The sun was just starting to slink over the horizon, flecking the overcast sky with red and gold hues against the rolling grey of the looming storm’s clouds. The air was thick and charged with the pending rain that didn’t seem likely to simply pass over them like most storms did. But, who knew, it hadn’t started yet and the chilly wind seemed to be moving the clouds right along. It might miss them yet.
The young lion wasn’t particularly concerned either way. It had been rather hot and dry lately, and Anwar thought a good bout of rain might do them good. At least keep the temperature down a bit for a while, maybe keep the air from being so very dry and harsh to breathe. His steps were light and sure, the limp from his accident in the tree utterly gone by now, as he headed down to the lake to wash the taste of morning from his mouth. Sleep was hard for him to submit too, he hated the way it robbed him of his time with no gain in return. He never slept long, and he rarely slept deeply. The slightest twitch from his little brother would have him opening bleary red eyes to see if Obi had any nightmares worth sharing with him.
That he was awake before the rest of his family didn’t bother him either, he’d never been scolded for these outings, though he’d never been precisely caught. Besides, his mane was coming in. He was plenty old enough to explore within the boundaries of the pride on his own. His pace casual and his hooded red eyes calm, he made his way down towards the lake, only to pause when the sounds of splashing reached his ears. They pricked forward automatically, and the young lion’s pace slipped into something swift and stealthy, his dexterity and movement surprisingly nimble and silent for one his age.
Anwar was good at sneaking.
As he drew nearer the lake, it became apparent that the source of the noise was not another cub, or even another feline. The source was a small black feathery…thing. A bird? In the lake? Why would a bird… crimson eyes drifted to the ruined nest that floated only a short distance from the tiny black thing, and the events clicked into place in his mind.
The hatchling floundered, his chick down fluff making it impossible for him to do anything but soak up the water. Already he could no longer hear his crimson brother or jet black sister, and the water in his wings was making them heavy. So very heavy. Frantic, he opened his beak to cheep for his mother, crying for help, but the sound was even fainter than the thrashing of his useless wings in the water. Was this dying?
Anwar stood on the shore, eying the little soaked fluff that floundered out on the lake. His toes were cold where he’d stepped just one paw into the water, and his ears were laid back. Contemplating. He could probably save it. But it would be difficult, since it was so far out on the lake. He didn’t see a stick big enough to float himself nearby, and if he left to search one out the bird might be drowned before he got to it. Then he’d have naught but wasted effort and sodden fur. Well, he might as well try. Birds, Anwar knew, could get places that most lions couldn’t. In fact, after his conversation with the god of manes, he’d been thinking that it might be nice to have a pair of wings… perhaps they didn’t need to be his own flesh and blood.
”I’m coming,” he called, wondering if the bird could understand him, or even hear him. If it could, perhaps knowing that help was on the way would encourage it to stay afloat a bit longer.
”H-hurry!” the little bird choked, surprising Anwar. So it could understand him. Then it would be as useful as he’d hoped. His skinny shoulders flexed as he dragged his paws firmly through the water, kicking strongly as he’d learned to do. A flawless swimmer he was not, but decent enough to do what needed to be done. Better then the unfortunate hatching by far.
The water was cold in the wind, slopping against his chin and touching icy tendrils against his nose. Anwar coughed and sputtered himself as he began to feel his paws growing heavier. He did not often swim this far over his head. He knew he was not particularly strong, knew his endurance to be less than that of other cubs his age, much less an adult. But he had calculated the distance. He believed he could do it. The young hawk floundered more and more weakly, only the shape looming towards him kept him from giving up as his siblings seemed to have. He wasn’t ready to simply vanish like this! Not into the cold unfeeling depths of the lake that he’d always thought sparkled so beautifully from his vantage point in the nest.
Anwar wheezed a breath before dipping his muzzle into the water, trying to scoop the bird onto his head. The rest of him was utterly submerged, and he certainly didn’t want it to drown. Not after all this work to retrieve it. Talons pricked at his nose as the hatching floundered before it draped itself over his skull. The young hawk gasped for breath, his body already growing colder in the wind. Water streamed from his dark feathers, dripping into Anwar’s eyes as he huffed water and tried to twist about. Suddenly shore seemed a lot further away.
