“You don’t need to do this boy.” The white lion warned.
For a moment Tu-Bana thought this might have been some kind of joke. His target was older than him, yes, but surely too old to be of any danger. He was an older male with a weary look about the eye and a hollowing face. Surely even an untrained adolescent would be able to pick off this male? What had his father seen in this one that warranted him being a target? This wasn’t true training. It was mockery! Was his master laughing at him right now?
Still, the old lion’s senses were good. He’d not been able to sneak up on the old one even when moving as quietly as he was able. Somewhere to his right the jackal lurked in the shadows. She wouldn’t intervene in this, though. Her job, now, was to watch and report. If he failed than it would be her duty to return to his master and tell him as such. He’d probably take out his frustration on her, too. Tu-Bana wondered if she realised that. Wondered why she stuck around when she could have taken off into the night and disappeared. Still for all that he considered her his dangerous friend, he was glad she was there.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He replied coldly, taking a step forwards. “You know why I’m here.”
“I do. But not the reasons why.”
“There needs to be a reason?” He snapped back, already knowing he was talking too much. His master had said keeping quiet was best in these circumstances. He wondered if Wakala would tell him about that little slip up. “Your life is mine.”
“You can try.”
Tu-Bana didn’t waste any time. His style was quick and elegant and brutal. Every attack he made was constructed to be the final one. Normally it would work but this lion, old as he was, managed to evade each and every swipe he made. He’d clearly had experience with fighting and was doing well to avoid being hit; his defensive strategy working wonders. Tu-bana wondered which one of them would tire out first and quickly concluded that the older lion would succumb to exhaustion long before he did.
Very well, let him tire himself out.
They danced around the grove, Tu-Bana constantly on the offensive, and forcing the white lion in circles. Twice he managed to land a decent hit; red and stark against his pale pelt. And, then, at last, the lion came back at him. The clash was brief and brutal, neither lion holding back. And Tu-Bana had to admit that the old lion had a surprising amount of strength left in his bones. A good thing, perhaps, because it also meant that his father was not playing some sort of cruel trick on him. This was a worthy target and when he rose victorious he would have taken another step to proving himself and thus winning his freedom.
They broke through the trees encircling the old lion’s home and beyond it, the land dropped sharply into a ravine. Tu-Bana had not noticed it before and the sight of it had him altering his course very slightly to avoid any accidental falls. Perhaps that was what the old lion had been hoping for. After all, he would know the land better than he. Well maybe he could have that plan backfire. That would teach the old lion for trying to trick him.
They clashed again in a flurry of claws and teeth and pushed aside any feeling of pain that crept into his awareness. He could lick his wounds later. For now he needed to fight. When they broke apart again, the white lion tried to reason with him. It was a waste of breath.
“Who sent you?”
Tu-Bana replied with another lunge which the old male evaded.
“I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, either boy. I suggest you turn back now.”
“You can’t beat me.”
“Young and foolish.” The white lion seemed to lament it, as if pitying him. Tu-Bana certainly didn’t want his pity.
With a roar, he lunged straight for the older male and they bowled over together in the dust, scrabbling madly to gain the upper hand. For a moment the lion’s larger size threatened to over power Tu-Bana but his youth and vigour won out at last. With the lion pinned he readied himself for the finishing attack, seeing his reflection in the widening eyes of his target. The lion couldn’t be too sad, surely. He’d lived a longer life than most. He should be thankful. He’d grant him a quick end and that would be the end of it.
And, as he lunged forwards to do just that, the white lion twisted and suddenly the edge of the ravine came horrifyingly close. Tu-Bana hurried to dig in his claws to prevent himself going over, the sound of stones clattering noisily down to the bottom an unnerving thing. But the white lion had wrenched free and had rolled too far. His body tumbled over the edge and the last thing the adolescent saw was the grim look on his face as he tumbled down. He paused a moment, listening to the roll-thud of his body and then, when all was silent, he dared to step forwards to peer down. Nestled against the rock at the very bottom was the pale, white shape of the lion. Motionless. He did not know how long he stood staring at it but eventually Wakala padded out softly to join him.
“No one could have survived that fall.”
But the young male was furious. The lion had taken his own life and had refused to allow him to complete his mission in the way his master had said. He wasn’t sure he would be good enough.
“It is done.” Wakala continued. “Your strength is what drove him to it.”
The young male nodded and, at last, dragged his eyes away, turning back the way they came. “Then we must return at once.”
The jackal gave a weary sigh but gave no word of complaint. He knew she was tired. He was, too. But to show fatigue was to be weak and that would never do. His master detested weakness.
And as the pair turned to walk away something moved down in the ravine.
It went unnoticed.
/fin
