Early Morning Thirst (Open)

The light seemed nearly blinding as the old lion Emeka made his way down to the Water Hole, the wind despite the heat seemed to cut sharply through him. He glanced about cautiously before daring to break the grass line at the water's edge. There were a few ragged and wild eyed looking wildebeest keeping a careful watch on him to his right, and an elephant with a torn ear on the far side which looked as equally tired as he himself felt. Emeka sniffed the air for hyena wary of a confrontation; all he could smell of them however, was days old. Finally secure enough to drink he ambled to the water’s edge. Lowering himself to the ground was painful as his stiff joints flared and popped. The cool and refreshing feel on his chin was worth it though. Happily the old lion began to lap up his fill.

Zola walked with a practiced ease, not wanting to show how unsure she truly felt, as she made her way to her father’s den. “Daddy?” she called softly as she stuck her head inside. After waiting for and receiving no reply she cleared her throat and decided to try again knowing that his senses were beginning to fail him.

“Daddy?” she called louder walking inside. Winding her way down the short but twisted path into the large, round sleeping chamber which was well worn and homey. She found no one within. Momentarily flooded with fear for her father’s safety she crouched low to the ground her tail tucking immediately between her legs and ears pulled back. She scented the air for hyena or other lions.

Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she rushed from her childhood home without checking to be sure no one was watching and sprinted towards the Water Hole. Reaching the peak of the hills surrounding the lake Zola heaved a huge sigh of relief when she spotted Emeka’s dark brown cool toned pelt, she smiled. Walking easily down to the water she crouched down beside him. “Good morning daddy.” She smiled before lowering her head to drink, rubbing a shoulder against his for reassurance.

With a smile Emeka ceased his ravenous drinking and rubbed his forehead gently against his daughter’s cheek. He could feel the uncertainty and fear she was trying to suppress rippling off her like a wave. She was a strong and beautiful lioness, as her fair mother had been, but deep in her truest heart he knew her to be his little cub that enjoyed chasing what was left of his tail.

He sighed, she always tried to be brave for him, but he knew she worried. “Good morning Zola.” He said his voice rumbling softly as he moved his chin to rest momentarily on her head in a warm and greeting. “How are you today?” he eyed her over, there was something he’d been meaning to discuss with her, but it could wait. Lowering his head again he resumed drinking.

[[Sorry for not seeing this thread sooner, hope it’s alright if Scar joins in!]]

Near the water's edge, the harsh jade eyes of the king spied two forms. From a distance, he could not make out the identity of the pair, and so Scar passed through the long, dried grass in their direction. Very few males still called themselves Pridelanders, save for Scar and his remaining sons, so he knew very quickly that it was Emeka, from the silhouette of his mane and the hunch in his shoulders brought on by advanced age. The old lion had been around, though distant, for more years than even Scar could remember – and Scar was by no means a lion still in the prime of his own life. His own aching joints were evidence of his age, but Emeka was even older than the dark king himself.

Old Emeka had survived despite the harshness of the world, and had remained a Pridelander, despite the king. Now, one could assume he stayed only because his daughter had, as a member of the hunting party. "Emeka, Zola," his voice teased, low and raspy in greeting. "Isn't it a lovely day?" The sun was hot on the russet brute's dark pelt, and he gave an ironic chuckle along with his comment. "May I ask what you both are doing out here? It seems you have been avoiding us back at Pride Rock," he said coolly, though a dark eyebrow perched questioningly as his eyes wavered between father and daughter, curious to see who would dare to respond to his accusations.

Any semblance of peace or calmness was instantly lost to the day with the tyrant's presence beneath the water's edge, and he dipped his head to lap up some of the murky liquid with his lolling pink tongue. The shore was slowly but surely shrinking inwards as the endless heat evaporated into thin air with every passing day. Finally, his gaze rest upon Zola, and there was a sick glint in his eyes that suggest Scar had something sinister on his mind.