Claws

Julia wrote this sad story about a lion named Cleopatra. It’s a tragedy, so if, unlike me, you don’t like tragedies, don’t read it. She named all the lions after weird historical people. Here it is.

  I ran and made a flying leap onto the giraffe’s back, narrowly missing one of its bone shattering and lethal kicks. My claws dug into its thick and leathery skin as I struggled to hold on and slowly clambered up its back. When I reached its neck, I bit down hard. Far below me, my pride wove between the giraffe’s legs and attacked them. They gave out underneath it and the mountain of a giraffe toppled over. Hatshepsut, my older sister, swiftly sprinted over to help me. “Cleo!” She purred, rubbing her head on my shoulder affectionately. “You did great! Most of the time, the giraffe hunt doesn’t go so well.” She said, gazing uneasily at the scar on her leg. We ate our share and dragged Rameses’ portion back home.

 A chorus of tiny squeaks and chirps greeted us as we stepped into the oasis we call home. The cubs tumbled toward us in a tangle of oversized paws and little spotted bodies. Rameses, my mate, was slumbering sprawled under a massive baobab tree, which, to be honest, looked a lot like him. “Rameses.” I meowed, grooming his mane until he slowly stirred and flicked his tail.”You were supposed to be protecting the oasis, not sleeping under a tree.” “ I was! I just closed my eyes for a bit and you were there.” He retorted. “Anyway, we brought you food. Sekhmet, Hatshepsut, Isis, and I took down a giraffe.” I replied.  I trotted over to the cubs, Horus, Thutmose, Ra, Bastet, and Mau, who were overjoyed that we got back.

 “Cleo! When will you take us hunting? I wanna go see the world!” Thutmose exclaimed exuberantly. 

“You’ll go and see the world soon enough, cubhood doesn’t last that long.”

 “But I want to see the world noooooooow!”

“Don’t worry, your time will come.” I rolled my eyes. When will he stop being so obsessed with his future? Bastet, who was the pocket-size troublemaker of the group, walked over.

“Listen to Cleo.” She said sassily, puffing her miniscule dappled chest out. 

“Yeah, Thutmose, Listen to Cleo.” Mau, the volatile middle sibling, who would always support both sides of the argument, joined in.

“Mau, stop pressing buttons.” I warned.

“Sorry Cleo.” She cowered meekly, like a dog when he upset his master.

“You too, Bastet.” She quailed in like manner to that of her sister. 

The next morning we went back to the carcass of the giraffe. Half of it was gone and there was the unfamiliar and unwelcome scent of Caesar. Caesar, curse him and his descendants for all of Eternity. He was a rival lion, ruthless and unpredictable who had challenged Rameses once before, failed, and fled, licking his wounds before Rameses could kill him. His pawprints were in the sand leading away into the distance. Ra was so upset by the scent, he wouldn’t even eat his nice giraffe, which was unusual for him because he would eat pretty much anything. Unease filled us from that day forward. That night, we heard his roar echoing across the savannah, keeping us from our well deserved rest. I mistook it for a nuisance, not a warning, that would happen every night until the challenge. It was the beginning of the end.

On the seventh night of roaring, just as the horrid clamor had finished, Caesar showed his face once again. He confidently strolled into our home, a devious smile on his crooked teeth. Rameses stepped forward and the rest of us followed behind him. But he glanced back and that glance told us all we needed to know. This was his fight. We slowly backed off. At the time, I had silently worried that Rameses was getting older and was not at his prime, unlike Caesar, who was at the peak of youth. It was not in vain. Rameses roared and the battle began. Caesar answered not with his voice but with his teeth. Rameses roared as pain shot through him. They clawed at each other and tumbled in a mass of blood and fur. Soon,Rameses lay limp and cold on the ground, his mane darkened with Caesar’s blood as well as his own, never to stand again. Never to walk. Never to hunt. Never to play with his cubs again. Caesar started toward the cubs. Thutmose was stock still with sheer terror. He raised his paw, claws poised to strike. But that stroke never came, because, with a roar, I bowled into him. He thought I would be sweet and submissive. But I wasn’t. The fight was long and hard. Every move I made, he made one better, faster and stronger. Caesar was relentless. Striking over and over and over again. I fought my hardest, but he was winning. Anyone could’ve seen that. Even Caesar, that giraffe-brain who had his head so high in the clouds he didn’t guess that I would protect my cubs at all costs. Soon, as the sun rose to begin its course across the cerulean arc of the sky, I lay limp and cold on the ground beside Rameses. I had gone against every instinct, but I saved my cubs and what was left of my pride. The last thing I saw was my beautiful pride, Isis, Sekhmet, Hatshepsut, Horus, Bastet, Mau, Thutmose, and Ra, looking back at Rameses and me mournfully as they started a new chapter in their life.