Even moving at night, the savannah was hot and dust puffed up from the weight of the pride’s paws as they moved over the landscape. As quiet as a lone lion could be, silent and hidden, even as quiet as a team of lionesses on the hunt could be as they tracked their prey, an entire pride on the move did not share that skill. The older lions seemed to creak as they walked, too parched to be quiet, while the cubs were mewling for milk or water or crying because they were tired. The lions old enough to walk on their own, but not fully grown, were busy whispering to each other despite the adults’ orders to be quiet. Even the strong adults could not hush themselves, gossiping and worried muttering moving through the pride in waves as talk of disease and lack of water, the likelihood of meeting enemies or allies , and whether it was right to leave their lands behind rippled through the mass of lions.
Tàpá was only paying half attention to the gossip, the cubs, the elders, or the young lions. She was not a lioness that regret came to naturally; she did as she thought right, always. When she voted for the pride to move, she was convinced that it was the correct thing to do. Both Tàpá and her twin sister, Iyõ, had spent most of their lives traveling, and Tàpá had never attached much importance to place. The lions you were with mattered, where you were with them did not. Especially when the place was looking more and more like a deathtrap for the elders, the cubs, and, eventually, the strong adult lions. It was better to go seeking a chance then to sit down and wait, hoping for the rain to come.
Tàpá stood by her vote. It was the right move. Unfortunately for her, it was also the most painful one. With a leg injury, time to rest and plenty of water would have been invaluable, but she had no intention of staying behind and slacking while the pride moved. The crocodile’s teeth had not broken the bone, but they had torn muscle and skin. It was difficult for her to keep up with the other adults, and ended up moving with the elders and helping to herd cubs along as the pride made their pilgrimage in search of water.
Hunting was out of the question until her leg fully healed – if it ever healed. It wasn’t festering, thank the gods, but that didn’t mean it would be as strong as it had been. Sourly, Tàpá looked on to a future of nothing but cub-sitting and guard duty, never actually being useful to the pride or providing for it. There was no point in risking failure by sending a lioness with a gimpy leg on a hunt, and Tàpá knew it. She was going to have to find some other way to make herself useful in the pride.
The pride slowed to find a place to sleep for the day. In the jumble, it got louder than ever and Tàpá spent some time trying to find a place to settle in comfortably. She was off by herself, licking her wound clean again and making sure no grime or bugs were trapped in the scabbing gashes, and listening to some of the other lionesses around gossip. Apparently there were some handsome males around – big and strong, healthy looking males.
And while many in the pride did not actually approve of inviting a strange male into the den, even if the den was metaphorical, Tàpá knew that this was the time to do it if she wanted to. With the pride moving, they might not see other lions for weeks, or things could get worse and big healthy lions would be betrayed by weaklings or thieves. Until her leg healed, if it did, hunting was not an option. But she could give the pride strong cubs to help make it tougher. It would be best to get pregnant soon, and hopefully deliver the cubs once they got someplace a bit safer.
Not that her pregnancy would bow down to her whims, but she knew the approximate times involved. If she met a likely male, and her leg was strong enough to let it happen, she could be pregnant within a few days. And, over the months that followed, hopefully rains would come and the drought would break.
Then she could be useful. She could give the pride strong cubs, ready to grow up to be strong males and strong hunters. Even if she could not hunt, she could teach them to hunt – the way to spring the way to drag a carcass out of the sun so it didn’t spoil before the meat could feed the pride. Ways to move the grass so that it looked like it was just the wind making the plants sway, and no predator hid in it. She would be able to teach them everything about hunting - everything, in fact, except the chase and the spring. She would leave that to her sister and to her friend. That technique would be up to them. But she could give them the information.
Tàpá wondered about the males that were out there. They wouldn’t be hard to find – males never were when a female wanted them for that. She decided if a dark colored lion was around, she would go for him – darker was better in this pride, and her own coat was very pale. It would make them better able to stand the sun as well, which was always important when the land was as dry as this. If the pride ever had to make a mass exodus from their lands again, as they were doing now, she wanted her cubs to be strong travelers.
Tàpá finished cleaning her leg and stood up. The gossipers were becoming quieter and their speech was slow – they were tired. It would be a good time to go – now – before the sun was up and questions would flow in about her absence, or the rogue males left to go find their own shelter from the sun. She stood, and headed out.
