Righto, here's a bit of a long one. I was going to end it with this chapter, but I want to take it a little futher into Maten's rule to fully establish his as a wicked reign. So don't worry, we're not quite done yet!

The driving rain pummeled into the fur of the mottled lioness, but her brown eyes remained stubbornly open as she watched the herd closely. The pale hunting mistress had yet to signal which animal the hunters were to take down, but they all knew – at the outskirts was a rather decent sized adult, but his hind leg was bending awkwardly under his weight, as if he had broken it.

Such broken limbs were often fatal.

The lionesses geared themselves for the chase, tensing tighter as Elata's tail gave a flick from somewhere in the tall grasses – a thin, blonde tail brush shot up and waved then went down. Winda kneaded the ground with her claws, her heart racing as she watched the adult. His nervous scent wrapped around her nose, and she shuddered softly. The poor beast had no idea that his suffering would be over sooner than he thought.

The sky cracked with thunder and a lightning bolt shattered the dim earth, and it was now, in the midst of the chaos, that the lionesses surged forwards as one. The herd scattered, leaving behind not only the injured adult behind but several of the older ones also lagged. But the Pride was not interested in them – only in the largest and weakest one.

Elata shot up off the ground and landed squarely on his back, sinking her claws into his massive shoulders. Elata was clinging grimly to his neck, her front paws wrapped around him as if in a tender embrace. The rest of the Pride rushed along side him, nipping at his legs as he thrashed from side to side and tried simultaneously to shake off his attackers and prevent the pale huntress' fangs from finding his windpipe.

A brown lioness leapt up next to Winda, balancing delicately on the beast's left side. He twisted towards her and bellowed before collapsing to his right and becoming buried in a whirl of fangs and claws. He continued to thrash, but the hunters were both numerous and strong enough to keep his legs from flailing too much. Elata and Winda found the windpipe and clamped down while closing their ears against the loud and frantic bellows of the male as he slowly succumbed to the darkness that overwhelmed him.

The hunters sat back and rested in the rain, allowing the cooling drops of water to ease life back into their exhausted muscles. Years ago they would have been laughing and talking together, but now a deathly hush whispered over the lands broken only by the occasional blast of thunder.

The lands had flourished, mostly due to two healthy rainy seasons in a row. Prey had never been more plentiful in known memory or story, and the Pride itself had nearly doubled in number. This was due in part to the birth of several litters, but mostly the influx of rogues passing from their own lands into the Pridelands. Maten had welcomed all the able-bodied adults and adolescents with open claws, but for the most part he had turned away the old, the sick, and the young.

Rolling thunder shook the hunters from their pensive states, and with a quiet command from Elata they picked up the huge brute and began to move him back towards Pride Rock. The rain continued to drive on, making progress difficult as they hauled the carcass through mud puddles which threatened to claim several ill-placed paws for their own. While Pride Rock was in sight, it would take no less than an hour of hauling to get the meal back home.

While the lionesses fought the elements, the King of Pride Rock was stretched out in the cave. His blue eyes were open, and a rare smile was on his face as he watched the future generation at play by the cave entrance.

Two separate lionesses had given him five healthy cubs, three male and two female. In addition to his offspring, a pregnant female he had admitted into the Pride had added her own son to the number and two more cubs had been allowed in with their parents. Eight was indeed a rare number, but the Pride took it as a sign.

Maten had already chosen his heir from his sons. The cub had a pale golden pelt and the beginnings of a light brown mane on his head. His eyes were the same cold blue as his father's. The cub carried himself around as if he were King already, and his disdain for the "commoners" and his treatment of them made his father proud. Maten had held his grudge against the Pride for allowing what had happened in the past to happen, and his Bakari's seemingly similar feelings certainly helped the young male become the Prince.

Maten stood suddenly and padded forwards. He stepped around the sparring cubs and out into the rain, moving out to the tip of Pride Rock. His sharp eyes caught sight of the returning patrol, and he snorted quietly. He opened his mouth to roar at them, but thought better of it and waited for them at the top of the slope. Bakari came out to join him, looking up at him before he turned his eyes out to the group too.

Elata's patrol fought up to Pride Rock, only to be faced by father and son wearing identical scowls. Elata's eyes trailed only briefly to her son before she looked up to the towering King, meeting his gaze as fearlessly as she could.

"The mud made it hard to…"

Maten narrowed his eyes dangerously, and the hunt mistress shied away from him. Ever since taking the throne, Maten had been consumed by his intense hatred for the Pride that had murdered his mother. His reign had been compared often to that of King Scar, but this brute had a flourishing Pridelands under his iron claws and what at one time had seemed an amazing amount of cubs. Healthy cubs, nonetheless. His Pride was strong and powerful, and he himself only grew stronger by the day. The Pride could only interpret the signs as approval from the Great Kings… Perhaps even their ancestors felt that his wicked reign was justified.

Maten moved forwards until he was nose to nose with Elata. Though the pale lioness had given him his heir and was, by all rights, the Queen, she held no importance to him. He kept her firmly in her place, and he had already poisoned her own son to do the same. The pain in the lioness' golden eyes as she faced the King was glazed over with fear as he growled out softly, "Try again, Elata. And don't wait until I die to bring it back this time."

With a furious burst of energy, Maten took the heavy beast in his jaws and carried it into the cave. Bakari's cold eyes bore into Elata's before he followed his father, who set the carcass in the middle of the floor and began to eat his fill. He allowed only Bakari to join him, and the other seven cubs were forced to sit and wait until King and Prince had eaten their fills.

Elata turned an apologetic gaze to her hunting party before they padded back out into the driving rain, forcing exhaustion and hunger to the back of their minds.

Before the day was through, the weary lionesses would bring back four more large animals. And between the ten of them, they would be forced to fight for scraps after the Pride members who hadn't disappointed the King would get their fill.