Leta was pretty sure he was safe. He had been hiding in this bush for, like, an hour now, and he had not heard or smelled that intruder lion since almost half that time. He was hoping that meant the other had managed to lose him, and was no longer giving chase. What an insane turn this day had taken. He had come out here just to take a look around the pride and he had been hoping to find some new faces, but this was ridiculous. He had not been expecting an attack from an intruder! What was he supposed to do now? He needed to go and tell the King, and let the royal family know there was a potential threat in the area. Maybe the King would send his attack dog out. That lion no one was supposed to know was some sort of assassin, though Leta was the master of conspiracy theories and had sussed it out a long time ago.
He really, really wished he had an assassin handy right now, to help him out of this terrifying situation.
Very slowly, the attendant to the king slowly crept his way out of his hiding hole, most of the bush clinging to his fur. He was covered in twigs and leaves, but he hardly cared. He shook his head, but nothing fell out of his fur. That was all the effort he could spare to it, though, as his attention was thoroughly drawn by utter fear.
And he had every reason to be scared. Ulfric growled from behind him and Leta turned, nearly jumping out of his fur. It stuck out on all ends now, and finally the twigs and leaves mostly fell free. He did not notice, his wide eyes glued on the stranger in horror. Ulfric grinned as he approached, his foot falls heavy as he walked closer, the rumble escaping his throat make Leta feel like he was being shaken from the inside.
“Who are you?! What do you want from me? I didn’t do anything to you! I’m no one! I just wanted to see if you were lost or if you were going to move here! But you’re making a mistake if you hurt me, the King would notice! He would come after you!” Leta’s words all fell out almost on top of each other, but Ulfric managed to pick out the important ones. His pitiful attempt to sound important and dissuade the Viking failed spectacularly.
“If you are no one, why would the King of these lands care about what happens to you?”
“Because… because…” Leta could not think of an answer, so he leaped to the only other viable option he had in this conversation. And that was to eject himself from it. He turned on all four of his heels, paws crossing and making him fumble in his haste, but he took off like a rocket. Dust rose in a plume behind him as he ran, but Ulfric was not impressed by the pace he set. He grinned and shook his head, honestly having fun with the weak creature. Usually, Ulfric did not stoop to playing with his prey, and he had no use for taunting, but this was a unique opportunity for him. A lesson needed to be learned here.
Leta was no Viking. He would not ever be the right kind of lion to join Ulfric’s band, but the least he could do was help Leta to see what his cowardice netted him. And hey, this sudden interest in teaching Leta what it meant to be a real lion would actually result in his life being spared, which was more than might have been said had the mood not struck Ulfric so particularly. Leta might have just ended up another tail to add to his collection.
“You are a pathetic excuse for a lion,” Ulfric said, “have you no pride in yourself? In your home? What if I meant to cause this place serious harm? You would have let me do it for your fear of what, being hurt? Miserable! You are wasting my time.”
The mighty lion ran at Leta, knowing he was heard despite the running, as his voice was quite booming when he wanted it to be. He was faster than the little lion, and caught up to him easily, slashing his claws and raking them across Leta’s hind thigh. It was enough to upset his balance and send the giraffe spotted attendant spilling to the ground in a heap of paws and fluff. He flailed miserably, as if he forgot which direction the ground was, rocking back and forth and trying to right himself as pain tore through his leg. He was completely exposed, having rolled onto his back, leaving him pathetically open for another, potentially deadly attack.
The Viking leaped on him, pinning him to the ground, digging his claws into Leta’s soft stomach, but not slicing him open as he would have been able to. He watched the other as Leta shook and whined, begging in a small voice to not be killed. It was no surprise to see him groveling now, when he was in danger, but it did only serve to anger Ulfric more.
“I should kill you for your cowardice! And next time, I just might. If you do not strengthen yourself, if you do not become something of pride and loyalty to your home, then I will rip you to pieces. You are too worthless for me to waste my time on, killing you would be like killing a cub. I will return in two days to test you again. If you run, I will take some from this pride back to my own, as my slaves, and they will suffer for your weakness.” And this time, he would make good on the threat. He did not keep slaves: if he took them back to his pride and they did not prove themselves useful to his cause, following in the same vein as this example from the pride, Ulfric would simply kill them.
He pushed his paws down into Leta’s gut before moving from on top of him, leaving the lion gasping for air. By the time Leta had his wits about him enough to look around, Ulfric was gone. But the threat of his return lingered.
Word Count: 1,061 in Word
