Unknown

Your paws get weak as you approach Unknown to say hi. He perks up, ready to repeat your last marathon of dozen spars in a row. Uhhhhhhh.

You notice Unknown focused on a small, still moving bird under his paw. He keeps pulling away feather by feather. You stop in your tracks, deciding to not bother him right now.

As you survey your pride lands before you, Unknown comes to stand next to you. You smell blood on the wind.
-

They'd died before they even had a name.

It all happened so fast, it was more like a strange dream.

There'd been nothing but darkness, and the warmth of Mother's belly. She was comfort, she was security and safety. And milk. She smelled of milk, milk which they suckled for, desperately pawed at her belly for.

Slowly, the world around them changed. No longer was it just darkness and the sweet, enveloping scent of milk mixed with Mother's calming, warm presence.

Slowly, light embraced him. There were colors, and even noises. Vague blobs turned to forms. They eventually learned to recognize Mother's form. Her beautiful, golden fur, mottled with inky blackness. Most of the...others..avoided her, they quickly learned. They were afraid of the darkness, erupting unevenly across her skin like a disease, an omen.

But they found the darkness comforting. Even before Mother, the darkness had been quiet and peaceful.

At night, which, they learned, brought more darkness, reprieve from the bright light of day, so strong and harshly yellow compared to Mother's soft golden fur, they would trace their small paws along the uneven trails of ink. Usually Mother was asleep by then, but sometimes they could hear her rumbling gently under their touch, even purring. They would do their best to mimic that noise, rumbling in their throat, but they could never make the pleasant sound she did and they would huff and curl up further into the crook of Mother's pale belly.

Soon, they learned, there was more than Mother and the other lions with their quick, fleeting stares. There was also Big Sister. She, too, had the uneven trails of inky blotches across her her, paler than Mother's. Why didn't they have the inky dark patches? Sometimes, Mother and Big Sister would talk together. Most of the other lions avoided them, so they seemed very close. Did Mother and Big Sister love them the same way? They were so different, and the others stayed away from them too.

They saw other cubs, sometimes. They were bigger than them, older too, and they'd always stay away from them. This made them...sad. Mother had to go away sometimes, so they couldn't even count on her always. But Big Sister would be there. She would pick them up by their scruff and carry them back to their den. Then she'd give them a colorful feather or a smooth, shiny stone. Sometimes Big Sister would stay and bat the feather back at them, kick the stone with her paw, or even ball up some moss and toss it in the air for them. Other times, she would leave them alone after making sure they didn't leave the den again.

This made them scared. Lonely.

They always came back, but what if they didn't? They didn't want to be alone, they didn't have anyone else. If Mother and Big Sister were gone, then who would want them around? The others would chase them away in fear. Was it because of Mother and Big Sister's inky blackness? Were they afraid it would spread to them? Or was it the startlingly white fur on their head, making it look as though they wore a skull on their head?

Maybe it was both.

They decided to follow Mother one day. She left, same as usual, and Big Sister was nowhere to be found. They left the safety of the thickly shadowing trees, finding themselves at the mercy of the harsh daylight. The desert seemed to be mocking them; the monotonous beiges, browns, even yellows, were reminiscent of Mother's golden fur, of Big Sister's pale fur, but there was no telltale streaks of night breaking it up into interesting patterns. No comforting fur to bury their small face into and sob silently when they were sad, when the other cubs stared at them, went crying to their mothers as they approached.

The world shifted; sand shifted below their paws, burning, burning, scorching, why did it hurt, why was everything fuzzy again, why. It was like they were going backwards; everything went from clear and crisp to vague blobs, noises seemed quiet, muffled, far away, until they were gone. Where was Mother, where was her comforting darkness breaking up the golden, her rumbling purrs and breathy murmurs. Their throat hurt, they couldn't see or hear or smell, where was Mother and her darkness?

Darkness.

Where were they?

No, Who were they?

No, that wasn't it either.

Why were they?

Yes. Why were they? Something tugged at their consciousness, urging them to remember, to do something. But why? They were content, nothing to worry about. But Why? This was nice. Nothing could hurt or scare them here. It didn't matter where "here" was or who they were. They were nothing, and nothing was everything.

But...

So persistent.

What was it?

They reached out to the tugging irritation, wondering what could be so desperate to stir them from the gentle lull of nothingness.

