Uchafu fought not to choke on the mouthful of meat as one of the other lionesses - new friends, known only for a day, but long enough - mimed one of the others. Said huntress feigned insult, and the whole scene had 'Chafu fighting not to laugh around her meal. It'd been a glorious evening. She'd come across the trio of sisters in the tall grass downwind of a herd of zebra. Tummies rumbling and the promise of a fourth for the hunt made them fast friends, and a good kill and ample food made them better ones. Names had been traded, stories, tips on the local food. Now the quartet lay sprawled in a lazy ring about the corpse, eating and laughing together without a care in the world.
Overhead the tall stands of grass rustled as the wind shifted, bearing the smell of females and blood towards the far off coast. A bird cried from a dried tree, half-fallen over. One of the sisters laughed and smacked a tone towards the buzzard - there'd be plenty left when they were done, but beggars were a bother, and not one that'd be willingly invited into the feast.
Damu ran with his reaver brothers, today's warband a small pack of five. They weren't far from the water, heading north to see what they could find, when the tantalizing scent of both food and females met their nostrils. A quick glance shared between them and the captain turned them silently towards that appealing aroma. Quietly they spread out and snuck up, Damu grinning ferally. If they were lucky, there'd be no males to protest their acquisitions and... fun. Soon they were within sight of the lazing females, and much to his delight, there were fewer of them than the reavers, and not another male in sight!
Damu stifled a chuckle at the cry of the vulture, watching it fly off in indignation at the stone flung at it in reward for the warning it had tried to give the girls. Serves the scavenger right! Trying to spoil their fun! At the silent signal, Damu leapt from the tall grasses with a roar at the same time as his brethren did as well. HA, gotchya!
'Chafu snorted as the vulture flew off. It'd be back, she was sure. The pesky things always were. One of her friends said something then and she turned to regard her, pinked lips parting to reply.
A half grunt, half scream came out instead as something huge and heavy slammed into her from behind and above. Other lions - the smell was clear enough now that they were literally atop of them, and none too friendly. There were too many, too much going on for her to be able to see what might be happening to the other females, and the one coming for her was of course the biggest concern. She twisted, snarling beneath the male, teeth and claws flashing - but with no real skill. It was clear she sought to escape, to flee, rather than strike a real damaging blow to her attacker. "Get off me beast!" She shrilled, trying to roll enough to kick up with her hing legs.
Awww, now wasn't that sweet? She called him a beast! He grinned wickedly down at her and slapped her flailing paws away without much effort. This was no fighter, which meant she'd be all the more suitable as a thrall. Yes, he'd take this one back to the pride. Oh, not to keep, of course! Too much work, not something he was interested in. But another thrall for the pride would do quite nicely as his share of 'loot' this time around!
Ah, but where was the fun in just capturing her when she wasn't expecting it? With a growling chuckle, he shifted his weight so that she could make a break for it away from the screaming, snarling chaos around the dead zebra. There now, she could think she was getting away, and he'd get the fun of a chase and maybe a little fun after that, hmm? "Run, my pretty," he coughed in a growl, swiping at her with a pawful of claws lazily.
'Chafu felt her heart fluttering like a wounded bird in the cage of her ribs as the male laughed and batted aside her attacks like they were nothing. What little contact she made with him proved only that he was made of solid muscle - and terrifying. She was on her feet with surprising speed once he stepped off her. She might not be strong, but she was agile at least. His claws barely grazed her tail as she was off like a shot, food, friends, the calm day that now seemed years ago, all gone as fear took her and sent her bolting through the grass.
She didn't dare to look back until she'd put what must be some space between her and the male. Only then did she peek back, eyes wide with fear. Please, please don't let him be following...
Oh yes, now THIS was sport! He let her get a distance away, then began to amble after her. He waited until she looked back, his evil grin growing wider, and then he roared and surged towards her, his large body carrying him farther with each leap than her smaller legs could. Even so, he still held back, letting her heart pound in terror, letting her scramble for the freedom she'd never again have. A kinder lion would have considered this cruel, but to Damu, this was becoming one of his favorite games. He never actually hurt them very badly. Usually his bulk was enough to ensure they stayed down once he caught them. If he'd stop to think about it, his mother probably would have been mortally ashamed of him.
But that wasn't the sort of individual Damu was. He didn't think, he simply did. If it was fun, enjoyable, or benefitted him, he was interested and gave it his all. He hadn't started out quite this bad, but the pride had brought out an avarice and selfishness in him that he hadn't known he possessed. "Come back, my brown and wilted flower!" he called to the lioness, still chortling to himself. "Come back, and we can share some of that zebra... together." With a loud, booming laugh, he sped up, reaching to slap her hindquarters with one wide, heavy paw, claws sheathed. Time to take her down, without injury if he could. Broken thralls were no good to the pride, after all.
She balked at the sight of him still watching, no, flying towards her. Despair began to claw at the edges of her mind - what gods would be so cruel as to allow this terror of a male to move so fast, and yet make her run so slow? Her choked sobs were all the answer he got from her as he ran her down, calling her names of half endearment, half insult. "It's yours!" She begged as he mentioned the carcass. She couldn't even see the others in the tall grass. Maybe they'd escaped. Or maybe the other lions had already killed them; that was surely what she felt would happen.
His swipe was not enough to make her fall, but she did stumble, and it was enough to let him plow into her and bowl her bodily over if he didn't have the reaction time to stop on a dime. She tumbled paws over tail into the dirt and came to rest on her side in the dirt. Her sides heaved, and her head spun. Intentional or not, she'd cracked her head on a hard root, and only by instinct did she try to rise again before collapsing once more.
