The herd stampeded, bolting across the grassland, but one of the swift cats slinked at a sharp angle between them and the lone zebra, cutting it off from its friends. In a wild panic it darted first one way, then another, but the cats were closing in.
The desperate zebra ducked its head and twisted, then galloped headlong in Fearless’s direction, straight between two of the fleet-footed oncoming predators. Nice try, Fearless thought, but the cats had reversed their charge with astonishing agility and were racing after their prey again.
No, wait! Fearless straightened a little higher in the grass, watching the hunt with keen curiosity. All three cats were slowing. Had they given up?
This is my chance!
Fearless crept forward, then broke into a trot, cutting across the path of the terrified zebra. Keeping his shoulders low, he tensed himself to run—
A tawny shape rose from the grass ahead, and Fearless froze, one paw raised. His eyes widened as another lion swung its great maned head toward him.
If it’s one of Titan’s cronies, I’m dead!
He lowered his trembling paw and tried to back away.
“Stay still.” The rumbling growl was so low, Fearless wasn’t sure he’d heard right.
But he stayed motionless anyway. Valor said Titan would kill me on sight. If this lion is one of his—
“Hold still. Don’t scare the zebra.” Again that soft voice, barely louder than the rustling breeze.
Fearless followed the older lion’s gaze. His amber stare was fixed on the zebra.
“The cheetahs have worn it out for us,” murmured the strange lion, as the zebra cantered closer. There was relief as well as weariness on the grass-eater’s striped face; the cats called cheetahs had slowed to a disappointed trot, far behind, their flanks rising and falling in panting breaths. The older lion lowered himself closer to the ground, half closing his eyes. “Don’t move, youngster. Wait . . . wait . . . waiiiit . . . and GO!”
The command was so sharp, so authoritative, Fearless obeyed by pure instinct. He hurled himself at the zebra; its eyes widened and its nostrils flared in renewed horror. It doubled back and tried to escape, but the older lion was already moving, bounding straight toward it. Its hooves scrabbled in desperation as it sought another way out, but Fearless bunched his haunches and sprang.
Hooking a powerful paw across its neck, he let his weight drag the zebra down, then fastened his jaws around its raised throat. It was still trying to gallop, its legs flailing, but it had fallen now, its jaws wide in a scream. Fearless held on, sinking his teeth over its windpipe as it struggled and kicked. On the other side of the animal he was aware of the bigger lion, his jaws now also gripping the zebra’s neck.
The zebra gave a last jerk, shuddered, and went limp. For a long moment Fearless held on tight, his breath rasping against the animal’s fur. Then he released it, his mouth bloody, and shook himself.
He stared at his kill. My first zebra! Elation rippled through him, leaving him with a hot glow of pride.
“Well done, youngster.” The older lion paced around the zebra’s corpse to sniff at him.
Before Fearless could growl a reply, he saw the cheetahs bounding over the grassland toward them. Their black-streaked faces were furious, and as they slowed to a trot and approached the lions, their muscles were taut with aggression.
“This again?” yelped the leader. “We’re sick of lions stealing our kills!”
“Too bad,” growled the older lion, squaring up to them with an expression of disdain. “That’s life in Bravelands, after all.”
“What are you talking about?” Fearless bared his fangs, hunching his shoulders as he faced the cheetahs. “We made the kill, not you.”
“Every time we change our hunting grounds, Titanpride follows us!” snarled the leader.
“That’s right.” The big lion drew himself up arrogantly and glared down his muzzle at the cheetahs. “And we’re keeping this kill, too.” He paced forward, snarling.
A jolt of fright ran through Fearless. So this lion was from Titanpride after all. He was big—as big as Gallant had been, Fearless thought, with a tangled mane of black shot through with gold. The muscles of his shoulders rippled as he moved. On the left side of his face, below his orange eyes, was a ragged scar. The cheetahs clearly realized that they had no choice but to obey him: turning their long, bushy-tipped tails, they fled, chittering angry, impotent insults.
“Lumbering hairy fatheads,” squealed one.
“Thick sluggish brutes,” agreed another in a high snarl.
