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Total Mut Cubs: 15
Notable cubs:
1x Mane scruffy
1x Mane ruffled
1x Mane whiskered
1x Mane fluffy
1x Mane silky
3x Bobbed tail
1x Achromia
2x Folded ears
2x Primal (Smilus)
1x Primal (Felis)
1x Primal fangs
Ever since I was a cub, they looked at me. The whole pride stared, and gawked, boring holes into my paper-thin skin leaving me with this feeling of confusion and despair. I was so perplexed, I felt like everything I did was wrong. Every move I made, every bite I took... Anything I did was weird to my pride mates. During training our mane-less leader barely took his eyes off me. I hated him, how could some lion like that be paraded and praised while I was the pride laughingstock.
They watched, even when I was a blind scrambling rat sized mole, I felt their gazes glued to me. As a defenseless, nonthreatening baby, I was seen as, well... odd. For what? Why?
My cub mates never received the same stares. They were loved, fed a little extra, played with more, invited to more hunts... They were loved. Everything else that I wanted to be a part of they did without me.
I remember the nights when it stormed and there wasn't enough room in the caves. I was always the one tossed out. The elders would look at me and with a sharp growl they would speak softly, "Not enough room for a cub as big and as bright as you. Find a tree or a rock and shiver to sleep, it builds character. You’re going to need it if you’re ever going to measure up to your purpose.” My what?
Eyes of interest... judgement... disapproval... They never stopped, it was as if as soon as the sun woke my eyes, I knew what the day would bring. But I wasn't alone from these silent attacks. The same looks they gave to me they also gave to my sweet protective mother. I could tell she was hurt by the stares as well, but she never acknowledged them and wore them on her shoulders like armor. She never slouched or walked around the pride lands any different, she was proud and strong. Though, if you looked in her eyes for too long, you’d be able to see the sadness in her gaze, and guilt latent among it.
Why was I different, why did my mother hold such burden? The questions never left my mind, they were always on repeat. Driving me insane as I worked hard to prove myself to an invisible audience of support. Getting up early every morning, trying to hunt in secret for the brood mothers, practicing my climbing, sharpening my claws on every old trunk on our territory.
I looked at my mother every morning before her hunt, the same question teasing my lips. I never had the courage to ask. Not until one morning, I was finally 1 year and 11 moons old.
She had just gotten up for her usual morning hunt. I scrambled out of the nest beside hers and ran up to her aggressively, anger built up from a night of endless thinking. We were standing at the cave entrance; the sun was rising, and the other lions were just starting to wake. I looked at her, tears welling in my eyes, but I was determined not to show defeat before I had yet to begin. I remember my paws trembling, my lips unsettled as I started to speak with artificial confidence. I looked at my mother, her eyes almost knowing what was coming next. I watched her take a deep breath and my words flowed out as if there was a dam holding them behind my teeth.
“Why am I different? Why does every lion stare at me? What is my purpose they speak of? Why? Why is this happening to me?” I rattled unceremoniously.
The lions behind me lifted their heads from their nests and my mother nudged me with reproach. “Not here.” She growled grabbing me by my still loose scruff and pulling me in the direction of the water hole. She never hesitated to give the nosey lions an unwelcoming glare before leaving. “Come now child.” she demanded before walking ahead of me.
“I don’t understand.” I muttered with a little courage.
“And you will continue to not understand lest you listen to me.” My mother snapped. “Now look.” She pointed her nuzzled towards the still water, “Look at yourself, what do you see?”
I was even more confused, it was myself, my weirdly colored fur, and my larger primal attributes staring back at me. “It’s me.”
“Yes, it is you.” She agreed mockingly, “Our next king.”
“King?” I whined and stepped back, “What do you mean, I can’t be! No one likes me in this pride! I’m more of an outcast than the other male cubs that were chased off moons after me!” I panicked slightly and my breath was labored, what was happening? She had to be lying!
“Calm down and listen, you’re better than this Vixon. You’re like me, strong.” She growled, a little annoyed with my sudden reaction.
I looked at her with a sense of calm, but my eyes were wide. “You want me to be calm? After what you just told me?” I started to ramble, “With the way they treat me? Compared to Zion? I thought Zion was the heir! They praise him as if he is the second in command!”
“I said listen!” She roared, “Yes Zion was supposed to be king, he was next in line, given to us as a cub in hopes to combine prides. But pride tradition overrides petty agreements.”
“Tradition?” I muttered, repeating it under my breath.
“In this pride, any male cub born on the current king’s eighth year gets crowned as an heir.” She continued ignoring my senseless repeating, “In tradition, it is seen that a king that has spent half their life on the throne has had their term and must step down so that new young blood will run through us all.”
“So then why do the lions hate me?” I questioned, “I should be praised!”
“You were born in unfortunate circumstance.” My mother explained. “I was a welcomed stray to this pride; I share none of its blood. Though I have tried hard to earn my place and share I made a very poor decision.”
Her shoulders slouched and her eyes glistened, “I travelled out of our territory and found a wandering king, he was exploring from his pride. He was a primal just like me.” Her lips curled into a smile, “Just like you.”
“Am I dirty blood?” I looked back into the water hole and stared for a while.
“Yes, and you were born at an unfortunate time, with an even more unfortunate appearance.” She continued, “Though us primal are stronger, we are also seen as a scar in this pride. Abnormal, weird.”
My throat tightened as she spoke, “You’re a lion with dirty blood, and a horrendous appearance, and you’re going to be king.”
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