There They Are Standing In A Row
Nala of the Pridelands, Looking Out Over the Pridelands:
The pride had expected a night attack. War happened at night. It was now obvious this would be different. Their enemy was not lion, or even cat. They would not attack at night, when the lions were most alive. They would not make the mistake the gnu made, expecting some sort of safety or element of surprise by coming cloaked in darkness. This force had cats amongst them, able to advise them on abilities such as night vision and sleeping hours. Information other species did not know. If she was a lion with a force of prey at her back, she would advise them to attack right before midday, where the lands were hot and the enemy had spent a long night sleepless and shaky.
Nala's eyes stung, and yawns struck her every minute. She was sure Scar would have ordered them sleep, if he was not convinced the attackers would appear the second he let the pride's guard down.
At least he had ordered them to eat. Untouched kills had been stashed in a side den intended for eating after the battle, but Sarabi deemed them of better use now. Nala forced only the barest of mouthfuls down, her gut was too twisted for anything heavier. Leave the meat for those on the front lines, she had told herself. Where it would have more need.
As the others polished off the kills, Nala once again raced through her options. North, East, South or West? Where would she take the cubs if, ancestors forbid, the battle went wrong? North was popular lion country still, filled with ally prides, rouges that seemed to have stepped out of cub time legends, and coalitions of adolescent males that roamed in boyish play-groups. She tried to remember the stories, the bird talk, what news the King got delivered. Plenty of prey, more rain up North, bigger rivers, less dry plains, crowded at times, thousands of eyes, thousands of mouths word got around to. It was not the best place for fugitives.
West was... the Lakelands, a collapsed kingdom that had reverted to old, cruel ways. Then the recent blood bath they called the Rebellion. The new ruling pride was weak, their laws ignored, power was in the claws of the large militant gangs who roamed the Great Lake and her life giving rivers. So many refugees had passed through the Pridelands on their desperate escape. Even Queen Sarabi, as powerful a lioness she had been in the Lakelands, a princess of their old bloodline, a wife to a feared tyrant, had fled. The lands were emptier than they used to be, but, to go there was foolish. The cubs would be killed, or shaped into soldiers, and she would be taken as a blood bride for someone's pride.
South was looking most promising. She would have to find a path through the volcanic Shadowlands, but beyond that lay lands similar to her home. Steeper, rockier, quieter, held by peaceful prides who preferred to be left alone. Yes, it was the best. But it was obvious. They would catch up to her in the Shadowlands, no matter how well the sulphur masked her scent.
East was the worst of all. The Wastelands. Cracked ground and hard grey grass not even the gnu could eat. Wondering animals spoke of a green land on the other side, meant for only those strong enough to cross not only the Wastes but also the Endless Sands. In old stories an oasis paradise was mentioned, but time had swallowed it up. A red lake filled with bones and so much salt it sparkled was spoken of by the rare bird. Nala knew of a few lions who claimed the territory, operating on the edges where life was barely manageable, the decedents of exiled Pridelanders and rouges. Zira and her handmaidens hailed from one such pride. All she knew of their customs was that they were desperate. For better territory and better blood. East was unsurvivable. The cubs would die. Then she would die.
North it had to be. A place so busy a young lioness with her cubs would slip by unnoticed. Extreme caution would have to be exercised, but she could do it. And if she went North and North and even more North, following in the footsteps of the Gnu all the way up to the lands they stopped and turned around at, she would reach the lands of the girl's mother. Perhaps Mara's mother would be there, if not, than at least family willing to shelter her. The journey would be unmeasurable. At a cub's pace it would take a full year, two times slower than the masses of gnu managed.
Zazu landed at her paws, his bright blue body losing its gloss as he passed through her shadow.
"I know everyone's been saying this for a day and night straight, but they are coming." He informed her with wings held primly in place. How one could bother with propriety at a time like this was beyond her, but the older bird has seen more attacks than her. And watched all those attacks be repelled. Confidence radiated from the hornbill, and Nala tried her best to draw upon it.
"Okay. I hope you're right." All this waiting was killing her.
"Strange birds have been flying over, and we have scouted a horde making its way through the trees at a significant pace."
They had snuck closer by using the scrubland as cover. Just as Scar had predicted. A peculiar feeling grew within her at the idea of sitting and waiting for them to walk up, but Pride Rock was a large advantage. Hooves could not fight on the sheer rock like paws did. It was part of the reason why the gnu coup had failed so quickly. She had only been a cub then, hidden in the tunnels, but she remembers her mother and father's words afterwards, and sometimes Magnar spoke of it during training.
An ambush. But how did they expect to ambush an opponent who expected them, and were waiting inside a fortress? How did they expect to have their pleas for mercy met when they struck on Simba's funeral? Maybe if Sarabi had not been there, a slim hope could have remained, but she wanted blood for this. And blood she received.
"Should I take them down into the tunnels now?" While she asked the question Zazu flapped up to perch on her shoulder.
"Hmmm. That would be good. Mufasa and I will be staying until the horde shows itself, we'll report on how it looks, there is no reason to stay." He then flew off.
"Alright." Nala said bravely to no one. She gathered her wits and went to fetch the cubs. They were sitting silently besides Zira, the lioness completely unaware that her ruse had been discovered and still playing the tentative mother role.
"We're heading down now," she informed the lioness whose eyes were caught in a constant battle between gleaming or glaring. She watched Nala uncannily. In this particular instance her eyes gleamed.
"I've asked around about you," she started, not bothering to get up from the ground and help Nala move her cubs along. "The one who will be responsible for my precious children. They say you're a promising young lioness, smart and talented. I hope they are right." Nala ducked her head as the intensity of the regal lioness's gaze threatened to sear a hole into Nala's skull.
"The tunnels are a labyrinth. I've been trained in them, and will be able to hide from hordes of enemies, no matter that there is only one of me." The Wastelander perked her ears in interest.
"How elaborate are these tunnels?" She asked with a voice tuned into a pleasant simper.
"They go deep, and spread out far. A lion could die down there if they wondered without a guide."
"I put my faith in you then, Nala. I'll join you to the entrance." Nala nodded, happy that Zira was cooperating. The cubs followed along at their mother's heels without a word, eyes darting between the older and younger lionesses when Zira couldn't see them. All four followed her around to a secluded side of the Rock, climbing up unused paths and squeezing between boulders when the way got tight.
They made it to the entrance, a crack between rocks that they would have to jump down into. Nala nosed the cubs to the edge, waiting for them to gathering the courage to leap down. The fall was not as far as it looked. Zira hummed behind her, eyes gleaming more than before. Nala knew the wily lionesses had something to say.