Barely making a ripple in the long grass as it enveloped them, the cheetahs vanished. Fearless wondered if he should follow their example. He eyed the big lion beside him, his elation fast dissolving into fear. He’s huge and he’s strong; much older than me.
As the big lion licked experimentally at the zebra blood, Fearless began to edge away, slinking surreptitiously backward into the grass. Better to lose my first zebra, and live to catch another one day . . .
“Where are you going, Fearless?”
Fearless froze. He knows who I am! This is bad, this is bad. . . .
“How . . . how do you know my name?”
“Oh, I’d know you anywhere,” said the lion. He lifted his head to gaze into Fearless’s eyes. “That scent. Straight from your father.”
Fearless’s throat was bone-dry. My father? This lion must be one of Titan’s companions, from the day Gallant was murdered. He licked his jaws and tried to swallow. “Why aren’t you trying to kill me, then?”
“Oh, I was lying to the cheetahs. I’m not from Titanpride.” The big lion drew back his muzzle in a wicked grin. “My name’s Loyal, and I’d sooner eat my own tail than submit to that stupid bully Titan. I’m—I was a friend of your father’s.”
The tension and fear drained out of Fearless so fast, he felt dizzy. His legs were a little shaky as he padded back to the zebra; he hoped Loyal wouldn’t notice. “You were Gallant’s friend?”
“Indeed I was, Fearless Gallantpride.”
Loyal’s words sent a shiver of conflicting emotion through Fearless. I haven’t been called that name in so long. It feels good, and yet . . . wrong. As if I don’t deserve it.
“Well, you look hungry,” Loyal said into the uncomfortable silence, “and I can’t eat this entire zebra.”
Fearless needed no further invitation. He crouched beside the zebra and began to tear into its flesh, gulping down a great mouthful.
“Wait, wait!” Loyal nudged him so hard, he rocked sideways. “Not here. If we stick around, Titanpride will find us—or the hyena pack will. Then you can say good-bye to our zebra. We’ll take it to my den.”
Embarrassed, and still chewing, Fearless leaped to his paws. I don’t know what lions do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to behave. “Sorry.” He sank his jaws into the zebra’s shoulder and helped Loyal drag it along the bumpy ground.
“I’m glad I met you.” Loyal let go of the zebra after some distance and caught his breath. He studied Fearless intently again, making the younger lion feel very small.
“I’m glad too,” Fearless stammered.
“I’ve been hoping I’d run into you, young Fearless. I know Swift and Valor are still with Titanpride, and I hoped you’d survived the takeover too. I’ve kept my eyes open for you for a long time, but I never caught a single glimpse of your tail.” There was regret in Loyal’s voice. “Perhaps I should have looked harder.”
“I think I saw you once,” said Fearless slowly; there was something familiar about this lion, and now he thought he knew what it was. When Loyal’s tail twitched, he saw that it had been broken at some point and was now crooked. “I was patrolling for Brightforest Troop, and I saw a lion by himself on the horizon. He looked a lot like you.”
“That was probably me, yes.” Loyal rested a paw on the zebra’s flank. He narrowed his eyes. “Brightforest Troop? I heard a rumor of a lion among the baboons. But I thought it was a myth!”
“I’ve b
een . . . living with them,” confessed Fearless, squirming a little inside. “They found me and took me in, and they were good to me.” Noticing the astonishment on Loyal’s face, he added hurriedly, “But those days are over. I’m going to go back to my mother and Valor. They need me.”
“That’s not a great idea,” murmured Loyal, glancing pensively away across the plains.
“I could take this zebra to them,” Fearless said, with a sudden spark of inspiration. “I could take it to Titanpride as a gift! That’s what the baboons did when they wanted to show loyalty: took food to the leader.”
“That wouldn’t work,” said Loyal bluntly. “Titan won’t ever let you join his pride. He’d just kill you.”
“Oh,” said Fearless, disappointed.
“Sky and stone,” muttered Loyal. “You’ve got an awful lot to learn about lions.”
He sank his jaws into the zebra again, and Fearless followed suit, ashamed at his ignorance. My unlion-ness, he realized, dismally. There was silence for a while, as they dragged the carcass toward a rocky outcrop on the slope of a kopje.
