THE LION KING: THE FREAK
The
Lion King: The Freak
Chapter 12: All's Fair I: Grandmother and Cub
(Keep an eye out for my Balto fanfiction soon. Also, it's probably best if you read chapter four of my name before reading this.
Also, I'll be making a big, big change this chapter. This time, I will actually read over and edit my work before posting it. Finally, Nasher is not pronounced like gnasher. More like: na+share.)
“I've done well for myself.”
The tiger stepped out of cover, sniffing several times. The area was clear of other predators, and, especially, humans.
“Asal! Kochai! ...It's safe.”
The male looked behind him. He smiled once at the sight of his mate, and their daughter. Soon, however, as dark memories rose, his ears flickered, and his face saddened slightly.
“What is it?” the white tigress said, standing in her place at her older mate's side.
“This place... is where my mother was killed. And my brother... I don't know what happened to him.”
The tiger cub gasped in horror. His gaze met his brothers, and the two managed to give each another the strength to not break down in tears at the sudden death of their mother. The large, powerful tigress lay there, as if peacefully, her paws folded under her large, fluffy head. She'd taken them both, and ran at the sign of the humans... but she couldn't outrun the reach of a rifle.
Slowly, both of her sons reached out with their smaller paws, and pushed her eyelids shut.
“Brother,” the one with sharper, longer teeth said, “we can still get away.”
“If we move now,” said the other, attempting a grin with his bushier, furrier face.
Suddenly, another gunshot roared across the landscape. The dangerous-looking cub watched as his brother's expression fell... and as blood seeped through all that thick, cottony fur...
The cub felt something inside him change, as if a portion of his heart had forever broken. He then turned and dashed through the forest, even as the hunters approached. Tears streamed from his small, yet already predatory eyes... and the cry of agony that he then made echo through his home came to be feared by mankind as the roar of the King of the Jungle.
“I think he thought that I died... and I almost did,” the older tiger said, now flanked by both his mate and their daughter, “but I got up... and I ran. But I couldn't see well. I couldn't follow him. And that day was the last time I ever saw him...”
“I heard the rumors, of course, of a killer to the northwest,” he grinned slightly, nudging his golden-tabby daughter... though she was still a cub, he'd seen her do things that made him both extremely proud... and vaguely nervous.
“...But I never found the courage to travel there. Until now, when I am finally certain that even if I die on this trip through the Triangle of Pain,” he referred to the three villages that attracted hunters from around the world, who wrought death and terror on the land for miles around, “at least, I have others that will remember that I was alive.”
The tiger looked at the other members of his small, but strong family. A smile cracked across his old, yet rugged features, lighting up his toughened face instantly.
“To be remembered... is the wish of every creature in this world.”
(Read up to Chapter 2 of My Name before reading this part. Also, one instance of bad language.)
At first, the task seemed impossible. Then, it seemed on the far end of doable. And now, the Pride Landers saw it for what it truly was: possible. For some.
At the half-mile mark, Simba growled, and called back to his troops.
“Watch out for falling lava!”
“What?” thought Kovu, as he thundered along, just next to his mate, “but for the lava to be falling... it would have to be forcefully shot into the ai—”
The big lion's thought was cut off as he roared in agony, and only barely managed to keep his footing. It was all he could do to stop himself from pawing at the top of his head—if it wasn't for his mane, that large drop of molten rock would have killed him. As it was, he'd be burned, possibly for life.
But his troubles were nothing compared to the poor lioness that was only paces behind him.
The hyenas were further back, and were forced to watch as the loyal Pride Lander shrieked, as a practical bucketload of lava spilled over her back. For a second, she jumped into the air, clawing at herself in agony, burning her paws into nothingness. Then, she hit the “ground” again, still moving fast enough to prevent herself from sinking for a moment.
She died with her eyes open, her maw split in a never-ending howl of agony. The hyenas were forced to leap over the poor feline's head, and their tears dripped onto her eyes...
“Come on! We can still do this!”
The Pride Landers were tiring now, with each passing stride, their muscles pleaded with them to stop, to rest. But that was impossible—they had to keep sprinting at that near breakneck speed or all die.
“Come on, Banzai,” said Uvuli, panting, even as she nosed the side of the one who'd become something of a surrogate big brother to her, “you can do it.”
“Heheh... yeah...” the hyena grinned, even as his face twisted; he wasn't used to running this fast for this long.
“Shenzi...” Usiku said, appearing at the matriarch's side as if out of nowhere, “...your parents have made this trip. And so.. you will be able to as well.”
The female's eyes widened, and she only barely managed to yank her gaze forward, dodging another deadly rain of lava.
“How did you...”
“Now's not the time. Come on! Run!” the black hyena growled, then jumped into the air, diving over a bubbling part of the lava, “Don't slow down! MOVE!”
At the three-quarter mark, the Pride Landers really were starting to become exhausted. Not even Usiku and his daughter could pretend to be able to run at this speed for so long without ill effect. The Royal Family, for the most part, seemed to be able to hold out, if barely...
Except for Sarabi.
