Post by creamwolfgurl on Apr 20, 2007 16:47:10 GMT -5
A thunderous roar split the still night air of the African savannah. Chee's head swung up, tufted ears flicked forward. Searching the darkness.
He knew that a lion roared after eating well, but this had a different meaning. There was an edge to it, cruel and gloating.
Chee slunk through the grass, golden, black-spotted hide merging with the grassy plain.
Moonlight picked out the cheetahs gleaming coat in all its glory, as well as the golden-brown wings that lay restless on his back, spotted like the rest of his hide, camouflaging him perfectly.
He stopped, uncertain, and turned away. What business was it of his? That's when he smelt it, like smoke through the trees. Death.
A hiss came from him as he twisted around once more, following that metallic stench.
Under one of the umbrella trees that dot the savannah, he saw a shape, muffled by darkness, the bright, tinny scent of blood washing over the golden-brown grass.
As he crept closer, he saw that it was one of his great friends, the zebra, Zebby. Chee's grief at this atrocity was evident. His shoulders slumped, eyes went glassy and tear-filled. He stood there shaking, while sorrow made way for a bright burst of anger. Who had done this? His friend, good loyal friend, was dead. They hadn't even taken the meat, he thought bitterly.
His great wings snapped out and he let them carry him into the dark sky. And he heard the Traitor laugh. He recognized it. Lazarre, black-maned deceiver. Chee's snarl ripped the air with a fury akin to that of wounded bear. Beautiful in his rage, intense flames were leaping through his blood. Swooping, he was caught in the gaze of all the animals, big and small, watching him vent his temper. He could see it in their eyes, the single-mindedness of their hurt. They blamed him.
His own gold eyes flamed when Lazarre stepped forward, arrogant and pitiless. He knew
when he launched himself, he wouldn't make it to him, to avenge death. Chee was blocked by his own kind, anger and a detached pity were all the emotion from the crowd. All who stood there trembled as Chee's gaze swept over them, furious and untameable. But still, they protected the one who had said he'd saved them from more deaths. Lazarre rocked back on his heels and spoke in the strong, wild voice of his family. "This is the murderer, he must be exiled before more of us fall to his wiles. Be gone! You are banished." He spoke with finality, golden hide and black-mane ruffled gently by a breeze.
Chee growled once more and winged into the sky silently. They who watched him go knew a great stirring of pity in their hearts, made speechless when Lazarre talked again, voice soft and lilting. Somehow mocking those he spoke of, the dead and the living.
*****
As he flew, Chee wondered what had happened, why he had been the cat that was driven away. For you to fully understand, I must explain the history between these two characters. When Lazarre had stepped forward as King, Chee had opposed him strongly and uncovered many things Lazarre would rather were kept hidden. As a result, Lazarre was taken aside as King and put as underling of the chief adviser. This made him as bitter as poison at Chee. He was revenging himself in a thoroughly unfair way.
Once this hit him, he stopped completely in mid-air, fury once more thriving inside him. This time, however, it was a slow burning fuel, on which he vowed to reinstate himself as helper and trusted follower. And to banish that traitor Lazarre in his place. As he thought on how to make this came about, a slow smile spread across his face. He would go out with a bang.
*****
At moonrise that night, Chee was slipping stealthily through the grass, sleek and silent. He was nearly caught by a Meercat over by the waterhole, but evaded her in time. He heard her being berated and ridiculed for the false alarm. Yet even the remorse didn't falter his steps. His face was set, courage held with a steeled paw. He circled the King's Cave and waited.
Watched.
And was ready when that lying, conniving two-faced son-of-a-jackal stepped out, smothered in praise and his own treacherous plans, swathed in his own ego, unaware. That's when Chee leapt at the brute.
Lazarre may have been unwary, but he was powerful. The fight was intense but brief. It only took a moment to win.
Only a moment to kill, to die.
Only a moment to pass from the world.
As his lifeblood bubbled away through the fatal neck wound, he gazed blearily at his
enemy, his murderer. And knew he would leave unseen, unknown.
When his eyes went blind, head dropped, body slumped, that's when the enemy standing over him shuddered.
