Some weeks ago, not far from the most eastern arm of the Okavango Delta, a lioness left her pride. Her belly had been bulging for quite some time by now, but safety was always in numbers and her role in the hunt had only recently been seized. Like her younger sister, she was soon to be giving birth to a litter of cubs. This would be her 3^rd litter, with the other 2 previous litters having little success and all died due to hyenas, she hated them so much. But she was determined that this year at least 1 of her cubs would survive all the hardship little cubs face before making it to adulthood.

She walked a few miles away from the center of her pride’s territory and found some little dense shrubs that she had marked as a good base to create her den this year. It was not too close to water, yet not too far. It was about 2,5 miles away from good hunting ground, yet not near any trails the herds would use. It was the best spot she could find, and her sister had not found it, so she would have no competition for it.

As she felt her time was near, she headed over to the little, shallow hole she found near the center of the foliage and laid down. Having experienced this twice over she was calmer than the first time and suppressed any roars that would alert nearby animals with good or ill intentions. When it was all done, she saw she had 3 cubs, 2 male and 1 female. None looked smaller than the other or in ill health, and she was glad. She laid down to rest and let the littles ones get used to the outside, soon they would feed on her milk, and she’d be able to sleep.

As she listened to their soft meowing, seeing them scramble around her looking for her warm and soft belly, she gave in to her exhaustion, this was dangerous, but she couldn’t keep awake. She would wake hopefully with all 3 cubs asleep next to her.

As his mom fell asleep, the middle child, a male pushed his nose into her head, but she didn’t react. As he looked around with unfocused eyes all he sensed was the need to stay close to the warm body next to him and follow the sweet smell of milk and drink his fill. After he was done he felt warm, fuzzy and sleepy and his fluffy tummy was caressed by the warm soft breeze.

Hours later mom woke up, as she saw her 3 young snuggled up against her she make a low purring sound, contended they were all ok still. Soon she’d have to leave to hunt, the effort of birth had left her exhausted, but it was the middle of the day and the heat would exhaust her even further. She decided to wait until dark, hunting at night was her specialty anyways.

Not long after the 3 cubs woke, stirred by their mother’s movements they meowled softy and drank again, staying close to their source of comfort. Yet after he had his fill, the middle one looked around and climbed on top of his mom eager to explore the world. As the wind hit his face and a bug flew around his head he lashed at it with his paw. Naturally his reaction were so slow it missed the insect by 10 seconds or so and he tumbled over and fell into the dust next to his mom. She grabbed him and started to clean off the blood, it was some nutrition for her, to last her until her next hunt.

A few weeks had passed, during these the mother had been able to hunt successfully and the milk supply was rich and frequent. Yet the oldest male cub somehow had seen ill fortunate and had wandered off at night while his mother was hunting and met an untimely demise. The remaining siblings had been more docile and not left the den or its directed vicinity but the eldest had left too far and a jaguar had swooped in and snatched the little lion. Upon arrival their mother had mourned but quickly shifted her attention to the remaining 2 cubs. Slowly as they got older and more inquisitive she knew the danger of them being left alone was increasing daily.

Now the time had come for her to make an important decision, whether to remain solitary or rejoin her pride. Some of her pride had litters from a year ago, and the youngster were rough and would potentially hurt her offspring, but they had grown quite sturdy due to being down 1 sibling and she was able to provide for them better. She roared and sought to seek out her other sister. She hoped if they joined at the same time the pride would welcome them better. After connecting with her sister, they went on a hunt together that night she knew tomorrow would be the day to introduce her 2 cubs to her family.

Gillian approached and listened to the little lion's story with curiosity, clapping excitedly when Al-Bundy finished a part of the tale. She was eager to know how it would end and waited anxiously for the next part.

As the little troupe slowly made their march across the drying savanna, mother kept a close eye that the cubs were able to match her pace. As the day got hotter, she could see they started to struggle more to keep up. Her youngest, female cub, was doing better than her brother though she was glad since good hunters would be welcomed by the pride. Perhaps the other cub would thrive, despite seeming behind his sister at the moment. Boys tended to take more time than their female siblings at this early and tender age.

Slowly they made their way back to the pride, sometimes mother roared to keep tabs on her sister, who had 3 cubs in tow on her way back to the family. Just before nightfall she reached the river to which the pride had come that day for drinking and later at night hunting. Watering holes or shallow rivers were attracting prey from all directions and the lions knew it was a good place to stay out with some sycamore fig trees providing ample shade against the blistering sun high above the treetops.

She first spotted her mother on the far side of the pack, weary of how the others could react to newcomers, she led her cubs around the pact and approached her mother. A soft roar wafted her way, encouraging her to walk straight up to her mother and brush her body against hers. She then turned back to her cubs and softly encourage them to do the same. To her relief, she saw her mom embracing the first meeting of the new cubs and she knew with her mom being the alpha female, there was a very large chance now that her cubs would be accepted into the pride.