"I know a gifted hunter when I see one, Nala." Those first words shocked her, but not as much as what followed after. "You are wasted as a warrior, patrolling around and around in circles. The Pridelanders are stunting you." Nala nodded dumbly, not wanting to offend the older lioness. Grievances she had harboured as a much younger cub resurfacing at her words, so similar to what she once thought with secret hatred. She was happy with being a warrior now. But when a fearsome, almost admirable lioness such as Zira put it so frankly... doubts bubbled up in her mind. "In my pride we have hunters so talented we feast on lands thought barren by others. You could join us, if you want. Lionesses rule where I am from, and you would rise quickly." Zira's voice was more sweet and tender than she had ever been, proposition tailored in a way that would lure any innocent young lioness: talent to learn from, power there for the taking, flattery.
"That is a kind offer, but my place is here." Zira smiled softly, her words quieter now, hushed as if she was afraid they would be overheard.
"I learned other things about you when asking. Interesting things. You would have been married to the Lost Cub Simba. Was to be his Queen. But now you have been thrown to the side, abandoned and overlooked. You were raised to be a queen and now you face the dull life of a warrior. Meat heads all of them. My pride would worship someone like you, talented, well-raised. Let the old prides rule their roosts through vague claims to bygone ancestors, we're creating a new empire south of the Wastelands, one that grows with every season. We rival you Pridelanders in strength, and are feared by those in the lands that border ours. You could rule a pride like ours, Nala. I have left them to be at Scar's side, with our cubs, but my pride continues. You could be a Queen of a new land. A Queen who doesn't need to answer to any king. Think about it."
And then she turned and left.
Nala stood in shock. No one had told her she was intended for Simba. But it made sense now, off handed comments lining up suddenly throughout her memories. Perhaps they assumed they had told her, and after his death it simply became too painful a topic to approach.
It made too much sense. So much that it horrified her.
Since birth her parents had pushed her to spend time with Simba, he was her best friend so it was no chore, but the pushing and pushing. Allowing Simba to do whatever he wished with her, being given a royal guard when she wasn't even a royal... leniency and freedoms, lessons on the ecosystem and hunting training that no one else got, training that – wait. The Queen was traditionally the head huntress of the pride.
The plans to make stupid Enma Scar's heir had poor Benji betrothed to him, and she hated hunting, but there she was, apprenticed to the huntress Hoppi. She moaned about all the pressure she was getting, to shape up into a 'proper lioness'. Nala and Sade had been sceptical, but...
Nala scooped up Mara in her jaws, jumping down into the entrance and taking solitude in the new darkness. The cub was limp and calm in her jaws, and the two boys had yelped and followed quickly after her. They were all down here now, and she had a job to do. To hide them. Hide the heir. With the revelation of Scar's cub, the Enma plan was void and Benji would find all that pushing suddenly disappearing. Just like it did in the aftermath of Simba's death. There had been so much turmoil and sadness then, she had never noticed the removal of small things. Sarabi's attention, her mother's preening, the little hunting lessons and the lectures about responsibility and manners.
Did she ever want to be a hunter? Or was that just something she had been told as a little one, tutored and shaped into the perfect traditional lioness. Why had no one told her this? Obviously all the adults knew, if Zira could simply ask around. Why had – Simba – were they serious? But he was her best friend!
One of the cubs shifted and sneezed, snapping her spiralling thoughts back to the task at hand.
"Alright, we're going to head this way, follow me closely. Then we're going to wait for Mufasa to arrive -"
"The big one with the broken legs?"
"They're not broken, he can walk, sometimes. Their just... sore." They must have nodded, but Nala couldn't see them. "And sometimes I'll check your still there by saying role call, and then you have to say your name back at me. Role call."
"Haru," the loud one responded first, boisterous as always.
"Covi," the smarter one followed.
"Mapa!" ... so the little girl understood speech. Too young to reliably follow instructions, or pronounce her name properly for that matter. But she seemed attentive enough. Was it really smart to let the tiny heir trail along after her in the dark? Probably not. Nala turned around and picked the princess up, surprised when the cub purred. Little cubs liked being held. That was probably why. It was far better than not liking being carried, that was for sure.
Nala carried the precious cub down further, to the parts of the tunnel that no longer resided inside Pride Rock, but underneath it. Her little sworn protectors padded beside her seriously, eyes wide with every turn they made that revealed more upon more of small passage ways and large burrowing off shoots.
"Will the big lion be able to fit down here?!" The boisterous one whispered in disbelief. Nala couldn't respond through the mouthful of royalty. It probably seemed to them like a never ending journey, but what they didn't know was that they had backtracked multiple times by now, setting up an unfollowable matrix of scent trails. Only an elephant or a snake would stand a chance at making sense of it all, and an elephant would never fit down here.
But hadn't Magnar spoken of snakes being amongst them? Nala resolved to set more false paths than originally intended. Eventually she had to stop before certain trails became noticeably fresher than the rest, and hurried along to the agreed meeting place. Once there, she flopped down into an alcove, where she could see anyone approaching long before they would notice her. The boys looked tired from the fast pace and endless looping.
"You've done well, boys. And Mara, thank you for being so lovely and quiet." The girl mewed at her from where she lay between Nala's arms.
"How long now?" their words were tipped with fear. Tight tunnels were not the most comforting of locations.
"As long as we need, until a pride mate comes down to get us. They will tell us the password, so we know that it's safe."
"What's the password?"
"The crane swims." All of them giggled, even the girl.
"That's silly. Cranes don't swim." Nala hushed them back down to a whisper.
"It's meant to be strange. Something that no one would ever say, or guess." She explained quietly.
"I could make a better password!" Haru claimed, little chest puffed out already. Nala's eyebrows rose.
"Oh really? Try then." For the next while the cubs entertained each other with password suggestions, each shoot down by Nala as predictable or forgettable. When Mufasa and Zazu finally found them, Mara was purring sleepily in her arms as Nala groomed her coat.
"Looks like you've got everything under control." Mufasa whispered from the passage way. Nala didn't pause in her grooming; only moving her eyes back down to Mara. Zazu had a teasing smirk upon his breaky face. "Now who said she would have them huddled in a corner and crying in fear of her?" Mufasa chuckled.
"Now Zazu," the old king chastised with the air of a lion doing the opposite of chastising.
"It would be so much nicer if you stopped pretending to be such a big nasty lion-eater. Obviously there is a sweet mother-to-be underneath all that, er, sharp exterior."
"Pretending?" Nala echoed dangerously.
"One day you'll -" She decided to cut him off there.
"What news from the attack?" Zazu visibly hunched over at the reminder of what was unfolding above them. It was Mufasa who reported to her.
"The horde is as big as we feared, but the predators among them are scarce. Prey are easily rebuff, usually only an eighth of them need to fall before a retreat is called. The unknown factor is the few predators spread amongst them. We've never faced a combined force before. It will complicate things. But we are prepared for this."
Nala nodded solemnly as Mufasa lay down beside her, the cub's eyes going wide at the massive male.
