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“How do you three like the Pridelands under King Scar?” asked Russom, looking over the younger lions. “Is it as screwed up as everyone else says?”

They weren’t the first Pridelanders to ask to join his kingdom, but they were the first Pridelander lions. For Scar to be ruling so poorly that members of his own pride were running away… even for how bad things were, that still came as a surprise to the Grasslands’ king; he thought Scar’s own pride would have some favoritism from the reportedly lazy monarch. The last he’d heard, Scar had even been accepting new lions in.

One of the three boys, the brown furred one, was sporting fresh scars across his nose. The blond one was walking with one back leg in a splint, clearly patched up by someone’s mjuzi. The other, who’d called himself Mheetu, was uninjured, yet had the most troubled feeling about him. Were they in this state, and on their own, because of something they had done?

“It’s fine,” said Mheetu, stiffly, “Scar’s… fine.”

Russom raised a scruffy eyebrow. “Then why’d you leave?”

“We tried to be rogues!” he answered, inappropriately angrily, “Now we want to settle down.”

“In a random place you’ve never been to before, instead of just going home.“

Mheetu nodded

“You only went through Sokwe’s kingdom—which hasn’t got any lions in it—and you’re already done with the coming of age adventure?”

He nodded again. The brown lion put a paw on his shoulder, and smiled awkwardly at Russom. Behind them, the blond lion was murmuring something to a gaggle of blue feathered birds, who Russom hadn’t even noticed until now.

“I don’t buy it,” the king said, “You seem like trouble.”

“We’re just rogues,” said the brown lion, emphatically, “M-my name’s Chumvi, your majesty. We left because…” Chumvi gulped. “It’s rough in the Pridelands, right now. The drought hit us really hard, and Scar isn’t doing a good job at handling it. Tojo, Mheetu, and I thought, well… we’re young and strong, if anybody could leave and take some of the burden off of the land, it’s us.”

“Gosh, that’s sweet.” Russom looked them over, waiting a moment in case one of them wanted to say anything more. Finally, he continued; “Now tell me the truth. What’d Scar exile ya for?”

Mheetu growled, but the king stood firm.

“Oh, you don’t wanna wrestle with me, kitten,” he grinned, “I can tear the tusks off an elephant.”

“Your majesty,” said the blond lion, Tojo, stumbling quickly in front of Mheetu, “He doesn’t mean any harm. My… friend… he’s just tired. We all are.” The blue birds flocked around the two lions, looking up at Russom with worried expressions.

“I promise,” added Chumvi, “We didn’t leave the Pridelands because we did something wrong.”

“If you can’t take us—“ said Tojo, looking around at the dry grass and swaths of prints in the dirt, which spoke of too many subjects in the kingdom already, “—Then we’ll go peacefully. We won’t bother you any longer. But, please, give us a chance.”

Russom sighed, a rubbed his temples with a paw. He looked over the three males; they were about the age his own husband had been, when he’d first gone roving. Ndoto certainly hadn’t been any trouble to his birth pride… he had just been a misfit. Same as Russom had been, back in his.

“You kids obviously got secrets,” he said, “Whatever you’re hiding is gonna come to light, someday—always does.”

The three young lions glanced at each other, their expressions resigned.

“But unless it ticks me off when it does… you can stick around,” the king finished. “The Grasslands can handle a few more animals.”

They perked up, Tojo in particular smiling widely. The little birds chirped in excitement, fluttering up to sit in his mane. Russom looked at Tojo, skeptically.

“…Why’ve you got a flock of birds with you, anyway?”

~~~~

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SMALL SKETCH WITHOUT A STORY—

Anyway, minor detail: King Russom’s starting to show his age a bit, having lost his dark nose gradient to a gray one He’s not goin’ anywhere for a while, though—his family is kinda long-lived

Description
Previous . …Also previous .

~~~~

“How do you three like the Pridelands under King Scar?” asked Russom, looking over the younger lions. “Is it as screwed up as everyone else says?”

They weren’t the first Pridelanders to ask to join his kingdom, but they were the first Pridelander lions. For Scar to be ruling so poorly that members of his own pride were running away… even for how bad things were, that still came as a surprise to the Grasslands’ king; he thought Scar’s own pride would have some favoritism from the reportedly lazy monarch. The last he’d heard, Scar had even been accepting new lions in.

One of the three boys, the brown furred one, was sporting fresh scars across his nose. The blond one was walking with one back leg in a splint, clearly patched up by someone’s mjuzi. The other, who’d called himself Mheetu, was uninjured, yet had the most troubled feeling about him. Were they in this state, and on their own, because of something they had done?

“It’s fine,” said Mheetu, stiffly, “Scar’s… fine.”

Russom raised a scruffy eyebrow. “Then why’d you leave?”

“We tried to be rogues!” he answered, inappropriately angrily, “Now we want to settle down.”

“In a random place you’ve never been to before, instead of just going home.“

Mheetu nodded

“You only went through Sokwe’s kingdom—which hasn’t got any lions in it—and you’re already done with the coming of age adventure?”

He nodded again. The brown lion put a paw on his shoulder, and smiled awkwardly at Russom. Behind them, the blond lion was murmuring something to a gaggle of blue feathered birds, who Russom hadn’t even noticed until now.

“I don’t buy it,” the king said, “You seem like trouble.”

“We’re just rogues,” said the brown lion, emphatically, “M-my name’s Chumvi, your majesty. We left because…” Chumvi gulped. “It’s rough in the Pridelands, right now. The drought hit us really hard, and Scar isn’t doing a good job at handling it. Tojo, Mheetu, and I thought, well… we’re young and strong, if anybody could leave and take some of the burden off of the land, it’s us.”

“Gosh, that’s sweet.” Russom looked them over, waiting a moment in case one of them wanted to say anything more. Finally, he continued; “Now tell me the truth. What’d Scar exile ya for?”

Mheetu growled, but the king stood firm.

“Oh, you don’t wanna wrestle with me, kitten,” he grinned, “I can tear the tusks off an elephant.”

“Your majesty,” said the blond lion, Tojo, stumbling quickly in front of Mheetu, “He doesn’t mean any harm. My… friend… he’s just tired. We all are.” The blue birds flocked around the two lions, looking up at Russom with worried expressions.

“I promise,” added Chumvi, “We didn’t leave the Pridelands because we did something wrong.”

“If you can’t take us—“ said Tojo, looking around at the dry grass and swaths of prints in the dirt, which spoke of too many subjects in the kingdom already, “—Then we’ll go peacefully. We won’t bother you any longer. But, please, give us a chance.”

Russom sighed, a rubbed his temples with a paw. He looked over the three males; they were about the age his own husband had been, when he’d first gone roving. Ndoto certainly hadn’t been any trouble to his birth pride… he had just been a misfit. Same as Russom had been, back in his.

“You kids obviously got secrets,” he said, “Whatever you’re hiding is gonna come to light, someday—always does.”

The three young lions glanced at each other, their expressions resigned.

“But unless it ticks me off when it does… you can stick around,” the king finished. “The Grasslands can handle a few more animals.”

They perked up, Tojo in particular smiling widely. The little birds chirped in excitement, fluttering up to sit in his mane. Russom looked at Tojo, skeptically.

“…Why’ve you got a flock of birds with you, anyway?”

~~~~

THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SMALL SKETCH WITHOUT A STORY—

Anyway, minor detail: King Russom’s starting to show his age a bit, having lost his dark nose gradient to a gray one He’s not goin’ anywhere for a while, though—his family is kinda long-lived