His big, green eyes. His adorable growl. His weak movements.
Igor still couldn’t believe that he had a little brother, much less fathom how he was once a feeble creature. Laying down on the baked soil of Africa, his little brother Elliot tried to reach the older brother’s tough, yet caring face, and Igor was there only to be mesmerized yet again. Often he would lower down, burying his face on the innocently small figure, unbelievably similar to his; and the little cub Elliot would gladly hold him tight. When the dry wind of the savanna gently stroke the two, their gloriously golden fur caught the wind and spread to display the creatures’ majesty to merely the dancing tall grasses, quite unfortunately.
The newborn, like any other, was quite oblivious to how his own body was and what he had. So it was just a coincidence that the little one tried to move his fingers, and ended up digging his claws to his brother’s face. The unusually gentle Igor then growled and pulled himself away, his face bloody after that little slice, and back to how it often was: fierce, intimidating, ready to pounce.
“Stop it, Igor,” howled a more feminime voice, yet not less fierce. Crawling from beneath the sea of yellow bushes was another four-legged, this time one that Igor respected. Well, so thin was Igor respect that if not for that razor-sharp teeth of hers he would be pouncing anyway. The female then continued to caress the scared Elliot. “He was just a kid, Igor. He didn’t mean to.” To that, Igor sighed and went back to the shadow beneath their tree, resting as he had always been doing for long. The female then laid down for her little cub Elliot to rest on. The family then waited, quite irritatedly so, for the sun is up and the heat bothers the mind.
After a long while spent on sitting on the savanna, the little lion Elliot no longer played with her mother’s fur. The cub was then sleeping peacefully, laying himself on his mother’s more massive self. The mother, caring as any other, couldn’t help but smiled at her little precious, while waiting for her husband to return. Igor might not be so patient, and amidst the contrast of the calming, cool wind and the radiating sun, he struggled to keep himself down. Dad might need help, after all.
“I’m gonna go find him,” growled the older brother.
The mother, while having the thought of stopping him, finally decided not to, for growling back would wake the little one. Once determined, Igor can’t be stopped anyway, she thought. So she did but stare at her son as he slowly crawled out of the tall grass, which strikingly but not surprisingly resembled that of his father: mighty, unrelenting, yet calm and wise. Would he be one fine lion like his father, she wondered. At the thought she fell asleep.
When she woke up, it was by her husband’s gentle nudge, along with the satiating smell of good food. However, when she noticed that her husband’s usual composed expression and caring eyes was tainted with a bit of pain, she knew something happened to Igor. Sure enough, next to the buffalo with its chest open, there lies the young lion Igor, his torment and fatigue clear as day; as if the blood oozing out of a big hole on his side was narratting to her about her son’s ignorance. At the sight of her pained son she jumped, forgetting that the little cub Elliot was still leaning on her. She was more than ready to give Igor a piece of her mind.
The little cub Elliot, woken up with such a shock, rubbed his eyes and found his massive father’s face close to his. The little lion was confused at first, and the sudden wake-up call wasn’t doing him any favour. However, all the frustration was removed when his father gave him the usual, ticklish lick. Elliot was then laughing for a moment, and hugged his father’s face real tight, this time being careful about his claws. At the warm embrace the father closed his eyes and wondered if his cute, little son was to grow up to be another Igor. He wished Elliot could remain the little cub Elliot, though.
“Elliot, let’s go eat,” the big lion whispered, Elliot still on his face.
It seemed that Igor has been thoroughly scolded by his mother as well, so after all the usual, daily routine, the began to cirlce around the feast twice the size of any of them. The buffalo, lying dead with its tongue sticking out, was still a very exciting sight for little cub Elliot, and while the others was clenching their jaws on the beast’s stomach, Elliot still played with the tongue. Only when his father gave him some of the already minced meat, fresh blood covered it entirely, did Elliot went and join the feast.
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