THE LION KING: THE FREAK

The Lion King: The Freak
Chapter 13: All's Fair II: Love

(Check out my Balto fanfiction. Read this alongside My Name Chapter Five. Sorry for the delay, what can I say...)

It had taken the Desert Warriors some time, and some awkward looks between each another before they all finally gave up on their individualized attempts to follow Samehe. Then, finally, they relaxed, trusting each another, and slept. Sikia was on her back, foot twitching slightly, inches from her sister, who was sleeping on her paws, growling softly now and then. Msaka and Adhabu weren't far from the sisters, with the darker lioness laying, half-awake, listening to the dusty tan huntress sleeping next to her.

Now and then, she clawed at the sandy, already rotting chunk of gazelle that was her meal, forcing herself to choke it down.

“...Shindani's got Sikia. Sikia's got Shindani. Msaka's got her love of hunting, and when that's not enough, she's go t Sikia. Samehe's got all of us...”

“But I don't have anything. Or anyone.”

The thought didn't depress the dark lioness, and she licked some sandy blood from her paws and muzzle, thinking on.

“And for some reason, I don't even feel like the rest of the Pride's alive. Samehe's grandson came from the Bloody Shadows, through the Lower Plains... damn. I just don't get the feeling he'd have missed them...”

She sat around, for a long while, contemplating things. Oh, she rested, yes, but she didn't sleep. She couldn't—she hadn't been able to since she was tortured in the Dark Forest. And soon, she arrived at a conclusion.

“Life for me's been nothing but pain. Msaka and Freak aren't the only ones who are named aptly,” she thought with a tired grin, as she rolled on her back to face the night sky.

She wanted, so desperately, to believe that somewhere, someone, anyone, was looking down on her, protecting her. But a moment later, the dark lioness turned away bitterly.

“The others have gotten lucky... getting out of ambushes cause of a shift in wind, or having an enemy make a stupid mistake.”

“But I haven't. Heck—I've had the opposite. Whenever I try to set up a trap for the dogs, the wind shifts, and blows my scent towards them, even if it's been constantly in the other direction for the whole day. Whenever I'm on a solo mission and try to retreat, their reconnaissance patrols come back right on top of me. I'm just like a vent for bad luck, and pain...”

Adhabu realized that the sun had started to peek over the western edges of the Desert dunes. She yawned, and sat up, watching it rise, feelings its rays wash over her. It warmed her, physically, but the lioness was now quite certain that nothing could warm the frostiness in her heart.

“It's a good thing that I care about these guys...” she said, smiling slightly, as Msaka stirred in her sleep slightly, brushing against her paw, “I guess I'll hang around to keep them safe.”

Suddenly, Sikia awoke with a yawn, greeting the day with a smile, as well as whoever she happened to be around. Her optimism was almost infectious, even if she didn't rub her head all over the dark lioness's body.

“Mm... 'morning, Adhabu,” she purred, before slumping over again, facing the west, yawning—Samehe would no doubt be back soon, unless Freak did something to her, and with the imminent battle today, the youngest Warrior needed her rest.

“'Morning, Sikia... how'dja sleep?” the dark lioness rasped, as if she was thirsty; but no, her voice always sounded like this.

“Meh... once I got to sleep, pretty good. Hey... you think Samehe's okay? She normally wakes us up with the sun.”

“...Sure she's okay,” the slightly older lioness said, though she looked away, and Sikia heard that quick pause before she spoke, “Maybe her grandson can beat her in the Jungle... but now, she's got the upper paw, and there's no way he can stand up to her.”

Suddenly, the loud sounds of growling, hissing, roaring combat awoke all the warriors, and made them get to their feet. As one, they dashed up to the lip of the sand dune, and saw Freak, rolling along the Desert sand, fighting with Samehe.

“She's winning. Let's surround him in case he tries to escape. Mov—”

“Wait...” Sikia said, cutting off her sister, “...wait...”

The young lioness watched closely, as she and the rest of the Desert Warriors stood on the tips of their toes, barely holding back an attack.

“Look...”

Though the fight looked genuine, it was a mock-up. Don't misunderstand—it was not play, it was combat training. Claws were kept sheathed, death-giving blows held back, but blood was spilled, bruises dealt regardless.

Still, only a few moments later, the two combatants separated, both breathing heavily. They looked at each another with steely eyes, them calmed.

“Good job, grandson. You almost had me,” the lioness said, patronizingly—though the li-tigon had held his own for the first part of the fight, the silent part, when both had practiced the delicate art of quiet assault, his grandmother had clearly won: the powerful blow she'd allowed to glance off the back of his neck, the kick at his torso that would have gutted him if she'd extended her claws would both have either killed or incapacitated Freak.

And though both cats were winded and tired, they were both vitally alive. And Samehe couldn't conceal the fact that her grandson had given her one Helluva workout.

“Thank you,” the li-tigon said simply, before he and Samehe started to walk towards the impressed Desert Warriors, “do you really think I'll be able to fight off the Dogs of the Dark Forest when the battle takes place in the Desert?”

“There's no question about that,” said Adhabu, not Sikia, as the pair approached the other lionesses, “they're bad outside of their swamp, anyway... you're gonna kick some serious a—”

“ANYWAY,” said Sikia loudly, “that was really impressive, Freak. Hmm... yep. We certainly need to think of a new name for you. Anyone got an idea for one?”

One by one, the Desert Warriors shook their heads. Samehe, on the other hand, looked just as passively apathetic as her grandson generally did. But the truth was that both were thinking of the same name, though they didn't know it.

“Well,” said Shindani with a shrug, “who knows, maybe in the heat of battle, one'll just come to you, right?”

“...Right...” said Msaka, “anyone hungry? I don't think there are any gazelles left... but there might be a couple of ostriches to the north. Not much, but still...”

“No, there's no time,” said Samehe with a sigh, and, from her body language, everyone present could tell she was going to make the announcement that Freak's appearance had interrupted.

The li-tigon understood as well, and padded over to sit down among the Desert Warriors, in between Adhabu and Msaka, specifically, and sat, ears erect, facing his grandmother.

“I found out where they're hiding the Lord of the Forest.”

The Desert Warriors visibly bristled at that. Though they'd never even seen the leader of their enemies, they'd managed to press a few details out of the mouths of dying dogs. He was, supposedly, neither a tyrant nor a pacifist. When the war had started over a border dispute, all those years ago, he had held a vote on whether to fight or cede the land to the Desert Pride. There were few votes to the latter.

Don't misunderstand—he wasn't the kind of fool to risk his own life by personally engaging the lions. He was the realistic kind of leader, who knew that his life was better used in careful, strategic planning—planning that could keep his brothers and sisters, not subordinates, alive.

“Really? Where?” asked Shindani, quickly.

“He's not in the southernmost part of the Forest, farthest from us, like we had though. He's in the west.”

“Have you ever been to the west part of the Forest?” asked Sikia, tilting her head in curiosity.

The old lioness shook her head curtly.

“No. That's why they've hid him there—aside from being packed with dogs, there are the natural boundaries to think of. You all have been in the Wet Forest, a little bit, perhaps a hundred yards. Aside from you, of course,” she gestured to her grandson.

The Desert Warriors nodded back, a little sadly. Though the dogs had made advance after advance into their territory, and they lost some of the Desert almost every battle, they'd only made a real offensive once. And it hadn't gone well—a pack of dogs had circled around them, and rather than attack the Desert Warriors, had attacked the aging male and his mates. It was almost a disaster—two lionesses were killed, and the alpha had barely held them off.

(NOTE: when I say pigs, I'm not referring to cute little things like Pumba. Ever heard of Hogzilla?)

“But the western part of it... heheh... there are sudden pools of water with no visible bottom. Quicksand is everywhere. There are crabs, that live in colonies, like ants... I've seen them tear apart a pig in seconds. Oh, pigs are what the dogs eat mostly... there are many of them. But it's easy to see why dogs only target them out of complete desperation: they are like us, adapted to taking prey together. Of course, there are outliers,” Samehe shrugged at Msaka, “but we hunt best together, when we can surround our prey and defeat it through sheer force. However... if we were impossibly to find a way to sneak up on a pig, and kill it... we could use them as food. Because when pigs are surrounded...” the old lioness gave another dark chuckle, “they can dangerous.”

“Grandmother...” said Freak, “I... raised myself in the Jungle. Not only did I have to take prey alone... I found that, if I'm forced to... I don't hunt like lions. It could be because of what Grandfather was.”

“Is that so... well, if we manage to push the dogs out of the Desert, I'll keep that in mind.”

