VII
First Carcass
Before long, the cubs were allowed to be escorted into the savannah. Scorching grasslands and plains would have each one panting, but of course, the aroma of a freshly killed zebra, antelope or whatever nature could dish out for the hunting party, would keep the little ones's ears perked and noses twitching anxiously. They were the last ones to fill their bellies, but the offspring still enjoyed the walks to the carcass. Soon after that, they were even brought on hunts.
The hunting party was led by Helalu, who was now stalking a zebra herd. In fact, the group had been tracking the family of striped equines for a couple suns now.
"Mom, I'm hungry," complained Banjija to Kinara.
These days, the young were supposed to follow in the tracking process, so that they could watch the action of the kill itself.
Kinara nodded. "Sometimes it takes a while to get our food."
"What if you don't get it?" asked Kasha, curiously.
"Sometimes we can scavange," his mother responded, eyes half closed as they padded through the stiff, golden grass, trying to keep up with the rest of the group.
Meersha flinched as her stomach seemed to twist in pain, hunger eating her up inside. Luckily the yearning for water had been satisfied just a few minutes back at a small water hole.
Suddenly, the cub blinked, as if what she was seeing was a mirage. But all the cubs of the pride were gazing up at them now, eyes widened in curiousity. The adults just carried on, though, staring ahead, as if what they were passing was nothing but normal.
"What about those?" Kasha finally asked, pointing a paw to the near group of elephants.
Kinara shook her head. "No. We never hunt those. Unless one is by himself, and usually it has to be really young or old or sick."
"Have you ever had elelphant?" questioned Meersha, trying her best to ignore the hunger deep in her belly.
Kinara then nodded. "Yes. Once, when I was your age. We were tracking down a sick baby bull. He had wandered off from his mother and the group...That just proves to you, always stay close. Got it? All of you."
"We're not babies anymore," huffed Banjija.
The lioness chuckled, watching her growing cubs. They were about a third her size now. Kinara was greatful she got to stay this long with her little ones. By now, she was sure that the rouges would've striked.
"Stop blabering back there!" called Helalu. "I can see them over this knoll! Hurry up!"
"Here comes lunch." Banjija muttered to himself, a satisfied smirk upon his face, fur bristling.
The little family trailed behind the group up the hill, only to look down at the many zebras. This was the first time Meersha and the cubs had ever seen prey whole and alive. She licked her lips, staring at them, carefully lying on her stomach and copying her mother, who began to crawl forward.
"Mom," whispered Banjija.
"Shh," Kinara hissed at her son.
"Where's Helalu?" he asked, despite her shush.
She snapped at him once and he became quiet. "Just watch."
Meersha stayed yards behind her damè and three other lionesses who were sneaking up on the zebras, inching closer. She felt the thrill and adrenaline rushing through her veins as she attempted to hold her breath. Even if Meersha was meant to only watch, the cub and her siblings, as well as the others focused, copying exactly what their mothers did. Helalu, and about four other lionesses seemed to be missing now, though.
Finally, Tanda leapt out, and the startled zebras rushed out over the plain like a disturbed river of black a white, thunderous hooves pounding against the dry ground. Meersha jumped up from her spot, trying to get a good view, but, like her peers, was coerced to follow instead, in order to keep the hunting party and prey in sight. Just a few moments into the chase, Helalu and the other three missing lionesses had come from the south, on the other side of the running herd now. Eyes from each member of the pride fell onto each other, before looking to the dominant female, and Helalu made a gesture. Suddenly, they quickly seperated an old zebra from his family. Meersha could hear his cry of agony shoot through the atmosphere, bucking once as he struggled to catch up, but the seven hunters were on all sides of the prey now, and the many cubs were not too far behind, romping through savannah.
Meersha kept one paw after the other, growling as she listened and watched with fascination, even licking her lips once. She was the first of the cubs, just a few yards behind her mother and the others. And then...
Helalu pounced. She was able to slow their potential meal, allowing the others jump on it, and they soon brought it down. The party dug in, just as the rest of the family was walking slowly from the hill, including Ashuma and Shashi. All the cubs came running eagerly to the carcass, endaevouring to get in and snap at the meat. The lionesses either ignored them, shoved them away, or hissed at the young ones. For once, they were regected and even neglected when it came to the food.
"What's with this?" asked a cub, plopping down, hurt in his voice.
"I don't know," growled Banjija. "We should have first pecks."
"Cubs are last," someone stated firmly. Ashuma. He came stalking over and pushed away some of the females, digging in.
"He didn't even hunt and he gets it first!" complained Kasha.
"Lions don't usually hunt. The lionesses do." advised Meersha as she gazed warily at her family. Kinara had explained this to her just the day before while still tracking.
Banjija questioned, "Then what's the point of us guys learning to hunt?"
"Yeah," Toga said with a huff.
The cubs were soon attempting to grab their fill again, all except Gatu and Meersha. She sat, tail curling around her body as she watched her family chow down, and the younger ones try to eat. Meersha sighed, knowing her time would eventually come to dig into the meat. Poor, little Gatu would've been with the rest, if he had been so frightened of his own father now.
"What is it?" she asked Gatu then, paws shifting in the dirt curiously. "Why aren't you with the rest?"
Gatu looked at her with his right eye.
"Oh," she said, regretfully as she inwardly cringed.
"Why aren't you eating? Or trying to?" he then replied.
The female cub shrugged, staring at the brown-gold one.
Finally, the lionesses finished, along with Ashuma. They laid down, tummies bulging in the sunlight as they waited for the cubs to finish. Soon, the scavangers closed in, and the pride headed back.
Each time they hunted, it was the same thing; the cubs watched and coppied the tracking and stalking, only to run after their mothers who were the ones to get the prey. Then the little ones would try and eat, but were left last, even after the paranoid - and even sometimes frightening - Ashuma. Of course, Meersha and Gatu waited patiently together. Sometimes the pride was not successful, and so would have to turn back. Other times their tracking lasted for days, and still, other hunting nights they were left to eat what was left of a different carcass, temporarily turning into scavanagers. But the pride was greatful that their cubs were growing, without being interrupted by the rogues or even their own leader.
Soon, the cubs themselves were able to help bring small prey down. But always with the grownup lionesses doing most of the work. In fact, a cub sometimes only managed to jump up on a falling denizen of the savannah, that had already been struck by the hunting lionesses. On their own, back at the Great Knoll in the territory center, cubs tried hunting birds and rodents. At the water hole, they occasionally caught a fish. That didn't last long, though, as two cubs were taken by the crockadiles, and one was killed by an angry hippo.
By then end of the next month, another had been sick and died, even with the help of Shashi. Still, a week after that, the only remaining cubs were Meersha, Banjija, Kasha, Toga, Gatu, Pashi, Lusala, Tokto, Shap, Daba, Naynana, Bondu and Kiku.
