I padded through the tall, whispering grasses under the quiet cover of night, my senses sharp. The distant calls of nocturnal creatures blended with the cool breeze, carrying the rich scents of dry earth, acacia leaves, and faint trails left by passing prey. I parted my jaws, letting the smells roll over my tongue, when a familiar scent caught my attention—mouse.
I froze. There, beneath the sparse shade of a thorny acacia, a small, brown mouse nibbled on a seed, its ears pricked for danger. I dropped into a crouch, placing each paw with careful precision. My heart pounded as I crept closer, muscles tensing for the pounce.
Now!
I sprang forward, paws outstretched. The mouse squeaked in alarm, but I was faster. It landed squarely between my front paws, and I pinned it to the ground, feeling its tiny heartbeat flutter beneath my pads. Victory was mine.
Then—a rustle.
I snapped my head up, ears swiveling toward the shadows. There it was again—soft, deliberate movement through the dry grass. My grip loosened, and the mouse seized its chance. It wriggled free and darted into the safety of the underbrush.
Fox-dung! I cursed silently.
The rustling grew louder, and I took a step toward the sound.
But before I could move any farther, the world blurred. Darkness closed in, and the golden grassland faded.
I opened my eyes.
The rustling hadn’t stopped. It had just changed. Now it was the sound of a meerkat, tiny paws thumping.
I hissed, and the meerkat bolted, vanishing into the tall grass. I got to my paws, stretching out my limbs. My white fur shimmered under the moonlight.
Half-moon, high in the sky.
My amber eyes glowed faintly in the silver light as I stepped out of the little rock den I’d slept in. The air was cool and still. The trees nearby stood bare, stripped by the dry-season.
I yawned, tasting the dry scent of the savanna on my tongue. The night hummed with life—distant chirps, rustles, and the low call of a nightbird. I padded away from my den and climbed into a scraggly little tree, the bark rough beneath my claws. From there, I looked out over the wide, open night.
Behind me, the rock den sat quiet and dark. If I returned to it now, a hyena might find me sleeping… and I didn’t want to go back. Not yet.
I wanted to explore.
I jumped down, landing softly in the grass, and began to walk. The savanna stretched before me—vast, golden, and waiting.
The scents from my dream clung to me like morning mist—dry grass, sun-warmed stone now cold, and the faint, tempting musk of prey. I opened my mouth, letting the smells wash over my tongue.
This time, I wasn’t dreaming.
I crept forward through the golden grass, the earth cool beneath my pads. The sounds of the distant plains faded behind me, replaced by the rustle of tall savanna brush and the soft chirring of insects under the moonlight. The land around me pulsed with quiet life, the night stretching wide and full of secrets.
Every step made my heart race. I’d never wandered this far from the den before, but something deep in my bones urged me onward—stronger than fear.
A dry breeze swept across the plains, stirring the grasses and ruffling my white fur. I paused, muzzle lifted. There it was again—the rich, nutty scent of mouse, fresh and close.
I crouched low, muscles coiled. My belly skimmed the dirt, tail held still. The savanna was quiet but not silent. Somewhere nearby, the mouse shuffled through brittle leaves near a termite mound.
Closer… closer…
Snap.
A twig cracked beneath my paw.
The mouse vanished in a flash of fur, diving beneath a rock ledge.
“Mouse-dung!” I snarled under my breath, tail lashing with frustration.
“Not bad for a cub.”
I whipped around, ears flat.
The voice had come from the shadows—smooth, confident, and unfamiliar. A young lion stepped out from behind a patch of tall grass, his short, silver-gray pelt nearly invisible under the moon. His green eyes gleamed like leaf-flecked water.
“W-Who are you?” I asked, fur bristling.
He gave a lazy flick of his tail. “I could ask you the same. Most loner cubs know better than to wander into Sunpride territory.”
“I’m not a cub!” I snapped, heat rushing to my ears. I didn’t even know why I said it—but I needed him to believe it.
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh? That little frame and those oversized paws say otherwise.”
I looked down, mortified. Was I really that small?
The other lion must’ve noticed, because his expression softened. “Easy. I’m Droppaw—Sunpride apprentice.”
“Sunpride?” I echoed.
Droppaw looked at me like I’d asked whether the sun rose in the east. “You really are a loner, huh? Sunprides’s one of the four great prides of the savanna. We live by the warrior code. We hunt, fight, and protect our pride… not like the two-paws, or rogues out here on their own.” He glanced toward the horizon where the dry trees stood silhouetted.
There was a pride—a world—out here I hadn’t known about. And now, I was standing in the middle of it.
I lifted my chin. “I’m Whisper. That’s the name I gave myself. And I’m not just a cub.”