A chuckle rolled through the group, except, of course, for the li-tigon, who only shrugged.

“So...” said Adhabu, “we know where the Lord of the Dark Forest is. But you just told us all about how dangerous it is... what can we do about it? I mean... we can't even get around in the normal part of the Wet Forest easily,” she rasped, “so how can we get there... without them noticing? Because, sorry for the language, if we get caught there, we're fucked.”

“You're right,” said Samehe, “but there's little that you can't learn. You're strong,” the old lioness said, looking at her grandson, and each of the Desert Warriors, ending on Adhabu, looking squarely at the dark lioness, “which is why today, while you four battle, me and my Grandson will go into the Dark Forest. Maybe even the Western Forest. We'll learn how to get around there... and then he'll take turns teaching the rest of you. ...You're a good fighter, Grandson,” Samehe said, “but if these four go without me for some time... there won't be much of the Desert left to defend. Each of us were necessary every single day, and even then, we've only slowed the dogs. We've never stopped them. And I don't know that we ever will... it's been too long. We have to assume that the rest of our pride has either been forced out of the area, or k—... or killed.”

Samehe's expression was unreadable as she looked down, eyes shadowed. The Desert Warriors tensed, their breaths catching in their throats. They'd been fighting and risking their lives for so long now, motivated by the idea that even if they died, their family, at least, would live on.

But that didn't seem to be the case...

Freak had told his grandmother about the strange way the scent of lions had simply led to the Bloody Shadows... and vanish. And the very name of the place offered an explanation as to what had happened to them.

“So once all of us are capable of getting around in the western Forest...” said Freak, as he tilted his head to the side, “what do we do with the Lord of the Forest? Killing him will only escalate the war...”

“You're right,” Samehe sighed, “we're going to capture him, and force a truce. We can peaceably coexist...”

But that rung false. All the Desert Warriors knew it—there was too much hate between the Forest and the Desert for peace to ever last for long, at least, as long as both sides lived.

“Or we could force them to go... somewhere. I don't know where,” said Shindani.

“But... we can't possibly hold the Lord! They'll try to get him back...” Sikia said, ears flattening to the back of her head—she didn't know what they could do, but taking the leader of their enemies hostage.

“I know. I know. But we can't just do nothing. We have to try to take him... because we can't hold out for much longer,” the old lioness said.

“In case you haven't noticed, cubbies, I'm not getting any younger,” Samehe said, looking at her troops confidently, not an inkling of fear in her aged, but strong eyes, “I've got maybe a year left in me at the most. And what happens after that? Sure, you guys should be able to hold off the enemy... but soon enough, they'll be able to overpower you. We could never win this war from the beginning,” the lioness sighed, a great burden leaving her shoulders as she admitted that, “not if we fought force-to-force. No... now, we have to fight dirty, and pray that it works out. This isn't a risky tactic,” she growled, “this is desperation.”

There was a long moment of tense, awkward silence. Not even Sikia dared to say something to break it.

“Grandmother... this isn't necessary,” Freak said, “join me in the Jungle. It's safe... there are no other predators there. There should be enough food for us all. You're all welcome to my home,” the li-tigon said, glancing around at the Desert Warriors.

The old lioness froze.

“No. No. Never. This Desert is our home,” she said, almost growling, “we will never abandon it.”

“Grandmother...” Freak said slowly, calmly, sitting, even as the Desert Warriors drew away at the glare their leader directed at him, “you can abandon the Desert. Or you can abandon any hope for a peaceful life. It's your decision... and I'll support it.”

“My home isn't a home without others to make it feel like home. And I don't believe that Mother or Father will ever visit me again... we did not part on good terms.”

The li-tigon's last thought made him feel a pang of guilt that didn't show on his deep tan, striped face.

“...My decision stands,” said Samehe, trying to sound as authoritative as possible, “the Desert is our home, and we will not abandon it, unless we are faced with no other option. And now, we are faced with an opportunity to end this war. No, Grandson, we will defeat our enemy. Mark my words,” the old lioness expounded, practically growling, “within a month, we will capture the Lord of the Forest.”

The Desert Warriors visibly tensed at that. That promise was reckless at best, suicidal at worst They'd scarcely set a single paw into the Dark Forest for their entire lifetimes... but no Samehe expected them to learn to get around in its most unnavigable area, silently, and then capture their enemies' single most-defended asset?

“Samehe...” said Adhabu, in an uncharacteristically soft voice, “the Desert is our home because the ones we love lived here. But now that that's no longer the case—”

“Enough!” said the old lioness loudly, with just the hint of a snarl in her voice, “we will dishonor the memories of our entire pride if we do not defend their home! Our alpha may and his mates may have died... but so long as a single Desert Warrior raises a paw against the enemy dogs, our pride, us, the Desert Pride, is not dead. So do your duty,” Samehe's voice had gone from vaguely aggressive to somewhat motherly and supportive so quickly, “and don't allow the Desert Pride to die. Not today.”

Freak closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. He didn't completely understand the ideals of honor; all he saw were ways to stay alive, because for so long, that had been his only goal. Perhaps, though, Samehe knew that there was more to life? The li-tigon trusted his Grandmother... but this, this just didn't seem like a good way to stay alive.

“Come, Grandson. Warriors... we can't afford to lose more than five hundred yards this day. Can you hold the dogs of the Wet Forest back?”

The lionesses' answer was not verbal. Together, they assumed their similar, but slightly different fighting stances, and made their loud, triumphant roars roll throughout the Desert...

Samehe smiled once, confidently, before she jerked her head, gesturing Freak to walk with her. The dogs' front lines were only a mile away. They could be easily passed; however, once the two cats entered the Wet Forest, the real fun would begin...

“Down,” said Samehe, and both she and her Grandson immediately dove beneath the surface of the Desert.

Twenty seconds later, a patrol of dogs, three or four of them walked by. All were nervous, and all were paying close attention.

“They're bigger and stronger than hyenas. And it looks like they have better teamwork too... it really would be hard to kill them. I wonder how many there are?” the li-tigon thought.

“Alright... they've gone. Let's go above ground now, while we can... the front should be a few dunes away. We'll go under them, then travel through the swamp on foot,” said Samehe, as she peeked her head out of the sand, shaking some of it off from her head.

“Yes, Grandmother,” Freak murmured.

Together, they padded along as silently as possible. The lioness held out a paw to signal for Freak to halt, which he did. His ears remained perked up, however, and he watched as his grandmother approached the next dune cautiously. She looked over it, just a little, then moved back.

“That's the front... there are a dozen dogs, we can't afford to try to take them out quietly. At most, we'll be able to take out three without anyone noticing... but then, the alarm will get raised after they're missed,” Samehe whispered, “we'll go under them... but be careful. Their sentries are very, very observant, and it'll be difficult for two big cats to get past them.”

“We can do it...” Freak said, before sliding into the Desert again.

“Stay frosty, soldiers... they could attack at any moment.”

The eleven other dogs didn't flinch, didn't turn, didn't give a single signal of acknowledgment. Their leader, an older dog; not a decrepit one, but rather, an experienced fighter, grinned once: his subordinates really had their minds in the game, they hadn't even noticed he'd said a word.

“They'll get old too fast... I'll give them a little shock...”

The older dog stood a few feet behind his troops. He took in a long, deep breath, trying to keep from laughing as he did so... this would make his subordinates jump right out of their skins.

“OH MY GOD, SAMEHE'S RIGHT BEHIND YOU!”

Time seemed to slow down for the pack leader. He was able to watch, with hilarity, as the other dogs jumped, dove, and spun around, their tongues flapping out of their mouth at the speed of their motions in their effort to engage the apparent threat—

But the younger canines merely growled in disappointment as their leader lay on his back, laughing his tail off.

“With all due respect, sir,” fumed one gray and black-spotted dog, “any distraction could spell our deaths, or the deaths of any number of our friends. It's—”

“Oh, come off it,” said the alpha, wiping a tear of mirth from his eye, “come on... think about it,” he said patronizingly, looking at his troops with disdain for their tight-assedness in his eyes, “just what are the odds that anything has happened in those ten seconds?”

“What an idiot,” chuckled Samehe, several hundred yards and a few minutes later, as she rose from the Desert's sands and gave her self a shake, “I wonder what he'd do if he found out that I really was right behind them?”

“What exactly was the purpose of that foolish display?” said a muffled voice to the lioness's left, until her li-tigon grandson crawled his way to the Desert's surface, “it served no function that I could understand.”

The lioness merely shrugged, and turned to face the foreboding Forest in front of them. She could only see perhaps a dozen yards into it—vines, trees, and all manner of moss and other foliage gave the Dark Forest a visibility range of no farther than fifteen or so yards, at best.

