"Zoma!" he yells into the barren streets. Every building is empty, every roof caved in. A few fires still flicker in the cracked windows of storefronts and smoke rises in the distance from the village homes outside the center of town. The families and children are gone, either burned to ash or taken. There was no foreseeing this attack, and there were no survivors. The sky is greyer than the chance the town will ever be hospitable again. But this is where his son ran to escape and this land hasn't been scouted for any lingering fighters. The cub is gone without a trace.
"Zoma!" he calls again, his voice a nervous roar. He searches relentlessly, only stopping in the face of this shattered wooden door, one of a sweet shop he imagined with numerous happy children with lion ears claws and tails. But by looking at it now in the ruins, none can tell what this was originally meant to be.
A scream ripples through the air, forcing the lion's head around faster than a top. Back near the town's entrance arch? How could he have missed his young son in his frantic search? In an instant, he takes off, nearly slipping his bare feet on the lose sand, leaving dust clouds in his wake. In seconds he reaches the cracked arch, but nothing but destroyed buildings and homes in sight.
"Daddy!" a whimpering voice alerts the lion. The cub appears in a broken doorway, emerging from his hiding spot. A breath of relief escapes the lion that he hadn't missed seeing his son in plain sight. They are safe for now.
But from the call of a helpless cub, from both directions of the wide paved street, two heavily armored lions emerge. Immediately recognizing the father, the fighters take aggressive stances. The father looks desperately to his cub, just a heartbeat away.
"Don't worry son, just stay right there. I'll take care of you." The words seep into Zoma's ears and melt into his chest, stifling his crying and giving him strength to rely on his loving father. The cub watches on as the fighters sprint forward, one with a thick rusty sword, and the other with a very heavy hammer that's either rusting or decorated with crusted blood.
The battle begins, the swordfighter swinging his blade wildly, seemingly without a thought unpredictability proved to be a struggle to avoid as the father trips backward to keep the blade off his skin. The other fighter, slowed by his hammer, circles around the two lions outside the skirmish. Trying as he may, the lion avoids blow after blow, inching closer and closer to his frightened cub. But the swordfighter is relentless and refuses to stop even for a breath. How little the fighter does breathe makes the father wonder if he is indeed alive by his own will. But it would not matter either way.
The brawl continues, throwing dust and sand into the air like dragons battling over control of the sea. Will there be a clear victor? The length of time suggests not. Until the old father slips. Thrown on the ground to avoid a lethal blow, he takes an instant's chance to spare him more time. Kicking the swordfighter off of his feet changes the tables. Without focus to attack the seemingly impenetrable body of armor, the lion escapes the fray.
Zoma cries out, screaming for his father, to any glimmer of hope left in the world. Finally emerging from the dust cloud the lion roars, prepared to take on the hammer-wielding fighter. But the enemy was not there to fight him.
The tiny cub yells with all of his lungs, staring upward helplessly at the giant hammer casting a shadow of death over him.
"Son!" the father roars, sprinting harder than he had ever run before, threatening to set the ground beneath him afire. "No, no!" he yells, his only son, the soldier, and the hammer getting no bigger and the hammer suddenly falling.