"Hello," Mufasa greeted politely to the cub starting most blatantly. She wasn't sure, but it certainly sounded like Haru squeaked.
Queen Commander, Entering the Fray:
Sarabi stood up beside Scar on the King's Edge, staring down into the approaching armada and counting the threats. The few lion were big males, blurry and battle scared. Lakelanders, she could smell in on them. Only fools allied with the Lake Gangs, confirming that this Queen of Horns and her associates the spies had been reporting on was as dull an idiot as Sarabi had long accused her of being.
Her stomach gurgled, the meat recently consumed sitting heavier than usual in her gut. It must be the adrenaline, upsetting her like this.
"Prey are easy to scare. We will make vicious examples of their front lines, where they can all see, it should send them scurrying." Scar's glowing green eyes swivelled to regard her.
"See that you do. But the dangerous ones will not falter. The lions, buffalo, even the hippo and cheetah. Careful that focusing on the killable ones does not expose you." He carried the conversation while still following the actions of the swelling horde below. Sarabi straightened her back, her next words curt and quick.
"I will send the spare males down first, big and frightening. Get a roar going. Fear will ruin them."
"Approved. Go."
She scuttled away immediately. The pride had already organised itself into their designated troops, and Sarabi bounded over to the trio of males who were neither warriors nor hunters.
"You will be charging first." Sarabi informed them, "you are to pick killable targets and dispatch quickly if not gruesomely. Avoid challenging opponents; they will be the responsibility for the warriors coming in after you. Any questions?" She directed that toward Hodari, who had a habit of picking orders apart at the seams. It came with the role as political ambassador she supposed.
"Are we to stay out there, killing, until they retreat?" He asked her, his orange eyes bright and inquisitive like his daughters, no matter that Nala and Berta's eyes were an entirely different colour.
"If they retreat, we will regather and decide if to follow. Only on a full surrender are you to stop fighting without pride permission." Hodari nodded to her answer, while another male cleared his throat in order to yet her attention.
"Okay. Go now?" The male, Kuu, asked eagerly, already dancing on the tips of his toes. Leave it to the youth to be excited for battle. The lion had joined their pride a full year ago, but he acted no more mature then he did then.
"When Scar roars, run down and initiate battle, roaring as loud as you can."
"Understood."
"Get in position." Sarabi then raced back across the courtyard and up the long ledge to where Scar remained watching. The eagle accompanied him now, talons clinging into the edge of the rock, her eyes scanning the horde and snapping off numbers.
"They are willing and waiting for the signal."
Scar nodded curtly, eyes never leaving the horde which had come to a stop directly below him. A dull roar of noise and cries floated up, insults and threats that the horde was screaming up at them getting drowned out by the gusty winds.
"I will wait until they start to climb the rock. Have the killings happen high, so that the horde has an unobstructed view." Sarabi inclined her head, ignoring the way her gut flipped and burned.
"Tell everyone you can, ten lions, nineteen buffalo, three hippos, twelve cheetah. No hyena as yet."
"Maybe the hyena are behind the Rock, looking for our hyena there?" She felt uneasy not knowing the location of the dangerous force. "Should we send the hyena down to engage?"
"Scout and check they are all there, before letting our hyena down from Pride Rock." The King ordered coolly.
Sarabi darted off again, ducking past Magnar on her way off the ledge.
"Ten lion-" she started,
"Bastards," Magnar swore
"-Nineteen buffalo, three hippos, twelve cheetah."
"Alright make it worse will ya." The old war lion grumbled. Sarabi offered him a strained smile of amusement.
She told the hunters troop and the charging trio, now ready in position. She didn't bother with the warriors. Magnar would tell them. She found Abdoel, her little wood dove, waiting where she had told him to.
"Fly over and check behind Pride Rock for enemy hyenas. Report straight back to me, I'll be with our hyena." The young bird bobbed his head and snapped up into the air, sticking close to the rock face to avoid the enemy ravens circling in the sky above them. Sarabi watched him go with worry, a shiver forcing its way down her legs. It was odd. She was not afraid. The shivers did not make sense. Her gut, cold and numb, dropped once more. Instead of going straight to the hyena, Sarabi diverted to the hunters.
"Is everyone feeling okay? How are your guts?"
"Heavy, noisy."
"Like it's full of acid."
"Shivering and cold."
Anyone would overlook it. Anyone but Sarabi, a veteran. Magnar rivalled her in battle count, and he had noticed something too. Why else would be break position and go directly to Scar?
First the hyena. She found them hovering around the mouth of the main den, giggling their war-laughs.
"Did anyone eat the kills?"
"No. Those were lion kills. We don't eat the lion's stuffs."
"How are your guts?"
They blinked in confusion.
"Rock hard as always, your majesty?"
"Good. If any of you start to feel unusually ill in the gut, get word to me or Scar at once."
It was then her wood dove came back, so fast his feathers whistled, emerald spots dancing with the mad flap of his wings.
"They are there, destroying the hyena's burrows. With them is five buffalo." The hyena drew to their full heights at the dove's words. Sarabi nodded gravely to the matriarch.
"When Scar roars, it is your signal to attack. Until that time, ready yourselves and get in position to strike." The big female smiled at her orders.
"He better be roaring soon. I can't hold my buddies back for too long, the sing of battle is already hot in the heart."
"Very soon. Use the tunnels to attack unexpected. There is an opening near your dens, is there not? That's the whole reason you set up there, to hide it. Correct?" The clan was starting to walk past Sarabi now, circling and waiting uneasily for their matriarch to follow.
"Correct, we know the tunnels. At least the part of the tunnels we are used to travelling. Will we hear the roar from down there?" The hyena grunted at Sarabi.
"Certainly. His roar will be followed by everyone in the pride, the rocks shiver at the sound. You will know." Once more the hyena grunted at her. Sarabi nodded to the matriarch and jogged off, leaving the hyena to giggle and scream as they raced for the closest tunnel entrance like a waterfall of silver and grey.
"Scar, some stomachs are getting bad feels." The dark look in Scar's green eyes made her tummy feel even worse.
"Yes, Magnar told me. He felt it too. Knows the feel. Poisons, he told me. He thinks we should attack now, and push to crush the attackers before the effect takes hold." Nothing in his tone of voice gave away what he thought of the new plan.
"Is it deadly?"
"Possible."
"Poisons, I have never heard of them." They shared a look, obviously Scar hadn't either.
"It's used in the Northern Lands apparently; they can do almost anything to those that eat them." It sounded dangerous. Unknown and uncommon. More dangerous than the horde outside for sure.
"Give the roar now."
"No. I will stick to the plan and wait for the first-"
"I can feel this poison in my gut, growing fast. Every minute it gets horribly worse, shivers and numbness. We only have a short time left before it takes hold. Now."