A brief glimpse of a fuzzy blob. No, it was a lion. They focused on them, her. She had a kind face. She was very pretty. Why was she sad? Did they do something wrong? They wanted to go back to the comforting darkness, but..she seemed to be stopping them. Let me go! they wanted to tell her. But she didn't, wouldn't. Maybe she was lonely too? They tried to tell her that she could come with them, that maybe they could be lonely in the darkness for every, but they'd never been one for words.

Her soft eyes looked down at them, sad, so sad, why were they sad? Her eyes somewhat matched the soft pink smudge on her fur. She looked warm. Parts of her fur were so pale. That reminded them of something. Pale fur. Kind eyes. But it was fleeting.

The sad lioness stepped forward. Was she upset with them? Maybe she was scared of them too. Was she going to hurt them? Was it because of the darkness? They could feel it, rooted inside, all around them. It was so...nice, so calm. Why was everyone afraid of it?

She bent down, slowly, and they tried to move away, what did they do wrong, but they couldn't they were stuck there, not frozen, not unable to move, but almost as if a part of them didn't want to. She touched them with her nose...oh. Did they have a nose too? They thought they were one with the darkness, nothing at all, but they felt that they would have a nose in that spot too.

It didn't matter now, they felt waves of warmth rolling over them, calm, soft, like darkness. Like a warm, inky blanket, breaking up soft golden hues.

Then, she was gone.

Wait! They wanted to cry out. They didn't want to be alone, why did everyone want them to be alone, they were scared, please don't leave them alone.

Soft.

Gold.

Mocking them.

The gold wasn't the same. It was paler. And it wasn't broken up by uneven patches. It was a solid, monotonous color.

Mother?

No. This wasn't their Mother. They remembered her gentle face. She usually had a stern look, unless she was looking at them or Big Sister.

But there was another golden cub with them. But she wasn't Big Sister. She was too yellow. Not soft gold like Mother. And her pelt was broken up with white speckles, a stark contrast from Mother and Big Sister's patches. She had familiar pink eyes, but they avoided her. Her mannerisms weren't familiar. They missed Mother and Big Sister.

Everything seemed so monotonous, so confusing. Nothing was familiar, even this false-Mother didn't feel safe. It just wasn't the same.

They missed Mother.

Maybe that sad lioness could have explained, but they just couldn't ask. Still, the words refused to come to them, if anything, it seemed harder. They were lonelier than ever.

And it was all.

Their.

Fault.

They'd messed it up, why couldn't they have trusted Mother to come back? Mother would be so disappointed in them if they ever met again, probably was disappointed in them now. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe everyone would be a little less scared of her now that they, the "skull" cub, were gone.

They did everything they could to convince themselves that it was better, but still, their heart cried out for Mother. She had really been all they had, she was the only one who had always been there, even they'd met Big Sister, but now she was gone, they were both gone, and it was all because they were too scared, too lonely to be away from them even for a little while.

They still didn't have a name, they realized.

It seemed like they did; the sound not-Mother and not-Sister made at them, they seemed to use when talking to them. But it didn't feel like them. Mother had not given them a name. They had been given nicknames, they'd believed. Big Sister and Mother had often called them Cubone. It felt affectionate, and while it had never been a name per say, it had been all they'd had. But they were fine with not having a name. They remembered Mother once telling them that they would be given a name on their ceremony.

It didn't seem like that ceremony was coming any time soon.

not-Sister often seemed like she wanted to approach them, but they were dull, uninteresting. She eventually seemed to get the hint to leave them alone, thankfully. not-Mother too, generally left them alone after they indirectly made it clear, just by being their usual, silent self, that they just wanted to be alone. They deserved it. It was their fault they were there and weren't with Mother and Big-Sister.

But they couldn't take it anymore. It was stifling, being there with their false family. The others that weren't not-Mother or not-Sister didn't even seem afraid of them, like before. They were simply avoided, and they didn't mind it, but they wished it were the same.

At least, no one seemed afraid at first.

There was a terrible storm; Lightning streaked across the sky, thunder rumbling in a warning growl, a deafening cacophony. Rain poured down, flooding the grotto as the camp was evacuated. not-Mother ushered them and not-Sister away, to safety, high ground, away from the deluge, the dark water swirling threateningly, branches and other debris picked up and swept away as easily as a mother might carry her cub.

But of course, fate seemed to be against them.

