The strong smell of copper tinged the air, but Freyja couldn't be any closer to satisfaction than she was in that moment. Other lions and lionesses would look to her with shocked expressions at her blood-stained fur, but these would not be looks of disgust.
She had decided to join the Stormborn just as she had decided to join the viking excursion, and she had given many a creature the chance to become a Thrall instead of death.
In choosing to defy her, they had met their end swiftly and as painlessly as she could give it to them.
Of course, other Reavers chuckled and marveled at how ruthless she was at times, but Freyja would not be any more a female or weak than what the Gods had decided by birth alone. It was in her blood to be on par with the strongest of lions, perhaps as close to the Warlord as she could be, so that when the time had come for her to pass from the earth, her descendants would be known for their lineage from a lioness who would be among the greatest.
Enough daydreaming, she cursed herself for her habit. Taking in the scene around her, she nodded approvingly. She may have been among the first to spill enemy blood, but she was certainly not one of the last. The ground was littered with those who had fallen, and she had to step carefully to avoid them.
None of her company had taken heavy damage from the surprise attack.
In a passing glance, she caught her reflection in a puddle, muzzle and neck soaked a dark crimson to match her more obvious paws, and she wrinkled her nose. As if it wasn't hard enough to keep her pristine white fur clean. This was going to take some time to get out.
A sigh escaped her lips and she caught the sound of a soft moan, which quickly drew her attention. A short distance away, a young leopard lay stretched in a pool of his own blood, the gaping wound on his side devastating enough to make her skin crawl.
She walked over to him, unable to do any different than to watch him. He wasn't surviving; that much was obvious. But she wasn't so heartless to let him die alone.
However, she also wouldn't let him suffer while her group marched on and left him there.
What no one would witness and what she would hold only in memory was that leopards' death at her own paws.
What would be shared was how he had tried to avoid death until his last breath, his legs lashing out in an attempt to pull himself to his feet.
Tragic; that was the word that came to mind. No pity for any who should attack her group in the dead of night and hope to win, especially when she herself had been wide awake to see the first wave of them. All it had taken was one shout to rise; one signal and the group had responded appropriately, leaving the enemy in pieces.
For her group, however, a casualty was no such matter. She was careful to walk through and examine both lion and lioness alike, taking into account what damage had been done. Other than a few major wounds here and there, they had survived it and taken the enemy by storm.
An order from the captain was rising above any other voice and they all would abandon the resting site at his command, leaving the corpses to the vultures.
The was nothing more cowardly than trying to defeat a Stormborn lion as he slept, and the very thought that their intentions had been to destroy them in such a time was the absolute definition of cowardly.
But the grim scene would not be the end of it. No sooner was death behind them that a few younger lions brawled among themselves over who had defeated the most of their enemies, and Freyja would chuckle at the maturity level when they started rolling on the ground. They may have been old enough to start forming manes, but their brains would not grow as fast, it seemed to her. She would think to herself whether or not she should separate them for a few moments before finally deciding against it, deeming it a waste of her time and the responsibility of someone else. Someone who would put up with it.
She stifled a yawn; she was worn out. She could see it in the eyes of her group as well. they deserved a proper night's rest. She took it upon herself to find the captain and report what she saw, even though it was a small matter. But then again, she was also female. It would be one of those instances where she would use it, convince the captain that good rest would better prepare them should the same occur again; another battle to fight. If needed she would even offer herself to stay awake while the other slept, swallowing the sleep that threatened her for the sake of her group members.
A second glance at her pelt and she grimaced. Okay, she had a reason to stay awake, it seemed. By the time this trip would be over, she was positive that this would still have a dark stain upon her fur, especially the places she couldn't reach on her own. She couldn't wait to be at home, where she could humor herself and humiliate the thralls by daring them to help her groom.
She would never know that the smirk on her face would catch the attention of the brawling adolescents, to the point that they too would cease any other action than to watch her pass them by, too caught up in watching her they forgot to move forward.
And it would be until another lion had almost trampled over them that Freyja would notice and look back, glaring at them with a quick shake of her head.
[1005 Words]