She went down a bit harder than he'd intended, though it wasn't sympathy that made him wince. He really didn't want her to be torn up! He slowed to a trot and padded over to her, laying down next to her and draped one heavy arm across her exhausted body. "There now, just lie still." He smoothed her mussed fur from her face and gave her an intent look. "You'll be alright, just settle down. This will be easier if you just take it easy," he said quietly, much less fierce now. Oh, his tenderness wasn't exactly the right kind of tenderness, but at least he wasn't growling anymore.
"Here is how it will go," he told her, while roars and growls and maybe whimpers echoed across the grassland. "You belong to me for now. I won't keep you, though. I don't need the burden of a thrall, no sir." He stroked her headfur back again gently, still pinning her down with his other paw. "But you will be a good girl, come along quietly, and I promise you'll reach the pride safely. There'll be food and water for you, and you'll get to hunt." Or anything else anyone told her to do, but he didn't elaborate on that. "Will you be a good girl now?" he asked the stunned lioness softly, leaning close to breathe on her face, a looming threat despite the lack of bared fangs or snarls.
The lioness struggled again to rise as the male looked her over like so much meat, but couldn't find her paws before he dropped to lay half beside, half over her, pinning her quite surely. She struggled weakly beneath him, her much smaller paws pressing harmlessly at the limb he'd draped over her. Tiny growls from her mingled with the sounds through the tall grass, and she shuddered at his distressing behavior. His faux-kindness was just as bad as his viciousness before, and her ears lay back flat along her skull even as she turned her face away to hide her tears.
She only half listened to his words, his instructions. She didn't want a pride, and especially not one that sent males out to capture and possibly kill random innocent passersby. Still, she voiced no complaint, and after a few more weak struggles at last lay still. Her head was pounding and her body sore from the tumble. And she knew (with ample horror) that even if she could get up and run, he'd only catch her again. What choice did she have but to nod, mutely.
"Now there's a good girl," he replied cheerfully at her reluctant nod. He judged her good and cowed, though he remained braced for another flight or even perhaps a feeble attempt at fighting him. He eased his weight up off of her, then seized her by the scruff of the neck and hauled her to her paws, pointing her back towards the zebra carcass. "Just walk on ahead of me. I'll catch you if you fall." Those words were both reassurance, promise, and threat. If she staggered, he'd be there to steady her. If she bolted, he'd be there to prevent it. She was his, until they got back to the pride, which was the most time he was willing to look after her. Still, for that time period, look after he would. At least she'd eaten already. Soon it would be his turn. Even now, he could hear some of his warband feasting on the plenty of preymeat left.
"You may call me Reaver Damu," he told her sternly. "I can call you waht I like, but you might as well tell me your name, so you know when I'm speaking to you." It was a sort of cold introduction, but one did not address new slaves with any sort of compassion or kindness. Otherwise they'd get the wrong idea and end up having to be roughed up to remind them of their place. Truth be told, Damu was kinder to his thrall-catches than many other reavers were, sadly enough. He was somewhat disappointed tonight that they hadn't gotten any goods worth keeping, other than possible thralls. He preferred trinkets to responsibilities.
Chafu lay still until he hauled her up. A half-choked sound was squeezed from her throat, she hadn't been tugged by the scruff since she was a cub! When he released her she nearly fell again, but fear of the male's promised threat forced her to steady herself. The world was still slowly spinning, listing even, and her movement back towards the zebra was slow at best. She steadied as she went, and her head hung low - the posture of the defeated. She made no move to bolt, but neither did she respond to the male's words. Desperately she was hoping that she'd not see the bodies of the other lionesses aside that of the zebra - it seemed the male could have killed her easy enough.
She flinched at his demand for her name, ears pinning down tighter. She slowed, they’d reached the corpse, and she glanced up at the male with still-wet eyes. There was hurt there, and fear, and a lingering park of innocence. Poor thing. Barely louder than a whisper, she named herself, "Uchafu Maua, s-sir..."
He gave a faint grimace. These strangers and their odd names! Nevermind that he himself was a 'stranger' and had an odd name too. Hers would feel odd in his mouth when he said it, if he used it at all. But his expression changed and he gave a sound of disapproval while shaking his head slowly. "Reaver Damu," he corrected her. He most certainly was not a 'sir'! "Now, can I let you lay down, Uchafu," he mangled her name, only partly on purpose, "while I eat, or will you need my... embrace... to remind you of your place?"
He raised a brow and gazed down at her with what, in more genteel situation, might have been polite inquiry. However, as before, the inherent threat was glaringly obvious. It was not a cuddle of comfort he was offering her, by no means. "If you can behave, you may lay there while we feast. We leave for the pride in a couple hours. Rest while you can." With that, he turned his back on her, almost a dare for her to try running again, and set to work on an unclaimed portion of the zebra, one ear canted towards her at all times as he joked and traded stories with the others of the warband. No other lionesses were in sight. What that meant was left to the imagination.
Uchafu dropped her gaze as soon as the male met it, and only nodded at his question. She sank to the ground, grateful that it had stopped spinning when she lay down, and tried to block out the sounds of the others eating and laughing, a sick imitation of what she herself had been doing only minutes (had it been only minutes?) before. The others were gone. At least she told herself so. Not slaves like her. They must have escaped. That was good. It wasn't fair, but...if she told herself they escaped, then she could tell herself it was good too.