Shambe was out on a hunt, an unusual activity for him. He couldn't quite believe it himself, but love did strange things to ones mind. He had left most of his trinkets behind him at the den, figuring that the lighter he was the better chance he had of catching something. His stomach was growling, and he had caught the scent of something. Unfortunately, since he had never been a strong hunter, he wasn't sure what that something was. A rabbit perhaps, or another predator, he really couldn't tell.
Vigo seemed to have finally shaken the crazed pursuit of that pridal king and father of that dainty little morsel of a minx. Several days on the run, literally, had left him little time to hunt, and now that he was certain the warband had either lost him or given up, it was high time to search out a real meal rather than a swiftly crunched morsel on the run. Quietly he stalked, trailing a mother warthog and a trailing line of young, all grunting and squealing merrily, which covered his own small noises perfectly. He began to curve his path to parallel theirs so that he could come out ahead of them when a flash of movement caught his eye. It seemed he had competition for his meal. Determined not to be distracted, he kept to his path and tried to ignore whomever it was that was also approaching.
A lion, there was no masking that stench. His fur bristled as he slowed his approach, spotting the unfortunately familiar male on the edge of his vision. Their last encounter had ended in a fight, something he did not wish to repeat. After all tonight he meant no harm, his head much too full of happy thoughts to bear any true disdain for the creature. A lucky night for the both of them then. It took him a moment longer to notice the hogs. Perhaps he could settle the situation before it became a problem. With a burst of energy he sprinted forward and descended on the family, tearing the mother back into her piglets until he had managed to kick all but two of them unconscious.
The swift movement of his competitor made him look sharper at the other feline, and only then did he recognize the cheetah. With a groan and a growl, he rolled his eyes. It was that little upstart that had tried to bully him quite some time ago. And now... wait, what was he doing?! With an outraged roar, Vigo leaped forward, but was too late. The last two little piggies went squealing off into the underbrush, too small, fast, and terrified to be worth chasing now. Furious, he stood with his lips drawn back in a snarl and his ears pinned. "YOU!" he roared. "You selfish, haughty little upstart!" He'd just had too much to deal with the last few days, and this was the straw that broke the lion's back. "I should eat you like I said I would last time!" With gritted teeth he advanced threateningly on the lithe male cheetah.
Shambe stared back blank faced, then cracked a gaudy smile. "But then you'd have no room for pig," he said with a disturbed laugh, pouncing off the kill. The mother and several of the piglets lay on the ground, some still twitching a bit, with blood dribbling from their wounds. "Go on, I only wanted a piglet or two. You've got a bigger belly." And a smaller brain, but that wasn't relevant to the current situation. No he didn't desire trouble tonight, Ghasia would be outraged if he came back torn up.
He frowned, scowling at the sassy cheetah. He eyed the torn up prey, still breathing, then glared back at the madly grinning idiot. His eyees narrowed, ears still pinned. "What, and say I owed you something? No thank you." He swung a paw in a clearly negating sweep. "I know your kind. You do me a favor, and then expect something back at some terribly inconvenient time." He truly was in a foul mood now, and almost wished he was brash and moral-less enough to simply kill him where he stood just for the sake of causing him such irritation. "Tell me why I should trust anything you've touched?" he demanded.
"Because I don't consider you threat enough to pull a trick?" he offered with a sly grin, snagging one of the piglets for himself as he scooted out of the way to lay down, "Besides, what would I have done, poison my claws?" That was an interesting thought, but probably a thoroughly problematic one. "I'm just in a better mood than I was last time we met," he insisted, digging into the piglet with light little bites, "I've got a sane girl now. You, you I think are still single, too wound up."
His stomach rumbled as he warily watched the cheetah begin to nibble on the tender little squealer. Unbidden saliva began to pool on his tongue, making the temptation of the stunned warthogs nearly unbearable. He supposed it was a fair enough assessment that he'd caught the cheetah on a better day. As he recalled, he'd actually tripped over the smaller cat last time. That could possibly only give him more reason to find a way to foul things up for Vigo now, however. Warily, he opted to snag the other young hog, hooking claws in it and drawing it closer with his eyes pinned on Shambe. "Being single or not hardly is insurance of a good mood," he countered testily, ripping into the tender flesh hungrily, eyes still watching the cheetah suspiciously.
"No but it helps," he laughed, becoming a little more than amused by the lion's continued annoyance. It was strange, usually the victor of the preceding fight would be the more comfortable. It was more than tempting to pick an arguement, but he stopped himself. As much as he loved bickering there were other things he might gain from this encounter. "Where have you traveled then... Vigo, is it?"
Half the little pig were eaten by now, and he was busily breaking into the treasure within the skull. Bones crunched, and in his hunger he had taken his eyes off the cheetah and nearly tuned him out. Hearing his name snapped him back into focus though. He paused in his eating, swallowing sharply and glaring at the cheetah. "Here and there," he replied bitingly, with intentional vagueness. "And what madness has seized you to take up with a female, Shambe?" The name came to him at last, to his satisfaction.
"The madness of a warm home and a sane conversation I suppose," he said with a shrug, "Though we've made no promises, I tried my luck with cubs and it didn't turn out well." That was a bit of an understatement, but that mess was how he had found his way here. For now at least he was happy with his position. Little responsibility, lots of fun.
He devoured the rest of the young hog, leaving little more than scraps of hide and a pile of cracked bones. He stood and gazed at the cheetah, still neatly picking at his. "To each their own, I suppose," he rumbled, still clearly disbelieving of whatever Shambe said. "For me, it is the quiet of the land, the warmth of a soft body every so often upon a cold night, and the freedom to do what I will." He bared his teeth in a feral smile. "And death to any small fool who chooses to cross me." He took a single step towards the cheetah, his form towering and broad. He paused there for a breathless moment, then spoke in a soft growl. "Just your luck you haven't really crossed me... yet." He really didn't like the cheetah, and was beginning to think him slightly wrong in the head, but what ended well was all good. For now, his belly was sated, and it was time to move on. "Watch your back, Shambe, but watch your tongue even more so." With that warning, he strode off, leaving the odd feline behind, hopefully for good this time.
