undulating golden flanks carried the massive cat on a swagger. tongue lolled in the early heat; tail curled to a black tuft behind heavy hips.

herds of impala scattered. zebra sounded their alarm. giraffe eyed mistrustfully, herding away their calves. the only beasts that did not move were the elephants and their pachydermed counterpart, a lone rhino rooting in the distance.

uhuru knew all eyes were upon him. it was what he wanted. a turn of the massive scarred head allowed the sun to leap from chestnut glints in the great mane. it flowed in magnificent tress over shoulders, down his chest.

for water he had searched first, but near the bank of such a wellspring he had discovered the pug marks of the only counterpart uhuru might ever consider his equal: a lioness.

and not alone.

a series of low, guttural sounds, a seeming string of ungha, ungha, ungha, split the tranquility of that morning. uhuru built the mile-eating bass slowly into a shattering roar.

a challenge to males.

an invitation to females.

asha’s head snapped toward the call, muscles going rigid beneath the golden hush of her coat. the sound rolled through the grasslands like thunder across bone — not just a roar, but a summons. loud. intentional. hungry.
her ears pinned flat for a breath, as if it might stop the heat from rising beneath her skin.
she turned sharply, eyes narrowing toward the horizon, and glanced to her sister — halisi, bright-eyed, still too unscarred by the world.
stay here, asha ordered, voice low and firm. not unkind, but immovable, like stone sunk deep in riverbed. her dim green eyes flicked over her sister’s limbs, her breath, the way her paws shifted with curiosity.
if i’m not back by sundown, follow the vulture path north. you know the one.
asha didn’t wait for argument. she moved — low at first, a ripple of muscle through grass, and then quicker, drawing her scent close to her body, weaving between the acacia trunks with purpose.
the call had come from the watering place. and whatever beast had uttered it had wanted to be found.
asha would find him.
and he would learn who she was.

---

the birds scatter from the trees, the impala bolt far too early, and that silence that follows is thick. the lioness feels the bubbling of agitation that comes with a lost meal.

ungha, ungha, ungha.

lion-blood boasting, song she had heard many times in her years of life. it had went ignored often, but nhova rises with the reed song and feels a sway in her muscles. stocky, mature legs coiling with pulsing muscle as she swings her berth upwards and begins a slow stalk.

her nose sensitive to the musk of the male and the sweet marula of the lioness called asha. nhova feels a grumble bubble to life within her own throat. clipped, rounded ears rolling back against thick fluff gathered between and half-lidded eyes searching.

she appears last. each thudding pawstep accompanied by the toss of dust airborn, pluming in great clouds. a long and bitten tail swatting viciously against her own powerful flanks, and a pallid tongue seeking the dried meal blood upon her mandible.

finding asha’s side and pressing harshly muscle to muscle upon the smaller lioness. nhova walking now with the confident strides of a challenger male; but her scent tells otherwise, and she wafts it with each aggressive slap of her tail.

look… child of arrogance. she says throatily to asha’s ear.

---

With her face pressed against the ground, the stout lioness listened both to the sounds of the earth and those on the air, with her one erect ear flicking every now and again. The gentle, steady step of an elephant herd was like a heartbeat that could lull her to sleep. Below the topsoil, beetles scrabbled and meerkats chattered. Like the second movement of a symphony, the sounds blended together in a calm, rich harmony-

until it wasn't a symphony at all, it was Lion Concerto No. 1 in the key of Savannah by....Well, Juliet wasn't sure who the composer/performer was, but it was interesting, at least. She rolled over onto her side and murmured softly as she shook bits of chaff from her fur, flicking her ear to dislodge an ant that had had the gall to crawl up its tattered edge while it'd been pressed to the ground. She blinked as she searched for any sign of him on the horizon, to see nothing but the dotting of marula trees, limbs sprawling toward the heavens. Should she follow his voice? Perhaps he had a pride, but searched for more, perhaps he sought to brawl...Either way, it was worth the effort before the temperature began to climb. The heat of mid-day might provide some good entertainment, at least.

She lumbered forward, sacrificing as little energy as possible; she might need it later.

---

ty for joining! <3 no posting orderrr

they came. first two. then one.

uhuru's tongue lolled. the mismatched eyes dilated, and a final howling grunt welcomed the lionesses. he bristled at the second, though a long stalk of powerful legs brought him in reach of her scent. a maned female with blue eyes stark against her coat; his own said he was intrigued. the low green lights of the first caught his stare, but her own said not to underestimate. and the third was an amber-eyed observer, sleek as gold.

uhuru saw that no male had come, and furthermore, that the lionesses had not bound together in aim of driving him away.