The wound at her flank had taken a lot of blood, muscle, and health from the aging lioness. She managed to grin and bear the agony, for now. But it remained to be seen if she was even physically capable of going on.
And then, of course, there was the constant distraction of her dying compatriots. It was horrible—a lioness would slip, or tire, and just for a second, they'd slow... and that's all it took. They sink into the lava slowly, or suddenly, or they'd burst into flame. But it didn't matter. All it took was one mistake for death to follow, and the Pride Landers, though the holiest beings in the area... were not perfect.
“Father...” Simba thought, almost begging, as he heard the heart- wrenching cry of yet another lioness falling to her hot, fiery death, “please... you cannot help us. But perhaps you can help my cousin, our great Warrior... and our only hope.”
“Wherever he is.”
Meanwhile, Uvuli was forced to jump over the fireball that that same lioness's death produced. Usiku had once worried that she'd become too much like him, too much like her grandfather... and not enough like their mother. But the intense, unconcealed look of shock and pain that etched its way across her young features told him that whatever else she was; stronger, powerful, quick, and yes, deadly... she was still, vitally, compassionate. Still capable of love. And therefore, still capable of jealousy, even hate.
“Wherever you are... I hope you're happy. Leaving us behind, when we needed you. ...Leaving me without even saying goodbye! Fuck you!”
The li-tigon shivered suddenly, for no reason at all. It was the same reaction he always had when yet another being cursed him as a freak. And yet, there was no one here doing that...
But his attention was returned to his grandmother with a snarl. She was getting just a little bit too close, and Freak wasn't about to take the threat that she posed lightly.
“Grandson...” she said, halting from her tearful sprint, coming to rest only a few yards from the li-tigon, whose body was now arranged in the stance of a Jungle fighter, with some elements of the powerful style that the Pride Landers, and even a hint of the speed-based Bloody Shadow's style.
“What do you want?” he practically snapped, and backed away, until there was good buffer between him and the old lioness.
“Hey, now,” Adhabu said, plodding over to her leader's side, almost leisurely, “you're the one that came here.”
“Yeah,” Sikia piped up, cocking her head at the li-tigon, “I mean... she should be asking you that.”
Freak merely growled at them, then stopped. He had no reason to feel anger, or any other emotion towards these Desert lionesses. Coming here was a waste of time...
“My apologies for trespassing on your land,” he said emotionlessly, bowing his head slightly, though not enough to give anyone a chance at striking him, “I'll now take my leave of you.”
“No!” said Samehe, moving instantly to cut the young male off from the north.
“Wait... please...” she said, almost begging, as tears continued to leak from her eyes.
“...Fine...” he muttered coldly, and sat down, licking at his paw almost angrily, trying to ignore Samehe.
“Grandson... what is your name?” she asked, slinking closer to him; for some reason, the li-tigon really didn't notice this.
“Freak,” he growled, he didn't even pick up the fact that Samehe's voice was approaching him... because it wasn't.
“Why... why would you call yourself that?”
This time, the li-tigon's ear twitched, as he swore he heard a tear fall mere feet from him, although Samehe's voice was still apparently emanating from the same spot he'd seen her at.
“Because that's what I am. And Mother died before she could name me. So—”
Freak was suddenly cut off by two powerful forelegs that wrapped under his shoulders, then behind his neck. He struggled furiously, shaking, roaring, but he was completely pinned; whatever was holding him wasn't budging an inch. The li-tigon got desperate, not even realizing that his assailant wasn't hurting him, at least, not yet, and tried to dig under the sand.
That didn't work at all, in fact, it only got him stuck. So he roared again, but the pin didn't lessen in the slightest. It was only then that he realized that he was unharmed... and that he recognized the scent of his attacker.
“...How did you do that...” he said in his flat voice, though the old lioness that was holding him to the ground could tell that he was, in his own way, grudgingly respecting her.
A good start, though his obvious unease, made clear by the way he shuddered at her touch, meant that Samehe had a good deal of work to do.
“I threw my voice,” the lioness said simply, wiping her tears away with a paw—she might have let her emotions show, but she had kept her head.
“You mean like this?” said a voice behind Samehe, causing her ears to twitch, yet her hold didn't loosen.
“Exactly...” she said softly.
There was a long moment of silence, as grandson and grandmother flexed their muscles, as if testing the strength of the other, feeling for weaknesses. It ended when Freak tried to bash his grandmother's head in with a powerful paw strike. Samehe saw it coming, and used her leg to block it, then flipped him around, slamming him onto his back, crushing half the air from his lungs and holding his neck in her jaws while her forepaws kept him pinned.
“Wait... this isn't going to make him trust me.”
“I am going to let you go... on the condition that you do not leave. Alright?” she asked, giving his neck some leeway.
“...Fine,” the li-tigon replied curtly, not meeting the lioness's eyes.
“I have no reason to believe that he won't bolt at the first opportunity,” Samehe thought, slowly relaxing her grip on her grandson.
