shiny pebble and for a Quickling paw to reach in to grab it.  But cleverly, it was not wide enough for the creature to withdraw its paw with the pebble in its fist.  Scourge saw to it that the size of the pebble came into play with that, as well.  

An hour or two had gone by and Scourge had laid his traps along the best of the Quickling hunging grounds.  Shiny pebbles were not the only bait—Scourge employed bits of crystals from nearby caves, and the brightest of feathers from vivid-plumed birds.  He had no doubt that each small section of log would anchor his prey just as surely as their stubbornness over their territory and property would.  He pondered as he laid his traps, "I wonder if I'm to take a lesson from this task as well…"

*

After finishing with the construction and baiting of the Quickling traps, young Scourge decided that the best use of his time was to try and find his Terrabore.  The closest hunting grounds for them was many miles away, so he leaped into air and transformed, streaking towards his next quarry.  Autobots had not intruded into Pack territory, so he had no fear of being spotted.

As Scourge approached the valley where the Terrabores hunted grubs and insects, he noted an unusual blip on his sensors.  Feral Seekers were migrating through the valley, stripping the available vegetation from low scrub trees and digging for glow grubs that consumed crystals and minerals rich in energy that had been deposited by the last glacial period the planet had experienced.  Easing back on his throttle so as to cut the roar of his engines, Scourge observed the herd of Seekers as a group of them began to encroach on the Terrabores' grubbing ground.  It was then that he saw her—pale orange with white accents and generous hips.  The femme was with the alpha of the herd, and heading straight for a den of Terrabores grubbing in a circle of razorgrass and fireweed.

The couple of cubs in the group seemed to be right on the heels of the femme, and she was currently stripping a tree edging the fireweed separating the herd from the Terrabore Den.  One of the Terrabore sows caught their scent and sent up a series of warning grunts.  The den was at attention at once, preparing to charge.  Scourge decided that now as as good a time as any to make his entrance, and so he did.  Having a flair for the dramatic, the young Sweep flared his engines as he roared over the scene.

Chaos reigned as Seekers dove for what little cover was available, some directly into the dens of the Terrabore.  The Femme herded the cubs to safer ground near the edge of a butte and its protective ledges.  Scourge arced upwards and transformed, surveying his work.  Chuckling, he noted a particular Terrabore that was headed straight for the femme and her cubs, seeking the same shelter.  Knowing that she would not last more than minutes with a frightened and enraged bore, Scourge decided on his prey.

*

The bore ground to a halt, sizing up the femme and her cubs in an instant.  The interlopers would bear the cost of this intrusion in their hides.  His razor-sharp tusks glinted with saliva and his armor glittered from the quartz dust from the grubbing grounds.  The femme pushed the cubs behind her, instinctually protecting her offspring.  At that moment, Scourge struck.  Like an avenging angel, or some maddened Gaurdian Force, he descended on the bore mercilessly.  Talons ripped at the unnaturally tough hide of the bore ad Scourge hit with all the force of his divebomb attack.  Squealing in rage and terror, the bore lunged upwards blindly with his tusks as he whirled and kicked, seeking to dislodge the clinging rider of death that had descended upon him at the same instand that the femme had squared herself against the bore.  What was going to be a slaughter for the bore turned into the fight of his life before he had ever charged.  Scourge bellowed in rage and fought viciously.  "So, you thought you'd get an easy kill, eh?  Take out the mother and feast on her defenceless cubs?!" he screamed at the whirling bore, taking a hoof to the side and grunting as he rolled with the hit to minimize the damage.  Coming back up he gave no pause as he lunged back in, slashing and punching, ever moving to stay flanking his opponent.  "Well, that turned out to be a bad idea, didn't it, grub breath?" he snarled.

The armored hide of the Terrabore kept it well-protected in all but the most dire of circumstances, but an enraged Sweep was more dire a circumstance than the bore had ever experienced before.  Soon he was slowing down from blood loss as the Sweep's talons scored again and again.  Dust stuck to young Scourge as ichor from the bore coated him in steaming filth.  The ground was churned and crumbled as the two battled, and Scourge took several other wounds as the fight continued.