Then Chee turned from the dead lion and took to the skies, winging through the night. To oblivion beyond the hills, beyond the stars.
Never to return.
He knew that a lion roared after eating well, but this had a different meaning. There was an edge to it, cruel and gloating.
Chee slunk through the grass, golden, black-spotted hide merging with the grassy plain.
Moonlight picked out the cheetahs gleaming coat in all its glory, as well as the golden-brown wings that lay restless on his back, spotted like the rest of his hide, camouflaging him perfectly.
He stopped, uncertain, and turned away. What business was it of his? That's when he smelt it, like smoke through the trees. Death.
A hiss came from him as he twisted around once more, following that metallic stench.
Under one of the umbrella trees that dot the savannah, he saw a shape, muffled by darkness, the bright, tinny scent of blood washing over the golden-brown grass.
As he crept closer, he saw that it was one of his great friends, the zebra, Zebby. Chee's grief at this atrocity was evident. His shoulders slumped, eyes went glassy and tear-filled. He stood there shaking, while sorrow made way for a bright burst of anger. Who had done this? His friend, good loyal friend, was dead. They hadn't even taken the meat, he thought bitterly.
His great wings snapped out and he let them carry him into the dark sky. And he heard the Traitor laugh. He recognized it. Lazarre, black-maned deceiver. Chee's snarl ripped the air with a fury akin to that of wounded bear. Beautiful in his rage, intense flames were leaping through his blood. Swooping, he was caught in the gaze of all the animals, big and small, watching him vent his temper. He could see it in their eyes, the single-mindedness of their hurt. They blamed him.
His own gold eyes flamed when Lazarre stepped forward, arrogant and pitiless. He knew
when he launched himself, he wouldn't make it to him, to avenge death. Chee was blocked by his own kind, anger and a detached pity were all the emotion from the crowd. All who stood there trembled as Chee's gaze swept over them, furious and untameable. But still, they protected the one who had said he'd saved them from more deaths. Lazarre rocked back on his heels and spoke in the strong, wild voice of his family. "This is the murderer, he must be exiled before more of us fall to his wiles. Be gone! You are banished." He spoke with finality, golden hide and black-mane ruffled gently by a breeze.
Chee growled once more and winged into the sky silently. They who watched him go knew a great stirring of pity in their hearts, made speechless when Lazarre talked again, voice soft and lilting. Somehow mocking those he spoke of, the dead and the living.
*****
As he flew, Chee wondered what had happened, why he had been the cat that was driven away. For you to fully understand, I must explain the history between these two characters. When Lazarre had stepped forward as King, Chee had opposed him strongly and uncovered many things Lazarre would rather were kept hidden. As a result, Lazarre was taken aside as King and put as underling of the chief adviser. This made him as bitter as poison at Chee. He was revenging himself in a thoroughly unfair way.
Once this hit him, he stopped completely in mid-air, fury once more thriving inside him. This time, however, it was a slow burning fuel, on which he vowed to reinstate himself as helper and trusted follower. And to banish that traitor Lazarre in his place. As he thought on how to make this came about, a slow smile spread across his face. He would go out with a bang.
*****
At moonrise that night, Chee was slipping stealthily through the grass, sleek and silent. He was nearly caught by a Meercat over by the waterhole, but evaded her in time. He heard her being berated and ridiculed for the false alarm. Yet even the remorse didn't falter his steps. His face was set, courage held with a steeled paw. He circled the King's Cave and waited.
Watched.
And was ready when that lying, conniving two-faced son-of-a-jackal stepped out, smothered in praise and his own treacherous plans, swathed in his own ego, unaware. That's when Chee leapt at the brute.
Lazarre may have been unwary, but he was powerful. The fight was intense but brief. It only took a moment to win.
Only a moment to kill, to die.
Only a moment to pass from the world.
As his lifeblood bubbled away through the fatal neck wound, he gazed blearily at his
enemy, his murderer. And knew he would leave unseen, unknown.
When his eyes went blind, head dropped, body slumped, that's when the enemy standing over him shuddered.
Then Chee turned from the dead lion and took to the skies, winging through the night. To oblivion beyond the hills, beyond the stars.
Never to return.