It registered to her that if he did do that, she could chase him down and pin him again. She shook her head free from that thought immediately—she might be a warrior. But that didn't make it alright for her to look at her grandson, who she only wanted to... she didn't know what, but she certainly didn't want to look at Freak as an enemy.
The lioness then carefully released Freak, making sure to position herself so that even if he did suddenly decide to attack her, she wouldn't be caught off guard. Fortunately, however, the li-tigon didn't move until she was a good few steps away from him.
At that point, he got to his feet, and, after shuddering for a moment, checking himself for injuries. There were none. Good.
It was almost dusk, now, and the sun was setting in the sky like a slowly falling nectarine. Its rays splayed over the li-tigon, lending a bit of color to his darkish fur, illuminating his rarely-seen stripes; as if putting them on display for his grandmother. Samehe almost gaped. She would have, if not for the life she'd led; one that demanded perfect self-control. So she clamped her jaw shut, though the li-tigon could see the effort etched all over her face.
“...So...”
How to talk to him? A being that she'd had a paw in forcing into a life that must have been more difficult than hers? She couldn't straight-out ask him why he'd come to the Desert, could she? But he didn't look to be the kind of being to be so easily offended... or even affected.
“...Why have you come to the Desert?” she asked, as calmly as she dared, though a quavering tone was heard in the lioness's voice.
The li-tigon seemed to think, as if choosing his words. That made sense: eloquence wasn't a trait that had run in the family. But, in fact, Freak was considering whether he'd be served best by a statement of truth or a lie.
In the end, he decided to speak the truth. For now.
“To see you,” he said simply, the emptiness of his bleak, hopeless eyes boring into his grandmother.
Samehe seemed to guess that he was, at least, considering lying. And so, she spoke skeptically, refusing to let any more wetness enter her eye.
“Is that so?” the lioness said, almost scoffing, “why would you want to do that?”
Again, the li-tigon seemed to pause. But this time, Samehe didn't get the idea that he was thinking of lying. Perhaps it was that constant breathing rate that she managed to detect, or the way his eyes didn't leave her for a second, or perhaps it was that he was her grandson, her blood... that she knew him better than either of them could imagine.
“Because...” he started slowly, “because I... thought... that you'd ca—that you'd care,” Freak finished, as if allowing the words to tumble out of him, too exhausted to hold them back anymore.
Those words gave Samehe pause, and she couldn't speak again. Her efforts to contain her emotions failed, slightly, as her eyes, normally so hard and cold, softened.
She looked at the young male, and could see that he'd lived. That's it—just lived. Samehe had a few goals, very simple ones, that she held dearly, and worked towards every day. But Freak... she could tell that he'd been far, far too busy with just hanging on to ever have the hope of anything more.
“...I see that I am mistaken,” he said, almost softly, looking at his grandmother as if for the last time.
“...I would leave. But I promised those four,” he nodded at the young Desert Warriors, “that I would fight. ...They said that it was my duty, because I was a son of the Desert. My mother's son. Who was your daughter, and a daughter of the Desert. But...” Freak said, shaking his head at Samehe, as if he was somehow ashamed of being of her, “...I don't know what made my mother leave this place. But I know that it wasn't entirely her fault. It couldn't be—I knew her for only a few moments... but she... she did her duty as a mother, as best she could,” Freak said simply, confidently, as if it was a fact that couldn't be disputed.
“...But her name... Chukizo,” he said, and the fur on the back of everyone's neck pricked back, as the cold blast of disgust that the use of that word brought affected them, “how... why?” he said, his face changing slightly, just a fraction so... so that emotion actually showed on it, “why, Grandmother? Why, why, why would you call your daughter that? ...Msafiri told me about my Grandfather,” he remarked, and Samehe, despite herself, felt a prickle of worry in the back of her mind—if he knew that other big cats existed in this world, and had told others...
“...I'm sorry for what happened to you,” Freak said, lowering his head slightly, apologetically, as if he, somehow, was at fault for the actions of Shere Kahn, “...but Grandmother... his blood wasn't the only blood that ran in Mother's veins. Yours did as well...”
The lioness had closed her eyes, giving Freak the illusion that she was calm. However, inside of her body and mind, a terrible ball of guilt rolled about, threatening to break free of the barriers that so barely held it. Her tail twitched, just shy of lashing around, and yet, the Desert lioness held back...
“...and I don't know why you couldn't see that. Why you can't see it,” Freak said flatly, referring to himself, “I am as much of your's as I am of grandfather's. ...You... should care. ...Family... is supposed to care.”
The li-tigon stepped back several yards, before starting to turn.
“Tomorrow, I'll make good on my promise. But don't approach me...”
“...I don't trust you,” he muttered, as he walked away, out of sight over the nearest sand dune, his tail the last part of his body that Samehe could see.
Finally, when the leader of the last, determined defenders of the Desert sense that her grandson was well and completely out of earshot, she allowed herself to nearly collapse to the ground.
Sikia was the first at her side, though the others weren't far behind her at all.