She expected him to argue more, but the King just nodded. Stepping up to the edge, he roared. It had begun. More quickly than she felt ready for. But there was no turning back.
His eagle screeched beside him, her voice perching and powerful. She took to the sky on massive dark wings, glorious feathers billowing in the midday Serengeti winds and lifting her high. At first her take off seemed aimless, simply done for the awe of it. But then she twirled and pumped her wings, deadly talons out stretched to catch a strange raven who had been diving down towards Scar at alarming speed. She dismembering that poor raven midflight, high enough above the horde that no one could reach her, low enough that every detail was visible. Blood streamed down on top of them almost instantly, followed by entrails and then the carcass now torn in two.
The horde roared, the pride roared, and the rock shivered under her sweating paws when she could no long hear her own roar.
From then on, her fight was to keep the pride organised. The warriors raced down after the trio, Sarabi at their heels. She assessed the situation before running back up and leading the hunters down. They had to leap over a dying zebra on their way down into the mayhem. The horde churned and halted, a lack of strategy resulting in ten percent of them taking on the lions while the rest were trapped behind, unable to reach the fight or too uncertain to interrupt.
When fear consumed, direct, simple orders was what remained.
Her lions took to the horde with ease, sticking to their pairs like commanded, picking the type of opponent allocated to them. Sarabi leapt on the back of a buffalo who had been facing away from her, fangs slicing into his spine as he tried to buck her off. His hooves lashed out and caught one of the cheetah who had been trying to sneak around and jump on Sarabi unawares. Magnar, who had been the original opponent of the buffalo, made use of the panic and ripped its throat wide open, claws going into its eyes when it continued to struggle. Once it crumbled to the ground, weak and dying, Sarabi and him shared a look before racing directly towards one of the enemy lions.
This lion was currently locked in battle with Hodari, who was big enough to rival Mufasa but a pacifist at heart. The Pridelander was currently being beaten bloody, no matter the odd successful grapple he managed. Magnar landed first, blindsiding the enemy with fangs to the side of his face, large arms wrapping around his neck and keeping him there. Sarabi look the opportunity to rip into his undefended flanks, getting knocked back every so often with the males wild thrashing. Once his sides were so bloody Sarabi deemed him wounded beyond danger, she order Hodari to pair with Magnar and raced on her way, seeking out another vulnerable target.
She dodged kicks and swipes, once even skittering away from the wild attack of a snake. She watched in fascination as the python darted after her, ignorant of the zebra trampling along near him until it was too late. The snake, nearly ripped in half by the stallion's hooves, used the last of its strength to bite down hard. The zebra screamed and jumped, confused as to what was attacking it, allowing for Sarabi to leap and slice at the exposed neck like Magnar had shown before. He tossed and threw her away, but the damage was done. In under a minute he will be bleed out. Sarabi turned and ran, aiding a pair of lionesses with a wilful antelope doe before turning and spotting the true prize.
Magnar and Hodari had moved on to confront a raging hippo, dancing around him and avoiding the skull crushing jaws. The Lakelands was filled with hippos, she had killed more than a few in her time. The trick was to circle and twirl them until exhaustion set in. Racing over, her paws faltered and nearly tripped her. The numbness was spreading. She couldn't afford one misstep with an angry hippo, but it seemed she would just have to pray and hope the poison stayed at bay a little longer.
Hodari was running in circles around the river monster, pulling its attention away for the perfect opportunity. Sarabi jumped close and sunk her jaws in hard, the tough skin breaking and blood bursting in her mouth. The hippo roared and screamed, spinning and flinging Sarabi wide. Magnar picked up on the trick and before long they had four deep gashes oozing blood. Hippos take forever to bleed dead, time Sarabi was starting to question if they had. She caste a look around the fight to assess how well they were doing. Naanda and Dwala had a pair of antelope in the throes of death close by, Serego and Lea were battling with another impressive buffalo, their apprentices at their heels and darting in to bite and swipe whenever a slim opportunity arose. She couldn't see Sarafina or Hono, most likely on the other side of the retreating horde. Scar was even there, prowling around a dead buffalo towards were a snorting gnu waited, pawing at the ground. Rafiki clung close to the king's side, snapping and whacking away every attempt made to attack the King from behind. Sarabi's breath rattled both from exhaustion and because her whole chest was now numb. Zareh and Kuu were headed Scar's way, a trial of dead antelope and gnu in their wake. About an eighth lay dead or wounded. The efficiency of the multi-layered plan allowing for the pride to slice through the ranks, but the horde remained, returning from the brief retreat lead by their lions and buffalo.
Then Sarabi's eyes tripped over the sight of a dead lioness. She didn't want to identify who it was, tearing her attention away and back to the hippo. That will be dealt with later.
The hippo was angry now, jerking and spinning so fast he nearly lost footing. Sarabi managed another attack, ripping his soft inner thigh to shreds. The bull's jaws briefly touched the tip of her tail as he spun and she darted away. Charging after her, she swerved and weaved, desperately trying to stay out of crushing range. He trampled a lost looking trio of antelope without batting an eyelid. Someone else must have gotten their claws into his flanks, because he left her to spin away, a saving grace.
A bloody scream filled the air along with wet cracks. Sarabi spun and turned, leaping blindly at the hippos head and landing upon the side of his fat neck, claws and fangs tearing into the thick skin uselessly. Someone had been caught, she could hear them gasping, and see the paws thrashing where they poked out of the hippo's mouth.
"Dad!" Some lion screamed from beside the hippo. It was background noise to Sarabi, her full attention on leaning over and digging her claws into the dumb things cloudy eyes, a soft point in the hide that she used to get her talons under the skin and tear long jagged lines across its check and down towards its jugular. Blood spurted out like a spring, and it screamed and chocked at the pain, dropping the lion it was chewing to the ground. With its jaws free, Sarabi leapt for her life and ran out of range.
Naanda was still screaming, racing to her father's side. It was no use, Magnar was dead. His body nearly cracked in half, skull caved in like an egg. Naanda heaved and threw up at the sight, and what came up was a strange colour of purple. Sarabi was in the middle of yelling at herself for not making everyone throw up sooner when Naanda charged at the hippo. Rage fuelled her, and inexperience had her attacking it head on like one did to the wounded buffalo. Sarabi roared and nearly tripped over in her haste to pull the lioness back. The enraged hippo was half blind, missing Naanda's charge and only realising she was there when she started to rip into the underside of his neck and chest. He gurgled and slammed his chin to his chest with an offended roar and teeth jarring smack, crushing Naanda along with her father.
But the suicide mission was worth it, the hippo was kneeling and chocking on his own blood, almost swimming in it actually. She had gotten her bloody vengeance. The ancestors will embrace her proudly.