“Grandson, pay attention,” she said, speaking with great intensity, “this place is, no doubt, unlike the Jungle. You will have to follow my lead closely, and obey all orders immediately and completely, even if they seem foolish or crazy. The alternative is death, or capture. Is that understood?” she asked, managing to not sound condescending or domineering.

“Of course, Grandmother,” the li-tigon said, with his ears perked up.

Samehe gave a slow, approving nod to her grandson, and then started to move carefully into the Wet Forest. The ground was muddy, though the dense goo often suddenly have way to puddles of water, making speedy travel impossible—it was a natural area-denial measure. Apart from the ground, a disquieting smell of rot and decay filled both cats' nostrils.

Still, by sticking to he shadows and pausing every so often, to become one with the Forest, as Freak might put it, they made good progress and went by totally unnoticed, though it was rare to see many dogs around.

The li-tigon was paying close, close attention, to the point where a fly couldn't land without him noticing it and reacting. Samehe approved of this, and yet, after a full hour of trudging through the swamp, the silence got a little oppressive.

“Grandson...” the lioness said softly, and Freak made a grunt of acknowledgment as he plodded up to the lioness's side, “the Pride Landers... what are they doing right now?”

The li-tigon visibly shuddered, and didn't speak for a long moment.

“I abandoned them. They... were family. They wanted me. They needed me. They loved me. And... I needed them...”

“Maybe, someday soon, when Grandmother sees the utter pointlessness of this war... perhaps all of the living members of the Desert Pride can make a new home, and have new lives, in the Pride Lands?”

Freak sighed, and Samehe paused at that, so that her grandson was ahead of her by several yards before he, too halted.

“I don't know.”

“This is it!” Simba yelled, “we've made it!”

The Lion King's face turned into a snarl nonetheless—though they were on the home stretch, on the cusp of survival. The end was in sight, literally, only a hundred yards away. And yet, every time one of his padded paws struck the surface of the molten lake, they burned...

“I'm sorry, son,” said an exhausted voice to the tan lion's right, “I can't go any further...”

Simba looked just in time to see his mother, his poor, injured mother start to slip...

“NO!”

The Royal family managed to support Sarabi, barely. They sprinted along, a jumble of limbs, closely followed by the hyenas and the few lionesses that had managed to hold on—

They broke free of the lava, but were moving too fast to quickly stop. One by one, all the Pride Landers overshot the level portion of the Western Volcanoes, and tumbled, down, down, down, for hundreds of yards until they smashed into the Jungle's familiar trees, and stopped.

Dazed, Simba managed to get to his feet.

“Sound off... who's not dead...” he panted, grimacing in pain at his severely burned paws, before slumping over and licking at them to cool them down.

The tan lion listened to the series of groans and grunts of pain—all the hyenas had survived. They'd lost many lionesses, but there were a good half-dozen left. The Royal Family was okay...

“My paw...” whispered Sarabi, “it's...”

When Simba looked over at his mother, he had to stop himself from retching. The old matriarch's paw was burned off, cauterized the instant it slipped below the surface of the lava. No pain showed on her face... the lava was so hot that it had burned away her nerve before it could relay its message of agonizing pain to her brain.

“You're okay. You're alright,” said the Lion King, as if he was convincing himself of that, “you can still walk, right?”

Sarabi then got to her feet, and tried to... she could. But she wasn't nearly as fast or agile as she had been mere hours ago.

Simba sighed, then looked to the East. The Jungle, to all outward appearances, was the same. And yet, the Lion King had to suppress a shudder as he peered into its densely-packed forests and thick, wet-looking shrubs.

It had rained recently.

And yet, though the water had cleansed the Jungle of the dirt and grime of the past few days, it had failed to wash away the traces of one creature.

“Uncle Simba?” said a voice to the Lion King's relative rear, “do you think that—”

“It doesn't matter,” said Kiara shortly, cutting Uvuli off, “he doesn't care about us anymore. It's his fault that we're in this mess right now,” the lioness said, attempting to be angry.

However, her expression was one of barely concealed sadness, as she looked at her grandmother's paw; or rather, lack thereof. The old lioness's stump made her look like an amputee... but Sarabi looked at her granddaughter with disappointment.

“Kiara,” she said sharply, and the young lioness looked up, “don't think that this little injury will stop me from living the remainder of my life to the fullest. Get it?” she demanded, “and don't talk about your father's cousin in that manner. He's our warrior,” the old matriarch said, with more than the hint of a snarl on her lips.

The youngest lioness was taken aback, so much so that Kovu waved a paw in front of her staring gaze to make sure that she was still really with them.

“...Warrior?” Kiara asked blankly after a moment, tilting her head at her grandmother, then parents, then the rest of the older Pride members.

“Cub,” Tanga said, sighing somewhat, licking his paws to cool them off, “ever heard of the Gemini Theory?”

(I just had the biggest brain-blast here.)

“Grandmother?” Freak asked softly, tilting his head at his paws, his brow furrowing somewhat, “why am I sinking?”

Samehe's breath caught in her throat.

“Don't. Move,” she said, in a strange tone halfway in between terror and anger, “I'll get you out of it.”

The li-tigon's first instinct was, in fact, to move, and to move quickly, to step out of the thick, sludgy, mud-like substance that seemed to drag him downwards. But he froze.

“Grandmother,” the li-tigon suddenly said sharply; unable to turn his head, “dogs.”

Samehe looked up, holding several vines, and froze.

“Son of a bitch...”

No, literally.

“So, how're your cubs, Hakir?” asked the slightly younger, thinner dog, as they made their way through the northern central part of the swamp; the part most notorious for quicksand slicks aside from the impassible west.

“They're doing well...” the older, more hard-looking canoid said, and glanced over at his comrade, “isn't it incredible that even in this terrible war, life and love blossom? Even now, amidst all this chaos, cubs can be raised...?”

The younger dog's face took on a lopsided smile, and he chuckled once at his de facto mentor.

“You're a real poet. I see why love blossoms for you,” the other dog said, before looking down.

“Hey... Khati... cheer up,” Hakir said, his hard, battle-scarred shoulder just toching the younger male's; that iota of physical contact speaking what even the romantic couldn't express in words, “love blossoms for everyone.”

Khati turned to face his comrade. His fur was a monotonous shade of brown, compared to Hakir's patchwork of black, gray, and olive, and his eyes were as mundanely black as Hakir's were inspiringly green. But the far side of his face, the side that had been invisible to Hakir until now... was scared. Not like the battle souvenirs that Hakir and many older dogs wore, no. It was a terrible, ragged wound, the only visible reminder of what he'd suffered, as a cub, at the paws of the Slayer of the Desert... the cruel, merciless Samehe.

“...Even for a freak?”

Hakir faced his young companion without flinching or looking away, and yet, without staring at his horrible injury.

“Even for a freak.”

“They're getting closer...” the li-tigon murmured, “and I'm still sinking...”

“Shush!” Samehe hissed, and Freak fell silent, even as the quicksand dragged him deeper, and deeper...

He jerked his head to the sky, and that motion cost him several inches, several inches straight down int the muck. Leaves fell down all around him, and on top of him, and a thick, tough vine was thrown just next to his jaw—

Samehe was hidden, out of sight, but as Freak caught the rope in his muzzle, he felt tension stop him from sinking. It was hard, though; almost his full body weight had to be supported by his teeth, and, just to complicate things, the dogs had decided to walk just in front of Freak, and stop.

The li-tigon could hear their voices, could even see their clawed paws underneath his leafy cover. Freak prayed that a stray breeze didn't expose him, because if it did, the alarm would be raised... Samehe would be forced to retreat, because even if she stayed, Freak would be doomed, there were no two ways about that. All he could do was hold on to his life line, and keep silent... but it was hard. To become one with a terrain he'd just entered was a lot to ask, even for the former leader of the group that had utterly destroyed the Bloody Shadows...

To anyone's knowledge, anyway.

Freak had to hold his breath, and clenched his jaws tightly around the vine, forcing himself to be both still and silent, even as the force pulling him downwards became almost unbearable.

Finally, the dogs moved on, scouting out further north. Freak carefully tracked them by scent and sound until they were three hundred yards away, and dared to mutter a single word, trusting the swamp to dampen his voice and keep it from carrying off.

“Grandmother...”

Suddenly, the tension on the vine tightened, and Freak had to bite down harder, literally for his life. He heard his grandmother grunt with effort, and slowly, shakily, the li-tigon was pulled from a crushing, earily demise.