“...My poor grandson...” she said softly, “...it was all I could do to conceal my emotions. ...But you weren't trying at all. I understand,” she said, wrapping her paws around her surrogate children, whom she'd taken on partly to help her compensate for the complete lack of a mother-role she played for the four tigons that she'd birthed, “if you had emotions... then you'd just die. It's your defense mechanism. The words of others do not hurt you, because the capacity to feel that kind of pain was long purged from your system. And now... you may never know the strength that emotions may give you.”
“They say that some emotions, when strong, and pure enough, can allow some beings to do incredible things. It is true, we experience it every day that we fight off the dogs of the Forest. And grandson... if there is one being that the Great Spirits may chose to grace with whatever powers they control... I can tell even now that it's you.”
Samehe slowly looked skywards, as her soldiers finished rubbing her with their heads, and looked along with her.
“Isn't that right... O King of the Jungle?”
It was a major event in the world of the lions. Such a thing came along only every other generation, and many cats went their lives without experiencing it.
They knew when it was, instinctively. They didn't have things such as calenders, and yet, each of them could feel when it was coming.
The Desert lions had no overwhelming need to go to a place where it was visible, at least, not as a group. In the past few months, relations with the Wet Forest had broken down, and though war hadn't broken out yet, everyone knew that it was just a matter of time before some relatively minuscule liberty by one side was blown out of proportion.
Samehe took her time to prepare. She'd spent the past few days eating more than she normally did, because she had no idea what she might find in the Southern Rocklands to the southeast of her home.
She was fortunate—there wasn't much. There was some prey, so she traveled in relative comfort, even though there was some threat posed by the strange, scaled beings that seemed to rule that area. They seemed to accept her presence, barely, so Samehe never allowed them to see her eating a prey animal that was, by any rights, theirs.
Finally, she passed through that area. It was fortunate that the lizards and the dogs didn't get along very well, otherwise a pack of them might have been sent through the Rocklands to take down who was already recognized as the most deadly lioness in the Desert.
And now, at the easternmost point that anyone knew of, Samehe waited. She was on the edge of a great, tall cliff, and the waves that crashed into it sprayed her with seawater. And she waited on... it wasn't long now.
Even here, the event was barely visible. She would just be close enough to it to do this...
The sun was far, far east of her. Hardly visible. And yet Samehe could see just a bit of darkness start to creep over it...
Now, the darkness, a circular shadow of sorts, was concealing half of the sun. And the lioness could start to feel the power of the Spirits shine in this, the most common of major celestial events.
“Great Spirits...” she started calmly, before the same pained, confused, rage she always felt at the thought of her rapist, “why... WHY?! Why did he do it? What could possibly push a creature so far?!” she yelled, tears streaming down the sides of her face, tears she had never, ever allowed herself to shed.
“Scar...” Chukizo purred, rousing her mate, who was sleeping peacefully at her side, “look... over there,” she said, gazing into the northwest, “what was that? The weather?”
(If you don't know what titanic atmospheric event I'm referring to, shame on you.)
“I don't know...” the dark lion said, moving up to peer out of the cave, a jolt of adrenaline flooding through his system as he swore he recognized a huge face in the clouds, “perhaps... no, that's irrelevant...” he said, then slumped down.
“What is it?” the tigon asked authoritatively, but Scar gave a loud, mocked snore.
“Taka...” she said in a mock-dangerous tone, before prodding the lion's side, causing him to grin, and look up at her, “what...?”
“Today is a special day. ...Well, any day that I spend with you, is,” he said, rubbing his snout on the tigon's, before continuing, “but there's an eclipse, today. I can feel it... I don't know if you can, though, my little abomination.”
“No, I can feel it,” Chukizo said, cuffing her mate's chin with a fisted paw, “an eclipse... what meaning does that have for us?”
“Well, they say that on an eclipse, no lion can die. It's a day of sacredness... many good things happen on days like this. Lost ones come home, bad times end... lions meet their mates...” he said, nudged the side of Chukizo's muzzle with his nose.
“And... if a cub is conceived during an eclipse?” she asked, her eyes locking onto the larger cat's.
“Then... no doubt, that being will have an extraordinary life...”
(For this part, please listen to This Land from the Lion King soundtrack. It can be found on youtube with ease.)
Samehe saw many things, many of the cold, brutally harsh, alone moments that were the only kind that Shere Kahn had known in his life.She watched a thousand nights that the tiger spent without a friend in the world, a thousand battles he found with no one at his side, a thousand enemies he defeated, only to return home to a thousand more days of solitude. The lioness saw the tiger get pulled further and further away from any chance at ever being able to live for anything, much less anyone... and so, by the time the Spirits brought her view to the day that he washed up, alone, abandoned, as always... a tear leaked from her eye.
This was a lioness that had been forced to bear cubs at a disturbingly young age, and a lioness that had, alone, taken down a half-dozen gazelles... she wasn't a wimp by any standards. And yet, by the time the Spirits finished answering her question, mercifully sparing her the images of her friend, she was crying.
They were the tears of hate and anger that had fallen when she'd asked the question. They were tears of sympathy...
