I spent the rest of the day in my room, thinking.
The puppies sensed my mood. They were quieter than usual, staying close but not demanding play. Luna rested her head on my foot while I sat at the desk, staring at nothing. Thor and Maxwell curled up together in their crate, watching me with those dark puppy eyes.
A shadow panther cub that had already killed two handlers.
I'd worked with aggressive dogs before—rescues from fighting rings, abused animals with severe behavioral issues. But those were domestic dogs, animals bred for thousands of years to work with humans. A shadow panther was a wild predator from a world I didn't understand, with instincts I couldn't predict.
And it had already tasted human blood.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Enter."
Sera came in carrying books—thick, leather-bound tomes that looked ancient. She set them on the desk with a heavy thump.
"Everything the temple library has on shadow panthers," she said. "It's not much."
I opened the first book. The text was in a language I shouldn't have been able to read, but somehow could—probably more summoning ritual magic. The illustrations showed sleek, black-furred felines with six legs and eyes that glowed silver in the darkness.
"Native to the Shadow Mire in the southern territories," I read aloud. "Apex predators. Hunt in packs. Known for intelligence and cunning. Highly territorial and extremely aggressive toward anything they perceive as a threat." I looked up at Sera. "This is what Vane wants me to tame?"
"The cub's mother was killed three weeks ago in a raid on a demon outpost," Sera explained, sitting on the edge of my bed. Luna immediately trotted over to her. "They brought back the cub thinking it would be easier to tame when young. But shadow panthers bond with their pack from birth. Taking it away from its mother and siblings..."
"Traumatized it," I finished. "And then they probably used the same brutal methods they use on everything else. Pain, fear, domination magic."
"Two handlers died trying to brand it. The cub is scheduled for execution tomorrow if you don't take it."
I closed the book and leaned back in my chair. "How old is it?"
"About three months, they think. Still young enough to have spots in its fur, according to the guards who brought it in."
Three months. That was roughly equivalent to a four or five-month-old puppy in development terms, maybe. Old enough to be dangerous but young enough that its behavior patterns weren't completely set. If it had only been three weeks since capture, there might still be a chance.
A small chance.
"What do you know about my methods?" I asked Sera. "About how I train?"
She was quiet for a moment, stroking Luna's soft fur. "I've watched you with these three. You're patient. Gentle. You reward them when they do what you want. You never hit them or yell."
"That's the foundation," I said. "Positive reinforcement. You reward the behavior you want to see repeated. Make the right choice the easiest and most pleasant choice." I stood and started pacing. "But with a traumatized predator that sees humans as threats? I can't just walk in with treats and expect it to work."
"Then what will you do?"
Good question. I thought back to the most aggressive cases I'd handled. The pit bull that had been used in dog fights, so fear-reactive he'd lunge at anything that moved. The shepherd mix that had been beaten by its owner, who wouldn't let anyone within ten feet. The key with those dogs had been time, distance, and building trust incrementally.
But I didn't have time. Vane expected me to fail, probably within the first session. If I showed up tomorrow and just sat outside the cage doing nothing, he'd call it a failure and have the cub executed.
I needed results. Fast results. But not at the cost of the animal's wellbeing.
"I need to understand what it wants," I said slowly, thinking out loud. "What motivates it. Food is the obvious answer, but if it's been traumatized, it might be too stressed to eat in front of humans." I turned to Sera. "What do shadow panthers eat?"
"Raw meat. They're obligate carnivores. The book says they prefer live prey but will scavenge if necessary."
"I'll need fresh meat. A lot of it. The best quality you can get." I started mentally listing everything else I'd need. "And I need the layout of wherever they're keeping it. Cage dimensions, visibility, any spaces I can use to create distance. I need to know if there are other beasts nearby that might stress it out."
Sera pulled out a piece of parchment and a writing stick. "I'll get this information to you tonight."
"One more thing," I said, looking at the three puppies. Luna had fallen asleep in Sera's lap. Thor was chewing on his own foot. Maxwell was watching me with his head tilted. "I need to bring them with me tomorrow."
"What? Marcus, that's—"
"I know it sounds insane. But I need the panther cub to see me as something other than a threat. If I show up alone, I'm just another human handler coming to hurt it. But if I show up with puppies, with young creatures that are vulnerable and non-threatening..." I trailed off, working through the logic. "It changes the dynamic. I'm not a predator. I'm a caretaker."
"And if the panther attacks them?"
The thought made my stomach turn, but I forced myself to consider it logically. "I won't let them get close enough for that. They'll stay with me, at a safe distance. The panther just needs to see them, to understand that I'm not like the other handlers."
Sera looked doubtful but nodded slowly. "I'll support whatever you think is best. But Marcus, please be careful. All of you."
After she left, I returned to the books, reading everything I could find about shadow panthers. Their hunting patterns, their social structures, their communication methods. Every piece of information might be the difference between life and death tomorrow.
Luna woke up and padded over to me, putting her paws on my leg. I picked her up and held her close, feeling her tiny heartbeat against my chest.
"You three are going to help me save a life tomorrow," I whispered. "Even if you don't know it yet."
She licked my chin and yawned.
I stayed up late into the night, planning. By the time I finally climbed into bed, I had the outline of an approach. It was risky. It relied on assumptions about animal behavior that might not translate across worlds. And if I was wrong, people would die.
Possibly me.
But I'd made a promise to that dire wolf shaking in its chains, even if it couldn't understand. I'd promised myself I'd find a better way.
Tomorrow, I'd start proving it.
Or die trying.