Samehe panted, standing next to a tree that she'd wrapped the vine around to save her effort when the dogs were hanging around. When the lioness looked up, she couldn't suppress a grin, and spoke with a palatable waver in her voice.

“Heheh... you're filthy.”

Freak looked down at his burlap-colored fur, and let out a sign of disappointment. Mud, and little bits of decaying plant matter clung onto his tawny form, curdling into little, unclean balls of semi-solid goo. He half-heartedly started to lick himself clean, but quickly gave up, spitting the quicksand from his maw, much to Samehe's audible amusement.

“Hahaha... hey, wait, no, let me—ack!”

Now it was the li-tigon's turn to be amused as he hunched his shoulders down, then shook himself rapidly. Mud and who knew what else flew everywhere, splattering all over the Dark Forest, as well as Samehe. The Slayer caught a faceful of mud, and gave her grandson a look that made it clear that this offense would not be forgotten.

“Come on, Granny Samehe,” the li-tigon said, a strange, vaguely playful element in his voice, as if it was normal for him to be faced with a near-death situation, “we need to go west.”

“Alright guys... this is it,” said Sikia, smiling widely at her friends, “the big day. What we've all been training and waiting for. This is—“

“Oh, come on, we've fought without Samehe before,” Shindani interrupted, “we can hold them off. We have to.”

Msaka made no verbal reply to that. She merely nodded, and Adhabu didn't even do that, as she looked at her long, blackened claws.

“Let's just go,” the dark lioness rasped, “the dogs aren't gonna wait for us.”

“Alright guys... this is it,” said the tough, old dog, as he walked in front of a dozen of the Forest Stalkers, the finest fighters from the land to the south of the Desert, “the big day. What we've all been training and waiting for. This is—”

“Hey, asshole,” called a voice to his rear, and the charcoal-colored canine turned, growling instantly, “you gonna talk all day, surrender, or are we gonna fight?”

The Forest Stalkers acted as trained, and said nothing. However, as one, all of their ears perked up in perfect unison. They'd all been trained for years now—they were selected at birth, when the war was still young, and there was still hope for some kind of end to it. They were the strongest, fastest, and smartest cubs, and had been taught specifically how to attack lions. They learned from the best, the most experienced war veterans after they were too old to fight, and had practiced specifically in group-based attacks. Normally, the dogs' tactics mirrored those of the fighting style of hyenas—rush, and pummel your opponent with as many blows as it takes for them to stop moving.

But the Forest Stalkers were different. They would surround, yes, but then perform group-based maneuvers, the likes of which had never been seen before.

It was an added benefit that Samehe seemed to be absent.

“Your words are venomous, young lioness,” the Forest Stalker's leader said coolly, in just the manner Samehe might have, “but without your leader, the Slayer of the Desert, the murderer of dozens of our kind, can you back them up?”

“Don't you worry about where Samehe is, you sick bastard,” growled Adhabu, recognizing this particular dog as being among the party that had tortured her, “with or without her, I'm gonna rip you apart,” she threatened, and lowered herself into a fighting stance, as Msaka, Shindani, and Sikia did the same.

“Is that so, little kitty?” the dog asked dangerously, “we'll see. But I'm willing to bet that when push comes to shove, all you'll be able to do is beg that we let you go, and take someone else instead...”

There. Adhabu's dark secret was revealed. But who could blame her? She was just a cub when it had happened, and, out of desperation, had begged, even as the dogs forced her head into the swamp water for the hundredth time, that she be released... that perhaps someone else could replace her.

With a roar of agony, the dark lioness rushed forward. There was no tangible pause as her comrades joined her, but their eyes flickered to her more than they might have, even as the distance between the Desert Warriors and the Forest Stalkers closed.

The leading dog merely held his position, then murmured something. And from behind him, the younger canines exploded into action, their claws tearing the Desert apart as they raced towards their enemies—

It was tough going, as was expected. Several times, Samehe and Freak had to take the long way around a particularly nasty-looking bit of swamp; either because it was infested with insects, quicksand, or just didn't feel safe.

Freak had experienced only small, cute-looking lizards and amphibians in the Jungle, and yes, sometimes made a meal out of them, especially in his younger days. But here, iguanas and monitor lizards that were big enough to threaten, he thought with a pang, Uvuli—or at least, the Uvuli he remembered.

The li-tigon had no reason to attack them, after all, he'd just eaten. However, he wondered why the dogs didn't...

“They're poisonous,” Samehe said, following the gaze of her grandson, careful to speak softly, “they won't kill you, though... they paralyze you if you eat them. It's not always permanent... but you become a burden to anyone who cares if you try to eat them. It's very effective,” the lioness said emotionlessly, “a shame that we can't harness such power.”

“It's impossible to gain... resistance to it?” Freak asked quietly, padding along next to his grandmother.

“I don't know. But I wouldn't risk it,” the lioness said thoughtfully, “especially not now. Though, perhaps, if we captured a dog, and showed that it's possible for them to consume lizards... perhaps this war could end in that manner.”

“I don't think so,” the li-tigon said, as he calmly stepped over a spined, hissing frog-like being, “there aren't many of them. Not enough to feed all of the dogs, anyway.”

“So you agree that this war is necessary,” Samehe said slyly, making her grandson pause his speech, even as they slowed their pace, sensing the presence of dogs, lots of them, close by.

“Maybe not...” the li-tigon murmured, as he and his grandmother moved on, very quietly, looking into the distance on a very private, very special scene.

There was a dog, or rather, a pup. A very, very young one, perhaps only a few days old. He, or she, was just learning to walk. Only the cub's mother was present, and Freak guessed that its father was either off battling, patrolling... or had been killed.

Even Samehe was touched. Her face tightened and she swallowed, but couldn't bring herself to look away.

“War is Hell.”

After what felt like a long time, the mother picked her cub up by the scruff of its neck, and happily carried it off to the east, past Freak and his grandmother.

Immediately, Samehe was on her feet, heading towards the west again. But she paused.

“Grandson, come! We have only a few hours to practice moving around in the Dark Forest,” she hissed.

“Coming...” the li-tigon said.

Suddenly, the old lioness tilted her head. What on Earth was Freak rubbing at in the corner of his eye?

The Desert Warriors and the Forest Stalkers met with all the force of two freight trains running into each another at full speed. Instantly, the Desert Warriors realized that these dogs were not like the others—normally, battles opened with the lionesses instantly getting at least a few good hits on their enemies.

But the Forest Stalkers were almost untouchable. Every time a Warrior lashed out with a claw strike, the dog either blocked it or evaded. And the lionesses dared not try for a bite; that move was too slow to commit to, and being that they were, as always, outnumbered, another enemy would find it painfully easy to slice their throats.

And yet, the Desert Warriors didn't take any injuries either. They did lose ground, though, at an almost alarming rate...

“Shit,” Shindani hissed, as the lionesses backed into a circle, glaring at their enemies, but receiving only blank stares in return, “this isn't good. Just hold out for a while, guys,” she snarled, holding her ground, as the rest of the lionesses looked around nervously, “Samehe will be back soon. Freak too.”

“Welcome to the west Dark Wet Forest,” Samehe said bitterly, as it began to rain; the sky's water disappating as it struck the Forest's trees ran along their bark in thick torrents of muddy green water.

Every now and then, a sloshing sound was heard, as the water found a path down below the surface of the swamp; who knew how far down. At first, grandson and grandmother trudged through the area carefully, but safely. But then, they were forced to pause as a vast vat of stinking quicksand appeared in front of them, half-concealed by entire trees that it had managed to consume.

“Prime area for a colony of predators,” Freak murmured, as he and Samehe looked for a path through the hazard, “if they know how to keep low-key, they can use the sand to their advantage, and trap prey with ease. If there are enough of them...”

“Hold that thought.”

The lioness looked just next to her paw. There was a hole in the ground, a small one, just about the size of half of her paw. And then, the cats realized that all around them, there were many, many more holes... Freak cocked his head, but then heard the sound of a million small, skittering legs.

“Crabs,” Samehe explained, as she grew pale, “I have to—”

“No,” the li-tigon said softly, “too late. Stay still.”

“What, are you crazy? I have to get out of here! I'll—”

Samehe attempted to leap away, but her grandson had somehow managed to hold her still. His darker paws wrapped around the lioness, then slowly relaxed, as Samehe resigned herself to her fate.

“Relax...” the li-tigon practically purred, “become one with the environment... you're part of this land. You're not Samehe, the Desert's Slayer. You're a component of the Dark Forest...”

The lioness dared to tilt her head. And there was Freak, standing still, but not completely—his breathing and heart rate dropped, as he became practically comatose. Samehe's ears perked up as she was unable to hear the sound of his heart, his lungs anymore...