Slowly the lions approached her 1 by one, all rejoicing in seeing her back in the pack, sharing smells and warmth. The alpha male, her father, came and greeted her as well. As he lazily blinked at the cubs, he made no attempt to great them but neither did he lash out at them or show his back to them in rejection. Heartened by this, she encouraged the cubs to join her side and she fed them as she laid down, signaling she was at ease with her family again. Shortly after her sister arrived at the pride pack, receiving equal treatment from the family. Luckily they had a big enough territory for hunting prey and they had no shortage of food and water since her father and his 2 brothers kept the pride and their territory safe for over 7 years now.

Barring a new coalition of males coming in on their territory or a new pack of hyenas approaching on their home, these new cubs should have a good chance making it past their 1^st year.

They had been taught well. When the hunt came to them, Patience was a virtue. 

In the heart of the Okavango Delta, beneath the burning sky, two young lion cubs grew up. They were nearly a year old now. Their fur had grown coarser, and their muscles became chiseled and tight, as they stalked the dry desert. But despite their strength and size, they were still children in the eyes of the pride. 

Their mother was the heart of their pride, a lioness of unmatched cunning and strength. But she was gone now, lost to a brutal encounter with a pack of wild beasts. Her memory lingered with her cubs, and her lessons never forgotten. The pain from such a huge loss was tempered by the presence of their father…the pride’s reigning king.

This particular male lion was a creature of legends. His lush golden mane shimmered like the sun, and would blow with the wind as he ran, chasing down his prey. To his young offspring, he was both an enigma and a constant presence, ever watchful, ever patient. He seemed lazy, often lounging under the shade of the massive baobab trees or stretching on the warm rocks that dotted their territory. But the cubs had also learned something important from him—he was never idle. He was always watching; always keenly aware of those who would venture into their territory. 

The pair would often flank him, and such a thing was for them alone. They were permitted to trail beside their father, as he moved through the tall grass. Their steps padded silently on the earth beneath their huge paws. Sometimes, when they were especially close, they would sleep nuzzled against his warm side, feeling the rhythm of his breathing and comforted in the protection that he offered. The king would occasionally glance down at his offsping, his golden eyes gleaming with a quiet understanding.

“What are we waiting for, father?” The male lion cub once asked. 

The king’s voice was deep and steady. “Patience, my son. The world moves slowly, but it moves in cycles. We wait for the right moment.”

The young female, ever the curious one, tilted her head. “The right moment for what?”

The lion’s eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. “For those who think they are safe to make their move. For the jackals... the hyenas... when they grow bold enough to come closer.” The cubs didn’t fully understand allowing danger to creep so near, but they trusted their father. 

One evening, as the sun as the sun was setting, the young male spotted something in the distance. It was a pack of jackals, moving through the dry grass; their eyes gleaming and their bared teeth dripping with hunger. The cub’s instincts flared, but the king lion did not move. He remained still, except for his tale, that flicked up and down, as if counting the seconds.

“Hold,” his ordered in a low, muffled growl.  

The jackals were close now; but just as they edged in, the lion charged!

The battle was swift. The lead jackal caught in the clenched bite of the king. The lion’s heirs each stood over their kills. The rest of the invaders scattered, and the hyenas on the sidelines, wailed sharp cries, at the unfairness of their defeat.

The king turned to his grown cubs, his eyes glowing in the dusk light. They had proven themselves worthy of keeping the pride safe. And in that moment, as he gazed at them with approval and pride. 

“You are ready,” he said, just before he leaned down to tear through the neck of his prey. 
 

Epiphany smiles at all the wonderful lion stories. She is inspired to tell one of her own that she heard long ago…

Once upon a time, a lion was taking a stroll through the jungle when he comes across a stream. Thirsty for some water, the lion bends over to drink from it. 

Little did the lion know, a mischievous monkey was peeking at the lion from behind a nearby tree. Watching the lion drink from the stream, his powerful hindlegs supporting himself and his magnificent tail pointed straight in the air, the monkey runs up behind the lion and f’s him right in the you-know-what and then runs off into the jungle. 

Outraged, the lion lets out a ferocious roar and makes chase! 

The monkey continues to run through the jungle until he eventually comes across a camp site. He quickly runs inside one of the tents. He needed to disguise himself quickly before the lion could find him. 

The monkey puts on a khaki-colored safari robe, a safari hat, and a pair of reading glasses on. He reclines back in a chair, lights a pipe, and opens up a newspaper, the Johannesburg Times, and holds the newspaper up to his face pretending to read it. 

Just then, the lion’s mighty paw tears through the tent with his claws. 

“ROOOAAARRR!!!” Exclaims the lion. “Have you seen a monkey come through this camp site?”

The monkey peers up at the lion and asks “you mean the one that f’d you in the ass?”

Exasperated, the lion shouts “IT’S IN THE PAPER ALREADY???”