Prologue: The Bastet's Pride

Last night, another storm.

The young lioness was uneasy. Her father was always meaner after storms. Today, all the lions in the pride was more defensive, more aggressive towards others and yet more deferential towards her father. The dominant male.

Even her mother, whom had taught her so much. Mother, the strongest female of all. The best hunter by far. When they went out, it was her always, that gave the killing blow. Others were better at hiding, or at creating diversions, but she was much faster and never hesitated. One mistake was enough, and the prey would die. But, even so, she would never dare raise the hire of the alpha male. A wise fear she made sure to pass on to her daughter, although, it remained to be seen if said daughter had learned that part.

The pride lived in the savannah, like so many other. Unlike the others, the Alpha male was Bastet. He could shapeshift into a terrifying creature and so held a tyrannical reign over all the females. No one dared to cross him. Those who did sometimes died. Savaged beyond reason. When transformed, his roar was matched only by the huge elephants and the armored rhinos. They alone could force her father to retreat. Nothing else had ever shaken his resolve. Nothing, except storms.

Progression through the pride, weary of danger, the young lioness attempted to smell the location of her mother. In the process, she was scared witness by another, much younger lioness, testing out her new prowling skills.

Lions hunt in one of two ways. They sneak towards prey that are much faster than them, hoping not to be noticed, or they climb up and drop down on unsuspecting prey.

Unknowingly, the she had passed under a lion cub, likely imitating her own mother. That cub, playfully, had clumsily dropped right next to her with a sound that had been meant as a roar, or some sort satisfied sound of victory for a successful hunt.

Too young to know fear or expect anything else than playfulness, the cub immediately jumped in. It gave everything it had, as it was also too young to understand restraint. Luckily, it was easily a third the size of the lioness and was utterly unable to cause it any harm.

And so it was, that it attacked paws that could overturn it as easily as if it had been a leaf.

Unimpressed by the toughness of it's adversary, the cub attempted to stand and climb up the Lioness' calf. Bitting it. In a real hunt, this would slow down the prey and weaken a prey. Amusingly, for all it's youthful clumsiness and obvious lack of size, the cub seemed to possess the right instincts.

The cub, it seemed, had boundless energy and would continue this game until the sun forgets to wake. In the meantime, a few other female lions had seemingly gathered around to see what the commotion was about. Amongst them, the her mother. On such a dreary day, seeing children play, seemed to release some of the tension.

The Lioness was enjoying this entertainment. The young cub was even happy enough to purr.

Lion Facts::

She did not notice danger until it was too late. She realized suddenly that all the other lions had run off or were standing back with extreme unease. She was also now standing within the shadow of something big that was not a cloud. Suddenly, the cub flew off with a pitiful yelp of pain, hit by something of great strength. The dread within her heart told her that her father was angry and standing right behind her.

When he had all of her attention, her father roared an astounding and deafening roar. His body language was fury incarnate and demanded complete submission in no uncertain terms.

Her father grunted as her slapped her, palm downward on the top of her nose in a very nonchalant manner before leaving. That was as good an acceptance of her submission as she ever had seen him give. Her head swam wildly, but he had been kind enough to use no claws so she was otherwise unhurt.

Nearby, a low growl could be heard. The familiar sound of her mother. It was a form of rebuttal, but it was low and very reluctant. Not enough to warrant more than a meaningful snarl from her father, which was more than enough to cause the female to submit and cease all hostilities.

Her mother accepted her presence without hesitation. Sniffing her for traces of blood, and verifying her health. Appeased that her daughter was safe and sound, she proceeded to lick her forehead where her father had landed the blow.

Nearby, a Lioness ran toward her cub with furious speed. From the embrance, of her mother, she could hear the cries of alarm from the poor cub. At least, she was alive. The urgency of the cries was one of extreme fear and distress, not one of danger. She was likely unharmed, or far too scared to notice...

Her mother took good care of her for several minutes. She stopped when she noticed that most of the pride's lions were on the move. Including both lionesses and the only male young enough to still remain with the pride and was lucky enough to survive the dominant male's intolerance of others of his sex.

It was too early for the hunt, which normally begins at dusk, but it seems most wanted to leave now regardless. For some, going away meant that the alpha male, stayed alone... with the cubs. As a result of the storm, and the greater than usual fear of him, some mothers did not move towards the leaving hunters. Tonight would be harder, as it always was after storms.

Her mother did follow. She had no other children to protect and her only child was old enough to come; as she had in the past. All her other offspring were now fully independent or had died.

In the hunt, everyone had a role to play. There were chasers and there were catchers. When hunting big prey, the males would often be the tumblers, because they were the only ones strong enough to force the great creatures such as the hippo to fall on their sides. Unfortunately, the single male they had with them was still much to small to serve this purpose. He was, for now, a chaser.

When a prey or herd was decided upon, the chasers would try to use stealth to position themselves as close as possible to their prey. If they catch it off guard, they kill it. If not, and they prey flees, and that is what the catchers are there for. They would lie in ambush where they believe the frightened animal will go. If they are right, they kill.

Her mother was a chaser, a very good one. She allowed no mistake to her quarry. A flick of the head in the wrong direction was all she needed to start running unheeded. The male wasn't nearly as good at catching. Truth is, males as strong, but lack stamina and speed, and they are easier to spot too. In almost every respect, he should have been a catcher. But, this one had good and strong instincts. While he rarely killed himself, he was excellent in attacking from the right position to send the prey flying in the direction of the best ambush sites.

Most of the rest of the lioness with them now were catchers. Some were good, some were unproven.

The hunters had to wait. They had left far too early. The sun was only beginning to set. Lions hunted at sunset and at night.

Far from ther father, the group's spirits rose. The male was being picked on by some of females. He would be stronger than all of them one day, but for now he still fair game. He didn't seem to mind too much. In some way, at least he was getting attention. And not the kind the alpha usually gave him.

When time came, the group resumed their prowl. It took them the better part of an hour to locate a group of antelope. They were drinking, as they often tended to do in the river.

They were obvious prey, but the group had to wait for the leader of the hunt, her mother, to display that she had chosen them. She studied the field, the hidding places, she took time to determine the odds of success and the dangers. She knew better than any of them how to choose a hunt. To no one's surprise, after a short delay, her stance shifted as she began to move stealthily towards the Antelopes. She had chosen, they were going to try. The male ran as silently as he could to approach from another angle while the catchers moved into place.

The Young Lioness made her move silently, time away from the hunt did not weaken he instincts. She slid into place expertly as did her mother. Unseen, unheard.

Not so the male lion. By no real serious fault of his own he was seen by one of the Antelopes just as it was done drinking. Time halted for one quick second as the eyes of the prey crossed those of the predator just as understanding passed from one to the other. The game of death was on. The Antelopes had the advantage for now, yes, but still had much to do to win their lives.

They wasted no time. Almost as one, the group fled the scene at all speed. Only two stragglers remained, but the three chasers had not been allowed enough time to get as close as they needed to really make a difference here. The catchers would make the difference. Still, they gave chase just in case to little effect. The male's angle of approach did send them flying in the right direction, but, they veered away in group midway to the nearest catcher. This, was becoming a disaster. Thankfully, the night was still young.

Some distance away, hope was renewed when a subtle catcher, lucky enough to have hidden in the right spot had an opportunity to jump on the last straggler. It was obviously a stretch, but she went for it viciously. The beast was wounded, but the attack hadn't been quite the surprise it should have been and the lions' grip left much to be desired. The Antelope wrestled free and kept running.

The chase, was on...