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In the vast golden expanses of the savannah, where tall grass swayed under the scorching sun, shaking the air with its majestic roar, a lion named Angel ruled. His name, given to him for his mane, as if woven from clouds, suited him perfectly - he was not just the leader of the pack, he was a true protector and guardian, whose wisdom inspired and whose heart seemed to be open to nature itself.
Angel's pack was respected not only by lions, but also by other inhabitants of the savannah. He shared the spoils with the hungry, protected the defenseless, and resolutely fought any threats. However, even a noble ruler sometimes remained alone in his greatness, looking up at the night sky dotted with endless stars and wondering if there was more to his life than a duty to his lion.
Early one morning, when savannah had not yet fully woken up from the misty curtains of the night, the Angel went alone to a remote reservoir. His thoughts were immersed in a strange feeling, as if something on the horizon was about to change. He walked along the dry riverbed for a long time until he heard a barely perceptible sound — a faint squeak, like someone's cry for help.
The angel froze, raised his head and listened. Movement in the tall grass caught his attention. As he got closer, he saw a tiny lion cub curled up in a helpless ball. The lion cub was surprisingly small, almost skinny to the bone, and, most of all, was absolutely snow-white. The entire appearance of this creature — from the fur to the ears and even the eyelashes — was devoid of the usual golden-red shades, as if nature itself had accidentally shed the moon on it.
The lion carefully lowered himself to the ground so as not to frighten the cub, and looked into his eyes. They were pale blue, as clear as the morning sky. The lion cub, apparently, was too weak to escape or resist. His breathing was trembling, but he was looking at the Angel with genuine curiosity.
Something deep in the leader's heart trembled. It wasn't fear or pity. It was a feeling he had never experienced before, a mixture of inexplicable awe and the realization that there was more to him than just a lion. 'A gift from Heaven,' flashed through his mind. The angel felt that this creature had not appeared in his life by chance.
He carefully took the cub by the scruff of the neck and, holding it so as not to cause pain, headed back to the pack. Carrying the snow-white lion cub seemed as if he was enduring a pure radiance, a quiet miracle sent by heaven itself.
When the Angel brought the lion cub to his pride, the reactions were different. Some of the lions looked at them in disbelief, and some even expressed doubts that the snow-white fur could cause trouble. However, the Angel was unwavering. He explained to his pack that this cub is not just a lion, he is a sign, a symbol that the pride has been chosen.
The little lion cub, whom the Angel called Heaven's Blessing, quickly became attached to the leader. She grew up under his protection, and as time passed, the pack began to notice that her presence brought good luck. As long as Heavenly Blessing was nearby, hunting was always successful, drought bypassed the pride, and enemies rarely invaded their territory.
The Angel and the Heavenly Blessing became inseparable. He taught her how to hunt, defend herself, and be a part of the pride, and she, like a glimmer of heavenly light, filled his soul with the joy he had been searching for for so long. In her snow-white appearance and bravery, she reminded him that even in the most familiar world there is a place for a miracle.
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The sun glistened off of Heavenly Blessing's fur, and you told them how attractive they looked today. If they blushed, you couldn't see it.
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Achromia 
Achromia 