And then, as the skittering became louder still, Samehe forced herself to calm.

“I may as well die the way he wants me to.”

Impossibly, the lioness registered that the skittering became even louder, to the point that it was nearly deafening. But she didn't move, hardly breathed... and felt nothing.

Crabs are incredibly adaptable creatures. They live in the deepest, darkest oceans; and still, survive on land, in lakes, in mountains, in forests, in rivers. They're strong, hardy animals; armed with potentially dangerous claws, and thick, tough armor.

In the opinion of al-Mujahid, they're also delicious when you grind them up into little bitty pieces and bake them into cakes.

Dark Forest Crabs are similar, but, as with everything in the Land of the Great Spirits, a little different. They aren't sentient, of course, but rather, have a nearly sentient hive-mind. Call it collective consciousness, call it telepathy, but Forest Crabs can work as a team or alone—they can flank, surround, retreat, get reinforcements, storm an enemy, set up ambushes and even traps. They're camouflaged brown with greenish stripes and splotches; though their claws are red. Their feet end in razor-sharp points and can be used as weapons themselves.

About a hundred of those feet were crawling over each Samehe and Freak at any given time.

And yet, even as the nests of crabs came alive; as the little, vicious animals searched for what had dared to disturb their home, neither cat budged.

And soon, the collective mind of the crabs decided that it was time to give up the search; that the intruder had gone...

With ten seconds, every crab had vanished from the Forest. Freak allowed himself to wake from his semi-conscious state, slightly, and dared to glance at his grandmother—they were far from out of trouble yet.

“On my mark,” the lioness managed to murmur, “run. Over the quicksand. Sprint. If we move fast enough, it'll act like solid ground. I showed you a pig's track's earlier, run on your paws so that they look like that, the crabs are coming, GO!”

Samehe didn't yell, of course. Her final word was spoken, as opposed to whispered. But in comparison to the silence that the cats had communicated in for the entire day, it was ear-shattering.

Freak and his grandmother exploded out of their still positions. The crabs had perked up again, so to speak, when Samehe had started to whisper. And even as the lioness and her grandson got into motion, they felt prickling sensations at their feet.

Of course, the crabs were thrown off the second that the cats went into action, scattered to sink, struggling into the same quicksand that Samehe and Freak were barely crossing.

“Grandmother... this may be a bad time,” the li-tigon panted, “but you didn't show me a pig's tracks. I have no idea what they look like.”

“Just imitate mine!” Samehe hissed, tiring; they had to move fast in order to make the quicksand act solid.

“I am. But it's hard to see when we're running like this...”

The cats then jumped together, and made it out of the quicksand. Their paws were filthy, a mark of just how close they'd come to falling to a slow, terrible death.

“Stop whining...” Samehe panted, though, as she looked back, she had to inwardly compliment her grandson on how perfectly his tracks mimicked hers, “...nice job.”

“We should kill a pig,” Freak panted, “eat some of it, and then get it over to the crabs' nest. That way, the marks won't look suspicious... it'll be like two pigs got past, by using the death of their friend as cover.”

“That's true,” the lioness said, speaking quietly again, before she sniffed and looked around suspiciously—the cats were still alone, thank the Spirits— “but how are we going to get the pig over there, without circling around, and without getting eaten alive?”

Freak paused, and looked around. Vines were dangling down from the Dark Forests gnarled, flaky-baked trees, even as the mist and rain continued to softly drizzle down. The li-tigon carefully padded over to one vine, and placed his paw in its loop. He gave it a tug, and nothing happened. Then, he tugged it harder, and felt resistance. Freak then pulled hard, then released the plant structure, hearing an elastic sound as it twang back into its original position, quavering with minute vibrations.

“This is going to sound crazy...” the hybrid said, as he faced his grandmother.

There were three pigs. A mother, and her two children. They were part of the same “pack”, a loose group of animals that clung together for mutual protection and profit. Both of the younger pigs were easily old enough to go out and about on their own, which they usually did—but in the course of their rummaging in the Forest for food, they'd come across one another, and had decided, without discussion, to accompany each another—the dogs had become increasingly desperate of late, and it paid to stick together when possible.

And so they made their way through the Dark Forest, keeping their eyes open for any sign of danger. Their cloven feet imprinted deeply in the swamps of the Forest as they paused, every now and then, to gnaw at a soft plant or tasty little morsel of meat—a rat or perhaps a clump of worms.

The mother was the largest of the trio, at the size of large hyena—about the size of Shenzi. She was armed, as were all pigs, with dense muscle that protected her vital organs, as well as two pairs of sharp, tough tusks, perfect for inflicting grievous injuries onto anything in the Dark Forest.

The two younger hogs looked away, for the moment, hearing something in the distance. The mother knew better, however, than to worry about something that she had no reason to worry about.

However, by the time the two pigs looked back... their companion had vanished.

Samehe gave her grandson a look that said that he had no sense... and therefore, no mental blocks to doing things that others might consider ridiculous.

Of course, Freak didn't look down to guage the old lioness's reaction. He was somewhat occupied. After all, he was bound in tough, stretchy vines, and had to kill an animal that was half his size, while it struggled ferociously... silently.

The li-tigon's jaws were clamped around his victim's neck, but it just wouldn't stop fighting. Freak felt muscle ripple around his teeth, and realize that he wasn't breaking through the pig's tough muscle.

He steeled himself, and bit down harder than he ever had needed to before. His razor-sharp teeth exerted massive amounts of pressure onto and into his prey. Finally, Freak felt the boar's muscle shred apart in his jaws, just the way it was supposed to.

Fortunately, the li-tigon had managed to position himself just so, so that no blood spilled down to the swamp floor. Working quickly, giving the boar's neck a jerk just to make sure that it was dead, Freak pulled her eyes shut and began to undo the vines from all four of his appendages, using his jaws as well as his paws.

Then, he had the difficult task of tying up the pig to share with his grandmother, who'd managed to sneak in between the two younger pigs as they looked around stupidly for their companion.

“This is crazy,” the lioness mouthed, before she used her teeth to pull a knot tight around a large branch.

Freak merely looked back at his grandmother, and shrugged once. Then, he motioned for her to push the pig into place, while he went off into another tree; silent as always.

Samehe nudged the dead animal into position, then got well out of the way. She shook her head at the sight before her...

There was an elastic twang as Freak released the vines he'd pulled back with his teeth. The pig was launched through the air, over the massive quicksand pit and directly onto the largest crab hole, where it was, within seconds, swarmed...

The two other pigs looked on in a stupor, before cautiously, carefully backing away, then dashing off into the underbrush.

Freak's paws hit the ground softly, and he looked up at his grandmother with a strange expression on his face.

“I think I can get around in the west Forest alright...” he murmured, before moving off farther to the west still, “I wonder how the Desert Warriors are doing...”

Dusk was approaching. The sun would set in perhaps an hour, and already, it seemed to be pulling all the color from the world with it as it sank in the sky.

The Desert Warriors were all standing in a rough line. They were exhausted; sweaty, panting, and each carried several fresh cuts.

The Forest Stalkers, on the other hand, were barely winded. Still, they'd taken a fair bit of damage themselves. And in the dark, the lionesses would have the advantage. And the close dusk got, the more that advantage became apparent, to the point that the Warriors were not only stonewalling the advances of the dogs, but pushing them back.

“So... even without Samehe, the Desert Kitties can hold back a dozen Forest Stalkers. Well, I wonder how they'll hold up against two dozen Forest Stalkers...”

“Desert K—Warriors,” the pack leader said maliciously, as he walked calmly just in front of his troops, “I must admit, I'm impressed with you. Even without your murderous leader, you have resisted the best efforts of our finest fighters.”

“But now,” the dog said gravely, though his eyes sparkled with anger, “your little insurrection is at an end,” the Warriors growled loudly; their war degraded to the level of an insurrection?!... “surrender—and your lives will be spared.”

Even Sikia's expression was ugly. Msaka wore an angry, toothy snarl, and Adhabu's expression was one of pure hate. Shindani spoke up, growling as she spat each word from her maw.

"We're going to go on to the end. We'll fight in the Unexplored Regions, we'll fight on the sands and grass of this Land. We're going to defend our Desert, whatever the cost is. We'll fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the dunes, we'll fight in the dark, the light, and any time in between. We'll never surrender!"

(Shindani's a good speaker. Almost as good as Winston Churchill...)

The dog gave a dramatic, falsified sigh. His eyes were shadowed as he faced the ground, the waning sun beating down on his furred back.