He snorted, amused. “Prove it then. Catch that mouse you scared off.”
His voice held a challenge, and my paws tingled with the need to show him. I lowered my head, scenting the dusty trail the mouse had left through the grass. It was different from the stale scraps I’d been surviving on—this scent was warm, fast, alive.
I padded forward, keeping low to the ground. The tall golden grass brushed my sides as I followed the faint rustle ahead.
There! A flash of movement.
The mouse darted to the left, but I was ready this time. My muscles bunched, and I leapt.
With a soft thud, my paws landed squarely on its back. I felt it squirm beneath me, panicking, but I held firm.
I looked up, panting with pride. Droppaw stood a few tail-lengths away, his green eyes wide with surprise.
“Huh,” he muttered. “Maybe you’re not just a cub after all.”
I purred, my chest warm with pride. My amber eyes met his, bright with triumph.
I did it. I really caught it!
But before I could savor the moment, sharp pain bit into my paw. “Ow!” I yelped, jerking back.
The mouse had sunk its teeth into my front paw and used the moment to twist free. It vanished into the grass like smoke.
Droppaw burst out laughing, whiskers twitching. “Guess I spoke too soon,” he teased, padding closer. “Still—not bad. Most five-moon-olds wouldn’t even get that close.”
I shook my paw and narrowed my eyes, pretending it didn’t sting. “Doesn’t count if it gets away,” I grumbled.
He gave me a playful flick of the tail across my side. “It counts. You’re fast. And you actually listened to your nose. That’s more than some fresh apprentices can say.”
I blinked at him. “Apprentices?”
Droppaw nodded. “Yeah. You know—Sunpride, where I’m from. We train young lions to hunt, fight, defend the savanna. Looks like you might have some of that in you.”
Savanna blood, he’d called it earlier. But here, under the stars and the warm breeze, it felt like something deeper—wild blood.
The words stirred something in me. Something real. Something that had always been there, waiting.
His gaze softened as he studied me. “You’re not from the wild, are you?”
I hesitated, glancing back toward the faint shape of the little rock den I’d curled up in just a few moments before night—and the night before that.
Home suddenly felt far away. Small. Like it belonged to someone else.
“No,” I said quietly. “But… I don’t want to go back. Not yet.”
Droppaw shrugged. “Then don’t. Come on.”
He flicked his tail and padded off toward the trees, his paws silent on the dry grass.
“Wait! Where are we going?” I called, trotting after him.
“To find more mice,” he said over his shoulder, his green eyes gleaming. “If you’re gonna act like a Pride lion, you might as well learn to hunt like one.”
I picked up my pace. “Hey, wait!” I huffed, tail-tip twitching with irritation. By the time I caught up, I was panting. “I told you to wait,” I muttered, though I didn’t slow down. I matched his stride anyway, chest still heaving.
Droppaw didn’t answer. His green eyes were sharp, ears perked, mouth slightly open as he tasted the air. His tail swept low, just brushing the ground.
Suddenly, he flicked that tail across my back, halting me mid-step. “Let me show you how you actually catch a mouse,” he whispered, dropping into a low crouch with practiced ease.
I froze, watching closely.
His every movement was smooth and silent. His paws fell light on the cracked earth, avoiding stones, brittle leaves, and snapping twigs. His body flowed like wind through the grass. His gaze locked on a patch of dry brush a few tail-lengths ahead.
I strained my ears… then I heard it—a faint scuffle of tiny claws against the soil.
“See how I’m moving?” he murmured, eyes never leaving the brush. “Keep your belly low, but don’t drag it. Step where the dirt’s soft. Don’t rush. Mice feel the ground move before they hear you.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, heart pounding as I drank in every word.
He crept closer. The mouse—a brown one, twitchy and busy nibbling a seed—was completely unaware. For a breathless moment, the savanna stood still, silent beneath the moon.
Then he leapt. One fluid, powerful motion—quick as a springtail—and the mouse didn’t even squeak before his paws slammed it down. A swift nip to the back of the neck, and it was done.
He stood, tail flicking proudly. “That’s how you catch a mouse.”
I blinked, a little impressed. A little annoyed. “Show-off,” I muttered, though my whiskers twitched.
Droppaw chuckled and dropped the mouse at my paws. “Your turn, cub. Think you can do better?”
“I’m not a cub,” I grumbled, puffing my chest. “Watch me.”
I crouched, jaws parted like he’d shown me, trying to catch even the faintest trace of prey. Nothing. No scent. No scuffling paws. Just dry grass, wind, and Droppaw’s smug silence.
He’d already sat down, legs tucked under him, casually grooming a leaf from his claw. His short brown fur—like sunbaked earth—shimmered in the starlight as he flexed his paw.
