Taveni huffed a low grumble under his breath as he shifted on his belly, trying to relieve the pain of a particularly sharp rock that was digging into his tender undercarriage. Pushing the discomfort to the back of his mind he crept forward another inch, wincing as the sharp stone caught him again. It was a miracle any male could reproduce after a lifetime of dragging themselves belly-first across this damnable landscape.
Suddenly his prey lifted its head and with a grating call the entire herd took off, hooves flashing in the sun’s glare. Standing, he watched the dust cloud as it billowed away, marking the herds’ progress across the horizon. Well, at least he didn’t have to deal with that damned rock any longer. Turning away he struck out across the savannah, moving to another of his usual hunting spots.
A time later he was settled in the thick grass near a small river, stretched out flat on his side, the remains of a small carcass close by. It hadn’t been the big catch he had desired, but it filled his belly for the time being and sometimes that was all you could hope for. Slowly a noise intruded on his post-dining stupor and he pulled himself upright onto his stomach, turning his shaggy head to look out across the stream to the opposite bank.
No… lower… dropping his gaze he blinked in surprise at the sight of a long, slender lioness swimming lazily in circles in the water, her dark head was sleek, muscles flexing rhythmically under a dusky tan coat made dark by the river. Executing a neat turn she struck out for the far bank and stepped up onto the pale sand. His first assumption was correct; tall, lean, lithe.. and judging from her carriage, confident. She shook the liquid from her coat before stretching as if posing for him, showing off her admittedly desirable figure. The flash of her yellow tail tuft caught his eye as she straightened, flicking it lazily against her flank before her graceful head turned, pale eyes meeting his full on, unashamed, just like the grin she sent his way.
Arching a brow at her smile he frowned, which only seemed to make her smile widen, flashing her sharp teeth at him. Huffing he pulled himself to his feet, fully aware that while she looked like a gift from the Huntress, he looked like something She had dragged in and discarded. Dusty from the hunt with blood smearing his fur, sweat dried in his fur to form little runnels, confusing his batwing marking and the stripes on his legs. Scowling now he huffed, eyeing the still grinning female. Why was she still looking his way? Even as he watched she turned, finally moving up the beach to the opposite bank. Reaching the same level as his side she settled on her haunches, those pale eyes returning to him, flicking in an almost physical caress along his body, lingering on his markings and his pale two-toned mane.
For a while they stared at each other. Her smile, which was more of a smirk, remained on her muzzle, a teasing, challenging expression that slowly got further and further under his skin, pulling a low-level rumbling growl from deep in his chest. The sound slowly grew until he suddenly realised what the strange low hum was. Yet realising it did not help him control it, and it slowly grew louder as her smirk deepened. Though weather she was grinning at his irritation, or at the growl he had no idea. Finally he stood, turning his back on the strange lioness and the remains of his kill and stalked away from both.
He walked for a time, his growl fading and returning as his thoughts circled around the strange experience. Who was she and why had she stared at him like that? No other female had been so… outrageously brazen. They at least had the decency to introduce themselves before showing an interest. Apparently females found his coat fascinating, for they always seemed to want to talk about it. Why, he had no idea. Sure, he was a fit, healthy male, slightly taller than some but not as tall as others. He had an unusual but certainly not dazzling coat and while a skilled hunter, he was no genius. He knew he was often taciturn to the point of rudeness, awkward around females he didn’t know (anyone who wasn’t family or a childhood friend) and often missed the subtle hints of interest such females gave out, which he only knew he missed because they got angry when he didn’t respond to them.
So why had this one stared at him so blatantly? It couldn’t be his looks, or his skills at hunting, since he had been laying next to a far from worthy kill when she had seen him. So unless she was a stalker who knew he was actually usually fairly successful and this was an off day for him, she wouldn’t know he was a suitable provider. And anyway, she didn’t strike him as the stalker type, thought she seemed weird enough for it.. Huffing at his circling speculations he tried to push her from his mind, but it didn’t work. She haunted his thoughts all the way home to his den, and all that night, preying on his dreams with her sleepy yellow eyes and knowing smirk. When he woke it was still night time, the rest of the pride were quiet. These early hours were his favourite time, the world caught between the nocturnal and the diurnal. Where creatures of all kinds were either just waking, or going back to their dens. The world was quiet, empty… perfect.
Sighing softly he left his sleeping place and struck out across the dusty plains, fur prickling with the lingering chill of night time even as he watched the horizon slowly lighten, a precursor to the appearance of the fiery disk that would bring the daytime heat to the savannah.
Turning he gazed out across the flat landscape, marred only by the odd small hillock. His gaze snagged on a strongly familiar figure. Dusky brown coat, long, willowy yet muscular body, a yellow tail tuft….
“Oh hell no…”
