💋 𝕶𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖙💄's Den

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The dust swirled around keshet’s paws, mirroring the galaxies swirling in his fur. He was a spectacle, a breathtaking anomaly in the tawny landscape. His fur was a canvas of the cosmos: blues and pinks bled into purples and blacks, all spattered with stark white, like nebulae scattered across a velvet sky. His eyes, the color of opals, shifted with every angle of the sun, reflecting the light in a mesmerizing dance of color. He was Keshet, and he was alone.

He preferred it that way. He'd tried the pride life, the comforting warmth of bodies huddled together in the shade, the easy reassurance of the hunt. But he was different. His appearance drew stares, whispers. Some called him a blessed omen, others a cursed aberration. He craved neither the veneration nor the fear. He simply craved peace, a solitude he found only in the vast, echoing silence of the plains.

Today, the sun beat down relentlessly. keshet had been tracking a lone wildebeest for hours, his unique coloration offering him a strange camouflage amongst the shadows and distant mirages. He wasn't hunting for sport; necessity drove him. He hadn't eaten in two days, and the pangs in his belly were a constant, gnawing reminder of his solitary existence.

He crouched low, the muscles in his powerful legs coiled like springs. The wildebeest, a young female, grazed obliviously, its brown hide blending seamlessly with the dry grass. Keshet calculated his move, the opalescent color in his eyes narrowing with predatory focus. He wouldn't have a second chance.

Then, he hesitated.

He saw it, a tiny flicker of movement in the wildebeest's shadow. A calf, barely a week old, lay nestled in the grass, its wide, innocent eyes watching the world with naive trust.

keshet's gut twisted. He, the magnificent, the unique, the feared, was about to orphan a helpless creature. The thought was repugnant.

He rose slowly, allowing the wind to carry his scent to the wildebeest. The female lifted her head, her nostrils flaring, and saw him. Fear flashed in her eyes, but she stood her ground, a protective barrier between him and her young.

keshet let out a low rumble, a sound that was surprisingly gentle, almost a reassurance. He then turned and walked away.

Hunger gnawed at him with renewed ferocity. Doubt whispered insidious lies in his mind. He was a fool, a sentimental softie. He should have taken the easy kill. Survival dictated it.

But as he crested a small rise, he heard it - a faint, plaintive bleating. He stopped, his ears twitching. Following the sound, he found her: a young zebra, trapped in a thicket of thorns, its leg caught in a twisted root. Panic emanated from the terrified animal.

Keshet approached cautiously. The zebra trembled, its eyes wide with terror. He knew the thorns could tear, the root could break its leg. He also knew he was wasting precious energy, burning calories he couldn't afford to lose.

He spent the next hour carefully disentangling the zebra from its prison. Thorns ripped at his fur, drawing beads of blood. He ignored the pain, focusing on the delicate task. Finally, with a gentle heave, he freed the zebra’s leg.

The zebra, after a moment of stunned silence, scrambled to its feet and bolted away, disappearing into the shimmering distance.

keshet watched it go, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He was still hungry, still alone, but he wasn’t empty.

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues that echoed the galaxies on his fur, keshet found a hollow beneath a gnarled acacia tree. He collapsed, exhausted, his stomach rumbling in protest.

But then, he smelled it. A faint, familiar scent. He lifted his head and saw her: the wildebeest he had spared earlier, standing a short distance away. She wasn't alone. The young calf nestled close to her side.

She didn't run. She simply looked at him, her eyes holding not fear, but something akin to respect.
keshet laid his head down, a soft sigh escaping his lips. He was still a loner, still an anomaly. But tonight, under the vast, star-strewn sky, he wasn't entirely alone. He had found a different kind of sustenance, a nourishment that filled a void deeper than hunger. He had found kindness, and in doing so, had found a piece of himself he didn't know was missing. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was enough.
( TYPED BY Novak #458424)
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Keshet Was always outcasted in prides, But he knew the feeling of loneliness- Even then he would rather choose to stay alone then to be with a bunch of lionesses with a lion scrot up their Tush.- But
He did have a small pride of lionesses that did admire him for his godly looks - a lot of lionesses swooned over his rosette markings and his kind face. He didn't mind the lionesses following him but he wasn't one to wanna lead a whole pride.