𝒜𝓇𝓁𝑒𝓀𝒾𝓃 ☀︎

Muti 400+ (Harlequin) write if interested https://www.lioden.com/lion.php?id=794229875838


⋆˚࿔ vernarre 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

【 The sun was blazing fiercely across the lands, showing no remorse for any of the creatures desperate to quench their thirst. Amidst the heat a group of 3 lionesses pad through a sandy clearing.

“See? I told you there would be nothing to find!” Groans Lavender, the youngest of the group. The other lioness, Cyrene, snarls back at her in response. Why are they acting so selfishly? Why aren’t they thinking of her fami- their family?

“You know we HAVE to find water! Do you have any better idea? What? To wait till we all die of thirst?We have a FAMILY to help!” Cyrene scoffs in disgust as the younger lioness rolls her eyes and plops down in a shaded area, no doubt have given up on this fruitless journey. The third member of the group, a young, unusually speckled grey lioness nicknamed Mountain pads over to Lavender and gently lays next to her and starts to groom her fur.

“We are all dehydrated. If we return back without finding water, our pride will…” Mountain coos, voice as soft as a morning sunrise, though gravelly at the end.

Cyrene couldn’t help but just stare in disgust. The two were relaxing, acting blissfully unaware of their own thirst. If anything, *she* should be the one relaxing. She clearly stood noticeably taller than other lionesses, with lithe muscles and a powerful bite: no doubt a deadly huntress ready to maim anyone who got in her way. Though age has been creeping over her, and every lion could notice the way she fell behind during hunts and the way the skin around her eyes and muzzle began to darken, contrasting against her bright piebald speckles and rhubarb colored fur.

“Fine!” Cried Cyrene, voice booming so loudly that any foraging prey in the area immediately would have scurried off. “I’ll go search for water *myself*! And the entire pride will hear how lazy you’ve been! Especially our king!” Though as she sprinted away, the pair could only shrug and continue to complain about her outburst.

The sunset casts velvety rays of light to shine on the tallest of mountains to the peaceful, dancing waves. Cyrene limps along with subtle pants and heaves with each paw-step. She swore she could sense water past all these overgrown shrubs: so tall she thought only a giraffe could peer through. With little hope, her claw thrashes against the tall shrubs - and then she spotted it! A glistening river with a bloody red hue, no doubt reflecting the ruby sunset which painted the sky red. Finally! She can go home to her pride and tell them the good news! Though her moment of adoration and pride is interrupted by..a *cub?*

Infront of her stands a weak, pathetic ball of fur shivering next to the ravine, water dripping from its muzzle. The cub, no older than 6 months of age, backs up a little, muttering an apology under its breath. The young cubs muted golden fur almost blended in with the orange hue, although some areas of fur were covered with faint, brown stripes. The most striking feature of the cub was its white piebald markings, which split its face in two - one side white, the other a deep copper.

Images of her cubs flicker through her mind: Watching them tussle and argue with each other, images holding her newborns close to her for the first time, the feeling of being a young mother being cared for by her pride and king, helplessly running after the run-down van with her cubs in them as poachers take them away…

What Cyrene wanted to do was get back to her pride. She was going to shoo the cub away and growl at the poor baby, rest near the lake, and head home. She’ll forget about it there. She must.

But what the elderly lioness could only muster up is a low grunt. She staggers as she drags her malnourished frame to the water source. She then dips her head down and laps up a long needed drink before helplessly resting on her side. She should be *proud*! Because of her hours of searching, she found water that, though far, can still save her pride. Why can’t she be happy?

Shivering, the scrawny cub cautiously creeps over to Cyrene, waiting for a response. The only response she gets is Cyrene yawning and resting her head on her paw. ‘Whose cub even is this? Has it been abandoned by its pride?’ Cyrene thinks, a sorrowful expression on her face. *Taking in this ill cub would be a liability, an extra mouth to feed. Though can see herself in this cub - two weak lionesses in need of something. In need of a mother and in need of comfort, in need of care.

As the deep red sky swirls into a magenta, bright stars and constellations blinking in the endless darkness, the two lions cuddle up to each other. The elderly one grooming the cubs fur, and the cub close to her side, they’d go home tomorrow. The two admire the stars together. For once in a long time, the two were happy.


Miles away, lying under the stars, a copper piebald lioness longs for her cub to be by her side again.