It was nighttime. There was no moon, no stars. The sky was covered in clouds. A pair of figures was seen plowing their way through drifts of snow. One was a lioness, the other a male lion cub. Both looked underfed and shabby. The mother's expression was hard and tough. She had lived her life barely surviving. Now, it was time for her cub to learn to live the same way. It was sink or swim time. She did not want him, but she has put up with him and raised him until he was old enough to live without her. They reached a clearing. She turned to her cub, who she never even gave a name to. "You are to stay here," she said to him. Then she started to walk away.
"Mama…" the cub started to say, following her.
His mother's voice drowned him out. "Lo-Ruhamah!" she shouted in the ancient tongue, "You are not pitied! Lo-Ahavah! You are not loved! Lo-Ammi! You are not my people! Don't follow me!"
His ears rang with the cries. Not pitied. Not loved. He watched her disappear among the trees. Out of his life forever. No family any more. Nobody to love him. Nobody for him to love. The snow came. It poured out of the heavens. He looked around, frantic to find a place out of the storm. He saw a cave and went over to it. "Hello?" he called. Nobody answered. He walked in, shaking the snow from his fur. Some remained, anyway, and melted, making him wet. It was pitch black in there. The floor was sand and there was nothing else inside for him to bump into. He walked to the back of the cave and curled up in a sodden ball of fur on the floor. There, at long last, he allowed the tears to fall. He curled up tighter than before and cried himself to sleep.