Numbness pulsed through her, the shock of the gruesome death before her had drained the adrenaline, making way for the numbness to spread like fire. She felt the bile rise, and actively encouraged the sensation, heaving up mouthfuls of half-digested meat and the strange purple ooze. Sarabi tried to walk, but wobbled and collapsed like a foal. Hodari appeared at her side, breathing heavy and fast, eyes darting around alert. He was a good lion. The little warrior training given to him had ingrained the first rule of battle. Mourn later. Seeing the strange colours in the throw up, he too tried to regurgitate, but couldn't manage it with the chaos of the battle.
Sarabi struggled back to her feet and looked around again. This time it looked far less promising. Cornered, poison starting to create visible shakes and tremors. Lions were not endurance animals, they would not be able to last much longer without a break. Hope lay in the hyena now circling Pride Rock and approaching the bloody horde.
The closer the hyena came, the worse Sarabi realised their condition was. The clan was noticeably smaller, almost halved, and all were bleeding from one wound or another. The matriarch looked particularly gruesome, her snout mangled and ribs bright red with exposed flesh.
"Join the fray, focus on the strong ones. If we get rid of them the rest will flee." The matriarch fixed her with a strange look, just as Sarabi's hind legs collapsed once more. Struggling to get back up, Hodari was becoming wrecked with tremors too.
"You're losing." The hyena mother said in awe. Sarabi roared at her.
"No! The battle is on the turning point, we can-" she chocked on her own words as another raven dived down on Scar, whatever the bird held in its claws glinting purple in the sun.
"They're needling him with poison!" The hyena growled, body stiff with anger. Poison, there was that word again. The thing that was doing this, making her weak and sleepy.
"I didn't believe Scar when he told me... I thought it was impossible for Pride Rock to be conquered." This time Sarabi growled, low and frustrated.
"Not if you hyena join. You could still turn the battle."
"The hyena have kept our part of the deal, we've slaughtered our enemy down to the last one. Along with the battalion of buffalo with them. But this? Listen, neither of us are stupid. My few hyena are half dead, we will turn no tide. Just die. The day I die for nothing more but a lion's sake will be a dark day indeed. You lions will not win this, which makes the fight of no interest or benefit to us. You have lost our support, for now, Queen Sarabi." She couldn't believe what was coming out of the matriach's mouth, to turn away, at a time like this? Mufasa's unconditional exile of the species was now much more understandable.
"Scar will have your head for this!"
"Scar knows the conditions of my servitude. At a time like this, I've got better things to be doing that dying out here. Even if he does object, he's not exactly in a friggin position to argue right now." Sarabi looked up to see that Scar had collapsed into the torn ground, twitching like a dead insect. "Go, to where I told yous. Now!" The hyena mother bellowed at her dwindling clan, then took off for Pride Rock alone, bounding up the steep path like her torn open side was just a mosquito bite.
"We can win, we can win, we can win," Sarabi chanted to herself as she failed to arrange her legs. Hodari looked on the verge of a break down.
"What's happening?"
"Poison, forget about me. Hurry in and assist another Pridelander, keep killing. We just need to keep killing." Hodari nodded furiously before running over to where Zira and another lioness were circling a gnu, not even sparing a moment to question the order.
Sarabi was getting weaker the more she struggled. Throwing up had been too little too late. Giving up was unforgivable, but she did pause in her efforts to watch the battle. It was not bad. If the poison had not been a factor, they would have worn this horde down eventually. They still could if, if... if.
They needed to pause. Needed to take a step back to Pride Rock and assess. Once her bloody legs started working again, that was. She could feel a slight tingle of sensation returning to her toes. A small seed of hope blooming inside her.
Scar had gotten to his feet again, struggling up from the dusty floor. Creatures battled on around him, too occupied to notice. No one else had the luxury to stop and watch the King.
Only her eyes got to witness. Two lions had been coming towards him along with a buffalo cow. To finish him off, or take him away. Once they got within striking distance, Scar suddenly attacked like he had never been a shaking, weakened wreck a second before. He took down the more wounded of the lion's first, jaws ripping out his throat with an ease Sarabi envied. The buffalo panicked at the sight, swing at him wildly with its horns, and as a result caught the larger lion square in the ribs. Scar pounced on the lion's now exposed stomach, claw raking him to shreds.
The buffalo ran at the sight, but Scar leapt after her like a streak of dark light. Charging blindly the cow slammed and trampled many of her smaller allies, which Scar systematically killed with ease as they lay on the ground dazed.
After that came in quick succession an unawares gnu, wounded antelope, a warthog who had been busy slamming its tusks into a snarling lionesses side, before rounding back, finding the buffalo who had charged in panic, leaping on her back and biting so hard that the spine cracked and white bone could be seen when the black beast crumbled.
More ravens came down, fresh thorns covered in poison stabbed into him so deep they stayed there even once the bird had gone. A whole handful soon decorated his back and flanks, rustling as he moved like porcupine quills. Scar went on to dispatch one after the other after the other, the dead bodies rapidly starting to litter the ground, stirred the remaining horde into a deeper panic than before, causing Sarabi to lose sight of the King for periods of time. A trio of big lions was honing in on him, but kept getting cut off by the stirring crowd of wild creatures. She could see other Pridelanders darting in amongst them, trying to avoid being trampled. The enemy lion's attention got stolen by Hodari who had passed too close to them, the ravens started to dive again, at a place on the other side of the horde.
Sarabi's breath rattled as the numbness begun to lift. She lay in dirt destroyed and wet with hippo blood, squirming and fighting, but her body only twitched and shivered in response. It was something. At the point where she was able to kick her legs weakly, her little wood dove returned.
"Queen Sarabi, you should not be left alone like this. Anyone could set upon you right now and kill you." It was a good point. Not bothering to defend herself, Sarabi barrelled straight on to her new plan.
"Spread the word to reground back up on Pride Rock. Now. Everyone you can find, send them running for the Rock."
"What if I find them weakened like you?"
"I... scout for them while you spread the word, tell any Pridelanders you come across to start making their way back to Pride Rock when possible. And prepare to fortify it. Find Hodari. Use him to aid those you find unable to walk on their own."
"It shall be done."
Luckily a primitive form of control had returned to her, because a monkey came racing up to her, the little knives their kind were famous for fashioning clutched in each hand.
"It is you, the Queen?"
She sneered at the squash faced animal. Why on earth would she confirm something like that? A fact that would likely get her killed on the spot?
"You should hurry and send your royalty away. They won't publically execute them, but she will make sure they meet their ends discreetly. Even the three cubs." His frantic words ached with sincerity. And monkeys were terrible liars. Confusion blindsided her.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"If we stop playing along, she will have us killed. Please, let the Serengeti King's survive to return another day. We were all so sorry when word spread of the Lost Cub Simba we-"
"Don't you talk about my son like that! Plying his memory. Is this the cause you lot hold dear, honouring my sweet little cub? You have a funny way of showing it."
