Sparo was miserable. She'd finally stepped out for what she'd hoped would be the first of many hunts for her. It had been supposed to be a simple thing. Run with the other up-and-coming girls of the pride, help bring down a zebra or two, and go home fat and happy. She knew it was no one's fault, but as she gingerly groomed what remained of her hind leg, she couldn't help but blame whomever had been supposed to scout the area. But no one had seen the rhinoceros, or if they had, they'd never thought it would charge. She'd been gored through the thigh of her left hind leg as they'd forced a stampede, and she'd had to be carried back to the dens. They told her it might heal, that she'd probably be able to even run again, but she knew better. The limb was torn, and ruined. It'd be a miracle if she could figure out how to walk again, with only three legs to stand on.
Bal'a Dash sat upon a neighboring ledge, watching discretely out of the corner of his eye as the young lioness cleaned what looked like a terribly garish wound. A pity. He'd spied her first nearly a month ago, and been rather taken by her fetching looks. Black and white, like himself, he'd for a time fancied asking for her paw. Once she was grown, of course. If nothing else, she seemed demure enough, and would certainly give him or anyone lovely children. Of course, they'd never spoken. He only knew her name because so many people had been talking about the poor female who would probably never hunt again. Now of course he couldn't decide if he would go ahead with his plan to win her, or leave it unaddressed, and find a female who could care for him and bring him food. No one ever went hungry in the Pridelands, but still...a strong hunting female mate brought one status. And he liked status.
Sparo left off the wounded stump. From her talks with what medical masters the pride had, she should be glad the whole thing wasn't left to drag and rot behind her. She could only imagine the ugly gash would look better once her fur regrew over it. If it regrew. Or perhaps she'd be ugly forever. That though did not please her, but she was too exhausted to feel yet more depressed by it. She shifted on her seat, becoming comfortable. She did not notice the male watching her from afar, instead managing a small smile as a flock of birds passed by overhead. If only her front legs were wings, and not paws.
A sigh slipped through the immaculately groomed male's lips. She was such a fetching creature. Her shifted pose hid her disgusting wound from him, and for a moment he could imagine she was whole again. Such a pity, a terrible loss for lions the world over. His paw found a small pebble, and he rocked it gently back and forth as he let his mind wander. He was still considering the proposal, he told himself. He'd put a great deal of time and effort into admiring her from afar, and that was not to be disregarded so easily. Still. His determination that she was just the right one for him had waned.
Sparo flicked aside a pebble without much interest. There were still many things she could do around the pride. Ways to help and care and do her part. And no one would let her starve, oh no. The Pridelands were ever a land of friendship and pleasure. If one had to have their life cut short, this was the place to do it. Another swat, another rock sent sailing. It clattered against a tree and she sighed. Maybe she could learn to knock birds from the sky with her well-slung stones. Actually, that didn't sound too unreasonable...
But really what status would a wounded mate bring him? She was lovely, true, but he'd also counted on her being a fine huntress, someone to provide for him and their inevitable children. So injured, the duty would probably fall to him for the immediate care of not only himself, but her as well, and any offspring. She would not be able to run and play with them as a normal mother would - he would have to do it all. And that thought made him balk further. He was a regal thing, he did not play. He could not imagine himself gamboling about with little ones. No, he was destined to be the one majestically reclining and watching with paternal eyes as his mate did those sorts of things.
He sighed and forced himself to his paws. It really was such a shameful waste of a wonderful lioness. Ah well. The pride lands were rife with other such pleasant females. He would have no trouble selecting one to devote his new attentions to. And luckily enough he'd never made his interest known to the monochrome damsel. Now he wouldn't have to shake her off in the process of selecting a new mate. Just splendid.
Sparo meanwhile had genuinely no idea that any male had ever been so seriously considering her. She likely would have been slightly confused and distressed if she had known, but now she never would. She didn't notice the male watching her, or when he rose to leave. She'd dragged a small pile of stones over to herself and was trying to slap them at a tree, aiming to hit the trunk. So far only one pebble had bounced against the wood, but it was something to do and it was better than sitting and moping. Probably she'd never be good enough at this to really do any hunting...but giving up would be misery beyond what she could care. She'd figure something out to do with her life. If not hunting with stones, well. Something. She could always mind the cubs or learn to make trinkets. That wasn't as appealing, but then again.
It was better than being useless.