Lunging, Scourge's footing gave way and he stumbled to one knee as the bore launched himself, curling into a living cannonball.  It was one of the Terrabore's most infamous attacks, as his segmented armor lent itself to forming an armored ball.  Scourge took the full force of the blow to the chest and was propelled backwards several meters, slamming into the wall of the butte.  Rolling back to its feet, the bore turned and charged his dazed opponent for the hard-won kill.  The bore launched itself at the last moment, tusks lowered for the kill at the Sweep sitting with his back partially embedded in the wall.  Dazed, Scourge only saw a huge bloody blur flying towards him.  Summoning reserves he didn't know he had, Scourge's headblaster fired point-blank, deflecting the attack and sending the bore careening into his wing instead of center mass.  Crying out as his wing was crushed further, Scourge lunged and locked his jaws onto the bore's throat, ripping instinctually.

Panting, Scourge realized that the mass of bore atop him had stopped struggling.  He heaved the bloody mess off of him and looked about.  The femme and cubs were nowhere to be found, but he hadn't really expected them to stick around to fawn over their erstwhile protector.  Kicking the corpse, he levered himself up and looked about for some way to get it back to the camp.  Hefting the carcass of the Terrabore, Scourge struggled to transform.  By the time he had made it back to the forest, it was getting dark.  He had to fly slowly as the bore was taxing his already damaged systems.  Nearing his father's camp, Scourge lowered through the canopy and transformed, dropping the bore's lifeless body at the entrance to the caves.

Slash stepped out of his den and nodded.  "This task has been cleared.  But you have used up the majority of your first day.  I suggest you make better use of your time.

Scourge grinned and replied, "But I have not finished with my first day's tasks.  I shall return," and with that he was off again, making for the Quickling Hunting Grounds.

As Scourge returned to his traps, the first few he found disappointingly empty, the treasure plundered and gone.  Growling to himself, he set off for the next set and was pleased to find four Quicklings caught and quarreling amongst themselves as they attempted to extricate their fists and their loot.  "Alright, this is better," Scourge thought to himself, and began to fashion a holding pen from sturdy branches and vines.

While Scourge was off on his tasks for the Trial of the Hunt, the Cub Pack was under the acting leadership of Number 9's second-eldest cub.  Slash had given the cubs strict instructions not to interfere in Scourge's Trial.  So instead of going to the Quickling Hunting grounds in the morning for their breakfast, the youngsters hunted for forest-antelope fawn.  The area of the forest where the fawns were usually hidden was far enough away so that none of them would be tempted to try to assist Scourge.

Number 9's second-eldest had mixed feelings.  On one hand, he wanted Scourge to succeed in the Trial, and thus become a full-fledged Pack member.  But on the other, that would mean Scourge would spend necessarily less time with the cub pack.  And he had grown close to his cub-packmates, to the point of where the youngest cubs would whimper for a short time if he went out of their sight.

The fawns were plentiful this year, a few having dropped late to extend the hunting season.  Several were located and dispatched in very short order.  Little did the cub pack know that Scourge would be wrestling much more difficult prey than that during the Trial.


*

Once he had finished, Scourge picked each Quickling up, trap and all; carving off the excess ends of the logs so they all would fit--and set them into the pen.  Placing fresh berries and a cracked-open log teeming with wriggling grubs in the far corner to entice them to let go and seek nourishment.  He knew hunger would eventually win out and they would release their treasure.  "Can't have any of you starving.  I need you alive," he purred at the group, "For now, at least."  He chuckled to himself, then he went to check the next group of traps that he had laid.

Netting two more from each of the next three groups, Scourge was confident that he would be able to get his quorum and be able to plan his final task with plenty of time left.  The pen was alive with quarreling Quicklings when he returned.  The first to give up and eat was now stuffing himself, and the others clearly wanted him to bring them food, which was obviously not going to happen.

Scourge deposited the newest catches and headed out for the farthest traps, hoping for some extras.  He was hungry, and the Quicklings' chattering was making him ravenous.  "Two more and the rest are dinner," he rumbled, stalking through the brush.

Finding a veritable smorgasbord at the last trap site, Scourge quickly dispatched a couple and then took the rest back with him.  Once there, he chose the best for the pen, cracking open their logs and discarding the wood.  He then ate the rest on the spot.  The chittering quieted down considerably after that.  He proceeded to take the full cage back to his father's cave, fairly glowing with pride at being two-thirds done with his trial and the first 24 hours were not even over yet.

Finding his father waiting for him at the edge of the camp, Scourge paused and held up the pen.  "Greed was not their greatest ally today."

Slash nodded as he examined the craftsmanship of Scourge's pen.  "No, it was not.  A lesson you should do well to remember in the future," he rumbled.

Scourge nodded.  "I won't forget.  I promise."

His father smiled.  "Now, shall we dine on your success?"

