The sun rose over the lower market, painting the streets in dull gold. Arin stretched his tiny paws and twitched his ears. Today felt different. The city hummed louder, faster, as if it had a secret it was about to reveal.
He peeked out from the window of Lysa's safe room. People moved in their usual loops, but there were new faces—traders, hunters, and pets he had never seen before. Their movements were smooth, practiced. They were dangerous, even if they looked harmless at first glance.
Arin's stomach growled. Hunger was sharp, but he could not just scavenge today. He needed more food—and more knowledge. If he wanted to grow, he had to observe, plan, and act.
Lysa came in with a small bag. "I've saved some bread and meat for you," she said softly. "Eat. Then we will go see the market properly."
Arin sniffed the food. His stomach rumbled again. He ate quickly but carefully, keeping one eye on the street below. The moment he finished, Lysa whispered, "Stay close to me. Today might be tricky."
Tricky. That word made him alert. The city had been tricky from the moment he arrived. Every corner hid danger. Every shadow might be a trap. But he was ready to test himself.
They stepped into the street. Arin moved silently along Lysa's side. He kept his small body low, his eyes scanning everything. A soft breeze carried the smell of cooked meat, spilled herbs, and something else—metal and leather. Something strong.
A crowd had gathered near a central stall. Arin watched. Two large pets fought for scraps. One was a spiny lizard, the other a fox-like creature with claws sharper than most knives. They circled each other, eyes locked, bodies tense. People shouted, throwing coins and cheering.
Arin's tail twitched. He studied their moves. One step, pause, feint, lunge. Each had a rhythm. A pattern. Weak points.
Then he noticed someone new—another flufflet. Slightly bigger, darker, eyes sharp, aura confident. The flufflet moved with a speed and precision that made Arin's fur rise. This was no ordinary small pet. This was a rival.
The dark flufflet noticed Arin immediately. Its head tilted, eyes narrowing. A low growl escaped its throat. It wasn't loud, but it was clear: this was a challenge.
Arin froze. He had never faced another flufflet like this. But fear sharpened his mind. Predator's Mind triggered lightly, showing him the rival's weaknesses. Slight limp on the right paw. Slight hesitation before each leap. Small opening in its defense when it sniffed the air.
He could win. He could avoid pain. He could learn.
Lysa did not notice the tension. She reached for a basket of herbs. Arin stayed crouched. His body tight, mind sharp. He had survived scavengers, hunters, and city shadows. This would be different. This would be cleverness against cleverness.
The dark flufflet stepped forward. "You don't belong here," it said in a sharp voice. Arin's ears flattened. The words were dangerous. Pets usually communicated in growls, hisses, and squeaks. This one could speak.
Arin did not answer. He moved silently, circling, watching, learning. A leaf drifted down between them. It twisted in the wind. The rival flufflet's eyes followed it. A moment of distraction.
Arin acted. He darted forward, pushing a small pebble with his paw. The pebble slid under the rival's claw. It stumbled slightly. Arin squeaked, then jumped to the left. The rival lunged, missed, and spun awkwardly.
The crowd gasped. The dark flufflet recovered quickly, but Arin had already moved to a safer spot. His body was tiny, his movements quick, his mind calculating every second.
"You're faster than you look," the rival said. It circled Arin. "But not smart enough."
Arin's eyes narrowed. He let a small sound escape—a fake squeak, designed to trick. The rival's ears twitched. It lunged forward. Arin rolled sideways, dodging just in time. The rival crashed into a stack of crates, scattering loose vegetables everywhere.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Lysa clapped her hands, laughing. But Arin did not relax. He knew this rival would not give up. Not here. Not in this city.
The dark flufflet glared at him. "You got lucky," it hissed. "Next time, you won't be so fast."
Arin felt a thrill. This was the first time he had faced a real opponent—not a weak scavenger, not a distracted hunter. Someone who could think, move, and fight like him. Someone to push him.
Predator's Mind pulsed faintly. He could feel his muscles tense and relax in the perfect rhythm. His mind calculated, predicted, prepared.
The rival flufflet backed off, disappearing into the crowd. But the warning lingered. Arin's body remained tense. He realized something important: in this city, survival was not enough. He needed strength. He needed skill. He needed allies.
Lysa looked at him, puzzled. "Are you okay?" she asked. "Did someone hurt you?"
Arin shook his head. He could not tell her everything. Not yet. She could not understand. But he could feel it—an awareness, a new edge forming inside him.
The rest of the day passed in cautious observation. Arin watched humans, pets, and traders. He learned which carts moved slowest, which streets were watched by bounty hunters, and which alleys had secret passages. Every detail mattered.
At night, he hid behind a stack of crates, thinking about the dark flufflet. Its movements, its confidence, its power. He had learned a lot from the fight—but he also knew he had not won. Not really.
Then, a soft voice whispered from the shadows again: "You have potential, little hunter. But potential alone will not save you. Are you ready to take the next step?"
Arin's eyes narrowed. His tiny paws pressed into the ground. His tail flicked once.
"Yes," he whispered, though the voice could not hear him. "I am ready."
Outside, the city stirred. Somewhere, danger moved closer. A shadow shifted along the walls. Eyes glinted in the dark.
Arin crouched low, ready for whatever came next.
This was only the beginning.