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when the previous king of this pride, black lung, ushered young quaritch along and took him under his wing, quaritch promptly learned what he wished to be. he didn't intend on doing black lungs bidding, traveling the lands in search of items or territory, no, no. he wanted to rule, and he knew just how to do it.
it was late, the sun had finally set beyond the endless horizon. quaritch padded out of the leafy foliage of the pandora den and along the rocky path which led to black lung's king quarters. the stone was cool beneath his paws, his piercing yellow eyes aglow in the night. he loomed in the entry of the king's cave, his tail slowly swishing side to side behind him mischievously at the lovely sight before him: black lung sound asleep. slowly, the young ice pelted lion stalked inside to deal with the one thing in his way of his deepest desire; the old geezer didn't make a peep... no lion was none the wiser...
the next morning, quaritch rushed to the pandora den and dashed straight for his right-paw-lion, wainfleet. he shook his friend awake and with a grumble, he nodded toward the door, indicating he wished the lion to follow him. wainfleet knew better than to question his motives and raised to his paws, following after the icy pelted lion. quaritch led the way up the rocky path to the king's quarters; by the entry, the sharp scent of blood hung heavy in the air. wainfleet's ears pinned and his tail hung low as he followed quaritch inside, his stomach flipping at the sight of what was left of king black lung.
"well?" quaritch huffed, approaching the limp form. "are you gonna just stand there or make yourself useful?" quaritch bowed forward and took a mouthful of the overthrown felis king's scruff and began to drag him towards the mouth of the cave. albeit reluctantly, wainfleet followed, biting the loose skin near the felis's back and assisting in the carrying of the dead weight.
the two males dragged the body out of the cave, hauling it closer, and closer to the cliffs edge before quaritch gave a low growl of instruction.
"let go," he ordered, to which wainfleet obliged. the icy pelted lion then did the same and shoved the form of the late black lung off of the edge of the cliff, watching the felis's body hurtle toward the ground, then land with a sickening thud. wainfleet averted his gaze and padded off to the side to take a seat and groom the blood out of his fur. quaritch stayed at that cliff edge, staring down at the late king below as he took a seat and curled his tail around his paws.
quaritch took a slow, deep breath of the crisp morning air, his eyes settling on the rising sun as it crawled its way into the painted sky.
"... my reign shall begin."
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