|
"You look like Scar!" "Oh, do I? Careful... I might feed you lot to the hyenas!" Goose replied, tackling the cubs as they shrieked with laughter.
Despite her fiercely protective nature and her intimidating appearance, Goose is a hopeless romantic who dreams of having a warm body to press next to, a stream of soft giggles to share and somebody to love.
Sprawled out in the shade next to Goose, you complained how all this fur is just SO HOT. She agreed, sprawling out next to you. Finally, someone in the pride who understands your pain!
There are two types of lions in Carolina’s world: Those who support her, and those who no longer serve a purpose.
Those who have to be destroyed to secure my position.
She stalked into the unguarded nursery and slinked towards the young heir.
He was a good puppet, but a puppet Carolina no longer need.
She flicked out her claws-
“Halt.”
She turned as Goose leaped out from the shadows, eyes narrowed to slits.
“This cub is under my protection,” snarled the broodmother (Carolina scoffed at the word “broodmother”: She herself was the lioness’s broodmother not so long ago), “And I won’t let anyone harm him.” She pointed a hooked claw at the princess, “Not even you.”
Carolina shook her head cooly. “Always jumping to conclusions,” she mused, “How do you know I’m not here to check up on the cubs? I was a broodmother too, you know.”
“Like how you checked up on Charybdis and Scylla?”
Carolina stared calmly at Goose, whose eyes began to glint dangerously. “If you want to kill this cub, you’d have to get through me first.”
Those who pose as as a threat must be eliminated.
Goose was ferocious, but Carolina was the one who taught her how to fight.
The pride woke to a distraught cry.
Lionesses rushed into the nursery in every direction, only to find their leader slumped over a dead lion cub. She rosed her tear stained face to take in the pride, and let out a shaky sob:
“He’s dead.”
As her lions mourned and offered comfort to one another, Carolina lifted her stained paws to wipe the tears away as she felt a sudden gust of wind rake across her face like a claw.
Like the claws of a dead lioness, mane bloodied, body tossed carelessly into a gorge.
A fallen lioness that looked so small in her death, so fragile, so utterly defenceless, like a cub waiting for the protection of a broodmother.
|
