It hurt. It really, really hurt. The young sand-colored lion had dragged himself to the center of some dense bushes closer to his pride’s border where he was now trying to recover from his encounter with the Viking. His pride was bruised, certainly, but at the moment Omari was barely even considering it as his focus hardly ever shifted from his physical condition. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even raise his head. He could barely breathe and his breathing was strained and shallow. He felt dizzy. In summary, Omari was a complete mess.
A white bird flew over the lion’s head calling his name. Omari recognized the voice at once but he had to fight in order to make his presence known.
“Knut. Knut.” he tried to call out to the bird but a pained roar that sounded more like a quiet grunt than anything else was the best he could accomplish as a means of getting her attention.
The white and red bird swerved midflight and dropped almost all the way to the ground as soon as she heard the sound below. Even so, it took her a good amount of time to find the hidden lion.
“Omari! What happened to you?” Knut asked with visible concern, no traces of her usual playfulness or sarcasm on sight - for once.
The blue-eyed lion watched his feathered companion as she moved closer, truly happy to see the bird for the first in their short relationship. He took one deep breath before answering.
“Knut… I need ya… to … go get me sister. Zamora. You know Zamora. Get her. No one else.” He spoke slowly, with obvious difficulty.
“I can’t just leave you here like that.” The little feathered creature said nervously, looking very worried as she searched for the lion’s wounds. Knut gulped when she realized that a good part of Omari’s coat color had changed to a vivid red.
“Zamora. No one else.” The young lion repeated quietly but firmly, a heavy frown shadowing his eyes. He might not have many concerns regarding his pride at the moment but he even Omari realized that – if he lived past this day – he would rather not be seen in such a state. Not by Pirato, not by his mother, not by all the other males and most certainly not by his brothers. Zamora would know exactly what to do, she always did. He would trust no one else with this secret.
Knut hesitated for a few moments, mirroring Omari’s frown. She had never seen him quite so vulnerable and the idea unnerved her more than she had expected. She hopped around the young lion, wide eyes full of justified concern. She’d never seen a lion in such a bad shape… or any other creature for that matter unless she were to count the prey beasts the lions hunted on a daily basis. But she’d never seen anyone alive looking like this. It was a scary thought but Knut wasn’t sure the blue.-eyed lion would survive the day. As much as she hoped he wouldn’t die, her heart was full of fear and doubt.
“Who did this to you, Omari?” the white bird asked quietly, her dark eyes closer to the lion’s jaws than he’d ever dared. A part of her had always kept a (rather healthy) fear of what Omari would do if she were to push him too far – half the time he seemed so annoyed by her antics - but those fears were completely forgotten now. He needed her like he’d never needed anyone before and she realized she’d gotten too close and now she needed him as well. There was a bond between them and she would do anything to protect it.
Just thinking about the Viking made Omari growl under his breath. If Nemeios could see him right now, he would probably reconsider letting the sand-colored lion join his ship. He felt weak and humiliated knowing that the young Viking could’ve killed him if he had wanted to. Omari had been through the fight of his life, very different from the sibling brawls or the occasional scraps with annoying youngsters that he was used to enduring in his pride. Something would have to change. He would train, fight more but he would not allow this to ever happen again. The scars would last and he definitely wouldn’t be able to hide them but the last thing he wanted was to be found in such a pitiful condition. And he if ever found that Viking again…
“Zamora.” The lion said simply. Enough talking. It was hard enough to breathe, chatting was not even an option. Not that he would’ve talked even if he could. Omari was a lion of few words and this situation was the last thing he would ever feel like sharing. If possible, he’d rather just ignore and forget. He knew that it wouldn’t be possible, of course, that others would ask questions and maybe even tease him about it. Omari wasn’t planning on lying about what had happened but he certainly didn’t feel like announcing his defeat to the world either. Even Knut would have trouble getting the details out of him.
The little bird took to the air at once when she realized she was wasting time and that Omari wasn’t going to tell her anything now. Knut flew as fast as she could, her tiny heart beating at what she felt might be a fatal pace. Lions were supposed strong, tough, hard to kill. She couldn’t bear to think she might lose the one she’d chosen to follow. And it was so young, too… Knut wasn’t old but she’d been an adult for a good while now, seen things, lived. The young feline, so much bigger than her already was nothing more than a silly kid to her, still figuring out his place in the world. The little bird was distraught, her thoughts shifting between the need to get the red-eyed lioness to Omari as quickly as possible and the fear that there would be no one there to save when she returned.
WC: 1020
