(self-rp)
Since there were no cubs to teach at present, Ripuka decided to see if she could provide in other ways for the pride. She probably shouldn’t have even attempted it. After all, the wound in her leg had yet to heal and the shoulder would never fully return to its former state. She’d come to accept this, grudgingly, and moved awkwardly across the sands.
The injury would forever remind her of treachery. Of failure. Of the divide which had torn the once united pride in two.
It would also remind her of her ow doubts. Doubts in Finar-Si, doubts in her own decisions. Those doubts had led to this injury. It was her punishment for being tempted.
Needless to say, injury or no injury, she was still fully intending to hunt.
Her belly had remained full because of her daughter’s own hard work and her leg had been rested because of the attentions of her family. But no amount of rest could help it heal now. Maybe if she had been young it would have healed with time. But age hindered things.
Even still, she was well accustomed to the lay of the land, the moving of the sparse herds and she was sure she could be successful – of not today than maybe the next.
She just hated feeling useless!
So here she was, moving slowly across the sand, away from the dunes where the land was firmer and dry grass sprouted randomly across the landscape. It was a sparse and terrible land, harsher than the desert she had grown up in. The sand felt different, the heat felt different and though there seemed to be more food around, it left her with a desperate feeling of homesickness.
To think! She had once travelled as a rogue, longing desperately for home. Then finally, when she had retured and things were looking up it had been torn viciously away from her. And not by just anyone. But by Kidondo, the beautiful prince who she had thought of as a son. Oh how she had loved the prince, as if she herself had birthed him. She had taught him the true ways, taught him how she was taught. How could she have gone so wrong?!
She shook her head, determined not to be distracted by such thoughts. It didn’t matter now. Kidondo had betrayed her, betrayed everyone, and one day they would have their revenge.
Kidondo would die.
The sound of movement dispersed these thoughts and she turned her one good eye across the lands, spotting the stray creature that moved there. It looked young, thin and straggly, possibly driven away from its herd by a rogue’s failed attempt at hunting. Poor thing. Poor, poor thing.
She lowered herself, orange pelt glistening now covered in sand. She’d rolled again and again to dull the vibrancy of her pelt. Now she blended rather well and the lost antelope didn’t even notice her.
She lowered herself to her belly, peering out through the brushes of the long, golden grass, golden eye narrowed.
The antelope stepped towards her, head up and ears pert. Its large eyes were wide and unblinking but a little gummed up from the blinding sand. It’s ribs were starting to show but its footing still held true. There would be enough fight I it to escape if Ripuka messed up.
So the old lioness waited, belly pressed flat to the sand, eye watching keenly for the moment to appear. The moment which would grant her the best chance at bringing down the prey.
The antelope stepped closer, its nostrils flaring, ears swivelling nervously. Then after a moment it lowered its head to graze, the soft nose brushing against the swaying foliage.
Ripuka curled her toes in the sand, pressing the ground flat so she’d have a good leap up. Then she hunched herself up, bringing her hind legs beneath her. A second later and those hind legs released her and she exploded from the grass, forelegs extended. A snarl ripped free from her throat and the intent flashed clearly in her own good eye.
The antelope gave a startled bleat ad stumbled back.
Ripuka’s claws caught it along the shoulder, but her grip was ot strong enough and the antelope slipped free. It staggered back, bleating again, eyes wild. It threw its head from side to side, clearly expecting its escape route to be blocked off by another lioness.
Little did it know that Ripuka was trying this alone.
The old girl wasted no time. She threw herself at the antelope, putting all her strength into the short sprint that would be necessary to bring it down. A slashing claw clipped the antelope’s heels, but flight was in its blood and it was quick to flee.
Ripuka didn’t give up. Not straight away.
She pushed more strength into her gait, ignoring the jolting pain in her shoulder, ignoring the hot breath in her lungs. She saw the antelope twist ahead of her, swerving to the side, clearly confused. She cut the corner and with an angry roar, leapt again.
But the strength had left her.
The antelope twisted away and with a burst of speed, drew further away from the tiring lioness.
Ripuka, realising that the chase was over, slowed to a halt. She raised her greying maw to the sky and let forth an angry, anguish filled roar. The antelope paused and glanced over a shoulder. It stared at her, almost sympathetically, for a moment. Then, lowering its head it trotted off.
If Ripuka had had any strength left she might have trailed after it. She might have followed it for a few more days so that she could brig it down. But right now she was weaker than that antelope. So long as that was the case it would always be one more step away from her.
Besides…the wound in her shoulder had started bleeding again. The skin had torn apart a little and as she turned to head back, defeated, the pain shot through her leg. With a cry of pain she stumbled, her leg crumpling weakly beneath her. She landed on the sand with a grunt and rolled helplessly onto her side.
And as she lay there, panting desperately, writhing in pain she wondered. What use was she now? She could not hunt. She could not teach for there were no new cubs to teach. Maybe she was even past the age for birthing children.
Tears worked free, momentarily blinding her.
She didn’t move from that spot, didn’t move until the sun was dipping and a cold wind stirred her from her moment lost in hopelessness.
“I have to keep on living.” She whispered. “Because if I don’t what hope is there for us?” She forced herself onto her stomach and with a cry of pain, pushed herself up onto all fours.
“I must keep going. I must fight through the pain. I must not give up. That is the way of a Firekin.” And she resorted to hobbling on three legs, curling her injured one up so that she could avoid putting pressure on it.
“I am a True Firekin.”
