Monica walked down the hard-stone smelly street with five kits. The kits were trying to run off, again, but Monica made sure they would not. It was important to get them to their burrows. Rick said so.

“Wrong street.”

Anette the smart kit tough-one pointed to another street. Monica hesitated, sniffing the air, the scent of one of the burrows was close. It was clearly this way, and not the other way. “This way.” Monica proclaimed, pointing forward through the smelly street.

“Mom says it’s dangerous.”

Dangerous? Another deep sniff, no, nothing here but prey. She shook her head. “Monica here.”

The kits were afraid, huddling together and following. Monica wasn’t sure what they were scare of, she wasn’t going to eat them, she wasn’t hungry, and Rick had said that eating kits was very bad. Even the ones that didn’t speak words. Thinking about meat made Monica grumpy, she grumbled and rumbled, Rick had sweets, and she’d have to do the hard stuff to get some.

Monica’s eyes flickered towards the large black rock.

She’d fought without asking, that had been bad.

“Hey, out of the-.”

A tough one barked at Monica, Monica sighed and shoved them out of the way. She wasn’t in the mood for playing with weak-tough-ones. There was a shriek and a complaint, and the kits stuck to Monica as she followed the scent to the closest burrow.

Monica didn’t roar, she knocked, because that was what she was supposed to do.

Rick said so.

“Oh, Monica! You’re… uh, early.” Prey spoke and quickly hurried their kits inside. “Thank you!” A fearful squeak, afraid, nervous.

“Bye Monica!”

“Bye!” She waved, even when the door slammed shut. Monica wanted to growl, but didn’t. She checked the kits, three left. She sniffed them to check, then followed the trail towards the burrow. “This way.”

 

---

 

“Bye Anette.”

“Thank you, Monica.” Anette nodded, hurrying inside her burrow.

The mother looked at Monica without as much fear as the others. She smelled of courage underneath. “Thank you.” The older tough-one declared, lowering her head. She had a small bag she gave Monica.

Blinking, Monica glanced at the bag, sniffing it. “For Rick?”

“For Monica.”

That perked her ears, she opened it and reached inside with a claw. Dried fruits, sweets, not the tasty tasty kind, but tasty. Monica quickly stuffed the bag into her important pocket and paused right before leaving. “Thank you.”

Without waiting for Anette’s mother to change her mind and ask for the bag back, Monica hurried off. She didn’t head back to Rick, she could feel he was busy and going back to the not-burrow would be boring.

And Monica had tasty sweets.

She knew a place where she could eat without being bothered, there was a street where others didn’t go to and there were only ever a handful of prey. It was out of sight, and there was a nice warm spot with good light.

“She’s back!”

One of the prey shouted off, and they ran off, which was better, they left Monica her spot to comfortably eat her tasty sweet fruits. When the bag was empty, Monica tucked it back into her important pocket and lay down on the warm spot, yawning. After all the reading her head was hurting and she could use the rest.

She might have had ‘homework’, but it could wait.

 

---

 

Monica woke to the scent of blood.

It had been subtle and soft, not the blood of an accident or the blood of a fight. It was the blood of a hunt, someone scared, frightened, prey that had been hunted and killed. One of the soft-ones. Monica sniffed again and stretched, looking over to the sky, the sun was still up, which was odd, this was the first time she smelled hunt-blood during the day.

Monica felt inside her chest where not-Rick-feelings were, to check that he was still busy. Not-Rick-feelings were focused and hungry, but quickly focused on Monica, and Monica felt he was a bit worried.

Monica sniffed again. Hunt blood wasn’t close, outside of the nice place and where the stuffy other smells were. With a huff, she went back to her not-burrow. But she wanted to go check, but she had to stay and be good. Because Rick said so and Rick was still angry at her sometimes.

But it was Monica that should be angry at Rick.

She could smell the food Rick had not hunted but was trying to make tasty. It was… not as tasty as the bad-good-not-burrow in the not-mountain. Monica’s shoulders slumped as she stepped inside.

“Oh, you’re here.”

Rick smiled at her and Monica grumbled, pouting. “Food bad.” She proclaimed, arms crossed and sniffling loudly in annoyance. “No meat.”

“Meat is expensive.”

It was the only thing he said, a word Monica didn’t understand but she hated. ‘Expensive’. They said meat was hard to find, but Monica could find meat easily. But it was bad meat, and Monica knew there was good meat she could also find, hunt, but Rick was angry at her, he didn’t say it, he tried to hide it, but Monica could smell it.

Monica hated that.

Angry but trying not to be angry and still being angry.

And it was hurting Rick. Inside.

But Monica would fix it, she didn’t like the food, but she ate it.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, eyeing her mate as he stared at his half-empty food.

The anger that wasn’t angry, it was in his gaze. If he hated the food, he could ask Monica to hunt, she knew he knew. But she didn’t know why he didn’t ask for hunt. Probably another wrong ‘complicated’ thing.

“Nap?”

Her offer snapped him out of the silent glare. Startled into finishing his meal. “Sure.”

Monica’s ears perked as he grabbed her paw and pulled her towards the not-nest. Her grip in his hand tightened as she smirked, moving forward and scooping him into her arms.

“Hey!”

He complained but wasn’t angry, which was good, Monica hurried them both into the soft not-cave and made sure to close the door behind herself. Rick tried to struggle again, but she had practice, she knew what to do, her claws carefully undid his clothes and her mate was nice and still so she wouldn’t tear anything.

Removing her pants, the only clothes she wore, Monica pulled him into the almost-soft bed and wrapped him into a tight hug with her furry claws. The smell of tiredness was strong, and though Monica could have given him sex, she just let him nuzzle into her.

Her soft-one.

“Rick good.” She patted him, stroking his soft hair and hearing his half-complaints.

“Monica good… sometimes.”

She snorted, she was good all the time. But Rick already knew that. His not-anger was leaving him and he was falling asleep, and Monica held him tightly.

With a sigh, Monica waited until he was asleep before she reminded herself of her ‘homework’. So she left him nice and warm in the bed, he needed the rest. She went up to the learning room and brought out the box with the wood in the shapes of the letters. Slowly, she put them together and sat down, making sure to organize them.

She hated ‘homework’.

But there was something else that bothered her mate, something ‘complicated’.

And she had to learn the complicated things if she wanted to help.