“Chukizo...” the lioness thought, as she started the long journey home, “if you did survive... it's as much of your father's doing as it is of mine.”
“A question...” Samehe said, ignoring the strange looks she got from her soldiers, as she got to her feet, giving herself a mental shakedown, “did my grandson... did you ever see him display any emotion? Even the slightest amount?”
“Umm... ye!,” said Sikia, glad to see her leader acting normally again, “When me and Shindani stopped him at the waterfall, he was angry. But besides that... no, not really, no,” the young lioness said, her ears flattening to the back of her head slightly.
“Damn...” the oldest lioness sighed, but rubbed the top of Sikia's head with an extended paw, “oh well... it's time to get some rest.”
“Wait... what?” asked Adhabu, slowly, “...Samehe... come on. Be honest with us. You don't really want to sleep. You want us to sleep... so that you can go see your little grandson, right?”
The dark lioness's gaze narrowed at her leader, and Samehe sighed.
“Fine... yes, that's exactly what I want to do, cheeky.”
“But you heard what he said,” drawled Shindani, looking over her claws, before glancing up at Samehe, “'don't approach me', or some shit like that?”
The old lioness shot Shindani a glare, and the latter looked down meekly, and muttered a word of apology for her language.
“Even so, Shindani's right,” Msaka said, looking at Samehe with the same vaguely ominous intensity that befitted the gaze of a hunter, “he obviously wants to be alone. Are you sure it's smart to approach him? You might push him away...”
“...Not if I'm careful,” said Samehe, and she forced a dry grin onto her face, one that even the overoptimistic Sikia could see through, “get some rest, Warriors,” she said, and all four lionesses abruptly stopped thinking of doing otherwise, “I'll see you tomorrow... we're going to have a long, hard battle tomorrow...”
The lioness smiled once, certain that her soldiers would be up to it. Their lives had been chock-full of combat since day one, and it had hardened them for whatever Hell she might put them through.
“Now... grandson...”
Freak tossed and turned on the Desert sand. He couldn't understand it—he'd slept in far, far less comfortable places in his exploration of the Jungle, and done so without difficulty. So why, now, was he unable to get any rest?
“Curse Grandmother. It's her fault for not raising Mother properly, forget what she went through. And if Mother had been raised properly, maybe I would have been, too... maybe Maisha would have even lived more than a few damn seconds.”
The injustice of it all made the li-tigon want to roar out loud, to vomit, to go back over the sand dune and kill his own Grandmother—
But he suddenly calmed himself, panting. Doing that would do him no good... and, it was immoral.
“There's nobody on this planet that thinks that I'm anything but what I am. Even the Pride Landers acknowledge that I'm a freak... ...well...”
A small corner of the li-tigon's mind registered that he could hear Usiku walking away. And yet, he didn't turn to make sure, to wonder what the black hyena was doing so close to him. He was too busy tossing Uvuli up and down in the air, hearing her squeals and giggles give him something he'd never really felt before.
“Not happiness, not hope, not tranquility,” he thought, feeling his lips twist into a position that he'd never known them to be in before, as he thought of the three emotions he could never recall really knowing.
“...All of them? Something else? Something more?”
“Heheh... that's enough... let me down.”
The cub's voice brought the li-tigon's head back to the secular domain, and he allowed her smallish, squirming form to escape his paws. He watched her, in that strange, nearly innocent, naive manner of his, broken only by his dangerously large jaws and claws, as she walked over to slump over onto his paws.
“Uvuli...” Freak asked after a long while, slumping down as well, so that her much smaller form was almost enveloped by his, “...can I ask you something?”
His dark green eyes met the black cub's deep brown orbs, and he felt her tiny paw bat his nose once.
“Sure, go ahead,” she said, and continued to play with his nose, taking advantage of the way he didn't object at all, unlike her father and the other hyenas seemed to.
“...I know I'm a freak. But... what makes me one? Why do others see me as a freak? Why can't they see me as just another being in the Circle of Life? ...I don't care if no one ever loves me or sees me as friend... but I wish people would stop thinking that I'm so different from them the second they see me. Why can't they just see me... as me? Why do they have to see a freak instead?”
Uvuli's playful pawing had subsided with each passing word of the li-tigon's monologue. And by the end, she was motionless.
“I was made fun of in the Bloody Shadows a lot. Mom made me feel better about it, though... maybe I can make him feel better if I tell him what she always told me...”
“It doesn't matter,” she said, rubbing the li-tigon's nose with her paw, even as he cocked his head at her, “...it doesn't matter at all. All that matters is what you think of yourself. So if you think that you're normal, you'll be normal. If you think that you're great, you're great. And if you think you're a freak,” she sighed softly, “...then you're a freak.”
“...So...” the li-tigon said slowly, “...it's mostly because my name is Freak?”
“No,” Uvuli said curtly, “that's just an expression of something that you already hold true. It doesn't matter what your name is... but what you think of yourself... that's what matters...” she said quietly.
“I'm not making much sense, am I?” Uvuli sighed after a moment, batting at the li-tigon's nose again.
