He hadn't stayed. Even if he had heard the young pup's plea for him to stay, it had had no effect on him. Shibasa was gone before the morning light. He treaded silently, slipping past the few prides that were around him and walking almost a mile to avoid running into other rogues. He didn't want to speak to them. He didn't want to deal with anyone or anything really.Something inside of him was lacking now. A part of him almost rejoiced in the loss when he realized what it meant. With that tiny bit of his soul gone he had no hesitation in the hunt, no second, inward wince as he landed on the small round creature, snapping its back and ripping out its throat.
It had always bothered him, on some tiny level, the thought of taking a life, even if it was prey. No longer. He ate better, with that bit of his soul missing. His body grew stronger, muscles filling out, the final awkwardness of his adolescent stage melting away and leaving a very dangerous looking lion in its place.
It almost made him proud, how he had changed with the loss of that small bit. How he had grown stronger, more capable. A slight rumble lit the back of his throat as he pulled back from his latest meal. Yes, Shibasa decided, this was the best thing that could have happened--
A tiny cry caught his ear and he looked up in the tree above him. The smallest, most delicate baby bird he had ever seen was staring down at him in confusion. It let out a questioning chirp and he glanced down to see what it was asking.
The body of a bird--no, it was no longer a body. It was the mere remains of a bird lay in a pool of bloody feathers at his feet. He had killed its mother.
Guilt ripped at him as he remembered his own mother's teaching. Never kill a mother when the cub is too small to care for itself. Always, Shibasa had checked before hunting. Always he had smelled--
The tiny bird chirped again, hopping closer to the edge of the limb. Shibasa could only watch as it cried with more and more urgency to the remains, seeking a response, seeking the knowledge that it hadn't been abandoned.
Shibasa couldn't give that. In fact, he could still taste the blood on his lips, feel his stomach full and happy. It was with this bitter knowledge that he watched the baby bird get too close to the edge.
Fall.
Die.
He couldn't have saved him, Shibasa thought as he went to the dead hatchling. Even if he had caught him, the bird would have died soon enough. Shibasa couldn't care for a hatchling, he had no idea what they ate, or how they survived, or--
He sat there, looking down at the bird and wondering if it truly was the loss of his soul that made him act this way. Had that been an excuse? Was he just convincing himself that losing a piece of himself left him callous?
He didn't know. He didn't know if he wanted to, either. With claws bared he reached out, carving a small hole out of the dirt then gently pushing the dead hatchling into it. He covered the body with the loosened ground and bowed his head slightly.
He needed to be more careful not to forget the lessons he had learned.
And most importantly, he needed to get his soul back.
