PRIMORDIAL FUTURE: American Lion
A snippet from a short story (and world) I am currently working on
Crruunch...
A pack of twelve massive gray wolves consumed the remains of a bison cow they had recently chased down and killed out in the open plains of North Dakota under a cloudless sky. Large ravens were scattered amongst the wolves, desperately searching for pieces of juicy meat and organs as the sun rapidly heated their bodies. Nearly a tenth of the bison had been ingested by the ravenous wolf pack. Using their molars and strong jaw muscles, the wolves made quick work of the bones, out of which rich, pink marrow oozed. The beasts devoured the nutritious substance in a hurry, for there was an African lion, a large young male, 100 yards from where they were situated. One of the wolves, upon noticing the lion, trotted off with an enormous, dark-purple liver dangling in its mouth. Might as well take the most precious cuts now.
The big cat was lazily walking toward the pack, his ribs slightly visible and a strong breeze blowing through his dark mane. Two of the wolves raised their blood-soaked heads from the carcass to glance at the lion, which was now in a full trot. At 20 yards from the pack, he charged, kicking up clumps of soil, grass, and a large cloud of dust. The ravens exploded in flight, and most of the pack began to flee as well. Two wolves turned, snarled, and stood their ground. The big cat did not slow. The two growling wolves curled their lips, revealing an imposing set of menacing teeth with saliva and blood dripping from them. The unfazed male lion reached the wolves at over 30 miles per hour like a freight train.
One of the wolves bounded away from the lion, snapping its jaws, as the other swiftly circled behind the beast to try and land an attack from behind. The lion turned its massive head with unreal agility and landed a forcible blow on the wolf’s shoulder with his huge right paw. The impact sent the 140-pound wolf to the ground. The wolf let out a whining cry, which was interrupted by the lion, which pounced on it and began wrenching its neck with his massive jaws. The wolf struggled to break free of the painful grip of the lion’s sharp claws and clenched jaws. Before the lion could break the wolf’s neck, the other wolf snarled and lunged forward in an effort to save its comrade. The lion released the wolf in its jaws to attack this one.
The other ten wolves had not run off completely. They were standing a safe distance away amongst the tall grasses of the American prairie, tentatively watching the scene unfold. A few of them now joined in on the fight as well, including an intimidating 168-pound male the color of midnight.
Soon the African lion was being swarmed by all twelve canids. Dirt particles clogged the air. A stocky-bodied pronghorn that had been grazing nearby now ran off with its back hairs erected hairs as utter chaos ensued between the big cat and the wolf pack. The Heartland was once again a bona fide battleground for natural warfare.
In the midst of snarling faces and snapping jaws, the lion suffered a direct bite on his left paw. He bellowed in agony and violently jerked his paw inward, along with the wolf, which loosened his jaws a moment too late. Upon bringing the wolf closer to him, the lion delivered a potentially catastrophic bite to the wolf, during which he simultaneously felt a searing pain on his hind legs and at the base of his tail; the wolves were landing bites! Unable to focus on one wolf for more than a second, he was in constant motion to avoid being bitten in the rear. More wolves snapped viciously at his sides as the dark 168-pounder rushed forward.
The lion locked eyes with this wolf. He let out a deafening snarl and barreled toward the dark wolf, which suddenly became wide-eyed with fear and switched direction at once to evade the big cat’s wrath. The lion managed to rake the dark wolf’s hind leg with his claws, though it was not a direct hit.
The pack was circling the lion now, each canid maintaining a distance of about 8 yards from the formidable felid. The lion was moving with a slight limp. His left paw throbbed with every beat of his heart. The wolves had far more stamina than the lion, who was now panting and drooling heavily. Even so, most of the wolves were reluctant to launch another attack on the demonic cat. The lion began grunting in a rhythmic manner, his ears flexed downward, eyes wide with hatred. A seemingly constant stream of drool poured from his mouth.
Soon the wolves, not willing to risk their lives for what was left of the bison carcass, began to leave. The ravens returned and started picking tender bits of flesh off the carcass while the lion’s attention was occupied by the retreating pack. Some of the wolves were limping and whining in pain as they left. One of the wolves, the one that had gotten its neck twisted, glared at the lion from a mound about 50 yards away and released a long and vengeful howl into the cloudless blue sky before joining her pack in withdrawal. This was not over.
The thirsty, starving, exhausted, and bleeding lion looked at his prize; a bloody bison carcass with chunks of meat hanging here and there. It was crowded by ravens. With a short roar of annoyance, he scared away the opportunistic birds and claimed the carcass for himself, laying partially on top of it with his front legs sprawled over the ribcage. After catching his breath, he began licking the remaining meat off the ribs, the sharp papillae of his tongue stripping the bone clean. At 400 pounds, this three-year-old lion was underweight for his impressive frame. He had not eaten in days. Not yet belonging to a pride, this creature had been obtaining all of his meals in this fashion; either scavenging or stealing from other animals in a land which he was not yet fully adapted for.
Centuries ago, his ancestors had escaped from a zoo in North Dakota during the crisis of the Great Sentient War. The war between androids and humans. An entire decade of blood. Many creatures held in captivity escaped during the destruction and chaos, including this lion’s grandfathers from seven centuries ago.
After catching his breath, the lion got up from the carcass and walked around the bison’s skull, which dwarfed even that of the lion’s. It laid down on the other side of the carcass and began devouring the intestines. Amongst the yellowish tall grass, his tan hide was camouflaged well. As he turned his big head to slice the long intestines with his carnassials, something far out in the distance caught his attention. Miles away, preceding a massive herd of bison beneath the horizon, was a white dot whizzing westward.
Although animals think in dim ways in comparison to humans, they are relatively intelligent in matters pertaining to the environment. This white thing, whatever it was, was traveling as fast as a pronghorn, the predator thought. He had lived in the American Heartland his entire life but had never seen a creature even come close to matching the speed of a pronghorn.
But this peculiar white dot seemed to be traveling at just about the same speed as a pronghorn in full sprint, with zero signs of fatigue or slowing down. He wondered if by some miracle he were to catch this odd thing, or if something else caught it and he stole the carcass, how it would taste. After gazing at the white dot tearing through the Great Plains parallel to the horizon for a few more moments, the beast lost interest and went back to consuming the bison.