The word whispered its way amongst the warm evening breezes
as twilight settled across the grasslands. By the time the night once again
succumbed to early day, the solemn news had wound its way across the kingdom,
curling and clawing through the air like a suffocating cloud of smog. The king
had fallen.
As the gloom of night lingered in the clouds - unrelenting in it's battle
against the pale morning light, I scurried quietly through the grass, wide eyes
darting suspiciously, awaiting the familiar rustling of danger. The king’s
death meant more than the lost of a great leader. It meant the lost of order
and protection. The mere thought of the chaos that even now silently engulfed
my home sent my small heart thudding wildly in my ribcage. My pace quickened as
the early morning conflict of dark and light threw twisted shadows across the
landscape, horrific monsters bending and arcing maliciously, waiting to strike.
I could do nothing but dart through the gently swaying forests of grass as the
white rays of the morning gleamed welcomingly, banishing the shadows, but not
the fear. I crawled my way through the endless jumble of lime and olive, ever
swaying, wind slowly whispering talk of death and successors as the plants
swayed knowingly. Hunger suddenly gnawed at my insides as I continued my
search, wide eyes still darting expectantly. Then I saw him.
The high grass " at least three times as tall as my small, meek frame - lay
crushed and yellowing, lifeless, unmoving, stretched out beneath the vast
expanse of fur. I gazed in mournful awe at the enormous, lifeless body of our
fallen king. His golden pelt gleamed magnificently in the early sunlight, grand
and regal against the earthly greens of the respectful waving grass. His great
face lay still, eyes closed, wrapped in a dream from which he would never wake.
He seemed the image of perfection in his never-ending slumber, great sunburnt
mane and muscular form just as commanding as they once had been in life. I
stared intensely as the sun streaked across the sky, waiting for our mighty
king to awaken; but he never once moved.
A distant screech of vultures tore me from my mournful sentry, and with a heavy
heart I plucked a shining dragon fruit from beneath the lion’s dusty mane and
scuttled home, as hungry talons clawed and ripped at once majestic flesh.