In Shit and Blood

This night was just getting fucking awesome. Muron needed another challenger like a tick in his ass. Yeah, that last one was a real pain in the ass. His side was bleeding and there were a few cracked ribs in the mix of pain coming with every step. But he wouldn’t back down. Not right then, when the goal was so close. This would be the last one.

With a deafening roar, he rushed his challenger, caught him behind his neck with two paws and let his claws out, sinking them deep into muscle. The other made a sound of pain as he let his right hook go with the strength of a freight train. The challenger also used his claws leaving behind red lines that started to weep blood immediately.

Muron was blinded by blood and was also dizzy from the hit. He lost his grip and the other one shook him off. The next instant he felt another hit to his bloody side right where there was one of those little cracks on his ribs. He barely registered the pain of shreds of muscle being torn away by claws over the breaking of the rib.

Falling to his other side, Muron’s cry was so full of anger and pain it made the others standing around in a circle look at each other uneasily with either compassion or fear. He liked to think being so young was an advantage, that what he lacked in experience he made up for it with enthusiasm and the excitement only the really young can muster up. But he never had to work through pain like this. He never had to fight for his life. Doing that for the first time right then wasn’t such a good timing on his part.

He felt the breath of his opponent on his neck; he was gonna tear it out. He waited without moving while those canines got closer to his jugular. As the opponent’s winning roar came to an end, he struck. Muron rolled to his back. ‘The idiot thinks I’m gonna go down this easily,’ he thought as he swiped his claws through the challenger’s abdomen that was left without defense. The smell of shit hit the air like a punch to the gut as the other’s intestines got raptured while they were being dragged out of him.

Muron’s opponent went down with a sound so haunting that the spectators started crying out for him. The only mercy he got was a fast death. Muron soundlessly tore his throat out. He got up, looked everyone in the eye, then limped away. No one dared to follow him – there was no more challenge to his authority.

This is how the new leader of the lion pride was born in shit and blood.