“...No. You're not,” he said curtly, but the black cub had been around him long enough to know that that was just how he spoke.
“...But... maybe one day, you will,” he said slowly, and looked down at Uvuli again, “and if you do... then what kind of name would suit me, do you think?”
Uvuli thought for a moment, then smiled. She motioned for the li-tigon to lower his ear to her, then whispered a single word into it.
“Really?” he asked, cocking his head at her again, not sure if she was joking, and the wide grin on Uvuli's muzzle confused him further, “...I'm not sure if I can live up to that name.”
The cub was taken aback, and scoffed. She thought of their first meeting, when he'd taken her hostage, and then almost fought with the Pride Landers and her father, after single-handedly massacring an entire army of hyenas.
“...I think you already have, goofball,” Uvuli grinned, and gave the li-tigon's nose another thwack with her paw.
Freak seemed to pause for a moment, and the black cub wondered if she'd somehow hurt him.
“Hey, are you—whee!” she suddenly grinned, as Freak tossed her into the air again once more.
“...Thank you, Uvuli...” he said after a moment, as the cub looked up at him from her lower vantage point, “...It... means a lot to me.”
Most females, especially female cubs would have ruined the moment just then by saying, “Awww,” or something like that. But not the daughter of Usiku... she merely smiled brightly at Freak. She'd never imagined that she might be able to change him, if just a little... and so the muzzle she felt rubbing her relatively small body surprised her even more.
“...She's just a cub. She had no idea what she was saying or doing. By now, she'd be a little older... I wonder how much she's changed.”
It wasn't a question of whether or not she had changed, but rather, a question of magnitude. Freak knew that the only real certainty in nature was that things changed, over time.
“Except for me. I'll always be like this.”
“What are you thinking about, Grandson?” said a voice not twenty feet to the li-tigon's right, causing him to jump to his feet, hissing defensively.
“I told you to stay away,” he growled, even as Samehe sat down, innocent but for the way her eyes didn't drop from Freak's for a second.
“I ignored your 'order'. You should know to respect your elders, cub,” she said, the hint of a snarl on her face.
“...Fine. You're here. Now what? We both stare at each another all night long? Because I'm not going to give you a shot at taking me while I'm asleep. It's like I said...I don't trust you.”
“Why not?” Samehe said, in a steely tone that quavered only once, “It's like you said... family is supposed to care.”
“You don't, though,” the li-tigon said.
He wasn't angry. There wasn't a hint of resentment in his voice. It was more of a tone of emptiness, if anything.
“You didn't care about Mother, and I see no reason to believe that you care about me.”
“Is that so?” said Samehe, padding a little closer to the li-tigon, ignoring the way his claws seemed to slowly extend of their own accord, “then why am I here?”
“...I don't know. You tell me.”
The lioness allowed herself a moment of grudging respect for her grandson. Maybe it was just because he was so apathetic that he was objective.. but he was incredibly difficult to convince of, she assumed, anything, much less to trust someone that had a big paw in making his life so hard.
“To get you to accept that I care. That I'm looking out for your best interests.”
The li-tigon bared his teeth, but his grandmother held... and realized that that was his version of a grin, albeit a noticeably forced and false one.
“Really? Then prove it.”
Samehe's expression hardened, but she forced herself to calm, and remember to look at things from Freak's perspective.
“How can I prove it?”
“...Alright,” she said, then started to move still closer to Freak.
The li-tigon growled loudly, and made a threatening claw-strike through the air as his grandmother approached, but she glared at him and spoke.
“I can't prove it unless you let me.”
Freak didn't relax, not for a second. But he stopped growling quite so loudly, and didn't claw towards Samehe again.
“What are you doing?” he snapped, turning quickly, as she apparently tried to flank him, walking to his side, then to his back.
“Calm down. I'm not going to hurt you,” the lioness said flatly.
Freak felt her paw press up against his shoulder, and resisted for a moment, trying to figure out what she was doing, before the force became to great, and he was forced to slump over. The li-tigon growled once, but then stopped, relying on his hearing to notify him of any potential attack.
“I said that I wasn't going to hurt you,” Samehe sighed, “trust me...”
“Why should I? It's your fault that Mother lived the way she had to. It's your fault that I've lived the way I've had to. Why should I trust you?” he demanded, yet in an almost broken way.
“Because...” the lioness said dryly, and if Freak knew more about emotions, he'd realize that she was just barely holding back tears, “you're my grandson... and I'm trying to fix things. ...I... want to love you. And I want you to feel the same way about me.”
The li-tigon tensed visibly at that, though, Samehe hadn't done anything to him yet.
“...Love doesn't exist,” he said flatly, “it's just an illusion...”
“It's a good one, then,” the lioness said just as seriously.
Freak didn't respond to that. But he bristled as he felt Samehe's tongue run over his neck, through the small, sporadic tufts of black hair that he called a mane.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, claws extending, puncturing the Desert sand.
His grandmother didn't open her eyes as she continued to lick him, and reached over to manipulate the back of his paw with her digits in a strange, complex way that made Freak's eyes narrow, as he watched his own claws retract without his will for them to do so.
