The wise oneby
ScapeshotsComment by K3Master: He sat on his metaphorical throne, he, the King of Beasts. It was not a title to be taken literally, but he did take it seriously. So he sat, and surveyed the lands about him with a grim and determined look in his eye.
The lands were not as they once were. Prey had grown scarce. The lionesses returned with fewer and fewer kills every time. At the edge of his territories, there were strange beasts that walked upright, on two legs, and built strange things and burned things and, worst of all, killed his people and ravished the herds, and all the time they advanced further and further into his lands.
An unknowing snarl passed his snout and glinted in his eyes. So far, he had warned his lionesses and the younger males to stay away from these creatures. Avoid them at all costs. How much longer could he do this? How much longer could he allow them to advance without putting up a fight?
An exasperated growl built up deep in his chest, which he let rumble out, long and low. Some of the lionesses glanced his way in concern, and small birds and animals scattered from the grasses around him.
Soon it would be time. Soon he would have to gather his Pride and take a stand. There were no more places to run to. No more places to hide.
He let his pent up tension out in a roar that echoed on the savannah, causing all that could hear to stand up and notice, and then he sauntered off to take refuge in some shade, and build his strength for that coming day.
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