Mandrills
When the meerkat told me about the problem, I was terrified. However, I tried to avoid giving in to panic. I had to think clearly.
After the lionesses had left my weekly carcass at the waterhole, the hyenas had come at their designated time to devour it. However, Mufasa had gotten thirstier than usual and journeyed to the waterhole just in time to see the hyenas consume the last of the meat.
"We're not after lion cubs," one of the hyenas had explained. "We're just taking what's rightfully ours."
"Rightfully yours?!" Mufasa had roared. "No one left the carcass there for you!"
"It's my weekly gift," Shenzi explained. "It gets left here for me."
"It's not left for you!"
What happened next was the worst battle that had taken place in months.
When I heard the news, I knew either side would gladly kill me, and as I was out hunting the next day, I heard the whooping of hyenas. They began circling me, squealing in a staccato manner that sounded like a cross between a scream and a laugh.
"The lions tried to steal our food!" Banzai informed me angrily. "Did you put them up to that?! I think you purposely tried to set it up so Mufasa would kill us!"
"I did no such thing!" I replied. "Why would I tell the lions to steal your dinner when Queen Shenzi and I have a bargain?! I'm furious! Those accursed lions will certainly be hearing from me!"
"With us out of the way, you wouldn't have to bargain with anyone!"
Ed laughed, eyeing me hungrily. I pretended not to notice, refusing to allow myself to shudder, for rather than strangling their victims as cheetahs or lions do, hyenas eat their prey alive.
"Come now," I answered, trying to sound much calmer than I felt. "I know you hyenas are reasonable creatures."
"Yeah!" Shenzi agreed. "Reasonable! That's us!"
"If you were exiled or killed, other creatures would simply claim your territory," I explained. "They might not be nearly as clever as yourselves! Why would I regret making a bargain with those capable of logic?"
Pacified by my flattery, Shenzi suggested, "Maybe you could start leaving it closer to the Elephant Graveyard."
I smiled. "I believe that would work out nicely. The lions wouldn't dare show their hideous faces so near your home!"
"Yeah! Leave it closer! Don't forget!" Banzai concluded.
With that, the hyenas left. I thought I was out of danger, but later that same day, I found myself pinned under Mufasa's paw.
"Thank goodness!" I exclaimed before he could begin his accusations. "Those wretched hyenas have been stealing those kills that the lionesses leave for me!"
He seemed to soften, believing I wasn't to blame. "Would you like me to stand guard as you eat?"
"Thank you, but perhaps we simply need a change of location. You could leave the meals in a different place each week. We'll decide in advance where the food should be left."
Mufasa nodded. "It would work better than letting the hyenas grow accustomed to one location. Then I could keep them off my land!"
Cheetahs aren't nearly as strong as lions. It was no problem for the lionesses to kill a large animal and drag it to a certain location. However, I knew I would never be able to drag such heavy carcasses all the way to the hyenas' territory. I had to make several trips, carrying one large piece at a time. When I tired, I would watch the cubs while my mate took over. Sometimes, it took the two of us most of the night to finish delivering the meat.
One of the strangest things about life is that just when you think things couldn't possibly get any more complicated, something always happens to prove you wrong. I was finishing the remains of a gazelle I had recently killed when I saw a gourd land in front of my face, falling from the sky and missing my head by mere inches.
"Hey! You!" a voice shouted. "Are you looking for something?!"
I'd recognize that voice anywhere. It was Rafiki, the resident mystic whose antics were occasionally entertaining, but you had to be in a certain mood to be able to deal with him, and I wasn't.
"I've got something!"
Against my better judgement, I looked into the tree where he was standing. He held out a baby cheetah, younger than even my own cubs.
"Please bring it down here!" I begged. "I can't stand the thought of it falling out of that tree! We cheetahs can climb a bit, but we're not nearly as agile as leopards!"
"You are not the cub's mother," he observed. "You didn't even know whether or not you were looking for anything!"
I felt like beating my head against the tree, but Rafiki had been known to bludgeon certain animals over the head if he lost patience with them, and I didn't want to invite him to give me a migraine as well.
"I never said I was the cub's mother," I replied. "However, on her behalf, I would ask you to bring the cub back down here before it falls."
He nodded sagely. "You have a strong protective instinct for someone who claims she has no cubs of her own." Rafiki descended the tree, taking a seat in the shade as he held out the cub. "Do you not trust old Rafiki? He presents lion cubs on Pride Rock, so why do you think he would drop a cheetah cub when he is in a tree? Well, do you want this cub or not?"
"I want to return it to its mother."
"I am afraid she won't be returning."
Hiding a sigh, I asked, "Then what am I supposed to do with it? My condolences to the poor cub, for the plains are indeed cruel, but right now, I hardly need the extra responsibility of…"
"You do not want it?!" Rafiki interrupted. "Then I will take up no more of your time. Bye!"
Before he could turn to leave, I concentrated all my energy into a burst of speed that ended with me lightly pinning his tail under my paw.
"Please hand it to me."
He frowned. "I thought you just made it clear that you didn't want it."
I was losing patience at an alarming rate. "In the names of the great kings of the past, give me my cub!"
When I told my mate what had happened, he took the news rather well. Instead of scolding me for bringing home another mouth to feed, he simply smiled and said he hoped he would kill a stork the next time he went hunting because if the stork ever paid us a visit again, we'd definitely be in over our heads.
