Dantea

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　𝓓𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓪　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Dantea arrives silently by the light of the moon, a tiny kit dangling from her jaws.

"I just need a place to rest," she says, refusing to meet your gaze. "No food or medicine. I'll be gone by morning."

"Hmm," you nod, knowing from past experiences that offering more would only earn you a swipe across the face. A lioness's pride was not something to trifle with.

Dantea dips her head respectfully before collecting her cub, who mewls pathetically. Although you try not to stare, you can't help but notice its odd, knobby tail. Perhaps this was why Dantea was without a pride. It was not uncommon for some prides to see cubs such as hers as omens— long, slender fangs foretelling war, bright tufts of white fur predicting storms.

You watch as Dantea disappears into the mouth of the rocky den before trotting up to a nearby yearling.

"Young one," you address her kindly. "Make sure that lioness is given food and medicine. On my order."

"Y-yes," she stammers, scrambling to her paws. You were unsure of how long you could convince Dantea to stay, but you were determined to make sure she was accepted while she was here.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　𝓶𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