"In a twisted way." The look in the monkey's impossibly large eyes made her pause. "When the future king was killed followed by the Fair King Mufasa abdicating, it felt like the goodness had been taken from the throne. Then King Scar took over, everyone hated him, even before. It was like something rotten and wrong had plotted and seized the spoils. Animals didn't want him, so they listen to the Queen of Horns rambling. Even us monkeys were taken in for a time, now we regret it, but it's too late for regret now."
"Yes. It is." Wind whipped the dust up into a frenzy, the billows so dense she struggled to make out anyone around them. For all she could see, it was just her and this monkey in a chalky sun beamed world. The monkey talked like he expected her to die any second, and there was so much he had to say, to lift years of self imposed guilt. She couldn't care less.
"And some of these animals are here for other reasons - promises the Queen has no intention of keeping." Sarabi could believe that. Never did two species join in battle for the same two reasons.
"As much as I would love to discuss the root of this horde's motives with you, there is a battle going on. And I apparently have a family of royals that need urgent smuggling." The monkey coughed, or was it a bark of laugher? It was hard to tell with their shrill vocal cords.
"A horde? They call themselves a revolution." The dust whipped up and had both their eyes springing tears.
"Well that was their first mistake, wasn't it? Lions eat revolutions for lunch." Snapping back at him, Sarabi almost felt it prudent to lick her lips.
"You're not doing much eating right now."
"Put that little Queen up on Pride Rock, I wish your ill-gotten crusade luck. For she will become the tastiest morsel on earth." The monkey stilled at her ominous advice, his eyebrows finally shooting up once it had echoed long enough in his skull drum.
"What would eat her? You?"
"If I was to take a wild guess, her own kind."
"What would you know of getting eaten? Lion Queen?"
"Plenty. Anything can eat a lion." Ghosts of another time, a dark and wet place, squirmed under her skin. Angry open wounds the insects wouldn't leave alone. The feel of larva and eggs inside, feasting on her flesh while she still lived and breathed. The way she had plunged under the water and held her breath, wishing they would drown along with her. Sarabi shifted her body, managing to right all her paws into a position she would be able to stand from. "It's the killing they struggle with."
She had clawed at that wound until it was twice the size, licked all the dead flesh away to reveal the red and alive muscle once more. She had clawed them all out and eaten them in return.
"Good luck."
He looked likely to lunge at her with his knives, so she tensed, poised and ready to swipe at him so hard his head cracked open from the blow. But he did not.
"We will talk again... Queen Sarabi... "
She gritted her teeth, jaw clenched. Dark crossed her vision, wings blacking out half her field of view. Something slender jabbed into her, the tip of it freezing cold in the muscle it sliced through.
And then she knew no more.
A Gnu half-calf, at the Midday Revolution:
Dust. Attacking his eyes, inside his lungs, a gritty film all through his mouth. Chester sucked in a desperate breath before hacking coughs returned. It was like he was trailing behind a stampede a thousand strong, the bulldust coating his body in a film, turning his handsome dark hide silver.
Now was not the time to be coughing. Not when lions prowled around him, as elusive as a mirage. Shadows danced like a flame with nowhere to go. Grunting and huffing, the gnu looked around for a foe. But there was nothing. Sometimes the sound of a beast would draw near and the half-calf would stay as still as an infant being hunted. The overwhelming stench of death made his gut turn. Voiding all sense of smell. It seemed a whole waterhole of blood had gushed onto this battle field, and the bright, soft soil was now dark and clotted together. It reeked of iron and fatty tissue tortured into a paste.
A big beast came blundering through the dust, its feet not the pounding of hooves but the yielding smack of paws. Terror struck Chester as the sound drew closer, fiery green eyes the first features distinguishable from the dust.
A lion. Big, dark and shaggy, slinked from the suffocating fog. Chester had never seen the king before, not this close or from any range at all. It was only when the whole body became clear, with a small porcupine's worth of poison needles embedded did he realise who it was he faced.
All the courage left him. All the promises of vengeance and cocky battle talk he had listen and drawn strength from that morning vanished. The King Of The Lands stepped towards him with opening jaws. What should have been blackness edged with gleaming white fangs was nothing but red. Red on red on red on bloody chucks of red. Red even matted the king's neck and chest. His paw steps left slick smudges of more red.
The gods have come for me.
His mother's voice rang out in the back of his mind. Words passed from mother to child, mother to child, mother to child...
There are only three true things in this world. The blessed storms we follow, the glorious union of bull and cow, and the holy mercy-reapers that take our worn bodies and deliver us back to the start. A clot of blood inside a new mother. It is a circle. Around and around and around. Doef, doef, doef. The heartbeat of The Great Migration.
A coward part of him was not ready to go back to the start. The calf part of him yearned for it, a new mother to nurse him and nuzzle the fears away. To be a small one again, and have his mother once more.
The King lunged at him. And Chester did not back away. Instinct made him shield aside, the king's jaws missing his snout and instead clamping down on the forearm flesh of his shoulder. Pain shocked him into screaming out, his bellows still that of a calf, a tender and pleading sound.
The King threw his head from side to side, nearly yanking Chester off his slim four hooves. Tears of pain clouded his eyes alongside the thickening cloud of dust their struggle was creating. A flutter of dove wings filled the air, and then the clamped jaws relaxed their hold. Chester twisted away from the pain, managing to escape the mercy-reaper. For a minute Chester was convinced the king had circled around and was preparing to attack his more exposed flanks. When the second attack never came, he knew for a wild moment that the king must have transformed into a dove and flown away.
The King was gone. Once again Chester stood alone in the dust. Only the bellows and snarls giving away that a battle raged on close by. Shock filled his chest, of the pain and from the death he had been so close to facing. For some strange reason the ancestors granted him life. It was not his place to question it.
Done with this fight, Chester turned and galloped away. Done with glory and the so-so vengeance the alpha brotherhood had raved about. Death was a gift to gnu, and a mercy. Good gnu knew to embrace it as a gift. Good gnu did not throw away the Great Migration for charades such as this. Fighting beasts they didn't have any business going against.
He galloped head long through the dust. Jumping around wheezing bodies and prey that had clumped together in desperate attempts at safety. The dust was lessening quickly, and Chester knew he was running in the right direction. Vision returned. Hazy still, but unobscured. Blood pounded so loud in his ears that the chasing of hooves was not audible until the antelope had drawn alongside him.
"Turn back!" The smaller cousin ordered him. Weaving and ducking closer until his heavy breathing tickled against Chester's ribs.
Chester lashed out blindly, kicking the buck's hind legs from under him. The beast went down in a dusty roll, and Chester carried on running.
Head long into a lion. It jumped up and grappling with him, spearing Chester into the ground with a snarl. The breath left his lungs with an 'oof'. The muscle of his shoulder was twisted and pulled as he wrestled with the bigger beast, the wounds tearing deeper with every desperate struggle. A roar resounded from beside his ear, filling his world with both hyper-sensitivity and deafness.