Scourge chuckled and handed the pen to Slash.  "Indeed, a feast of nibbles."  The two shared a laugh both as father and son, and as two grown Sweeps.  "Come inside, my son.  You have time to rest and recuperate.  The last task will need you to be at your best."

Scourge again, slowly.  "I appreciate the advice.  Is it ok to help me like this?"

Slash grinned.  "It is merely courtesy I extend to you, to dine with me.  You are providing the meal, my son."  He patted Scourge on the shoulder, and added, "And you show wisdom in accepting."  Scourge beamed with pride and followed his father into the camp.

*

Scourge woke up well before the sun had started its assault on the horizon.  Several of his father's most trusted packmates had been by during the night to congratulate him on his progress in the Trial.  He lay very still, staring at the ceiling of the den, mentally making preparations for his ascent to the cyber-raptor's nesting grounds.  He knew that this was going to be far more difficult than the previous day's tasks, so he wanted to plan more carefully.

He mulled over the information he'd been given.  He knew that his goal was a device that his father considered too dangerous to keep in the camp.  He vaguely recalled seeing it when Slash had first brought it back, but his father had found a safe place to hide it rather quickly.  He had never known why.  He understood now, though.  The cyber-raptors were among the fiercest predators on this side of the planet other than the Sweeps themselves, and their aeries were so high up that nothing would stumble upon it by accident.  The fact that this device dulled the senses and grounded Sweeps puzzled Scourge, but it wasn't his job to analyze it's purpose; merely to retrieve it.  His father had told him that the matriarch of the brood kept the "egg" in her nest at all times, caring for it as if it were part of her own clutch.  He would have to devise a way of getting it out while she was away, which was infrequent at best.

Rolling over, Scourge snatched up the last of the Quicklings from the pen.  Slash had insisted that the final one be left for his 'last breakfast as a cub'.  Scourge chuckled as he strode out into the pre-dawn darkness.  He spotted the closest sentry and nodded, slipping into the forest and starting out at a jog for the mountain range.  As soon as he was clear of the camp, he transformed and sped away, determined to get as big a jump on this task as possible.

The mountain range still loomed before him, and he angled upwards, flying towards some smaller peaks that seemed to mark the edge of the raptors' territory.  Transforming, he crouched and observed, looking for any sentries or movement of any sort.  Animals they might be, but Scourge knew they were intelligent and wickedly dangerous.  Several encounters between them and the Pack had left adult packmates much worse for wear.

Scourge noted the tallest of the peaks and the enormous nest that took up the largest of the ledges at the top.  It seemed that the nest was halfway inside the peak itself, and Scourge remembered that there were tunnels and caves riddling the whole mountain range.  Perhaps there was a less conspicuous route to his prize.  He sought a way into the raptors' warrens, hoping that he was choosing wisely.

The whip of the wind died down as Scourge padded inside, although the howling from the outside was still audible.  As he drew closer to the aerie, however, there was another keening tone.  Muted, it was still unmistakable in the efficiency with which it curdled energon with its simultaneous thrill and threat.  With a whisk of tungsten carbide-infused wingtips, the hen rose to the thermals to scour the plains below for her quarry.  The audible scrape of hooked talons confirmed her departure.

Scourge bit his lip and advanced, his senses strained to their capacity.  When would the egg's dulling powers start to work on him?  He did not yet notice any appreciable loss, as he clearly heard the raptor depart.  Scenting the frigid air of the warrens did no good, as the scent of raptor and kill, both new and old, permeated the very rocks themselves.  "Here's to hoping she didn't leave company behind when she went for breakfast," he thought, skulking around the final bend in the passage.

*

The structure of the nest was complicated, with struts from shuttle wreckages, biometallic foliage, and some other crooked tortured materials.  There was silence for a long moment, then only the wind.  Upon closer investigation, once one deigned to enter the cup of the nest, reveals several glittering stones, and four beach ball sized eggs mottled with an angry rusty brown and malachite speckling.  The prize, however, was unmistakable in its scintillating, sense-dulling glory.

Scourge paused for only a moment as he scooped up the jeweled egg.  A tingle ran through him as he suddenly felt…muffled.  The wind no longer howled with many fluting voices through the detritus of the nest materials; now it merely roared in his audials.  Likewise, the scents of the aerie crumpled in on one another until he was left with the overwhelming scent of raptor.  His wings flicked outward has he subconsciously tried to compensate for the sudden heaviness he felt.  The trip to camp at best was going to be a long one.