Fearless could feel his nerves jangling as they approached the rocks. “Is your pride there? At the den?” he asked.
“Pride? I don’t have a pride anymore.” Loyal shrugged and huffed. “I hunt alone. Well, I have until now.” Thoughtfully he studied Fearless. “You’re welcome to stay with me, if you like. Two lions always make for a more fruitful hunt.”
Fearless felt a rush of happiness so unexpected, he wanted to leap on Loyal and bowl him over. “Yes! Yes, I’d like that. Thank you!”
“Good.” Loyal gazed proudly at a tumble of boulders, shining white in the sun. “Welcome to my den!”
It took one more surge of effort to drag the zebra up the rocks. When they let the carcass fall, on a flat patch of sandy earth dotted with stubby, dried-out plants, Fearless paused and stared around.
Beyond the flat, another shelf of rock rose up steeply against the dazzling blue sky. Not far up the precipitous flank of the kopje, half hidden by a jutting blade of stone, Fearless could see the dark slash of a den entrance. Loyal’s pungent scent marks were everywhere on the rock, and matted clumps of brown and gold fur were caught on the edge of boulders where the big lion had scratched himself. Scattered around the den mouth and on the sandy flat, bleached even whiter than the stones, lay the bones and skulls of long-dead grass-eaters.
This is the true home of a true lion, thought Fearless, his heart swelling.
“This place is wonderful,” he breathed.
“I’m glad you like it,” growled Loyal in amusement. “It’s been home to me for a while.”
“It’s beautiful,” declared Fearless. “Thank you for asking me to stay with you, Loyal. It means a lot.” He cleared his throat, feeling suddenly both ashamed and bashful. “Maybe, Loyal, if you would . . . ? You can teach me to live like a lion.”
Loyal’s brow kinked up. “I will do my best. But first—let’s eat!”
CHAPTER 16
The rain Fearless had scented had come and gone; the ground outside Loyal’s den felt soft and damp beneath his paws. The energy of his first big kill still lingered, buzzing in his blood like a swarm of mosquitoes. Father said I could be a great hunter one day. It looks as if he was right!
He’d known instinctively what to do with the zebra. His mother had never had a chance to teach him, but perhaps Swift had somehow gifted him her talents anyway. It’s in my heritage, in my blood and bones. I can still learn to be the best hunter in Bravelands. I’m going to make up for lost time.
He looked back into the cave where Loyal was still dozing, his black and gold head resting on his enormous paws.
“Loyal,” Fearless called, “I’m off to practice hunting. I’ll be back soon!”
Loyal was immediately alert. He got to his feet, shaking out his mane. “Remember what I taught you—get as close as you can before you attack. Watch out for those cheetahs. And stay clear of buffalo—they’re too dangerous. You might catch a calf if you’re careful, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”
“Okay.”
“And if you smell hyenas, run.”
Fearless laughed. “You don’t need to remind me about that one. See you when I’ve caught something!” He bounded down the slope that led away from the den, weaving past boulders and the bones of the zebra they’d picked clean yesterday, and sprang onto the grass that stretched out below. A startled lizard darted beneath a bush.
“Fearless, listen to me!”
He looked up. Loyal had jumped onto one of the boulders, the sun catching the pale skin of the scar below his eye. His crooked tail swished back and forth.
“One last piece of advice. Don’t go near the plains that lie west of the kigelia forest,” Loyal rumbled. “That’s where Titanpride is.”
Fearless nodded and set off. Prey animals were likely to be gathered near the watering hole, he reasoned, so he headed in that direction. He picked up his paws, enjoying the sun on his fur, wondering what he’d catch; but when he saw the distant smudge he knew was the kigelia forest, he found himself veering toward it and had to force himself to stop. Somewhere on the other side of those trees is my mother.
He couldn’t help it. He had to see her again, just to make sure she was all right.
That won’t do any harm, will it? Loyal will understand.
Quickening his pace, he made his way toward the trees. Their branches were heavy with strange long fruit, almost as large as he was, and the birds feasting on them screeched as he passed. He emerged on the other side onto shimmering plains. The zebra herd he’d seen yesterday had moved on—which was hardly surprising after the three-way ambush they’d suffered—but a herd of buffalo was grazing, with young calves at foot.