"Return or I execute you here and now!" He was then shoved hard enough to send him reeling back the way he had come. "I'm under orders to kill all deserters. Do you fancy being killed kid?" Chester gathered his balance and glared in the direction the voice was coming from. Amber eyes met silver, and recognition flashed through Chester's mind. It was the one who had noticed him at the meeting.
Chester stamped his forelegs down in front of him, snorting and creating his own dust cloud. He had no desire to be reaped by this one, a beast acting on some antelope's orders, who wouldn't even make a respectful meal out of him. No faithful fever gripped him when faced with the silver eyed lion. He was nothing like the king. Nothing awe inspiring or regal. There was no darkness or blood.
He made to dart around. But the lion moved so fast it was almost flight. Rearing away, rage filled Chester at the injustice. Fine! If death was to take him, let it be the Pridelanders. More of the Queen of Horn's allies sulked around the battle edges. Lions, cheetahs and a whole horde of watchful antelope, ready to box in whoever fled. Chester watched for gapes in their barricade, and found plenty. He could regroup and try in another spot. With a spin and a snort, Chester returned to the dust storm. It blanketed him once more. Shielding him from view. Turning sharply to the left he cantered around cautiously, trying to get close enough to see through the dust, but still remained hidden. Picking his way along the edge of battle, he realised there were tens of beasts trying the same as him. Gathering into groups to ram through the barricade together, or trying to slip past alone. Zebra's nickered and whispered to him as he trotted past, trying to recruit him into their escape groups. Chester ignored them. The herds were too small. But it he charged from another place as the herd did, his chances of being overlooked as they all went for the zebra were high.
There was a quiet patch, where only a few antelope seemed to be patrolling for escapees. It stank of blood like nowhere else on the field, putting him instantly on edge ever what horrors could have possibly occurred here. Making his way slowly and quietly, he jumped in fright when a dead hippo was revealed before him. It was like a boulder. Side stepping the dead fighter with wide eyes, he tripped over something on the ground. Grunting and stumbling about for balance, Chester nearly fell over again when he recognised the body of a lion. He held his breath, some irrational part of him convinced it was only sleeping and would wake up all too soon. The brutal wounds of the beast did little to ease his panic. Long seconds past in silence. Frozen solid like this, he begun to notice what he had missed before. Another one, this time a lioness, lay some metres away.
This one was still breathing.
He battled down the urge to scream.
Somewhere near the rock, the Commander Buffalo bellowed three times. The signal to regroup and fold back into line. Chester wanted to die, convinced the monstrous war cry would wake the sleeping lionesses.
A paw twitched, causing Chester to jump his own height in fright, but nothing more came from the female. Edging back a hoof at a time, the ten month old slowly backed away.
It had gone quiet. He had not realised it, too busy with holding his own breathe. But the entire battle had silenced. Half the dust settled in the time it took for him to inch back five metres. Now that the air was clear enough for him to see Pride Rock loaming over him, Chester was struck frozen again.
Up there. Back on the ledge he had stood before the battle, was the King. Must have flown up there after attacking me. The dark lion was looking down below him, a bone rattling roar building inside him with rage, until it reached breaking point. The King threw his head back and roared. Sunrays and dust swirled around him like ghostly visitors. The roar echoed and grew. It multiplied and drew in like thunder inside a canyon.
From here Chester could see as one of his fellow gnu started to climb the Rock. He was close enough to make out the details. The unsteady placing of hooves against smooth, steep rock. The inaudible grunt of determination to charge up the pathway. A buffalo followed and it gave the gnu a reservoir of confidence. With renewed vigour the gnu bounded up, stumbling once, twice, but not a third time.
He was dead by then. A lion had come down and slammed him so hard the gnu went tumbling head over hind, free falling for metres before coming down onto jagged rocks. He impacted with a sickening bend of the spine.
No.
A Lakelander, at the Fallen Rock:
They sneered that the Golden Kings were weak, peace loving fools. Their Pridelanders dumb and friendly. Bukoba knew now that they lied. It felt like they outnumbered the Pridelanders twenty to one in the beginning, yet getting a grip on victory proved to be like trying to bite down on water. It was even worse once they drew back into the fortress that was their beloved Rock. Even with the calming drugs the Queen of Horn smuggled into their meat pile, they fought savagely.
His responsibility had been to stay back from the battle, and privately he had been relieved. Not only did it save him from getting a clawful, but even better, it had afforded him the perfect place to watch the spectacle of beasts in combat. Until the dust was disturbed at least. A part of him sympathises with the prey trying to flee. It didn't look fun in there. But he did his duty. Again and again he scared them back into the fray. It had consumed his time, herding them back like a long suffering shepherd. Wars were not won by giving up.
Victory should have been easy. The Queen's ravens had enough poison quills made up that they could afford two for every Pridelander. It should have been enough, especially when paired with the meal pile drugs that destroyed their immune systems. They should have dropped like flies. One quill was enough to sedate a lion in a matter of minutes, two was hazardous, three was certain death.
He still remembers that heart stopping moment, when the battle eased. He had assumed they had won, but as the dust started to settle Scar came into view. Then he had gotten a good look as the King flung his head back and roared. His flanks and even his mane glimmered as the sunlight caught the movement of quills.
It seemed the Queen's plan had failed. It was now time to fight.
He had priorities. With the fight now coming to its deadly point, it was time he found Diku and her cubs. Benji and Nala. His little daughters. It was imperative he found and identified them before some solider got over enthusiastic and sliced them apart. In the haze of the battle that came after, as all the pray ran scared and only lions, cheetah, and odd crazed gnu remained, he remembers searching every young lionesses face for familiar features. They threw themselves at their enemies with blood-thirsty ambition. The weakening draughts placed in their foods had its desired effect, noticeable in the way the pride members often landed unbalanced. Other than the tiny opportunities it gave in the fighting, there was no other visible effect.
This was what the Queen of Horns got for using a sub-par poison master. The very best refused to work for her no more, apparently her payments no longer met the mark.
The fighting had carried on into the afternoon, ambushing each other around the boulders of Pride Rock. Parts of the untrained horde that had yet to flee were ordered to stand guard down the bottom and make sure no one came in or out. He had paired up with the Alpha and slowly they started to overpower the Pridelanders.
Scar had fought like a monster, almost killing two of their lions and giving the Alpha a terrible wound across his cheek. Bukoba was almost afraid to approach the King, all the quills still stabbed through his body. In the end it had taken Kuu to put him down, the spy had still been pretending to be a Pridelander up to that point, enjoying the charade and having the time of his life. The King let him in close and looked away, focussing on Bukoba who had been approaching from the other side. Kuu, the insufferable snivelling rat had finally done his job and taken the King down with the element of surprise while Bukoba used the confusion to go in trying to knock the monster unconcious. They bashed him down again and again, to the appoint where he surly should have died.
