Grodd did not create things lightly.

Everything he built had purpose. Everything under his control had value.

Which was why this—

This was not taken lightly.

The den was quieter than usual, shielded from the noise of the jungle, guarded without needing guards.

Because nothing was getting close enough to try.

Grodd stood just inside, massive frame still, gaze lowered—not in submission, never that—but in focus.

Small.

Fragile.

Dependent.

His cubs.

They shifted slightly, restless in that way only something new to the world could be, unaware of danger, unaware of anything beyond warmth and presence.

Grodd exhaled slowly.

“…You are not weak,” he said.

A pause.

“You are unfinished.”

He crouched, careful in a way that would have seemed impossible to anyone who had seen what he was capable of.

Controlled.

Precise.

“You will grow,” Grodd continued. “You will learn. And nothing will touch you before you are ready to handle it.”

Another pause.

His gaze hardened slightly, not at them—but at the world outside.

Because that was where the threat was.

“…Anything that tries,” he said quietly, “will not survive long enough to regret it.”