“So be it,” he said, then spoke to the Forest Stalkers, “exterminate them from the face of this Earth.”

The Desert Warriors prepared for the frontal assault as they had before. But as the Forest Stalkers, at least, the ones they could see, approached, they hesitated, swearing that they heard something underneath them...

Then, all at once, all four lionesses were forced to jump away as another dozen of their adversaries broke free from the sand and launched into the air, just where they had stood milliseconds earlier. The Warriors hit the sand and faced their opponents warily... they could barely fight one dozen Forest Stalkers, but two dozen?... this was not a fight they could reasonably hope to win.

“Too bad that hope has nothing to do with reason!” Sikia said, attempting to smile, as the twenty four dogs closed in...

“No. It doesn't.”

That voice came from behind the Stalkers... but as the dogs, and the lionesses, turned to look, they realized, instantly, that no one was there.

Now, the Stalkers and their leader were worried... the lionesses, not so much.

“They're back...” noted Adhabu, but the dark lioness's darker voice held a note of fledgling elation.

“Grandmother, you have no sense,”Freak thought to himself, as he splashed swamp water into the Desert's sand a few more times, “this is a crazy idea.”

The li-tigon's paws were somewhat large and padded, not built for precise sculpting. He could use his claws, yes, but that was slow and inefficient.

And yet, this little trick of Samehe's would allow her to get right below the Stalkers's leader, who was absolutely vital to their carefully planned and executed assaults. And while his grandmother took down that dog, Freak could come in from a flank and catch the Stalkers themselves off-guard...

And it all rested on his ability to carve his grandmother's likeness into the solidifying sand that rested in front of him. His eyes, both the scarred and the unmarred one squinted in effort as he struggled to remember the exact nature of the fringe on Samehe's whisker...

“I'm here, puppies,” said a voice to the Southeast, one that sounded so much like Samehe's that the slight oddities in it could be chalked up to fluctuations in the sound waves brought on by the great distance that it had to travel over; a distance filled with sand and wind.

The Stalkers all turned at once, to face their most dangerous adversary. Their leader did some quick math—there were four Desert Warriors, and they'd held their own against twelve Forest Stalkers. That meant that each Warrior was worth three Forest Stalkers, and Samehe was twice as good as her surrogate... which meant that the Dark Forest had an advantage of six Forest Stalkers; ignoring, of course, negligible morale effects of Samehe's appearance on her Warriors.

“Ah, and so the Desert Slayer decides to show up,” the pack leader said, bowing his head slightly, before glaring hatefully at what he thought was Samehe, “where have you been? Off in our homeland to capture and torture my son again?” he demanded with a growl.

But the old lioness was silent, and her darkened silhouette didn't budge an inch. Not even her tail twitched in the wind.

“Answer me, you disrespectful cat,” the dog said, and, in his anger, began to stride away from the Stalkers, towards where he thought Samehe was, “what were you d—”

All at once, the Forest Stalkers leaped. Not at the Desert Warriors, of course, but towards their leader. Fear was in their eyes, words of warning were on their lips, but even though the older dog was only fifteen yards away, he didn't even have a chance.

Samehe had positioned herself perfectly. She was not quite exactly under the dog's projected path, but a little to the side. And so, when she sprung into the air, she only had to extend her claws and reach out, a little bit, to made deep, reaching cuts appear in the Stalkers' leader's neck...

The dog managed to stay on his feet, even as Samehe hit the peak of her jump at nearly twenty five feet in the air. The lioness curled up and twisted around,and landed with her mighty paws on her enemy's skull.

The Forest Stalkers stopped dead in their tracks, even as they simultaneously glared at Samehe and made pleading looks at their leader, who still clung to life.

The dog's blood pooled all around him, making him breathe it in, even as he breathed his last. He managed to look up to give his sworn enemy one last, hateful glare; seeing that she was glaring at the Forest Stalkers... because he was no longer a threat.

“Fuck... you...” the canine managed to rasp, and as he glanced meaningfully at the Forest Stalkers, the light vanished forever from his eyes...

The Stalkers looked, for a moment, like they were they were going to surrender. Their normally blank, determined expressions faltered, and they seemed to cringe from the sight of the old, but deadly lioness dominating their leader's body.

But then, it was like the last traces of doubt were wiped from their faces and minds. Their decision had been made; there was no turning back now—though they couldn't fight nearly as well without their leader telling them where and how to attack, they wouldn't—couldn't—give up.

They all dashed towards Samehe, even as the Desert Warriors moved, fast, to defend her. But before anything else could happen, the densely packed group of dogs was blasted apart.

They were scattered in all directions for about ten yards. Some to the sides, some down into the Desert's sand, some upwards; and it was all because they were so determined to kill Samehe that they'd failed to pay attention to their surroundings.

Freak's paws hit the ground, even as the Forest Stalkers got back to their feet. They'd all taken hits; none were very serious; which was lucky—they were so surprised that they didn't even have time to block or counter this strange cat's vicious assault.

The li-tigon was panting, as his dusty tan fur seemed to shimmer in the waning light of the day, making his stripes visible for just a second. That single move, or rather, combination of moves, had left him winded, for the moment.

But now the Forest Stalkers had lost their greatest advantage—telepathic-like cooperation. They were scattered, and confused; their form was broken. Scrambling, they tried to reassemble, dashing towards Freak in the process.

But Samehe and the Desert Warriors were on them too quickly for them to react. The lionesses began to tear apart their enemies; this time, the injuries really were coming. And after a minute, Freak joined in as well...

It was about an hour after dusk; a full hour of intense, exhausting combat. A full hour of intense, exhausting, pulse-pounding, in your-face, explosive, bloody, gory, loud, mindless, crazed, no-holds-barred, no quarter given, sub-human, depraved, furious, enraged, savage, maniacal, vicious, wild, intense, extreme, fierce, rabid, frenetic, barbaric violence that al-Mujahid declined to describe in more detail—yeah, it was that bad.

Regardless, when the last blow was struck, the last injury dealt, all the Forest Stalkers lay dead. But Samehe and the Desert Warriors knew that their enemies had a terrible tendency to fake death... and then strike when the lionesses weren't ready for it.

And so, much to Freak's horror, rather than honoring or even respecting the bodies of their fallen foes, his newfound family, his flesh-and-blood, began to tear apart the dogs' throats and guts with their cruel, sharp claws...

“What are you doing?!” the male li-tigon suddenly roared, his tiger side coming out in a hiss of outrage, and pain, causing his grandmother and her followers to freeze, backs arching, fur standing on end, as Freak looked at them all in shock, disappointment... and... was it possible?... shame?

“You do not treat a fallen creature like that,” he snarled, striding over to physically shoved Shindani away from a dog whose innards she still held in her claws, “eat them if you must, or use their bodies in whatever way the Spirits have created you to do... but do not desecrate them.”

He took a long moment to glare at the other cats, and then, with incredible gentleness, reached out with a sightly trembling paw to shut the eyes of the dead Stalker for the last time.

“I've lived a hard life... so have the Desert's lionesses. But so have the Dogs of the Dark Forest... we may need to fight them. We may need to kill them. But this... this is wrong.”

“How can you treat a brother in the Circle of Life like this?” the li-tigon asked softly, but emotionlessly, as he looked up at the lionesses, a fierce, demanding curiosity in his eyes, especially the scarred one.

Samehe's eyes narrowed for the umpteenth time as she looked at her grandson. He'd had such a hard life, and yet, he was still so naïve in some ways...

And yet... hadn't Samehe realized how wrong the cruelty she'd treated her cubs with? Hadn't she been taught by the Great Spirits the terrible sin it is to hate a being that you can't understand, that you can't help back onto the right path in life?

The lioness licked her lips, delaying, searching for words, even as the Desert Warriors looked from her, to her grandson, and back again, Sikia with visible discomfort.

“There are a thousand paths to enlightenment, and they can all be found anywhere. Brothers and sisters that strive towards enlightenment are just as common...” she thought, the words appearing in her mind as if they'd always been there, “is my grandson to enlighten me... again?”

The li-tigon's eyes bore into his grandmother's even harder for a long moment... and, for that moment, it looked like she might be on the verge of a breakthrough... but her eyes flashed, and before Freak could even move, she was just in front of his face, looking down... such speed, such power, could only be invoked by great love for another...

“War is Hell,” Samehe murmured, and the Desert Warriors took in a brief, sharp breath of air as she stepped away slightly... her paw still holding down the paw of the Forest Stalker, whose last action had been an attempt to rip Freak's throat apart.

