AUGUST 3, Y109"Motherfucker..."
The sun was hot, which usually would have been a non-issue for the most splendid of all hunters. As it were, the human body was shit and he could feel the way the heat stung at the back of his neck, pulling moisture to the surface of his skin, which then soaked into the shirt he was supposed to wear, which made it feel sticky and uncomfortable. A hand reached up and slapped at the back of his neck, but it didn't do much good. His neck was still hot.
Looking upward at the sky, the glorious predator pursed his lips, wondering if he was as much of a fucking lunatic as he felt, for actually choosing this. Not... well...
He hadn't really chosen it. Not exactly, but if there was one thing he had come to realize in this world, it was that magic was fucking stupid, and it often worked against the ways of nature. He didn't know what that meant for him. Had he become some kind of abomination of humanity? Another one of these machinations? The hunter didn't want to give that too much thought, knowing how his head could get away from him now, so he moved on to the task at hand, which also had nothing to do with the blazing sun.
Beneath the enormous, monstrous thing-on-wheels (car? no, cars were the other ones? this had another name), a sad mewling reverberated and the mighty hunter dropped onto his stomach, flat against the hot pavement to squint into the shadows beneath the not-a-car. Near to one of the wheels, there was a shuddering clump of multi-colored fur. A mother cat and her hatchlings, whom he had been trying to coax out for a very long time, but she was rightly frightened by his great size and strength. She did not know his intentions, and the great predator had no way to tell her of his love and admiration for her.
He yanked his shirt off over his head, then reached under the not-a-car, knowing from his last time in the human nest-of-nests that the front of such beasts was prone to weakness, and would snap off in his hands before bearing the weight of the thing itself. The solid metal would hold, though, and with a soft grunt, the great hunter bent his knees and hefted the full weight of the truck up and above his head.
Holding it with one hand, he realized the new issue: Though he now had a path to the mother cat and her hatchlings, and his shirt to wrap them in, he couldn't get any closer without scaring her away. That was, of course, always a risk. A mother was only brave to a point before survival demanded that she abandon her clutch, but he didn't want that if he could avoid it.
He shifted the weight of the vehicle between his hands, staring down at the cat, who stared back at him suspiciously. The metal was starting to groan against his grip, which probably wasn't ideal.