While climbing the thin trail taking them up the cliff-face, they slipped, lagging behind. not-Mother didn't seem to notice, too focused on not-Sister. They couldn't blame her, they knew they didn't belong, that their home was far away.

But as they struggled to their paws, trying to limp to catch up, lighting flashed, blinding, brilliant, searing pain, it hurt, it hurt, why did it hurt, it was hot, there was fire. Or maybe they were the fire? Yes, that seemed right. They were fire, one with the fire. It was searing hot, their head hurt, but that didn't matter because they were fire. Last time they'd experienced something like this, they'd gotten stripped away from Mother while trying to find her. Maybe they'd get lucky, maybe they would be brought back to Mother. Maybe it was just a dream, and they'd wake up and sob silently, small frame shaking, and Mother would curl around them and do her rumble-purr and would tell them that it would be okay, and they'd feel at peace once more, enveloped by her soft darkness, lit up by her golden light, and they'd fall back asleep without dreaming.

But luck did not seem to favor them.

They woke up to see the concerned faces of not-Mother and not-Sister looming over them, staring down. They felt dazed, frazzled, as if as though they'd just trekked through a deep, cold, swamp. They saw not-Mother trying to say something, but they couldn't hear her. Oh. There was a buzz in their ears, a low whine, ringing, blocking out not-Mother. Stupid. Why did she keep trying to speak over the ringing? Their fur itched.

They gently lifted a paw, noticing the ache in their very bones, to scratch the itchiness on their head.

It hurt! And why did their fur feel so hot? Oh no, were they sick? not-Mother seemed even more concerned, but they ignored her as she tried to clean their head. Her rasping tongue against their fragile skin only reminded her of how...wrong she was. But they couldn't bring themselves to move away as they stared at not-Sister's paws, who seemed unsure of what to do.

As the Falses, an aptly fitting name for the two, they decided, swarmed over them, they idly thought about the white skull marking on their head. It'd been whispered about as an omen, but Mother always told them that that wasn't true. They were too small, sweet, and pure to possibly an omen.

They didn't feel any of those things.

But at least here, in their, well, they supposed it was home just as much as any other place. Their real home was in the crook of Mother's belly, safe and warm. At least in this 'home,' no one had seemed to mention or notice their skull fur.

Before their lightning strike, that was.

They later learned that it appeared as if their skull was black, stark and harsh around their soft face. Had the lightning stained their fur? Or maybe it really was an omen.

Now, they really were scared of him.

Especially when their 'omen' seemed to become real.

The carcass, looking perfectly safe from the outside, was rotted, blackened, decayed on the inside, as if struck by disease. not-Mother and not-Sister wouldn't even look at them, and truly left them alone now. Good, they deserved to be alone.

It seemed everyone in the pride had quickly made the connection between themself and the sick prey.

It wasn't long before Lurisia, who was basically the right paw of the queen or whatever-they didn't know or particularly care, they weren't one much for politics-approached them.

Walk with me, she had said. An order, not an invite.

The two went away from the canyons and mountain range of their home, heading out across the vast grasslands.

You need to stop what you're doing.

I'm not doing anything.

Don't lie to me. You reek of Decay. The prey is fine when it is hunted, but once it comes back to the Hollow, it becomes corrupted, fouled, Decayed. And the stone creeps in, taking whatever you can't eat fast enough.

I'm not doing anything!

Your very presence is making my head ache. That is what happens to those of use touched by light. There is a deep darkness within you, and now it is showing itself through that omen imprinted upon your fur. It is only a matter of time before it grows strong enough to where you turn to stone your own pride mates.

They're not my pride mates! They gasped, breathless, dizzy, it was all so wrong.

I don't belong here.

I agree. That is why I am not allowing you to return with me.

They froze in shock. They were scared. They'd never been truly on their own; there was always someone to feed and protect them, even if they were lonely.

They turned and fled.

The young lion ran and ran. Their paws ached, screamed in protest, the pads scraped and torn. But they didn't stop until the grass grew sparse, filtering up through bare, dry, cracked grown until that, too, faded into bare sand.

They collapsed, their small form having no energy left to move.

In that moment, the nameless cub understood; this was the end. They were going to die.

They would cease to breath.

Cease to be.

Cease to hurt.

It would be easy.

But they didn't want to die.

With a strangled cry that died in their throat, they staggered up, feeling immediately how different they were. Their head felt lighter, clearer.