Fun Fact: Around a year and a half old, lion cubs begin tagging along with their mothers on hunts. They are far from helpful, clumsy paws crush grass too loudly, tails flick with restless excitement, and their timing is a mess. But these outings aren't about skill; they're about learning. From the cover of grass, the cubs watch the silent choreography of the hunt, the lightning bursts of speed, the brutal end. They begin to understand what it means to be a lion. That survival isn't just about play, but about blood, risk, and the gamble of life itself.
The dawn broke in slivers of pale gold, spreading across the Savannah like paint brushed against the horizon. Shadows stretched long, and the air still carried the coolness of night.
The pride had deemed the little ones ready to join the ranks of the ecosystem thus, Tobey, amidst tens of miniature lions, was stalking the older lionesses, who were stationed a few paces ahead of them.
Despite the lack of abundant light, the dipping moon was more than enough, and coupled with his new physiology, Tobey could make out their target; a herd of wildebeest!
Kambo, the oldest of the lionesses, was on the forefront, masking her lithe form amidst the tall grasses. More out of habit and application of caution, after all, despite herbivores not having the best of sight while in the night, it was better safe than sorry.
The other lionesses had formed a crescent beside Kambo, the edges inching closer to the the grazing beasts. To the furthest right was Dana, undeniably the strongest lioness in the pride. Even crouched low, her bulk loomed above the rest, a ridge of muscle stretching taut beneath her coat. Each breath she drew made the grass around her quiver, the raw weight of her body pressing into the earth. She was the spearpoint of these operations, the force that could break the herd's line on her own if she wished. Watching her was like watching a storm crouch in silence, waiting for the moment to strike.
Kambo let out a muffled growl and when she flicked her tail, Dana rose from her spot and made a wide berth, circling and repositioning to the southern fringes of the herd. With another flick of Kambo's tail, the others restructured, spreading out into smaller groups, maximizing on target prey. The pride was large, they couldn't afford to waste numbers hunting a single target.
Tobey found himself nodding to the tactics employed by the lionesses, in his previous life, he hadn't watched much of animal documentaries therefore, this truly was his first experience witnessing and participating in a hunt.
Contrary to Tobey, only a few of the cubs were truly focused on the hunt; the majority had already succumbed to boredom within the first hour, tumbling into play or sprawling lazily in the grass. Radi, too, had joined their games at first, batting tails and pouncing on shadows. But when she realized she alone among her clique – Ayden, Tobey, and Zyphros – was the one not paying attention, she pulled herself back with effort, ears pricked and eyes narrowing, determined not to be the weak link of their little circle.
Zyphros lay closest to Tobey, mimicking the crouch of the hunters. She spared a silver glance at him and marvelled at his composure. He'd stayed in the same position for over an hour, his amber eyes glued to the battlefield, cataloging every move the hunters made as well as the subconscious reactions of the prey. Inspiration welled within her chest, and she mirrored him, despite not knowing what caused him to focus as much, she was sure the battlefield held some sort of secret, and if unfolding whatever puzzle was at play would let her understand him, she was ready to stare as long as it takes.
Just then, a loud snort disturbed the calm of dawn and Tobey's ears pricked.
'What happened, have they been spotted?'
He raised his head to peer over the herd, mentally ticking off the hunters' positions. They hadn't moved yet, but the wildebeests were hyper at the moment, their ears constantly twitched as did their muzzles, sniffing at the air for any foreign scent. Seconds bled into agonizing moments for the hunters as they froze in place, not risking the slightest twitch of muscle. Just as the prey began to settle down and the herd lowered its guard, a resounding thud and a snarl broke the ice once more.
Tobey was just in time, having turned his head back on instinct to spot one of the playing cubs run straight into the bark of a tree.
'Oh for fuck's sake, can't these lil pieces of shi...'
All hell broke loose!
The wildebeests erupted in blind panic, a stampede of muscle and terror smashing through the dawn. An urgent roar split the air, swallowed by bleats and the drumbeat of hooves and then, in an instant, the world collapsed into chaos.
