Author's note: MC's name changed from Paul to Leonidas(Leon).
Leon had to make two separate trips to drag the remaining four gazelles back to the den tucked beneath the shade of an acacia-covered outcrop.
When he finally dropped the limp carcasses in front of his cousin and the lioness tending to the cubs, he noticed the wide-eyed gazes of the little ones. The cubs stared at him, their eyes filled with both awe and excitement. One even gave a tiny, admiring growl, barely louder than a hum.
As lions, they shared an instinctual bond, but even so, their expressions showed a glimmer of something more—something close to reverence. Although their intelligence wasn't at human levels yet, the way their ears perked and tails twitched said enough.
Emotions like disbelief or shock were still out of reach for these young minds. But recognition of strength? That much, even a lion cub could grasp.
Leon gave a low growl as he pawed one of the gazelles forward.
He had hunted it. It was his kill. Without his signal, they wouldn't dare approach. But now, with that soft growl of permission, the cubs and his cousin lunged in, tearing into the fresh meat with unrestrained hunger.
Especially the orphan cub. That one devoured each bite like it hadn't eaten in days.
When it tried to snatch a chunk from his weaker cousin, Leon, who had been resting, his vitality slowly replenishing, watched with narrowed eyes.
With a snarl and a swat, he sent the orphan cub tumbling several body lengths across the den floor. Dust scattered.
"You overstep."
His growl rumbled low and firm, filled with the force of dominance.
The orphan cub scrambled to its feet, now whimpering, its ears flat and tail tucked. It limped back slowly, dragging a paw, not daring to meet Paul's eyes.
Lesson taught.
The den fell silent again, save for the sound of chewing. The law of the wild was simple: power ruled, and respect was earned through force.
After some time, the orphan cautiously returned to the gazelle but didn't try anything foolish. It tore off a few meek bites and then slunk to a corner of the den, licking its wounds more than the meat.
Its gaze lingered on Leon, confused and wary.
This was the runt, the cub who'd once trembled just trying to walk. How could he now command such fear? His body had filled out—more muscle, more size. He moved with authority.
But no one explained anything to the orphan. Certainly not Leon.
He simply watched it retreat and snorted silently, "At least you know your place now."
The gazelle he had pushed forward had been a fully grown female weighing more than enough to feed both his sister and the nursing lioness.
With one gazelle gone, the cubs soon had full bellies and rolled over, content and drowsy.
Leon saved the last two young hares for the matriarch of the pride.
As the sun began to fall toward the horizon, the dry air turned sharp and cold.
Soon, the hunting party returned.
The dominant lioness—Leon's mother—and two other lionesses led the way, their bodies caked with dust and frustration. Behind them padded a massive male, scarred and heavy-shouldered—Leon's father, the pride leader.
Their hunt had been a failure again.
No zebra. No wildebeest. They'd only found scraps—half a rotting carcass left behind by a leopard, barely enough to make up for the energy they'd spent searching.
Eight adults made up the pride: three males, five lionesses.
Half a carcass wasn't enough. Not even close. And the cubs would have to go hungry again.
The pride leader growled, low and irritable.
If this continued, their survival in this territory would be in jeopardy. They'd have to consider migrating south, towards the riverlands. There, prey roamed in larger herds. But with cubs this young? The journey was dangerous. The riverlands held crocodiles, rival prides, and worse—rogue males.
So he hesitated.
Then, his nose twitched.
The scent of fresh blood hit him like a slap.
It came from the den.
Only the cubs were inside.
His head snapped toward the scent. His growl pierced the air, short and sharp. Immediately, the pride reacted. Every adult lion turned, muscles tense.
Leon's father let out a roar that cracked the evening silence.
The pride stormed into the den like a sandstorm.
Leon, awakened by the tremor of pawbeats and the snarl of his father entering, sprang up. His ears flicked back as instinct took over. Had something followed them? A predator?
But no enemy appeared.
Just his father, nose twitching, eyes glowing with suspicion, scanning the den.
Leon's cousin and the lioness behind him shrank down, trembling.
Moments later, the rest of the pride arrived.
Only when they confirmed the cubs were unharmed did their stiff tails begin to settle.
Leon's mother strode forward and licked him all over, frantic and relieved.
But the scent of blood remained thick in the air.
Leon, understanding the confusion, gave a low chuff and dragged out the two hare carcasses he had hidden in a shaded corner.
The pride leader approached, sniffed, and narrowed his eyes. Fresh. Still warm. The blood... it had all come from these?
But how?
He looked at Leon, puzzled. Gazelles were fast—too fast for even young lionesses, let alone a cub barely a moon old.
Could it be…?
Leon let out a soft growl, answering his unspoken question.
No more words were exchanged. But the looks from the adults said enough.
This cub was growing too fast.
Too strong, too capable. If this pace continued, it would only be a matter of time before he surpassed them.
Several of the lions exchanged uncertain glances.
His mother was the first to break the tension. She looked at Leon with something between pride and worry, then picked up one of the hares and carried it to her spot. Having recently given birth, she needed the nourishment.
When Leon and the cubs confirmed they were full, Leon's father tossed the last hare to the lionesses behind him.
The males returned to their resting places, eyes still half-focused on Leon, though none dared to challenge him.
For now, the den fell quiet once more.
But under that silence, something had shifted.
Respect… and something bordering on fear.
And Leon—he didn't miss it. Not one bit.