My toes started to faintly burn against the dry grass as I sprinted across the opening. Cula gaining speed, took the path in front of me, her panting load and obnoxious. Unorganized thoughts of worry swivel in my head. Cula is a retired lioness, and she is much faster than me, how am I supposed to compete with the pride?
I turn the negative thoughts off as I set my eyes on the hunting clearing. I count 20 lions in the dirt square. Their low grumbles if impatience full the air, and as I quickly realize, so do thousands of hungry horse flys. I swat them away, completely unaware of the important leader stepping into the light, the official start of the gathering. Cula gives me a death stare before my dumb head grasps around the situation. I spot the leader. He tends to be more terrifying that I remember. His long wiry mane practically touches the ground and his scars provoke respect. Its seems that there is no inch on his body bare of scars. He inhales, about to speak. We take in a breath.
His low raspy voice makes my hair rise in my forearms.
"Welcome to the green leaf hunting ritual where all young lionesses must prove their skill and devotion to the pride by hunting a animal of their choice. Remember the bigger and more difficult to catch, the more points you earn.
Make us proud."
I catch him glaring at me.
YOU ARE READING
Washing Off Wild
AventuraThe only records of Kinsey Peterson can be found in the Kenya Police Department. The documents dated back to March 12nd 1945, were considered a dead case, no one dared to question if she was alive. Until July 3, 1957. Where they found themselves in...