"who hast the lead here?" he asked among them, a voice resonant and rich with his own sense of pride. by now he knew enough not to simply proclaim himself over lionesses. they had their own hierarchies and did not take kindly to male's dictation. several of the scars cut into his hide had been given as reminders of such a lesson.

still the will-king did not hide himself. his ranging pace was for their measure. the ripple of his shoulders was for their look. the proclamation of his battered skin, its evidence of strength — theirs to inspect.

uhuru, after all, was here for them.

birds scattered, the grass shifted uneasily, and then he arrived, a monument of muscle and heat and conquest. she did not flinch. green eyes found nhova as the maned lioness pressed into her, a thick shoulder against her own, scent wrapping around like thorned warning.
asha did not disagree. her head tilted ever so slightly in acknowledgment, a quiet smirk playing at her lips, as if to say yes, i see him. but it was not fear she felt. it was calculation.
when the male spoke, her gaze returned to him—assessing. the question hung there between them: who leads here?
asha stepped forward. just one pace. enough to mark herself. the dust curled around her limbs, golden light catching against the curve of her shoulders, the confident set of her jaw. i do, came her answer, voice firm but unrushed. not a boast. a truth. she stood not just as huntress, but as the voice of fire beneath the grass, the quiet power among those who knew better than to bark too loud.
her chin lifted, tail flicking once at her hocks.

---

her bulk presses firm against the lioness. her breath rasps through her flared nostrils, thick with musk, dust, and the memory of lost prey. the male stands ahead of them now, broad and scar-wrought; if she were not such a skeptic, perhaps she would have seen the worth in him.

she gives a curl of lips and a gurgling noise of threat that he should stop and not come closer. circling to the other side of asha as she steps forward, lumbering protectress; her own tail curling limp amongst hers.

a possession.

asha's proclamation is a sound nhova drinks in like warm marrow. she does not smile, but she approves. dragging her muscled, coiled side affectionately along hers and purring in claimance. her tongue flicks across her muzzle again, feline in its disdain. this arrogance has long breath. but breath is not voice.

she steps out now, away from asha's side. mane tousled, ribs broad, scars kissed by heat.

---

In the distance, she spotted the trio of lions just as the conversation began. She sensed no hostility when she heard the man's voice as a hum, not a bark. She contonued her approach, though she steadied her gait so that her head could remain level with the ground, and her shoulderblades would rise in alternating peaks behind her crown. She did not crouch- to do so would be to blatantly stalk- for now, all she wanted was to provide backup for the Nhova and Asha, and remind the man that it was the women who did the killing in these lands.

Rather than move to Asha's side, Juliet's casual stride brought her to flaunt her strength in a wide arc around behind the man. No lion, she thought, should feel entitled when he was amongst the lionesses until they had accepted him. The intention behind her movements was to keep him on edge- a throne could only be comfortable if all of its legs were even, and from what she'd gathered, the small pride had few intentions of simply fluffing pillows and preparing the seat for the first king that came along. With each prowling step she hoped to shred his concentration just enough to give Asha an advantage.

three fine and radiant beauties. it was the first who greeted him, the second who teased. her mane too, was fair. uhuru watched these two for a moment and then turned the attention of his eyes upon the third. her undulating muscle and the finery of her face was tinged in something like aggression.

uhuru was being tested.

he understood this dance and comprehended he must not give; when long golden legs stepped to circle, to corral, the scarred man turned his eyes pointedly upon the one who had spoken. "i am uhuru. i have come to find thee — all," added the lion, rolling broad shoulders but making no move to turn his head toward the woman who was a reminder.

he was upon their land.

"if thou wilt let me find my rest here, i shall join thy hunts."

this was the foremost way for a male to prove himself; those who bulled in for carnality first were almost always turned away.

uhuru had learned such a lesson in his wilder youth.

nhova's comment earned a brief chuff from asha. perhaps it was agreeance, or it was a statement that they should not be too crass about his arrival. asha would bear cubs, sooner rather than later, and to keep their pride most protected, a male must claim its outskirts.
a strong one.
the pedigree of this.. uhuru seemed strong enough. chiseled jaw, angular shoulders, mane of long hairs and ending at his withers. from first glance, he is attractive. well spoken it seemed, too.
a man offering to join a hunt? asha almost laughed! the last male she had entertained with cubs had lounged day and night, only feasting upon the kills she had made. such dexterity had leveled her as the prime huntress of these lands.
whether he was truthful, it did not matter. asha was just a mere female, wasn't she? it wasn't as though nhova could give her cubs, though the auburn mane said otherwise, and juliet, too, would come to heat and desire her own children.
she took a step forward to him. lowering her head, a natural submission. she raised a lip to him, baring fangs with her exposed belly. she pawed at his nose, if only brief, testing him to see further. if asha would accept him, so would the other females.