The li-tigon had, predictably, “politely” turned down Samehe's request for him to sleep with her and her Warriors. Of course, the Desert Slayer hadn't given up so easily, and so her grandson was forced to ignore her increasingly desperate shouts as he strode, somewhat forcefully, away from the scene.

The lionesses looked after him sadly. Samehe gave a shrug, but the Desert Warriors had known her long enough to tell that she was faking her calmness.

“If I can go there, and comfort him... what might happen...?” that thought was in the minds of two lionesses—Adhabu, and Msaka.

But the darkened lioness and the hunter didn't know how to express the desire to comfort the male that they looked at, as, well, a male. S/ikia, on the other hand...

“Samehe, can I go and try to cheer him up?” the youngest lioness asked hopefully, positively hopping over to her surrogate mother, who sighed and faced the ground.

“I just can't say no to them. ...It's not a weakness,” Samehe told herself, then made a slight grunt of acknowledgment.

Immediately, she felt a smaller, furred head rub her from her muzzle to her neck, and rolled her eyes, concealing a somewhat resigned rueful smile, brushing off a whole flurry of thanks... Samehe didn't look up, and therefore, missed the badly-hidden looks of disappointment, and maybe resentment, from Adhabu and Msaka.

“I'll be back soon enough, guys!” the tan lioness said brightly, before loping off after Freak's tracks, “wish me luck!”

Msaka and Adhabu were both characteristically silent, and Shindani was characteristically disapproving of her sister's charitable nature.

“Luck? I don't wish you luck. I wish you sense!” the lioness groaned, as her sister loped out of view.

But, as always, Sikia didn't even look back as she dashed off As always Shindani sighed, then turned her nose into the air, as she faced away from her sister to follow Samehe.

“Come along, ladies,” the Desert Slayer said regally.

But, as had never, ever happened before, Adhabu and Msaka hesitated before following the bidding of their leader.

Love is a very interesting thing. It's a force so powerful that it can cause a normally rational creature to do things only describable as irrational. And for that reason, love is an incredibly dangerous, incredibly powerful weapon...

And the darkness of the world had just seen fit to use love as their weapon of choice against the last survivors of the Desert Pride.

Freak was pacing up and down the Desert sands, practically fuming in outrage. But life had taught him well, and he didn't speak the cause of his distress to any creature that might be listening.

“How dare they! They may be at war with the dogs. But that doesn't justify such crimes...”

Suddenly, Freak's eyes widened and he turned viciously, preparing to fight, to kill, to die—

“Hiya, Freaky-boy!” Sikia said, smiling widely, padding over to the li-tigon happily, raising a paw to wave at the li-tigon.

The young lioness's eyes went wide, seeing Freak cower, flinching, fearing her paw terribly, just a second before she was launched through the air, landing on her back, a heavy, powerful weight holding her down.

“What are you doing here? Tell me!” he snarled, pushing the lioness in anger, making her slim, not-quite bony form sink into the sand, “now!”

“Wait, Fre—” Sikia's optimistic expression utterly broke into a look of pure terror, as she gasped—the lion tigon's clenched, huge muscles, his unnaturally large teeth, his twisted, angry snarl, and his scarred eye... she was a warrior by trade, and even she couldn't help but freeze up at the sight of the angry cat.

“Freak...” she positively whimpered, incapable of even defending herself, an action that, by now, should have been beyond instinctual, “please...”

Something changed in the li-tigon's eyes, but his expression didn't. But still, somehow, even to Sikia, who was at the mercy of his powerful, crushing paws, and his terrible, cutting claws, he felt different.

“Why are you here. Tell me. Now,” he stated, more than he questioned or demanded, “...tell me.”

Sikia was still visibly terrified. But the hard-earned instincts she'd gained through a lifetime of war started to return, somewhat. So the lioness didn't beg or plead or cry or freeze up, she did what she had to to live.

“I just... I just wanted to help you,” Sikia said, for once, hating the cublike, mewling sound her voice still made, “I wanted... to say that we're sorry,” she finished slightly more confidently, as her breathing rate normalized again.

The li-tigon gave Sikia an intense, suspicious gaze that seemed to burn right through her, and for a moment, the lioness felt like a grasshopper pinned under the slide of a microscope—she was at the mercy of Freak's piercing glare.

“Fine. Apology accepted,” he said curtly, then let Sikia up, as he turned, sitting to face away from her, “now leave.”

The young lioness's first instinct was to do just that; she held no delusion that, even though Freak's back was turned, she could possibly kill him. But she swallowed, and forced herself to stand her ground, and took a few deep breaths before she walked over right to Freak's side, slumping over to show that she wasn't a threat.

“Come on...” she said, in a good imitation of her natural, playful, optimistic state, “you don't really mean that...”

The li-tigon made no response, so, taking a small risk, Sikia scooted up so that she was right in front of his paws, looking up at his strange mane, so thin that it was like an afterthought, and held her gaze on him until his eyes peered into hers. And though the lioness did this... she saw no spark of recognition in the li-tigon's gaze.

“You're right. I don't,” he said, somewhat angrily, and Sikia had to force herself not to flinch at the disappointment and shame in his voice.

“How... why... would you attack a fallen enemy? It's unthinkable. It's one thing to kill for meat, or for your life. But to deliberately try to kill a brother or sister in the Circle of Life when they mean you no harm... I can't tolerate that. I won't tolerate that,” he said somewhat savagely, and again, Sikia felt threatened.

“So... what are you going to do?” the lioness said quietly, after a moment, when she dared to think it was safe enough, “you're not going to leave, are you?”

“...No. I can't. Samehe's my family, and family cares for each another, even if we can't always... ...understand... why we do things...” the li-tigon said, but turned his head to not look at Sikia, somewhat forcefully, “...that doesn't mean that I forgive this... what you did out there... it disgusts me.”

Sikia got to her feet, looking somewhat stricken; a little afraid, and a lot insecure. She tried to circle to look Freak in the face, but he didn't allow her to meet his eyes.

“Get away. I'm not a cute, cuddly little kitten,” Freak said, forcing a mewl into his voice, reminiscent of the first time he'd attempted to roar, “and the last thing I need is someone—anyone—else.”

Sikia was, at first, flabbergasted. What had the Desert lionesses done to upset the li-tigon so much? She had a feeling that if she didn't give Freak his room soon, she might get... slapped around a little.

So the tan lioness sat still for a moment, save for her rapidly lashing tail, and spoke softly after some time.

“Now I know you don't mean that...” she said gently, “I mean... Samehe, right?” Sikia said somewhat desperately, for Freak didn't react to her in the slightest, “I know you love her, I saw you two playing together...”

The li-tigon seemed to bristle to Sikia. But still, she didn't dare approach, and couldn't even begin to guess what Freak was thinking, he wasn't even facing her...

But the male cat was having a series of revelations.

“Mother... she loved me. Maybe she still does... but I don't know. I don't know. She hasn't tried to contact me again, and I can't blame her for that,” the li-tigon thought with a pang, “I've... not been a good... son. Or cousin. Or pride member. Or brother, or friend, or any other sort of relation. All I do is use others for what they can give me, and move on when things get bad, no matter how much they need me. All I can do is think that I'm bad for them to be around, and use that as an excuse to give up, to run away...”

Freak was four weeks old, stalking a lizard in his Jungle home.

It was a quick little animal, and an agile one too. It was hardly the size of the li-tigon's paw, and that made pouncing on it hard. But suddenly, things became all the more challenging, as rain began to pour down on the li-tigon from the Heavens.

He looked up in wonder, thinking to himself for a moment—how was such a thing possible? And why? And who did it?

These were questions that, in his later life, Freak would still ask; questions that would always keep him on his toes, suspicious, and humbled to the power of the will of the Spirits.

The water trickled over the li-tigon's body, until he shook his head vigorously, and went on, chasing the lizard without restraint.

But two hours later, Freak was still unsuccessful. And things had just gone from difficult to dangerous.

It had been raining a lot for the past few days, and even the Jungle didn't seem capable of holding so much water. And so it had built up at first, for a while; in the streams, lakes, rivers, and ponds of the li-tigon's home.

But now, even that wasn't enough. And the Jungle was starting to flood, rapidly.

Freak had ignored it at first, just seeing the water, which reached up to his ankles, as a small inconvenience. But now he could barely keep his head above water without difficulty... he felt strange, in the water—he knew he had the capacity to swim, and well, but he also felt an aversion to it. Just another example of one of the many personal struggles that were only a freak's pain to bear.

The li-tigon managed to hop onto the top of the many large boulders that were native to this part of the southwestern Jungle. He shook himself dry somewhat pointlessly, for seconds later, he was soaked again.