And between Fearless and the buffalo, indistinct tawny-golden shapes were visible, half hidden in the long grass.
Titanpride!
In the center of the lazing pride lay a huge male, his black mane instantly identifiable. Titan yawned, his savage yellow fangs glinting in the sun. The hairs on the nape of Fearless’s neck sprang up, and hatred warmed his blood. Cautiously, he moved closer, placing each paw with aching slowness.
Lounging against Titan’s flank was a big lioness; there was a smirking smugness about her face. A tiny cub wriggled against her flank and she bent to lick his head. She must be Artful. The one who blinded my mother. And that’s Ruthless, her cub. Her son with Titan.
Loyal had told him about the cub. Fearless couldn’t believe he had a name already. He’s barely newborn, and Artful and Titan have already decided what he’s going to be like. Typical arrogance!
Anger flooded through Fearless. Artful looked so plump and content; the glances she cast the other lionesses were full of superior disdain. He could not keep watching her—at least, not without throwing caution to the savannah sky and charging at her—so he turned his focus to the rest of the pride, trying to pick out his mother and Valor.
Valor told me Titanpride moves around a lot. I guess they’ve come here to follow the cheetahs and steal their prey. Fearless let himself feel contempt for such a lazy, treacherous hunting style, then remembered it was exactly what he and Loyal had done. But we have no pride to hunt with us. Loyal and I have to do whatever it takes to eat. Titanpride is strong, and they could catch their own prey!
Shaking his head, he studied Titanpride once more. He recognized a familiar lion with a damaged ear, basking alone on the periphery of the pride. I remember his name: Cunning. He’s one of the lions who killed my father. He’s the one who chased me when I was a tiny cub, the one who tried to kill me. Fearless drew his lips back in a silent snarl and let his eyes drift to the other lions. Surely Valor was here somewhere?
Then he saw her. She too lay on the edge of the pride, not far from Regal and Agile, but Fearless didn’t recognize the lioness who lay at her side. Valor’s paw was hooked over the lioness’s shoulders and she was grooming her intently, running a tongue over her neck. Fea
rless crept a little closer, peering through the grass.
He gasped, and his heart stuttered and leaped. Mother!
No wonder he hadn’t recognized her at once. Swift looked so much older; she was thin, and her coat was coarse and dull. Her eyes were closed in bliss as Valor gently groomed her head and neck; Fearless couldn’t see the scars that must be there, but he longed to bound over to the two of them, to witness for himself what Artful had done, and to comfort his mother. And to kill Artful and Titan, he thought, clenching his jaws in rage.
But I can’t. Not yet.
Cunning rose to his paws and stretched, then sniffed the air, his tail twitching. Regal and Agile followed his cue, stirring and half rising. Fearless held his breath. Do they know I’m here?
But Cunning slumped back down onto his belly, licking his jaws and making himself comfortable. The lionesses did not relax; they stood up properly, stretching and loosening their limbs, and roused the others. Honor nuzzled Valor, who butted her mother gently in farewell, and all the lionesses except Swift and Artful padded away through the grass in the direction of the buffalo herd.
Artful watched them go, that haughty expression still fixed on her face. She pawed Ruthless lightly, rolling him over. Playing some game with her spoiled cub while the others work, thought Fearless. While my sister is forced to hunt for two.
Left alone at the edge of the pride, it wasn’t long before Swift rose, too, and began to pick her way hesitantly away through the grass. She snuffled at the ground before cautiously placing each paw; once or twice she stopped to turn over a stone with her claws, or rake through the grass. Sniffing for insects or small rodents, Fearless guessed. My mother, who was once the finest hunter in Gallantpride.
He gazed at her, his heart swollen with grief and regret. Farther, Mother. Go farther from Titan. This way. Please . . .
Perhaps she’d sensed him; she kept padding on, her progress agonizingly slow but steady. Fearless could bear the waiting no longer. He took a deep breath and slunk after her, his belly low to the ground, following her toward a clump of thornbushes.