Was this how that Mufasa lion survived a stampede, trapped under a thousand bodied but seemingly retaining little damage? The King wanned before them; exhausting taking over once the Alpha arrived and paid him back with a matching cheek swipe that nearly took Scar's eye out.
After the King was subdued, the tides started to turn dramatically. Ravens arrived with new quills, alongside the Queen and a band of monkeys who had gnu carrying lopes upon lopes of ropes.
The monkey's tied the King up nice and tight as Alpha and Bukoba held him down. The fellow male thrashed the whole time, smearing blood all over the rock he was pressed into. When the gnu finally dragged him off, the extent of the bleeding was revealed to be dangerously severe. Thick puddles of it gather in the dips of the rock, deep enough to splash as the Alpha walked across the bloody scene. The Queen had clear orders for Scar to live long enough to surrender the lands to her, and Bukoba felt a tickle of annoyance at the stupidity of actively keeping their greatest foe alive.
He paced darkly along the newly claimed Pride Rock, soon to be Horn Rock or some such nonsense. This was infuriating. Not only had the incompetent army suffered unimaginable losses against a handful of lions, twenty eight in fact, which was technicaly a bit more than a handful. No matter. The most annoying issue was what the recent reports revealed to him. The monkeys which were tasked with immobilising the Pridelanders had announced that valuable hostages could not be located. The Fair King Mufasa was missing, Sarabi was not amongst the Pridelanders, and neither were the three heirs the spies had spoken of. Out of the six lions they absolutely had to capture, they only had one.
And worst of all, where on earth was his children? None of the apprehended answered to the names Nala or Benji, all he got for his efforts was glares mixed with hatred and, what seemed to be, bemusement? Bukoba stalked down the Rock on his way to the battle field.
A roped up lion was being dragged up the path behind a gnu, his stormy yellow eyes meeting his as they past. It was the cub he had first talked to, the one who told him about his daughters.
"You. Where are Benji and Nala." The boy played a farce of looking around. The gnu bull halting to watch the conversation cautiously.
"Not here, obviously." Cocky little shit... he had to know something. Where they were posted or most likely to be. Maybe they escaped like five out of six of the Queen's prize prisoners had.
"Where then?" The cub fixed him with a terrible yellow glare, contempt sneering out from him as he lay across the ground.
"How in all the Pridelands would I know?!" The cub then struggled against his restraints, rolling onto his belly and trying to stand no matter that his hind legs were lashed together, and his front paws were in much the same situation. He wasn't so little anymore, but still an adolescent. Killable. Ergh, should he really be thinking this? Bukoba pushed him over just as the lion started to get to his feet, listening in satisfaction as the sub-adult cursed. The buffalo snorted and carried on up Pride Rock, making the yellow eyed lion swear more and twist in a futile effort to avoid sharp rocks. Bukoba chuckled. It would be fun dealing with these Prideland lions until they were exiled. Or executed.
A cheetah limped up to him, the lesser cat wincing at bruised ribs.
"The antelope believe they have found Queen Sarabi," she told him, her freckled face turning to nod in the direction Sarabi must be in.
"Better be," Bukoba muttered darkly, trotting off with the cheetah slowly following.
It was her. The second he saw her body laid out beside the hippo he knew. A single quill gleamed in her neck and Bukoba took the time to thank the one smart raven up there, intelligent enough to realise that if three quills wasn't working on Scar, then it might be time to switch targets.
"That's her," he confirmed to the antelopes standing around shooting the cheetah nervous glances. Oh sure, be afraid of the cheetah and not the hulking lion able to snap said cheetah in two. Bukoba knew he was being unfair to the little creatures. Cheetahs were their natural predator, rarely if ever did they find themselves on the business end of a lion. He sent one of the horned creatures off to find a free pair of the rope trotting monkey and gnu.
Bukoba sat down and oversaw the knotting and dragging of her majesty, dutifully making sure she wasn't strangled, kicked in the head or some such nonsense. Alpha meet them at Pride Rock and immediately took charge of the operation, walking directly beside the limp body of his nemesis and staring at her in bizarre wonder. This was the first time Alpha had seen Sarabi so close up, and knocked out like this her features were peaceful. Obviously the sight of what appeared to be an ordinary, calm lioness was short-circuiting his brain. From the way all the rebel lions described her, she might as well be growing horns and a mane.
Bukoba resumed his search of the field, searching for Pridelanders or the wounded. A small party of healing trained monkeys was moving around, going from one antelope guard to the next who signified a wounded but healable solider by their feet. There was word that the mystic baboon had been captured, but was currently tied up, possibly literally, with King Scar as the Queen of Horns stubbornly tried to bring him back into consciousness. Most likely the poisons were kicking in and killing him.
As Bukoba walked, animals automatically assumed he had some authority simply because of his lion like appearance. It was understandable, they had until this evening been ruled for thousands of years by a lion dynasty. In the Lakelands the situation was much different; warfare had torn all system of government down generations ago, even before the Tyrant, the Rebellion, and then the formation of the Five Great Gangs.
"Took you long enough, luckily the lioness hasn't shown any intention to move." Bukoba looked with befuddlement as a gnu arrived at his side speaking to him with irritation. Distantly he recalled someone coming to him during the binding of Sarabi and telling him to urgently head somewhere. He had dismissed the messenger with a nod, forgetting all about it.
"Ah, there is a lot going on this evening." Bukoba bluffed, keeping pace with the annoyed animal as he was led to where an assembly of gnu and antelope was circled.
Pushing through a gap the gazelles opened up for him, he stopped short at the sight in the centre. A fully grown lioness lay, obviously dead with the way her hind legs were being held together by strings of tendons alone. Tucked into the embrace of this lioness was a smaller one, distraught with grief, past the crying stages and simply lay there shaking. The grown lioness was too pale to be Diku, but the grieving one looked around the right age to be one of his daughters. Bukoba hedged his bets and mustered up all the courage he had.
"Nala, Benji?" The lioness's ears perked in instinctive interest at the last name. Bukoba held his breath as her head turned to peer at him, tearstained eyes dead and empty. Which one are you? Hello, I'm possibly your father. Gee sorry about your dead pal there. All these sentences rattled around his head. Luckily none came out. As she took in the unfamiliar sight of him, her lemon eyes lightened into silver with fury. Confirming to him that this was definitely one from his seed, the shade so similar to how his own eyes were described it was startling. A vicious snarl took hold of her, the transformation so quick it caught him off guard.
"I'm going to kill you."
Well this... was not ideal. As the young lioness staggered to her feet and stalked over to him, Bukoba faintly felt the cold hold of fear take a hold of him as he marvelled at the sight of his daughter.
