No longer could he maintain the execution of strength, despite the suggestion of it by his size and color. As a cub Tamu rarely wondered what mysteries were out there, beyond the sandy dunes of his once homeland. Their desert provided all of the entertainment he and his siblings required, and by the time cyclones and lizard chases were a bore he had found the fancy of most growing adolescents nearing adulthood – females. Mating. Sparing, when it befitted him, and climbing the ranks to please his mother. But he no longer claimed the title of 'Firekin born'. Some would say it was due to the political conflicts of old. But he was never much for politics. No, Tamu would say it was due to his upbringing. Due to his mother.
His mother. A loving individual at the start turned sour in her ripening age. If anyone chose to blame every poor decision, fault, and problem on the war it was Kijinga. When all was said and done, Tamu’meka found no remorse for the female who had reared him, and who he so willingly had left behind. Although he often wondered if the old bag of bones still breathed her baited breath for her mother and father’s approval, the senile b***h that she was. Even with her knowing that their rotting corpses were already six feet under the sands, he could bet she desperately sought out the favoring’s of the pride in their name. As if it meant anything to the new blood amongst them.
However, Kijinga would likely be in a better state then he; if not dead herself. Or even then, in truth…
Where there should have been girth, bones protruded. Areas of skin that had once been filled with fat and muscle dangled, and his stomach looked perpetually devoid of substance. For some, the life of a rogue came easily. For most, it was a real struggle to survive. The best he often hoped for in a meal would come from scraps. Yet, despite all of the difficulties, Tamu rarely complained. After all, a part of him felt worthy of the circumstance.
He had his own share shortcomings and regrets, in particular the loss of his mate and children not to death, but to life. Lives lived without him somewhere on the face of the savannah, likely happy which should have made him just so but... wouldn’t. Couldn’t He had gone through a challenging time where every step he took seemed to follow in the paw prints of his mother, and a great deal of his suffering came not from the inability to fend for himself; but from the self loathing he could not shake.
Now, in a period of his life when even hatred expended energy he simply did not have to spare, Tamu’meka reserved his fullest concentration on the hunts for corpses left behind. The easiest of meals to come across, and even still the most difficult to find completely unoccupied.
It was no surprise to Ladislav that the impressively gutted Rhinoceros calf had already attracted a crowd. Buzzards gathered close by, along with a pair of jackals, all aggressively shooed by the current dominant figure amongst them; a large red lion male. Soon the scent would carry far enough to attract the groups of hyenas that migrated the plains, their packs too numerous to fight off for long. What this meant for Ladislav, and the others in his company, was that every second counted. Every bit of skin that could be swallowed needed to be, before that was no longer an option.
Ladislav rarely resorted to force. He was a diplomat, a relatively caring individual who would suggest options before throwing his weight around. But a brief encounter with a strange leopard had him on edge, and what with hunger compelling his instincts more then his background in compassion; it would be trying on his patience to ease into the situation. If they decided to share after Ladislav had his claim on the area, fine. Otherwise… Only a few moments of peace would pass before pounding steps put Ladislav at Tamu’s side. The former let loose a bellowing roar only when he loomed over the feasting feline, a clawless throw of his forelimb catching the stranger mid-stagger.
Tamu’meka, deafened by the satisfactory cracks and chews of a prayer answered, would not be prepared, neither physically nor mentally, for the impending blow. The thundering of another’s approach went without recognition until it rattled his brain and the very heat of the stranger was upon him. Carelessly, Tamu stepped to the side and onto the remains of scattered rib shards, where his footing caught and he would collapse briefly onto his chest. Wide eyes found the other males instantly as Tamu stiffened against the earth, baring fangs and spitting as the length of his bony frame twitched wildly.
A red coat...
Ladislav released a series of gurgles and growls while his own maw peeled in the reveal of canines. Through them, his demand would not go unheard. Move, now!
The life of a rogue…
Tamu’meka attempted several times to jerk his presence between the other male and the corpse they both desired. With every effort, however, Ladislav followed; quicker in some cases then Tamu's reaction itself. The message was clear, and for the ex-Firekin male; only so much fight could be given before the war would be lost. A quick shot of his arm out sent Ladislav back a step to avoid contact, and gave Tamu the freedom to move out from beneath the other's gaze.
The tension escalated for several more minutes, as the two males went back and forth dealing warning blows and charging one another. The groups that had gathered earlier vanished without a trace, likely hiding in the foliage and trees until the commotion settled. In the distance, the very group Ladislav feared would come onto them were closing in. A pack of hyena's with their noses in the air and their eyes, although too far to be seen, surely on the mountain of meat to both lions sides.
For a split second Tamu searched the eyes of the other male for recognition. Could this be a present Firekin ambassador? Or, judging by age, a part of the rogue uprising some time ago? But Ladislav showed no signs. The red of Tamu's pelt meant nothing to the other, darker male. A bittersweet reality.
They shared no words, a true meet between truly fierce individuals. And Ladislav knew the challenge had been won as soon as the other male loped some ways out onto the savannah plain and threw himself down beneath the shade of a distant tree. It was a victory he had no time to enjoy, rounding the carcass several times just before the canine figures cackled onto the scene. Before long, yet another battle had come to a close; this time with the hyena's in the winners circle.
For Tamu, it would only be a matter of time before the pack would eat their fill and move on. Even if they chose to guard the corpse for several more days, the male would wait. When you starved nearly every hour of every day, pride had no room to bear any sway on the decision to watch, and to wait.
Ladislav, put off by all the fuss gone to waste, chose to abandon the area completely. In passing, he offered the other male a fleeting glance that could have read apologetic, but also could have read otherwise.
(WC 1255)
