Phyllis's Den

You wander...

onto uncharted, forgotten land. You're tense, the atmosphere is off, there's something in the air, something like... rot and famine. Your eyes are wide, strained, searching the thick undergrowth for shining lion eyes. There. A scrawny, older lioness bows her head as she shimmies past you, rushing along a dark, twisting narrow walkway back towards the den, probably. Your curiosity peaked, you follow her into the center of the den, swallowed by rocks, prickly vines, and tall, dying trees. In the middle, the lionesses have made a tight, small circle, for there are very few of them, you realize, around a ... king? Queen? The King? yowls and chatters away with her-- his? --chest proudly puffed out. They have yet to realize your presence. The Queen? nods at her-- his? --lionesses and promises a return of the lush greenery, of food aplenty, and of larger, cozier caves for the "future cubs" of this pride. All the while, he motions towards the remnants of a once pitiful stone throne at the head of the den and shames the previous king for his misdoings. You wait until the speech is over, skirt the edges of the territory looking for a way out, but are stopped by the jolly bouncing of the Queen-- king? --as he makes his way towards you. "Brilliant, wasn't it?" She asks, a proud grin playing on her jowls. You hesitate. "Was the last king so horrible?" You ask. "Oh, I don't think so, but everyone else is so happy now that he's gone, I'm sure there's something deeper to it." She matches your steps as she leads you to the exit, covered by withering twigs and stiff mud. "Either way, they seem to like me much better. I haven't done anything kingly yet, but they seem to like me plenty!" She's horribly immature. You leave, despite her offering a place for you in her heart. Such a naive child.