He watched them from atop a gentle rolling hill, mindfully keeping his distance. His ears twitched when the winds changed.
She is a big woman, with arms like hams and her torso seems to end in her head without bothering with a neck. She has a mane of very thick red hair down to her waist, unkempt.
The pride watched her intently as she approached. She’d been dreaming of this moment for longer than she could remember. Since before she’d known they were extinct.
We sat on the edge of our seats as another piece of red meat, marbled with sinew and fat, was tossed into the lion enclosure.
Mitchell panned the rifle across the landscape until the lion was in its crosshair, aglow with the green tone of night vision.
In retrospect, the purchasing of the interior of the crater might have been a rash move.
I hate lions. Ultimate killing machines, kings and queens of the savanna.