The desert was certainly much longer than he remembered... of course a trip was a bit more difficult alone than with a few dozen other lions marching. As much as he wanted to remain behind and see his cousin take charge- he wasn't a firekin. Half, but it was hardly enough. He looked like a pridelander and smelled like a rogue, even with his firekin build. He had promised to leave once he'd finished his part in the war, and once his siblings had been set free. With both goals accomplished, Malik had only to cross the desert before he could begin a new life for himself. He had promised to return to the mountains- at least to visit.
The large golden lion walked heavily, eyes narrowed against the sun's glares as he went. For the moment, he was completely unaware of the two younger lions racing is way.
Zaphod was panting hard, leaping and bounding over the ground that Azula easily cleared with only a single stride. His muscles screamed, his lungs had forced his breathing ragged.
Azula was hot on the heels of a foolish young antelope that had wandered a little too hard from its herd. The babies had been too well protected... but that was fine. She had wanted something larger, something meatier. This was definitely that, if a little scrawny from the heat and scant food.
The cub was dutifully behind her, though being left in the dust. She didn't give much thought to him, concentrating instead on keeping her meal in sight. A roar ripped itself from her throat as she lunged forward and managed to grab it by its scrawny throat just at the crst of a large dune. They actually lifted clear into the air before the two crashed down and rolled down the hill, entangled in each others limbs. It trashed, but she held on, despite the sands buffeting her body.
The roar was what caught his attention. A crimson ear rolled around through the rusty main towards the sound. He was met with a splash of sand, limbs, and soon- blood. Malik turned himself around slowly, filling his chest with a deep breath to give him a larger, more imposing posture. The female- now that the sand was clear, he could tell - as smaller than him, younger... but her pelt betrayed her blood right away. She'd not been on his side- which meant she was very likely on the other side.
"A bit far out ain't'cha?" He called over.
When their tumble was over, the antelope was dead between her teeth... and she was dirty. The female's ears laid back at the voice and she looked up immediately to see the male not too far away. Her fur began to stand on end almost immediately, giving her a far more wild appearance--almost like her brother's--than she would have normally had.
Slowly Azula took her mouth from her prizes neck, the blood dripping down her dark maw, " I am in my right, outlander, as you are not."
"I'm jus' passin' through." He answered casually. While he stood firm, nothing else about his posture suggested he had any intentions on fighting her. That scent though...it was familar. He knew that smell...almost too well.
"Ain't gonna hur'cha or yer uh..." He tipped his head a bit, looking around her to the little blue thing waddling up. "...an' yer friend there. Heh, don't s'pose ya can gimmie directions outta dis place?"
His build was firekin, and his colours.... this males entire presence was offensive in the extreme. More than offensive.
She rose, torn between eating and leaving this fool to the desert. Azula tried shaking herself to make her fur settle again, "I don't think I can, no."
"Aww das too bad." He shrugged his shoulders, "Ah...ya can calm down ya know. Ain't gonna be startin' nothin'. Jus' as I said- passin' through..." He couldn't help it...that smell. "Hey kid, ya...seem familar. What'cher name? We met a'fore?"
Zaphod slowly waddled himself over to Azula then plopped himself down by her paws, his small belly rising and falling rapidly as he fought to catch his breath.
One paw lifted idly to run hard down the slave's back. Her claws cut careful trails in his fur, though she didn't intend to scratch him. Rather, it was good to have her paws doing something while she thought.
She shouldn't allow a stranger on firekin land, especially not one that was obviously of mixed heritage. Yet, what could she do? He was much larger than her, and her with Kenna's weakling slave, out in the middle of no where... the odds weren't good.
"No. We have not," Her nose wrinkled slightly, giving him a very distinctive 'down the nose' sort of look that said better than words how much above him she thought herself to be.
Malik chuckled and stepped himself forward slowly. "Ya look familar tah me, kiddo... smell like my old man." He stopped just a few yards away and dipped his head to draw in a long breath. It was unmistakable... not a week ago he'd exchanged blows with his own father. It was very likely his paws still had the smell of the firekin prince's blood stained upon them.
"Ya need some help gettin' dat somewhere? Kinda hard in dis heat."
Azula's head jerked up, eyes wide and she gave a savage snarl. "You will refrain from slandering my father's name, half-breed b*****d!" The claws on Zaphod extended, potentially wounding the cub who was still under paw. THAT was an insult she wouldn't dare allow to take place, not without saying something for it. "As If I would ever need anything from the likes of you, tainted blood pisant of a rebel."
"Mistress!" Zaphod called out, squirming a bit under her paw. He hadn't minded her a moment ago, but Kenna would be -very- cross if he came back with scratches on him. Not to mention- it hurt.
"Easy, easy..." Malik frowned, "I figured ya was one'o dem." He sighed and shook his head, "Kid, no one chooses what they's born as. Who births 'em an' who does da fatherin'. Mah old man was a good one for a while, an' mah muddah was a strong gal, kinda like you...jus...not so dangerous." He chuckled.
Azula ignored the slave's cries, pressing down further on him. He'd learn to be silent soon enough... or he'd die and she'd apologize to her sister. "Shows what you heathens know, does it not? You were born what you are as a punishment for past faults, for being as base a creature as the body you're born to. Just as this thing deserves his lot, so do you deserve the disgusting half-breed blood that courses through your veins."
She sneered, "If you know who and what I am, you would do well not to insult me by daring make innuendos about my father, a true prince of the firekin. Unlike whatever addle-minded, buffoon of a traitor that sired you."
Malik couldn't help but wince at the cub's protest, "Ah ya might wanna lighten up on yer little one there... 's kinda...like...pokin' 'em."
The second comment earned a sigh out of him. "Kid. I think you an' I got th' same old man. His name was Mwali- came tah th' pridelands a while back n' fell in love with mah mum." He chuckled and took another slow step forward. 'An' dat kinda thinkin' ya got there's exactly why yer sittin' out 'ere an' not in yer den."
