Hala eyed the dark grey male with anger in his green, vibrant eyes. He had gone a long time without crossing the path of someone who was willing to stand up to him. Too long, in fact. He hardly remembered what it was to actually feel that his threats might actually prove something of a mistake. He should have guessed, of course, seeing that this particular male was as big as a bull and clearly could handle himself. Even still, Hala’s pride would not let him back down and he rose to meet the other’s challenging posture.
“Get out of my way.” Hala snarled.
Icy blue eyes narrowed in response. Hakan: bigger and clearly stronger than the ex-assassin held no fear in him at all. Only anger at the other’s rudeness and lack of respect for boundaries. True, this wasn’t his land per se, but he had a home here and this is where he was staying. He had a right to defend this little piece of earth just as any in his position would.
“Make me.” He snapped back.
“If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be so eager to fight.”
“You are the one eager for a fight with your lack of manners.” Haka retorted. “And I couldn’t care less who you are. You’re nothing more than a bully rogue. Well, let me tell you something, you’ve picked a fight with the wrong lion this time.”
Hala, angered, lunged, but Hakan’mawasii had been expecting as such. Hakan shifted his bulk aside, felt the movement of air mere millimetres from his fur and turned his body to follow Hala’s failed attack. Swinging round, his powerful forepaws collided with Hala’s hindquarters, scoring through his fur but not deep enough to draw blood.
Hala, slightly smaller and therefore more nimble, turned on the spot and lunged again. Hakan, bracing himself, dipped his head and using neck and shoulders, barged upwards against his attacker’s chest, bowling him clean off of his paws. Hala’s startled cry ended in a vicious snarl as he rolled across the grass, trying desperately to regain his lost footing.
In the next moment, Hakan was upon him, jaws hovering above the intruder’s exposed throat. His tail was lashing, his blue eyes frenzied. “I’m warning you.” He whispered in a low voice. “Attack again and I will kill you.”
It was not that Hala didn’t believe him – for he did – but it was his mere need to not be beaten. His ego, if you like. He lay quite still, knowing very well that his life was in the other’s claws. Then, after a moment, he nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.”
Hakan, with a warning growl, relented his grip and backed up. “Maybe next time you will not be so eager to fight.”
Hala snarled as he pulled himself up onto his paws, literally shaking with rage and humiliation. His keen eyes watched for a moment of weakness in the other, a moment he could manipulate and take advantage of. It came a moment later, in a quite unexpected fashion.
Movement behind Hakan: the cracking of distant twigs that had dropped from the drying trees that sheltered them now, despite the near unbearable heat. The spotted one tilted his head just a little, not trusting that Hala did not have someone sneaking up on him (and long ago he would have – his own dear brother). That was enough to have nimble Hala lunging again.
They collided with such force that they were both bowled across the leafy floor in a tangle of frenzied limbs. For a horrible moment there was a flash of frantic claws and teeth and then those weapons were stained with the blood of their foes. Snarls and yowls echoed from the trees, heightening the power in such a lock of titans. But the scratches had, so far, not been enough to win victory.
Hakan, enraged at the other’s foolishness, found purchase a moment later, sinking his teeth into the other’s shoulder and hoping desperately to feel muscles and tendons rip. He did and the sound was delightful. He’d forgotten what it was like, to fight like this. To know that you could be harmed, to feel hot blood between your teeth and claws. It filled him with a strange sort of delight – a sort of delight that he had missed. Yes, sparring was fun, but there was nothing like the real thing.
The moment the injury became worse than a scratch, Hala flailed, screaming in pain as he struggled to free himself from Hakan’s jaws. His body twisted and, in a desperate moment his hind legs came up to slash at Hakan’s underside. The pain and shock was enough to separate them, frothing and struggling for breath.
And then another huge lion entered the fray. Rap: Hakan’s apprentice and ex-Firekin. With a snarl, he landed between the two, defending Hakan with an unwavering loyalty. The two were good friends, almost father and son in their relationship, and there was no way that Rap would ever let anything happen to his ‘Father’.
Hala, blinking through the pain, snarled and backed dup immediately at seeing a second lion. This was lost, he realised, and the wound in his shoulder was increasingly worsening.
“Want me to kill him?” Rap hissed, seething.
“No.” Hakan replied. “I think he’s learnt his lesson.” His blue eyes fell to the wound in his opponents shoulder. “He won’t be causing any trouble for a while, I don’t think.”
Hala, not wanting to wait around in case they changed their minds, turned and limped away as quickly as his wounds would allow. Only when he was gone did Hakan sink to the ground, rolling on his side to expose the slash across his underside. He had been wounded before and he knew this one would be painful and take a long time to heal.
“Hakan!” Rap all but barked, his fur rising as he moved over to his companion. “You’re wounded.”
“Only a scratch.” The dark grey lion replied, chuckling with amusement as he stretched to wash it free of dirt.
“We shouldn’t have let him go.” Rap murmured.
“What have I always taught you, Rap? We don’t kill without reason. Trust me, this will be a lesson he’ll never forget. That wound…well, let’s just say he won’t ever walk right again.”
Rap sat. “Even still…”
“Rap. Listen to me. Killing is not something to be taken so lightly. I know you plan to…to take revenge on those who killed your mother. That is different, Rap. That is killing with a reason.” He shook his head. “Well, no, not really. You don’t know who killed your mother and no one would admit to such an act...you may end up killing the wrong lion. Even still, I won’t judge you on that. I would have done the same if I were you. Family…parents…they’re very important.” He turned his gaze away.
Rap, sensing Hakan’s sudden shift in mood, nodded and moved to stand guard. “Don’t move too much. I’ll stand guard and make sure no one else comes by.”
Hakan nodded, turning his attention back to his wound, hoping that it wouldn’t get infected and hinder him. Wounds were dangerous things in a world so filled with dust and dirt. Easily infected…easily bring sickness…death. He shuddered at the thought of it and cleaned all the more carefully.
When he was done, he looked up – wearily – to see Rap standing vigilantly on sentry duty.
“It wasn’t your fault…” Hakan whispered.
Rap, however, was both seething and solemn. Caught between chasing that rogue down and killing him or sitting back and doing nothing. He knew Hakan was right. Killing is bad. And yet…where did one draw the line? Vengeance for family, Hakan had said, was somewhat acceptable. But Hakan was family to him and despite the fact that the fight hadn’t ended in Hakan’s death, was his injury not worth avenging? He shook his head and settled more readily, looking out across the horizon and becoming lost in his thoughts.
Was he wrong to drag up bad feelings and go into the pride of his ancestors?
Then he thought of his mother and all doubt faded. No. He had the right to a mother and that had been taken from him, when he had been so young. Those who were responsible could not simply get away with it. He had loved her too much to just sit back and do nothing.
They would pay, some way or other.
/fin.
