Some awful things had happened in his time in the rogue lands. He returned home with a new limp and a temporary blood soaked leaf wrap on his shoulder. It was very tricky not to run into any of the other pride members at the boarder, but he managed none-the-less. If there were one question he did not want to answer, it would be of how his trip went, or if it was a fruitful voyage. The explanation, the truth, was painful and humiliating experience. Akanni’s loud mouth got his a** whopped by a wretched female, whom then stole his seed against his will as he was bleeding on the rogue lands’ canvas. If the cheetah, Aqseu, didn’t come along and patch him up, he may still be at the disposal of the atrocious, demonic, rogues out with the savages.
If he could avoid every lion in the entire world for the rest of his life, he would willingly, happily opt for that path. That was when it occurred to him, the next best thing would be to become a dreamer on the new island in the company of the goddess of insanity. As a cub he had snuck onto the island, the feeling it gave him was better than 5 fermented fruits in a row. Plus, becoming a dreamer gave him the added bonus of not having to raise any cubs he may or may not sire in the future. Where could he go wrong? Surely the female dreamers would be more than willing to bear the fruit of the royal line. This was a big change in his attitude of spreading his seed than he had before he left: fearing the only motivation a female would want to mate with him would be social status. But now that seemed like a pleasant cruise down easy street. As he was recounting this to the cheetah, he scoffed and claimed that sounded crazy, which to a gypsy had the opposite meaning. Being crazy for Akanni was exactly what he was supposed to be. Instead, the cheetah offered advice on love and the idea of forever mating. How preposterous! Gypsys do not mate for life, well sure some of them do, but it was not the way of the pride! His own mother had different litters with different males and she was a wonderful leader. The current Queen, his sister, Fireheart, had a forever mate and she was neurotic.
Now back on his home turf, Akanni postulated that if he could avoid everyone until his wounds healed there would be no need to rehash his journey; instead he could make up some grand lie. After all, his lies had not leaded him astray thus far in his little iota of an existence. He established himself in a small cave along the vast beaches that separated the pride from the ocean. From it he could see the island and peacefully (albeit shamefully) nurse his wounds and relearn how to walk without a limp. Everyday a new challenge arose, never before was he forced to spend so much time alone, hunt for himself, find fresh water for himself or groom himself beyond his journey to the rogue lands. Swimming in the ocean for food was painful, but the salty water cleaned his wounds. The water was a tricky feat, but he found a section of the creek that ran through the pride that was too difficult to get to for others, but by the grace of the gods he found a path that lead from his make-shift den.
Everyday as the wounds healed he erased another second of the trauma from his mind, but the shame was replaced with a rage of a thousand lions and a temper that could frighten a crocodile. The only obstacle he found was too difficult to worry about was his appearance, while in the safety of his reclusive den he abandoned all beauty standards, his beard grew out and his mane became nappy between the painful fishing expeditions. If one has never dove into the ocean with a large open wound, he would only suggest it to his worst frenemy out of nothing more than spite. If he could inflict pain on any other living creature other than himself while healing, he would relish in the opportunity. As an example of his newfound temper, on one fishing trip he came across a large squid that scared away the large school of fish he had been water-stalking. Akanni roared in anger then dove down after the cephalopod, since he was still not the most graceful of swimmers; it had ample time to ready itself for a fight. The battle was gruesome, a tentacle got wrapped around the great lion’s neck and threatened to deprive him of air forever but a thrashing with his extremely sharp back claws ended the things life before Akanni ran out of air. For the next two days the red lion feasted on his calamari with the first smile in weeks across his maw.
His life in solitude presented the opportunity to reflect on his life thus far as well as his attitude towards others. But on the subject of the rogue lands, he would be set in his ways for the remainder of his days. In the last week of his self-imposed exile he had began talking to himself, it only took a few days before he became annoyed by his own voice instead of offering him comfort. What he wouldn’t give for a friend, a lover, a mate… The idea of the latter stuck with him, he was surprised to be actually considering being attached to one other lion for the rest of his life. But it began to offer him comfort, a female to look after him when he was incapable of looking after himself, to love him no matter what bird-brained idea came to him, perhaps even to show him what really mattered in life.
On the day his wounds were no longer visible through his fur, Akanni found himself frightened to return to the vast numbers that now made up his pride. But with his lie now well rehearsed, he had no choice. Surely his sister loved him enough to send a search party if he never returned. He erased any indication of a lion living there for the past month and left only a few prized, colorful feathers to thank the gods for providing him with the opportunity to nurse his wounds and his shame.
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