A brittle crackle underfoot revealed itself to be the regurgitated endoskeletal remains of the past few meals, smeared with a white diaelectric substance best left to the imagination.  One moment, there was nothing but the exhultation of an easy escape; the next, a veritable maelstrom as the mother raptor suddenly backwinged, sending one wing-elbow and heavy set of talons swiping through the air for the Sweep's head.  It was only after she made his first assault that she screamed out her protective rage.

It was only Scourge's instinctual crouch that saved him from being beheaded in that first moment of attack.  The sonic assault of the mother's rage sent him backpedalling, skittering through the bleached-white remains of former meals.  For one fuelpump-seizing moment, Scourge saw only talon and beak, heard only screeches, and felt only the buffets of her powerful wings.  Dropping the prize, Scourge dove under the next set of attacks and lashed out with his own talons, surprised that he felt no lighter.  His talon dug into the raptor's thigh and caused her to stumble for a second, but a backlash from her powerful wings sent the young Sweep slamming into the cliff face.  Scourge grunted with the impact and attempted to leap onto the raptor's back, but his antigrav system was still not working and his jump came up well short.  He ended up pouncing on her tailfeathers instead.  Spinning, the mother raptor lunged forward, landing a spearing jab with her beak that ripped into Scourge's shoulder.

Clutching his wound, Scourge fired a volley from his headblaster, trying to back the furious bird up, but her batting wings seemed to absorb most of the firepower with little or no damage, and she continued to lunge forward, swiping with wings and talons and attempting to spear him with her beak.  Her shrieks of rage were also buffeting him nearly constantly, and he thought that he could make out answering cries getting closer.  It was hard to tell, though, as dull as his senses seemed.  Concentrating on staying away from her relentless attacks left him no time to mount an effective attack of his own.  Desperately he picked up a bit of twisted metal girder as he rolled away from another beak lunge and flung it at her.  The beam bounced off her plumed crest and went tumbling over the edge of the nest.  As it did so, the raptor glanced back and down at the falling piece of metal, then turned back toward Scourge—her optics blazing with renewed fury.

"Oh, don't want me chucking over your nesting, do ya?" the young Sweep panted as he backed away again, preparing to dive from her next attack and trying to gauge which way it would come from.  A thunderous shriek from above announced the Matriarch's cries had indeed attracted more unwanted attention.  Scourge and the raptor both looked upwards to see three tiercels backwinging to hover not twenty meters above the edge of her nest.  An annoyed screech drowned out Scourge's curse.

The pause for her to shriek back at the males gave Scourge time to snatch up a beach ball-sized egg.  "Hey!  Why don't you take a flying leap, and catch this?!" he yelled, as he hurled the egg past her outstretched wings and over the side of the nest.  Almost immediately the mother raptor dived for the egg, shrieking in frustrated rage.  The three males above seemed to watch her in disbelief for a moment, and Scourge wasted no time in scooping up the real prize and launching himself over the back edge of the nest and into the warrens, landing at a dead run.  He had no illusions that the tiercels would be confused over where he went, and even with his senses dulled he could hear them landing and moving into the tunnel above him.  Panic threatened to overtake him, but he stamped down the surge of emotion as he focused on his goal.  The twisting tunnels reverberated with the infuriated cries of the males as they started their pursuit of the egg thief.  Scourge stumbled as he raced over a patch of loose skree and barely caught himself before he went face first down the tunnel.  As he regained his balance, he entered one of the larger chambers scattered throughout the warrens, and spotted a great pile of nesting materials beside several openings that led off in different directions.  Thinking fast, he tossed the "egg" into the soft pile of debris and quickly went to one of the tunnels that led back into the mountain and further away from his exit route.  Stretching upward, he rubbed his chin and short half-beard all along the entrance to the tunnel and proceeded in a bit further, making sure to mark it well with his scent for a few meters before returning to the chamber to claim his prize.

Shrieks of pursuit told him that the sentries were only moments behind, so he had to dive into the enormous pile of nesting materials to mask his own scent as the three males came barreling into the chamber.  The raptors slowed and scented the air of the chamber for a moment, fussing amongst themselves before they caught the marker trail that Scourge had left.  Then as one they raised their hunting call again and ran into the tunnel, heading deep into the mountain and away from the Sweep who was hiding motionless only a few feet away from them.