“Chukizo died when you were only a few minutes old, right?” she said, then continued what she was doing.
“...Yes...” said Freak guardedly, still extremely tense, not yet trusting his grandmother.
“So, she never got a chance to do this. To give you a bath,” Samehe explained, recalling that many happy mother lionesses in the Desert Pride had said that that vitally important action would forever bond mother and cub.
“No. So? There were plenty of lakes and rivers in the Jungle. I bathed myself.”
“Doesn't matter,” Samehe sighed, starting to clean the top of her grandson's head, pausing once, to cub her cheek against him, so that a tear spilled from her eye into Freak's, “she could never show you that she cared like this... so I will.”
The li-tigon relaxed slightly, and allowed his grandmother to bathe the rest of his face without complaint. She didn't know whether to be glad for that or disappointed—just how much progress had she made in her mission to give her grandson emotions?
He curled up, then twisted to his feet, in a vague imitation of the way he'd seen Sikia do the same. A smile flashed across Samehe's lips at that.
“He's a quick learner.”
“Grandmother,” he said, although in a tone that suggested he had, at least, some respect for the lioness, “...you lionesses of the Desert move, and fight, in a way that's... different... from anything that I've ever seen before. The Pride Landers used to fight powerfully, in linear motions, and only thought of flanking their enemies when there were more than one of them, when they could surround them. I taught them to be... sneaky, to surprise foes, to distract them, and confuse them. ...You guys do something different. It's like you act as if you're going to do the expected... then, suddenly, and flawlessly change, to attack from an unexpected angle, or with an unexpected attack. When I hunted with Msaka... she did something that I can't explain. She jumped,” Freak said, speaking quickly, earnestly, intent to learn the secrets of the fighting style that Samehe had developed, with some influence from Msafiri, “then curled up, on her side... then twisted out, and extended her claws, and killed all the gazelles, just like that. And then, they said that you're better than all of them... is that true, Grandmother?” the li-tigon asked, tilting his head in that strange, distinctive manner of his.
Samehe couldn't help but feel proud, and took a moment to remember to thank the Desert Warriors for their indirect praise.
“And other thing, Grandmother...” Freak said, “you called them the Desert Warriors. As if you were called something else altogether. What name do you go by?”
“...Perceptive,” Samehe said, smiling openly now, “our enemies, the dogs of the Dark, Wet Forest, call me... the Slayer of a Thousand.”
“Does that mean...” Freak said slowly, “...that you've killed... a thousand of your enemies?”
“I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed of that.” (I'll leave it up to the reader to decide who's thinking that.)
The lioness didn't answer. She seemed to tense herself, and Freak watched as her muscled rippled in a way that made no sense to him.
“What is she doing?”
The li-tigon's gaze was then yanked twenty feet into the air... tracking his grandmother. The old lioness then seemed to raise her paws, and Freak watched, incredulous, as the Desert sand reached up to cloak her. Then, all too quickly, it fell... but his grandmother was nowhere to be seen. He took a second to listen, to feel the Desert under his paws, much like he'd done in the Jungle, the Bloody Shadows, and almost been able to do in the Lower Plains. And so Freak was able to spin, just before his Grandmother could surprise him from the rear.
“Impressive, isn't it?” Samehe asked, looking at her grandson confidently, and Freak couldn't help but nod, albeit curtly, “But if you're smart, and strong... you can defeat the illusion of invincibility—”
“--That beings strong enough to challenge even the Circle of Life can cast...” Freak finished, he'd said nearly the same words not so long ago in the Jungle, when he'd prepared the counterassassins for the invasion of the Shadows... he felt nostalgia almost overtake him, as he remembered the powerful bonds of camaraderie that had allowed them to make the Shadows bleed.
Then the li-tigon realized: perhaps, he could achieve a similar sense of belonging amongst the remaining Desert Pride.
“Yes,” Samehe said, and looked at Freak meaningfully.
She said nothing. But the li-tigon understood the feelings that she couldn't easily put into words.
“You really are my grandson.”
“...Can you teach me to do the same? ...I... move differently than most... any lions do. I think it's because of Grandfather... but I can imitate most actions that I see. Even improve upon them,” Freak said, then paused, before speaking again, asking a question that had weighed heavily on his mind for his entire life.
“Grandmother,” he said, in his unafflicted, flat voice, though the old lioness could swear she heard it crack, if just in the slightest, “what... am I? You're a lioness. My father was a lion. But Mother... and Grandfather... what were they?”
Samehe sighed. She knew that this question would arise soon. But why did it have to be this soon?
“Your grandfather, my child...” she said, lowering her voice, stepping closer to her grandson, who didn't, for the first time, flinch or back away, “...was a tiger.”