The lizard had managed to get onto a rock as well, and was staring at Freak from several yards away. The li-tigon looked at his opponent, and paused.

“I should go home. Staying out here in the cold and wet is dangerous. Large swimming creatures from water bodies may attack me, and if I am injured, none will protect me. Everyone is a threat,” he noted, but didn't look away from the lizard.

Freak's ears flattened, and he lowered himself down.

“I will never become strong if I give up as soon as things get hard.”

The li-tigon leaped through the air. The lizard hadn't expected him to do so, and thanks to the rain, the little creature didn't hear Freak coming... but it did hear when the li-tigon's paws hit the boulder.

The lizard raced around, searching desperately for an escape. But there was none; it was trapped with the li-tigon, who was struggling to get onto the boulder safely.

Freak growled and panted, the water resisting him, trying to carry him away, to the south, eventually, right off the huge waterfall that lead to the Desert. But he concentrated, and forced himself up, up onto the boulder, and then, finally caught the lizard in his paws.

The animal struggled in the li-tigon's grasp, but felt neither claws tearing it apart, nor jaws crushing life from it. Eventually, it gave up, and looked up at Freak, in curiosity... what strange mercy was this?

“...No gain, no reason to kill,” the cub said, and released the lizard, “chasing you... was fun.”

“I' will never become strong if I don't commit to the things, fully... if I don't put every effort into them, regardless of the cost, or risk. ...I will become strong. And therefore, I will not give up.”

“...I'm not going to give up on you five,” Freak said after a moment, and, after turning to face Sikia, tilted his head at her.

“I understand... that even after they've fallen, the dogs of the Dark Forest might be threatening. But, perhaps, this war isn't one that can be won through force. Maybe you have to be a little... unorthodox.”

Sikia tilted her head. Using something other than force to fight? Just what was this li-tigon talking about?

Freak seemed to think for a minute, then shrugged.

“But you must admit, this war has no end in sight, not in victory, defeat, or surrender. Is, at lease, a ceasefire, a temporary truce possible?” the li-tigon asked, but was already fairly sure of the answer.

The young lioness shook her head brightly, and smiled, happy that Freak was talking again.

“Nope! The dogs are too hard-headed to do that.”

The li-tigon's eyes narrowed, as he thought, “Are you sure it's them, and not you, or both of you?”

“Well. Then, why is surrender, on your part, impossible? I know that the Desert is your home,” the li-tigon said, “but you have to recognize that it's not... the most hospitable place for a lion. Or... whatever I am. Walking around here, I'm in constant discomfort... the sand, the lack of water and food, the... nothingness...” he said, glancing over the barren landscape, “have you ever been to another place? The Lower Plains, or the Unexplored Regions, perhaps?”

But Sikia shook her head, then tilted her head at Freak, sitting down obediently.

“No... why? What are they like?”

The li-tigon blinked several times, and collected his thoughts. He wasn't much of a story teller, but what he could do was give the young lioness an objective, almost lifeless description of, at first, the Lower Plains, and what he'd heard of the Unexplored Regions. But, at her prodding, he continued on.

Freak spoke of the Bloody Shadows, the Jungle, the Shadow Lands, and the Outlands... and then, at last, of the Pride Lands.

“It's a beautiful place,” Freak said emotionlessly, hardly registering Sikia's wide eyes, “huge, flowing plains, oasises everywhere... trees in clumps, with many, many animals all over. And then, there's this... feeling... about the Pride Lands. It's strongest at Pride Rock. It's a feeling that you're... safe. Protected. Wanted. ...Loved,” the li-tigon's voice trailed off, becoming incredibly soft, and gentle.

“So...” said the lioness after a second, tilting her head at Freak, brow furrowing, “...why'd ya go? If it was such a nice place...”

Freak stiffened up, and, for a moment, Sikia worried that he'd clam up again, or tell her to leave. But he did neither, and, after a moment, spoke, in a somewhat low, mournful tone.

“Because I was a coward. I had... ...a vision. Involving my parents. It didn't go well,” the li-tigon didn't elaborate, “but after it, I... made the cowardly decision that I'm not made to be around others,” he said calmly, the Desert breeze ruffling his mane, “and, instead of seeing things with the Pride Landers through to the end, no matter what end it might be... I ran. Here.”

Sikia nodded, mouthing, “Oh...” and hesitated for a few seconds.

“Well... I'm glad you came here, Freaky-boy. It's nice to talk to someone besides Samehe and the other Desert Warriors,” she smiled, “don't get me wrong, I love 'em to death, but hearing about how well the war's going, how great the last hunt was, how lame everything is, and how much the dogs suck... it gets old...” Sikia sighed.

The li-tigon looked up, and, after a moment, forced his lips to twitch, and finally form themselves into his snarl of a smile.

“Well... I came here to meet my grandmother. But, I don't regret coming here, not at all. Aside from Granny Samehe, there are... interesting lionesses in the Desert.”

The li-tigon's “smile” was threatening, intimidating. But, to Sikia, it wasn't. He'd just complimented her, incredibly so. She was interesting to a being who must have seen some very interesting things in his lifetime.

Interesting, though... in what way?

Males were males, after all, and though Sikia was too young to be considered for mating, seriously... well, to be fair, there weren't that many males to go around, not in her generation...

“Wait. No,” the lioness thought, “no. Freak's not like that... he doesn't look at us like that. He doesn't treat us like potential mates. He treats us... heh... sort of like Samehe does. He sees us, I'm guessing, as... allies. Powerful, deadly allies. Not potential mates. But maybe... potential friends.”

The li-tigon's “smile” was threatening, intimidating. But, to Sikia, it was...

Genuine.

“Aww...” the tan lioness said quietly, “you think I'm interesting?” she smiled, expecting Freak to vehemently deny it, “you wanna be friends, don't you...” the Warrior's voice became less playful, and more questioning, more serious.

The lioness expected a curt, perhaps painfully sharp denial. But Freak only tilted his head, and answered without hesitation.

“Yes. I'd like that. A lot,” the li-tigon said seriously, looking at Sikia somewhat warily, suspicious if she really was being serious...

But the female cat just gawked, blinking for a moment, before the way to convince Freak of her intentions became clear.

He tensed up slightly as she approached, claws, poking holes into he surface of the Desert's sands slightly. His lips peeled back slightly, baring the tips of his vicious fangs, and his mane started to stand on end.

It was a reaction so subconscious that the li-tigon didn't notice it happening—it was an instinct hammered into him by a life of combat, violence, fear, and a complete lack of companionship.

But Sikia's intentional ignorance of his ingrained discomfort was an instinct hammered into her each day; every day that her comrades-in-arms needed comfort, but had no one else to turn to.

The lioness quite calmly padded over to Freak, got right up in front of him, and nuzzled him under the chin, rubbing the top of her head and snout against his neck and the soft, fuzzy mane that was almost thrown on as an afterthought.

At first, Freak didn't know how to react. So he just stood there, accepting the lioness's affection; though, there was a friends-only quality to it that was exclusively tangible.

Even when the li-tigon began to cautiously return Sikia's motions, somewhat, there was a fine line, one that neither tried, nor wanted, to cross.

But it was a line that was invisible to anyone else...

Suddenly, the li-tigon froze, perking up, and Sikia immediately looked around, knowing, somehow, that she wasn't the cause of his discomfort.

“What's happening? What is it?” the lioness asked, looking around the rolling dunes of the Desert suspiciously, “a dog?”

Freak paused for a moment, and stepped a little bit forward, putting his larger, more imposing form in between... whatever he'd seen and Sikia. The li-tigon's nose twitched, and his brow furrowed as he cocked his head.

“A lioness... but why would she run away like that? She didn't do anything wrong...” Freak thought, but didn't take his eyes away from that spot on the Desert, where he'd seen the unmistakable silhouette of a big cat.

“...Nothing. I just thought I saw...” but who was it who would act so strangely?

Freak didn't understand. He didn't understand what was going on at all. He didn't understand that the lioness who'd seen him and Sikia nuzzle thought that they were mates...

Love is an interesting thing. It can be an incredibly good thing, when the one you live is the one you're with. But if the one you love isn't with, is with someone else...

Love can be a great motivator for violence. Because to love is to be jealous of all others that love the one you've marked as your own.

Sikia merely cocked her head, and slumped over at the li-tigon's feet. And a minute later, Freak lowered himself as well, looking down at the young lioness somewhat curiously. Sikia looked up, and grinned, giving the li-tigon a friendly, playful cuff across the muzzle.

“Love ya.”

(That's it for now. I suppose you'll have to wait another few months before I release the next chapter.)

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