The poor creatures hadn't accounted for actual predators to conjure from thin air amongst them. The lionesses rode on the wave and launched their attack. They had been lying in wait and a confused herd was much easier to tackle than stalking a vigilant one.
There were snarls and bleats, fear was heavy in the air, you could taste the anticipation. The stomping of desperate hooves was oddly melodious, a roar emanated from within the herd and Tobey strained to pinpoint the lionesses, the hundreds of wildebeest had kicked up a storm of dust.
But before everything had gone overboard, Tobey had recognized that the hunters had grouped into squads of three, leading to an attack force of four strong.
Suddenly, there was a gutteral growl from within the battlefield and Tobey assumed that at least one of them had caught prey.
Now the sun was already in the sky, discarding its warm rays for harsher ones, and when the prey eventually became aware of what predator was amongst them, they could finally flee in coordination!
By and by, the dust began to settle, drifting back to the earth in lazy veils. The thunder of hooves had faded into the distance, leaving behind only the churned grass and the sharp scent of trampled earth. The herd had broken free, securing distance from the hunters and regrouping far beyond reach.
Tobey lingered, his small frame tense, scanning the battlefield with an intensity that didn't fit a cub. His gaze swept over the swaying grasses and the broken trail where the wildebeest had scattered. Not until he was convinced the immediate vicinity hid no lingering danger did he release a low growl, a sound more instinctive than deliberate. With steady steps, he started toward the hunters.
The others remained frozen where the chase had left them, ears flicking nervously. Their hearts still hammered with leftover fear, too shaken to move. It was Tobey's deliberate movement that broke their hesitation. Ears pricked, the frightened cubs watched, dumbfounded, as he padded away from them with a strange certainty. Then, almost without realizing why, three of them bolted after him. The choice wasn't born of courage or clarity – they couldn't quite explain what tugged them forward – only that following him felt necessary, as if their paws had been commanded by something older and deeper than thought.
Why would they go toward such a scary place? They were small, their paws soft, their bodies fragile. Those big, snorting beasts would crush them without even noticing. Where were their mothers? Surely, the lionesses would come back for them, shield them, drive the danger away.
The cubs pressed against one another, trembling, their tiny tails curling tight between their legs. Outside the safety of the den, everything felt too big, too loud, too sharp. The Savannah stretched endless and merciless around them, and for the first time, they felt just how little they were.
They shouldn't have agreed to come. They shouldn't have left the shadows of the den. This was wrong — this was terrifying — this, this was—
Grrrrrrrr
They yelped in unison and glanced towards the origin of the sound. Tobey had, at some point, stopped his walk and turned back to face them. His stance had dropped low, his limbs slightly apart, the cubs couldn't maintain eye contact with him as his eyes had lightened a shade – to the palest of amber and his pupils had dilated to slits. He currently embodied ferocity, and by how his claws were etched into the earth, as well as the snarl plastered across his face, this was no longer a threat, but a promise.
He was sick and tired of these wimps, rather than maximize on the lesson they had been presented with, pick up a skill or two from the hunters' display of finesse, they instead played about as if they were still infants!
One by one, the cubs unfurled from their crouches, creeping toward him with ears pinned and tails low. None dared meet his gaze; their eyes found the ground, the grass, anywhere but him. In silence, they gathered until a dozen-odd little fools stood ringed around Tobey, shifting uneasily on their paws.
Only then did he ease his stance, shoulders rolling as if shaking off the weight of command. A derisive scoff rumbled from his throat, startling in its sharpness. Without warning, he lashed his tail and smacked one cub square across the nose. The youngster squeaked in shock, stumbling back, but Tobey was already moving, unconcerned. His usual company – Ayden, Radi, and Zyphros – fell into step behind him without hesitation.
The rest wavered for a heartbeat, exchanging uncertain glances. Then, as if compelled by some unspoken pact, they too began to follow. Their caution stitched them into a single-file line, trailing Tobey like shadows. None of them could explain why they did it, only that the choice felt inevitable — as though Tobey's lead was the only safe path left to walk.