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"What am I to do with this frail cub? He's merely a burden on resources - I'll leave him by the big tree come morning, and that's final."
Nimbus awoke with a sigh, dispelling the haunting nightmare—his inaugural and sole memory of his parents. Despite his persistent hunger, he got up, chasing away the remnants of the nightmare with a puff of dirt and dust leaving his fur as he shook himself before pressing on through the night. His stomach grumbled, hunger intensifying since he had lain down earlier, but he contemplated stretching it another day or two before truly needing to feed. Water posed a more immediate challenge; his insides felt as arid as the dusty sand under his paws. Halting as a breeze russeld his fur he lifted his head hoping to catch the whiff of a salty wind from earlier in the day again, hoping to find a river before it reached the sea.
Slinking through the shrubs and hugging the ground, Nimbus aimed to evade the intense sun that had climbed into the sky. By midday, forced by the searing heat and detecting the ominous scent of another male, he had no option but to pause for a rest. This looming threat was more substantial and in better condition than Nimbus, who, despite being around one and a half years old, still resembled a youthful huntress more than anything else. After shaking the non-existent fluff on his neck, Nimbus chose to resume his journey, opting to take the risk of encountering the submale over the peril of dying from thirst.
Not long into his walk, a growing sense of being observed made Nimbus gulp, regretting his earlier display of bravery. Ears perked, he soon identified a shadow trailing his left side, the proximity increasing with each passing moment—then suddenly disappearing. Panic set in as Nimbus stopped abruptly, trying to comprehend the situation, only to be met with a searing pain on his right flank. The submale had circled back, launching an attack when he was least attentive and now they were seeking a confrontation circling the wounded Nimbus. Maneuvering to avoid the next swipe, Nimbus relied on his best skill—the one thing he excelled at: fast and continues running.
Awakening with a throbbing head and aching body, adrenaline propelled Nimbus to his feet in an instant. Surveying his surroundings, he discovered only his own footprints embedded in the soft mud. Wait, mud—the river was close. Stumbling through reeds, he submerged his head in the first pool of water, the cold refreshing sensation clearing his nose and eyes of dust. Resting and sustaining himself with a nest of eggs he had found, Nimbus embarked the next day to try his luck with the colossal fish he had spotted.
Damp and famished, he lay on a sandy shore by midday when a loud splash interrupted his rest. Anticipating a possible encounter with hippos, he rolled over, only to find a grey, feline-like creature. Sitting up, he wondered if they were in distress. Approaching the water, he grew more uneasy with every second the stranger stayed under. On the opposite bank finally, a massive grey cat emerged, a black scruff on its neck and a flapping fish in its jaws. Unseen as yet, Nimbus decided to cross the stream where it was shallower.
As he drew nearer, he discerned the scent of a female huntress, although something about her seemed peculiar. Before delving further into his investigation, she turned, locking eyes with him. The fish... his hunger intensified. Taking a cautious step forward, Nimbus hesitated between her and the prey. Would she share? His musings were interrupted by a deep huffing sound, reminiscent of his aunties encouraging him to tear meat from a carcass when he was a cub. The grey feline withdrew slightly, departing as Nimbus began to feast on her catch.
Cleaning of his muzzle and paws, Nimbus resolved to trail her tracks, noticing massive paw prints in the soft mud with an imposing stride that proved challenging to match. However, as he glimpsed her figure in the distance, it became apparent that she had stopped multiple times, checking her surroundings. His attempt at stealth wasn't as successful as he had hoped. The transition from muddy terrain to soft, dark earth triggered a tingling sensation in his nose. These were pridelands; his aspirations of having found another solitary wanderer for companionship crumbled—she belonged to a pride, guarded by a king.
Huddled in a brush, he pondered his options through the night. The sun barley risen a screeching mongoose startled him. Jumping in panic and attempting to shake off the persistent biting critter, he unintentionally collided with a substantial rock—a rock seemingly amused by the situation. With the mongoose retreating, a large monochrome lion leaped from the rock, lacking a mane but evidently the source of the scent Nimbus had detected the previous day. Shrinking back to the rock, he anxiously sat as the lion approached, sniffing him. Risking a glance, he noted the lion's age, with eyes beginning to glaze over.
The elderly lion turned away with a huff, seemingly disinterested in Nimbus. After the king's departure, Nimbus sat by the rock, contemplating his purpose. He was no threat to a true king, and a foreign huntress had shared her food out of pity— he felt pathetic. A sweet voice interrupted his gloomy thoughts. A peculiar lioness approached, adorned with herbs around her neck and a small pouch at her side. Without fear or words, she settled next to him, grooming his face and tending to the wound on his hind leg with some herbs. As she finished she left a small carcass before departing.
In the ensuing days, Diamond Back, the peculiar healer, visited daily to tend to the wound and bring food. When she didn't appear, the king would pass by the rock, pausing for a few minutes before continuing in silence. Nimbus soon grasped that he was meant to accompany the king. As the scorching summer gave way to the extended rainy season, Nimbus became accustomed to the old king, Azoris. Whether in silent contemplation or posing riddles for Nimbus to solve, Azoris eventually provided the slender submale with a new home in the marshlands.
While Nimbus developed affection for the old lion, his favorite pastime became fishing with Sage. The enormous grey feline usually shadowed the old king, except when she ventured out to fish. Being a tiger hybrid, Sage's love for swimming meant that Nimbus, much to his dismay, in order to learn fishing, subsequently had to embrace swimming as well.
Another aspect Nimbus grew to appreciate was the spiritual guidance of the pride. Diamond Back imparted the beliefs and rituals on him, including the cursed mark placed on cubs who failed their spirit quest. Despite symbolizing failure and imperfection, Nimbus found it to be the most precious fur color one could have... especially a lioness.
As the old king's strength waned and his world darkened, Nimbus assumed the king's duties, spending their final months together.
Sunbathing on the rocks overseeing the marshes he often regaled the now-blind Azoris with stories, illuminating his dull world with tales of a young king.
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