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You move across the grass, feeling it brush against your shoulders and tickle your nose. Spiders and beetles skittered around your paws, unafraid of your presence. It was odd, but perhaps this king had a soft spot for the smaller creatures in life.
As you approach the center of the grassy plains, where the grasses and other plants such as weeds or flowers had been flattened- some even curved and weaved into dens- you find a group of lions and lionesses lazing about, soaking up the warmth of the sun, you notice the eldest lion- likely the king of the pride- playing with a group of cubs, there was quite the batch. He flopped onto his side and let out a low howl, feigning great pain as one lunged into his mane, gripping onto the thick brown tufts with all their might. With a low rumble he let out another agonized howl “Ooh, I am defeated! And by a small cub at that! How shall I protect my family if I am so easily put down by such a strong and valiant warrior?” He inquired, paw lifting to his forehead in exasperation. The closer you get to the king the more details become clear.
All four of his ankles are littered with scars, as if perhaps a small cub unaware of the dangers of its own claws and fangs had gotten a bit too rough during play. On his slivering muzzle you notice a set of healed over claw marks on his nose. The lion notices you, and where you happened to be staring. With a smile he gently pushed off the cub he’s wrestling and stands, rushing to meet you where you were at. It was unsure if he was on guard of your intentions, eager to meet you, or both. Rubbing the scars on his nose he chuckles, “I wasn’t as good with the lionesses I met in my travels along my territory as I was now.” He explained with a smile, fangs exposed. Was it an anxious threat or just a friendly gesture he didn’t realize could come off as aggressive? You watched as he walked to your side, guiding you away from the pride he so adamantly sought to protect. Perhaps it would be better to make you intentions clear. Once he had decided that there was adequate distance between the both of you and his family, he stopped and introduced himself. “I’m Oaklay.” The lion stated kindly. “And you?” Oaklay inquired with a soft, encouraging tone. Although something seemed hidden in it, warning? Aggression? Whatever it was, it was made clear that this lion would take no funny business from you.
He shook his thick mane, waiting for your reply, tail moving in small circles. Nodding as you told him your name he quickly complimented it. “A nice name, indeed, befitting for a great feline like you. Now, tell me, what has brought you to my land? I offer no lionesses’ heat nor my own siring,, but if it’s not that you seek I am happy to walk by your side so long as our interests and means of running our families coincide and find a way to help with whatever brought you to my lands.” Oaklay explained, ears flicking away a fly buzzing around its tufts.
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