Chapter I: Beginnings
Africa; it is home to the lion, the cheetah, the leopard, the jaguar, and the tiger. From the desert plains to the rich rain forests these cats roam. Their prey, the zebra, the antelope, and the wildebeest, know each by sight. All animals respond to the sight of these cats. The herds of zebra run, the antelope bound away, and the wildebeest bolt in a wild stampede. Even the warthog, with its sharp horns, knows to get out of sight when one of these was about. The only animals not subject to these great cats rule are the giraffe and the elephant. Still they have a healthy respect for them.
Chief of all these creatures is the lion; powerful, brave, dominate. All of Africa bows to the will of the lion, for he is strongest of all creatures excepting the great elephant. Of the lions there are three tribes; the Blackmane, the Pawanee, and the Catchete. The Blackmane are fierce fighters and hunters easily distinguished by their ebony black mane. Over the north plains this tribe rules with an iron hand. While the Blackmane are fierce in hunting they did not amount to the skill of the Pawanee of the west plains. They are inaudible while hunting and quick when chasing down prey. The Catchete are much different, preferring peace and order in the south plains. Each of these tribes has many numerous small "families" or prides.
The leader of one of the small prides, belonging to the Blackmane, was Strenger. He was keen, brawny, and strong-willed. At the young age of 2 ½ years he ascended the throne. He took as his mate, Stille, a small quiet lioness that he had known in his childhood. Together they bore a son. At the time of his birth a raging storm tore across the plains and forests. While lighting tore the sky apart and thunder rocked the foundations of the mountains, Strenger paced the rock outside his den. Inside the cave his mate was giving birth to their child. He stopped every now and then to listen, holding his breath, only to sigh and begin his pacing again. He spent hours like this. The black night was beginning to fade into a grey dawn. Thoughts were racing in his head, each trying to suppress the one before to make itself heard. "She will be alright…she is young and strong...she will be alright…" his heart pounded. "But this is her first cub...anything could go wrong. No! No, that is foolish!" he shook his head, "Everything will be fine. I'm sure-"his thought was cut off. From inside the cave there rose with the thunder, a cry that had never been heard before on the face of the earth, the cry of the newborn prince. Strenger turned toward the mouth of the cave, heart in his throat, eyes straining to catch a glimpse. Finally, a lioness came to the caves with a smile playing about her lips. She bowed a little and said,
"You may go in now sire." Strenger waited for no other words, though they were pouring from her mouth like rain. Like an arrow shot from a bow, he bolted along the passage. He slowed down at a bend in the cave and walked slowly. Then he came to the entrance of his den. It was only a few feet away. but to him it seemed like rolling miles of stone. Every step sounded in his ear as time seemed to slow down. He almost held his breath as he entered his den. There in the dim morning light lay a lioness small, frail, and exhausted. He slowly walked to her side and leaned down. Her light breathing reassured him and he licked her cheek. Her eyelids quivered and slowly opened. She smiled weakly her dark brown eyes sparking with joy. Strenger smiled and nuzzled him neck. She looked down and slid her arms away from her body. There, curled in the crook of her arm, slept a newborn male cub. Stille's voice was soft,
"His name is Kriger." Strenger's eyes almost fell from his head. He had a son.
"I have a son..." His words were almost inaudible. They fell from his lips like a whispering breeze. He stood up his face a picture of sheer bliss.
"I have a son." he voice rose in volume.
"I have a son! I have a son!" the last was almost a shout. He laughed and ran from one side of the cave to another. His heart was close to bursting with joy. He stopped looked at his wife a cub then turned to the passage. He ran from the den through the passage to the cave mouth just as the sun shone on the ridge, sending the first rays of light into the sky. He threw back his head and roared.
"I HAVE A SON!"
In the deep jungle there was a tense silence. The storm had not broken over them yet, but the dark clouds promised to soon spill their contents over the sleeping jungle. In the innermost part of the jungle there was a large round clearing. There sat a ring of tigers seated along the rim of the small clearing. At their head, on a rock a large prestigious male sat. His eyes were fixed in front of him staring straight ahead not moving. His shoulders were rigid and tense. Behind him was a natural under ground cave, obviously the sleeping place for the clan. For it was indeed a tiger clan. The large male was the clan's chief. His name was Baska. He was the son of Basta the elder, who had died 2 years before. According to the tradition of the tigers Baska, his sole heir, was made chief of the small clan.
Suddenly from the cave there came a tiny whimpering sound. The leader did not move his head, but his shoulders relaxed slightly and lost some rigidity. Another whimper joined the first. It was much quieter and weak. The leader sat motionless until a female came from the dwelling and bowed before him. It was the signal that he was allowed to enter. He descended from his rock as the circle rose and bowed. He slowly walked into the cave with quiet ominous steps. At the end of the cave a ledge rose above the floor and stuck out. Atop it lay a tigress and her new cubs. Baska ascended some small steps and stepped lightly onto the ledge. There lay Mirka, his mate, and three small forms. One did not stir at his approach and laid quite motionless when he touched him. The small cub was dead; he had been too weak to survive. The tiger cubs were a week premature and very frail. Slowly Baska examined the two other cubs. They were both females. Both were small and weak, but one showed a fight for life. It slowly opened its eyes and looked up at Baska. He gasped, the small cub had opened her eyes only five minutes after being born. The cubs baby blue eyes peeked up at him from under long lashes. He smiled and nuzzled her fur. The other cub was beginning to fade. Baska looked toward her sadly as her breathing slowed to a halt and stopped altogether. The last remaining cub went slowly to her mother and began to feed. Her perfectly striped fur was softly glowing in the pale morning light. Baska stood and said,
"I have already decided her name." slowly he exited the cave and mounted his throne. The ring of tiger waited breathlessly for his words.
"I have a daughter. Her name shall be Zahari!" Strenger's roar echoed in the air as he finished. His brow lowered. There has always been an impediment between the tiger and the lions. Baska's head rose to the sky and he roared the coming of his daughter. Thus Kriger and Zahari were born. Both heirs to two different worlds, both destined to tear their worlds apart.