Marked Mate: Treason ©️

Chapter Seven

Meanwhile, in the Pride Lands....

It's the dead of the night, and a scream had emerged from the woodland of the west.

The lioness' and I perked our heads up, facing that direction in the darkness of the wide open, lightly gray dimmed lands of the tall grass.

What was that?

I don't know, I thought back to one of them, Sounds like maybe the wolves killed another hunter.

Typical of them, The deep brooding voice came soon after mine, All they know is breeding and killing, those filthy mutts.

The King of Lions, Dustin, walked toward our pride, coming from the borderline area. He usually spends every dusk patrolling that area, making sure no lone wolves or any wolf for that matter crosses into our land.

The King, an abnormally large lion, larger than all of us, walked toward us. His massive paws hitting the ground with a light thud after each one made, his mouth agate, baring his large yellowed fangs as he yawned a light roar.

Alex, he thought to me as he passed by. I stood up, dusting my baggy, ripped up shirt and equally ripped up black skinny jeans, barefoot as usual, "Yes my King?"

It's your turn to patrol the borderline, He threw himself down on his side, laying down and stretching his legs out, Do not disappoint me.

I gave a sharp nod in his direction before turning around and began jogging my way west, toward the borderline of the Pride Lands and the Pack's Land. Running through the grass that blew lazily, standing up to my hip. The sound of the wind carrying though the land, gently rustling the grass as well. All is calm through the territory, as usual.

As I ran, I kept an ear out for that scream again. The scream, it sounded, feminine. It's not the first time we heard one like that from the dog's land. It happens so often, monthly it seems, coming from an echoing tunnel. Whatever the reason, it's annoying to us. But this one, the one that had shook the tree's of the mutt's land, sending the birds flying away in fear, this one was different.

It was more of a cry for help, rather than a scream of impending death. Almost as if someone, or some wolf, was crying in pain and needed some kind of assistance or savior.

In no time, I slowed my pace, reaching the end of the Pride Land and to the borderline. The tall grass becoming shorter and shorter with every step I made toward the enormously tall trees that stood proudly above me. I looked up, my head almost bending backwards as I tried to see the very top of the trees, only to almost stumble one foot into the Pack's Land.

I stepped back, looking around, then both sides. The tree line extending for miles upon miles, bending at some points inward or outward.

Again, keeping an ear out, I walked slowly down the tree line on my right side, looking around some more. The Pride Land barred of any lion or animal in sight. I could sense a bodily figure inside the woodland, a wolf. The mutt's smell dragged into my nostrils like a toxic fume.

The dog must be patrolling the borderline as well, but he is nowhere close to me. His stench is still recent, tracing the leaves of the shrub and the bark of the trees, as well as the foul oder of piss on a few branches of bushes. Disgusting.

But I have nothing to worry about. If the dog did decide to attack, or take one little step into the Pride Land, all I would have to do is run toward the Pride.

Wolves are natural born chasers, not hunters. Anything that sparks their interest, or curiosity, they chase until they have it in their paws or maw. Either to examine it, or kill it then examine it. Now, having a lion run away from them will initiate that chase-feeling in them, only to bring them to their death by the King's fangs and claws.