A curse has washed over the land, causing the rainy season to arrive early, but there is no savior in sight. Witness a realistic fiction about the demise of prides and its savanna, as well as the rise of a new as it becomes too wet to cope.
The bull had charged, knocking Folami off her feet. He then lunged furiously in the opposite way, stomping at one of the others splashing up the water and dirt. One of the others released in order to diffuse the attack's rage, which made it easier for the bull's female to move and attempt to escape death. The two remaining on the victim, who have already torn through the flesh on its side and bit into its rear leg, refused to cease their assault and as a result, were bitten and kicked in their shoulders and arms. This bull was skilled and knew how to fight, but their hunger gave them the confidence and determination they needed to continue. Folami, who was lying in the mud, had the wind knocked out of her, but fortunately, the bull was preoccupied with the others, who thankfully diverted his attention but left three blood-stained muzzles and no kill. Instead, the target dashed back to the herd. They were forced to submit to the crushing force of the bull's strikes or they risked being severely injured. The bull kept them at bay by launching two hoofed stomps in their direction, sending them back before turning around and rejoining the heard in the distance, bruised and battered by the fight, the adrenaline of it all kept the pain at bay as they chased after the bull, leaping at its backside and legs in an attempt to get a grip but sliding or being kicked off and back into the mud.
Their spirits were crushed as they heaved in the dirt, the rain fell, and their prey bolted in the distance; they were very hungry and thirsty, but thankfully none of them were seriously injured. Folami was furious, growling and slicing raindrops with her furious flicking tail as they lifted themselves up, and looked out into the foggy landscape. Folami moved further away from home as the Zebra's blood lingered and the individual limped from its attack; a zebra could feed them all, so she forcefully got the lionesses up some limping lightly from bruising. The hunting party had lost all hope; the injured zebra was hidden incongruously among the stripes of the others; one turned back, then another, and another, until it was only Folami standing alone. She followed the herd.
Returning to the acacia tree Hopes cubs were sleeping, hunger bothered them, there was no waterhole in the territory, only puddles formed by rain, and the younglings were nowhere to be found. Hobble was also sleeping and unable to protect the cubs. She kept an eye out for them, and when the sky rumbled, she took a chance and left the den site, moaning softly for them as if they were her cubs because she loved them as if they were her own. She moaned and grunted for hours, walking further and further and sniffing around for their sent, blood carried through scent in the air causing her to move in a quick trot even if her energy was depleted.
She stood helplessly as evening turned to night, needing to return to the cubs but running out of milk to feed them.
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Compassion had no place in the Savanah; she would either risk herself to find the younglings or risk her cubs to find food. Her cubs were the pride's future, but so were the younglings; losing either could spell doom. She turned around after a long thought, using her last bit of energy to return to the tree. Hobble was awakened by nightfall, and she seemed perplexed by Hope's return because she hadn't realized she had left. She sat up slowly, looking into the darkness, turning her head to the right, seeing a silhouette, her eyes widened, and in a burst of childish energy she ran over to the silhouette, smelling food. Folami had returned with a muddy, bruised, and battered zebra that she had chased and assailed until it could no longer keep up with the herd, abandoning it in the hand of misery. Folami brought the Zebra to the den site. She was given a seat at the dinner table even before Hope, who slowly gorged herself on the meal after a sluggishly slow emergence. Not long after, the younglings found themselves at the last mile mark, using their noses to their advantage, one of these lionesses lingered behind, but they had to keep up smelling the meal from afar. The small pride roared out in victory, their booming voices echoing 5 miles away from the source; tomorrow and the next few days would be spent expanding and defending their territory.
