|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Tue Dec 13, 2011 8:31 am
It was always strange leaving the den for the first time. There was so much more to the world than rocks, the mysterious hissing and thundering of the ocean, the sandy floor, and the multiple piles of fur that had kept him warm in the first few weeks of life. The first time his eyes had opened there was so little to see. The sides, paws, and curious faces of his brothers and sisters had been among the first sights in his life, followed swiftly by the adoring faces of his parents. Soon enough, however, he grew restless. Sand, rocks, dirt, and fuzzballs were all well and good, but after a while all of them were little help in relieving the boundless energy of a young cub.
When he stepped out of the cave for the first time under the careful watch of his mother, it was like his eyes were opening for a second time. He'd seen glimpses of the ocean from their den, and of the sky of course, but both seemed to stretch on forever, making him feel impossibly smaller. The sands were dotted with rocks, boulders, shells, skittering things, flying things, and of course, other lions. Behind them the cliffs they'd made their homes rose up, uneven and colored in bright oranges and reds, crowned by the golden grass of the beach and shadowed by knotted, twisted trees. It had been amazing and every day since, Pyrrhus had been among the first to make for the sunlight.
He was old enough to play without constant supervision. There were always lions about and he was strictly forbidden to get too close to the boarder or the waves, but it was enough. There was room to run, crabs to prowl after, and gulls to race behind.
The other members, however, were a puzzle. The adults were....weird. Some would stare off into space with a vacant look in their eyes, as if looking for something. Others would mutter to themselves while pacing, turning over rocks or digging small holes in the sand. It was...odd, almost comical.
He'd run himself out after chasing a gull halfway down the beach and loping himself back within sight of the den. There were more gulls to chaise but that was only so fun for so long. The crabs were all hiding with the high-sun, and the waters were beginning to creep up. Bored and listless, the cub rested his head on his paws, watching one of the nearby adults walk to and fro.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jan 02, 2012 6:42 pm
Crabs! How Nuka loved crabs. So small and quick, feisty and even a little mean. Their little pincers mashed together defiantly, even against mighty clawed paws. Okay, perhaps they weren’t so mighty yet, but they were still a hell of a lot bigger than the tiny crabs he was engaging with on the beach. Yet they held firm, seeking to defy him till the very last moment of their existence. That moment where they were quite literally stomped out of life by his eager little paws.
Mushing crabs was more fun than anything else in the world. And being a cub of a few weeks old, he clearly knew everything the world had to offer. He had obviously experienced every other kind of fun out there.
Crab squashing was the best.
Taking one of the dead crabs into his mouth, leaving the rest to lie in the sand like a very small war scene, he happily bounded his way back towards his den, spotting his brother not too far ahead of him. Because he had a mouth full of tiny animal, he couldn’t call to the other to get his attention, so he merely made his way over with all the stealth and grace of a drunken baby. He dropped the crab on top of his brother’s head, letting the small, limp legs and pincers dangle over him like hair, falling in front of his face. A good look, though Nuka found them more fun to catch and eat than wear, weirdly enough.
“Brother, you look gloomy,” he pointed out rather bluntly, not old enough yet to know the meaning of thinking before he spoke, “do you like my crab? I caught it! Cause I’m really good at catching things. You can eat it if it’ll cheer you up.”
He could go back to the massacre and pick up another if he felt like eating one himself. They were difficult to get into with his tiny teeth. Normally he spent a long time beating the hell out of them before he either gave up or managed to finally get inside one. Either way, he never found it annoying to try and dig his way in.
It gave him something to do, anyway.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 14, 2012 7:44 am
One moment he was watching a peaceful seascape, finding shapes in the clouds and watching the sunlight sparkle off of the waves, the next he was looking at mangled crab legs and smelling of salty carnage. Awesome. It was unexpected, but he had never been the jumpy sort and his littermate wasn't exactly quiet on his approach, he likely didn't mean to be.Not with the intent on capping him with a crab corpse.
He looked up and grinned, not at all bothered by the dangling claws over his eyes or the pinchers by his ears. Who knew? Maybe it was a good look on him. The girls would likely comment on his smell later on, but he kind of hoped they did. It would give him some cannon fodder against them and perhaps gain him one of the better places in the den come nightfall. "I'm not gloomy, just thinking."
He pushed up to a sit and shook the crab free from his head to inspect his brother's proud kill. The shell was smashed to a pulp and even one of the little eyes was missing. Several legs had been broken in the assault and dangled like snapped twigs off a tree. "The adults all act like they're lost or something. It's weird. And mom says we're the ones that need supervision."
He prodded at one of the claws. "You didn't hold back on this one did you? You're getting better."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