*

Pulling himself out of the pile of nesting materials, Scourge wrapped his shoulders and neck with long flexible vines, and even though he could not smell as well as he usually could, he knew that his scent would be masked somewhat by the permeating scent of raptor that the materials held.  Taking another bit of vine he quickly tied a sling around the smooth jeweled "egg", providing better grip.  He took a deep breath to steel himself against the taste, then bit down into the sling to carry the egg in his mouth as he took to running on all fours, as he needed as much speed as possible.  In this manner, the young Sweep streaked down through the warrens and out onto the foothills that nestled the mountain range.  He remained on all fours for some time as he galloped away from the raptors' territory, until he was well into the forest and in much better cover.

Finally stopping to remove the vines from his neck and shoulder, Scourge pressed the shoulder wound to crimp it and stanch the remaining drip of energon, deciding that keeping a small bit of vine there was good idea.  He reapplied some of the wrap, discarding the rest.  Looking down at the egg, he decided that the sling should stay as well, since it gave him a better grip on it, and he had no way of telling whether he'd need to carry it in his jaws again.

For the moment, though, with his enhanced senses dulled, he decided to run upright so he could keep a better watch of his surroundings.  He tucked the egg under one arm and set off again at a run towards his father's camp.  A few hours later, he stopped and looked around.  The light coming through the canopy told Scourge that he had spent more than half the day getting to this point, and that in several more hours, his time would be up.  Speed was essential.  Sighing at the need, he grasped his prize in his jaws and took off on all fours once more.  Bounding through the forest, he began to catch his stride and galloped faster and faster.  Breaking through the slight underbrush, Scourge emerged into a clearing, only to haul up short and stop at what was before him.  Crouched on all fours, and ripping into the freshly killed remains of a Seeker, was an adult Feral Sweep.

From a hint of the scent and behavior, Scourge figured that it was most likely Number 12, though the sense-dulling device interfered with his ability to pinpoint exactly which feral it was.  What he was doing way out here was anybody's guess, as Scourge was still in the "no-man's land" above his father's own territory.  The feral snarled and glared at Scourge, energon and mech fluids running down the unkempt beard back to drip onto his kill below.  Scourge started to edge sideways, watching the feral for any signs of movement.  He kept his head tilted down slightly, not wanting to provoke it with direct eye contact.  The feral continued to growl, however, and tilted his head to the side as he attempted to scent the young newcomer and his tantalizing prize.  The growl rose in volume as the feral found that he could not smell the cub as well as he should.  This seemed to agitate him further.  In addition, in spite of the sense-dulling effects of the prize that Scourge was carrying, the feral could sense that Scourge had been wounded.  Easy prey.  Normally Scourge might have been able to slink away submissively as the feral guarded his kill, but there was no going back now.  The feral was startled and enraged by the situation, and intended on making another kill now.  As the feral lunged at the young Sweep, Scourge turned and bolted for the thick cover of the forest, tucking his wings close to his body as he galloped for all he was worth!  Howls of rage were sent up behind him, as the adult feral crashed through the underbrush and powered after him.  Scourge used his advantage of being smaller to dart through the thickest part of the forest that he could, trying to shake his pursuer.  He knew that even if he were at full strength, he would have but the slimmest of chances over an adult feral, but in his current state he was absolutely no match for one.  The feral would not notice his lack of antigravs or transformation ability, and was only enraged further that its own senses were dulled.  Scourge ran for what seemed to be an eternity before he was able to slowly outdistance his would-be attacker.  The feral decided to return to the kill that he had, rather than trying to make another and perhaps losing both.  Panting, Scourge climbed a tree and got his bearings before adjusting his vector to make for the nearest portion of his father's territory.

Near exhaustion, Scourge made it back to his father's camp as the sun's retreating rays began to color the sky in a riot of purples, oranges, and pinks.  A cheer went up as Slash went to greet his newly-returned adult son and take the prize from him.  "Let's get this inside and away from the sentries.  I have a case that will neutralize its power while it is stored inside."  

Scourge looked at his father incredulously.  "So why in the world would you choose to keep it with those gods-forsaken raptors if you could safely contain it here?"

Slash looked at his son and smiled.  "It wouldn't be much of a Trial to get the egg out from under my bed, now, would it?"

Scourge blinked for a moment.  "It would if your big aft was asleep on top of it!" he said, a lopsided grin stealing across his face.

"Insolence!" Slash roared with mock fury, "I teach him all I know, and train him to successfully reach adulthood, and all I get is insolence!  Prepare the feasts for my insolent, ADULT son!"

And with that, the Pack dissolved into a celebration that lasted well longer than the Trial that had caused it had taken.