”Th-thank you,” the hatchling panted, shivering with cold and exhaustion where he’d draped over the small feline’s head. A lion, his mother had called them. But this one was small, and his mane was only a tiny fluff of pale yellow, though it was more like a stringy clump plastered to his skull now. Anwar did not reply, his breath harsh and tired as he strained to return to the solid ground. This had been further than he’d intended, had the bird been drifting away when he swam out to it? Anxiety clenched at his chest, though thankfully it didn’t seem the feeling could possibly make it harder to breathe than it already was. Was he even going to make it? Would anyone know what had become of him if he didn’t? What a fool he was, such a stupid, meaningless way to die…
…and then he found mud beneath his paws. Muscles quivering, he stood, the hawk on his head making a small sound of relief as well. Kydrimm had been afraid. Very much afraid. For a moment it seemed as though he’d been offered a false hope, a rescue attempt that would be foiled when his savoir slid beneath the surface to drown as well. The hatchling shivered again, from more than mere cold though that too was biting at him. Was this it then? To be barely saved from drowning only to freeze to death instead?
A plaintive cheeping started in his breast, he could do little to control this horrible dread. His sister and brother were dead, drowned, and now…now he was going to die too? When he was so close to surviving the horrible thing that had happened to their nest? He had not been killed dashed against the earth, he was undrowned by the barest of breaths, and now salvation was at the tips of his talons…and instead he was going to freeze to his death.
What a world this was, to steal his promises away after dangling them so temptingly before him!
”What? What is it now?” the lion was asked, his own voice shuddering with the shivers that wracked him. Exausted, he dragged himself to the shore and then further into the brush, tipping his head to deposit the little black bird near the exposed roots of a tree that looked almost like a cave. He shook himself briskly, knowing that the water in his fur would only make him colder, before he tucked himself into the tree-root shelter, wrapping around his sodden prize.
”C-c-c-cold!” Kydrimm cheeped, his feathers too wet to even try to fluff enough to gain any kind of warmth. The wind kept snatching his body heat away from him. When the little lion lay down around him, it helped, but only a little. Shivering violently, he pressed against the dark fur, feeling blessed warmth start to seep into him, though from the quivers he could feel that the lion was cold as well.
They huddled there together for a long while, Anwar having completely lost any desire for a drink ever again at this point. Kydrimm, the immediate danger averted, was starting to feel the gravity of his situation sinking in. His mother, already gone far longer than she should have been, and his the deaths of his siblings made his heart throb painfully. Was he a bad person, the little bird wondered, for feeling so relieved that he’d not joined them?
”What is your name?” the lion was asking, his voice seemed so small for something that the hatchling had always thought to be so very big. He couldn’t have been so much older that Kydrimm was himself, for all he had greater size.
”K-kydrimm,” the little bird managed. A crimson eye was fixed upon him for a long moment as he shivered, the young lion plainly considering something. And then the lion shifted, drawing him in closer and wrapping his paws around before tucking the quivering mound of feathers beneath his chin.
”Better?” he asked, the vibration of his voice through his throat pressing against Kydrimm’s small body.
”Yes,” the hatchling sighed, feeling that delicious warmth all around him now.
”Good. I am Pesar Anwar’Mazin, second son of the Vizier Tariq’ra’d.” Kydrimm frowned thoughtfully. It sounded like a rather important sort of person, and a rather long name, or title, to remember. ”You may call me Anwar if you wish,” he continued, and Kydrimm nodded before remembering that the lion couldn’t see him.
”Okay, Anwar,” Kyrdimm agreed softly, feeling himself growing sleepy now that he was safe and warm. That he was safe with this lion was apparent to him at least. If the feline wished him harm, he would simply have done nothing. At least this lion had noticed him. It was more than his father ever had, more than his mother seemed to. Maybe he was a bad person, envying the dead what they no longer had. But he couldn’t help it. He just wanted to be noticed was all…
Anwar lay there until his fur had dried, watching the storm blow over with the small black bird cuddled against his chest. He had nothing that needed urgent tending to. Nothing at all. Plenty of time to make his plans, big plans, for these new wings of his…
(1869 words)