I gritted my teeth and tried again. Nothing. My ears twitched. My tail lashed. Nothing!
“There aren’t any mice out here,” I hissed, frustration bubbling in my chest.
Droppaw snorted, his green eyes dancing with amusement. “Are you sure about that?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yes,” I snapped—then paused.
He tilted his head, tail curling lazily. “Then why is there one nibbling a seed right behind that bramble bush?”
I turned slowly, fur prickling. Sure enough, there it was—a plump little mouse, twitching its whiskers like it knew I’d been wrong.
Droppaw leaned closer, voice full of fake sympathy. “Maybe your cub nose isn’t used to real hunting yet.”
My tail-tip twitched. I was going to catch that mouse. And this time, I wouldn’t let it slip away.
I narrowed my eyes at Droppaw, heat rising under my fur. He thought I couldn’t do it. Fine. I’d prove him wrong.
Dropping into what I hoped was a proper hunter’s crouch, I crept toward the bramble bush, belly fur brushing the cold ground. My tail flicked behind me—and the mouse froze, nose twitching.
“Tail down,” Droppaw whispered, amusement thick in his voice.
I gritted my teeth and tucked my tail close, but the shift made the dry leaves crackle beneath my paws. The mouse’s whiskers twitched.
It knew.
Panic flared. Don’t run. Not yet. I bunched my muscles and sprang, paws outstretched—
Too high.
The mouse darted left. I landed off balance, skidding across the dirt. “Fox-dung!” I spat, lunging after it. My white fur flashed under the moonlight—like a beacon.
Droppaw’s laughter echoed behind me. “That was the loudest pounce I’ve ever seen!”
I didn’t answer. I just kept running, paws flying, heart pounding. I was fast—faster than the mouse. But just as I reached for it, my paw caught a root.
I yelped.
The world flipped. I tumbled head over tail and crashed into a patch of cold, damp moss.
The mouse was gone.
I lay there, chest heaving, ears burning. Droppaw padded over, green eyes gleaming like he’d just watched the best kind of disaster.
“Nice try, cub,” he said, flicking my ear with his tail. “You nearly had it—if you were hunting clouds instead of mice.”
I growled and shoved myself upright, shaking moss from my fur. “At least I didn’t trip over a leaf like you did yesterday,” I muttered, trying to sound braver than I felt.
His whiskers twitched with amusement, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded toward the trees. “Come on, Whisper. Let’s find you something slower. Maybe a snail?”
I didn’t laugh. I didn’t even smile. I just stared into the dark woods, the stars bright above the treetops.
I would catch something.
Maybe not tonight.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But I’d get there.
Droppaw froze, ears pricked. “jackel poop,” he hissed, nose wrinkling. “I can smell my pride. Quick—run away!”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Run? Where?” I spun in place, trees blurring around me. I’d never been this deep into the forest. Nothing looked familiar.
“Run!” he snapped again, panic sharpening his voice.
But it was too late.
“Droppaw.”
The voice sliced through the night like claws through flesh—cold, sharp, and dripping with fury.
A shadow stepped from the undergrowth, massive and silent. A male lion, taller and broader than any I’d ever seen. Long, sleek black fur clung to his powerful frame, dark stripes rippling down his back like shadows cast by bare branches. His thick coat gleamed in the moonlight, but my gaze locked on his face—on the jagged scar slashing across his muzzle, twisting his features into something cold and cruel.
His eyes, amber-brown and deep as storm-swirled water, narrowed into thin, blazing slits.
Droppaw’s breath hitched. He flattened to the ground in an instant, green eyes fixed on the dirt. His ears pinned back. With a sharp flick of his tail, he signaled me to do the same.
But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My paws were rooted, frozen by the weight of that lion’s stare.
“R-Ravenscar,” Droppaw stammered, his voice dry and brittle with fear. “She’s just a cub! Not a threat. I swear!”
Ravenscar’s gaze slid to me like claws unsheathing. His lip curled.
“A loner.” He spat the word like it tasted foul. “Skulking in our territory like a hyena sniffing around a kill nest.” His tail lashed once, stirring dry leaves. “Do you have bees in your brain, Droppaw? Bringing filth this far into our territory?”
“I—I didn’t bring her,” Droppaw pleaded, still crouched low. “She followed me. I was going to chase her off. I swear on Moonpride!”
Ravenscar stepped closer, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath his heavy paws. My legs locked, breath shallow. He was all muscle and menace, towering like a shadow come to life.
“Get up,” he growled. “Both of you.”
I flinched but obeyed, standing on shaky legs. Droppaw moved slower, his eyes flicking to me with a flash of guilt.
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