“...A tiger?” Freak asked, then paused before saying more, “...I think Msafiri told me that. She said it... like the way a lot of people have said my name. Like it's something bad. Something evil. ...Are all tigers evil? Is that why Grandfather—”
“No,” Samehe said sharply, cutting her grandson off, “tigers are... cats. Like us. But they're different. They come from a different land, and live differently than we do. Lions live in a pride. Tigers don't. They're solitary animals, and the moment they become adults, must remain so for the rest of their days. And if they don't have cubhoods that provide them with enough affection and closeness to prepare them for the lives of a hermit... they're always in pain. Unless, somehow, they find another cat that accepts them...”
“So...Grandfather was in pain? Is that why...”
Samehe nodded.
“You've forgiven him?” the li-tigon asked, cocking his head.
He'd always been of the opinion that everyone was a threat, that's how he lived his life. And yet, he know knew of many that would never, ever harm him. The Pride Landers... and now his very own Grandmother. To forgive such a being... that concept was almost beyond his grasp.
Almost.
Samehe didn't even need to pause before she nodded, looking intently at the li-tigon, knowing that his reaction to this could tell her much about him.
He seemed to have, however, no reaction. He seemed to freeze, as the power of that single, brief motion struck him. And then, the lioness could hardly believe her senses as her eyes widened, as she felt Freak pad over to her, and start to rub her with the blunt smoothness of his head.
“Thank you, Grandmother...” he said, in a voice so soft and gentle she would never have believed him capable of it.
The lioness opened her mouth, then closed it. She was going to ask Freak what he was thanking her for... but she understood.
“If I can forgive Shere Kahn for what he did... can others forgive you for being who... what... you are?”
She didn't know. And she, like every lion, every tiger, and some other beings, had felt evil in the world increasing, as if rising up to challenge the delicate balance of nature that allowed beings to grow, to live, to love.
But her forgiveness of her forced mate said that there was still hope. And Freak's sudden change, or rather growth, of a heart said that there was, perhaps, more than just a little hope for the world.
He didn't shed a tear. She didn't either. But he didn't break off from what he was doing too quickly, he nuzzled Samehe as long as he felt was necessary.
“Maybe I've taught him to love family. Maybe I can teach him to love others. ...Sikia. Shindani. Adhabu. Msaka. There were never any males for you. But perhaps my grandson can fill that void in your hearts?”
Perhaps he could. But perhaps something else could happen as well. The jealousy of a female is horrible, sometimes fatally so. But Freak... he could do anything. Anything that he set his heart to.
“Emotions are strength. And if you feel deeply enough for some cause, then you'll have the strength to make it succeed... to blossom. Grandson... you must have a lot of love stored in your heart from never being able to release any of it.”
“Grandmother,” Freak said, from several feet away from Samehe, as he was, oddly, in his strange variation of a Desert fighting stance, flanks low, shoulders high, paws wide apart, though the lioness knew that he was not, could not, threaten her, not anymore, “...can you teach me to fight... as a Desert Warrior?”
Samehe seemed to think for a moment. And then, without any pretense, suddenly swatted at Freak with a blow that, if her claws at been extended, would have cut his ribs horrendously. But the li-tigon blocked it, and Samehe had to duck a hasty counter, a bite, or nip, in this case, aimed at the back of her head.
“Hmm...” she said, rather impressed, especially that Freak didn't resort to a linear Pride Lander tactic, like clouting her with the same paw he'd used to block her attack, or flick sand into her eyes as she would bet her life that he'd do if he wasn't trying to learn, as he put it, to fight like a Desert Warrior.
“I suppose I can,” the Grandmother said, before proceeding to give the li-tigon a long lecture on the underlying basis of the Desert fighting style, even as midnight neared.
Cats can't write notes. But the way that Freak didn't seem to blink, didn't yawn, and didn't look away as he obediently listened to his grandmother, hanging onto her every word as Sikia did, coldly taking in their wisdom as Shindani did, considering how to apply them to his prowess as Msaka did, and realizing, as Adhabu did, that the purpose of fighting was never to harm or to kill... but rather to survive. And yet, there was a simple cubishness about the li-tigon that made Samehe wonder how he could have possibly gotten through life without anyone, anyone to tell him right from wrong, anyone to teach him to hunt, or anyone for him to curl up next to at night, to tell him that he was cared for, that he was loved.
“Grandmother,” Freak said suddenly, as Samehe realized she'd been silent for a few moments, “...it's late. We should sleep. Tomorrow is important.”
“My first battle in a desert. Alongside Grandmother and the Desert Warriors. It's very important.”
“You're right, Grandson,” Samehe said, slumping down at Freak's side, coincidentally to his south.
“And tomorrow, we'll see if you can really fight like a Desert Warrior... the morning training session should let you know if you're capable of it or not. And after that... we'll see if your performance in battle will give us an idea... for a name. For you.”
“You won't have to be a freak anymore...” the lioness muttered, as she realized that Freak had moved around... so that he was in between her and the dogs of the Dark Forest.
“I'm proud to be your Granny Samehe.”
(This chapter is in excess of eight thousand words. If you're still reading it now, then please, take the time to give back to the community and write a review. Because if you're still with me at this point, you obviously like this story. Remember, five reviews are needed to go on... al-Mujahid out.)
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