Changes

CHAPTER 5

-TOO LATE TO LEAVE-

DEVA MARKOVA'S POV

The moment I step back into the woods I'm welcomed by my one and only, Kimba. He roars playfully and I run my fingers through his wild, sunlit mane. His tail wags eagerly, smacking my shoulder before he leaps toward me.

I'm accustomed to his joyful assaults and brace myself for the inevitable tumble.

"Missed me, Kimba?" I laugh as his excitement peaks, and he showers my face with his affectionate slobber.

"Easy boy!" I flip us over, ending up on top, and rise to my feet.

I realized the two hours was definitely not enough... and took my last resort before leaving the car. The ani-hangover pill Asmodeus did for us. Gets you good as new in a minute; and I do need my sanity for tonight. Running away won't do me any good...

I twirl my backpack and unzip it, pulling out a juicy piece of grilled chicken.

Kimba's nose twitches, and he starts to drool, his eyes locked on the prize.

I hold my hand up, locking his attention. He sits, growing eager, yet knowing he must wait for my signal.

Over the years, I've woven these lessons into him, and I'll continue to refine them, ensuring his loyalty remains as steadfast as ever.

"Let's see if your jump has gotten better!" I toss the chicken high into the air above Kimba, then release my hand from its commanding hold.

Kimba braces his front legs, gathering momentum, then launches into the air, catching his reward with joyful precision.

"Not bad, Kimba. You'd do better next visit, or I wouldn't be as frequent." I threaten playfully as I step back, leaving him to savour his reward in peace.

Kimba was the only lion I had left from the original pride; the others had scattered to new territories, forming their own prides.

And to avoid Kimba from feeling lonely, ensuring he stayed engaged, I brought him ten lionesses to keep him company and keep him busy.

Kimba's ten wives hunted most of his food, but I spoiled him like my own child with special delicacies, regardless of him being older than me now...

I rarely encountered his wives, which was fine by me; otherwise, I'd never have the peace I was coming here for.

After my cousin's supposed death, I rolled up my sleeves and brought in a team of builders to construct a cozy bungalow atop the hill. I shot them right after.

This place was mine now and I needed my escape route in case everything went south one day. And with this line of business, it was inevitable and bound to happen. Time was the only factor staying unpredictable.

The greatest perk of their deaths was that Kimba and his pride enjoyed an ample supply of food for a while, easing my worries. They had also been hostile during the cleanup, so I barely had to lift a finger.

Kimba's wives grew fonder of me afterward, though we kept our distance. One of them learned the hard way, a bullet in her right eye, and I ended up with a souvenir—three damn scars across my left breast; We could never play buddies again.

Until then, I would guard what was mine with unwavering resolve. Consider it a form of 'only child syndrome,' despite growing up in a large family. I wasn't lacking in gifts, but I valued each one so deeply that I couldn't bear to share them. It wasn't about scarcity; it was about a profound appreciation for what was given to me.