Lira lay in the shallow dip of the earth, her body trembling as the ground itself seemed to quake beneath her. The weight of what Kiros had done to her pressed down on her chest like a stone, suffocating and unrelenting. He had returned from his battle with Taka and Mufasa, his fur matted with the sweat and grime of combat, his eyes wild with a feral energy that made her stomach churn. And then... he had turned that energy on her.

The memory of his claws raking through her fur, leaving deep, angry marks in their wake, made her flinch even now. She could still feel the sting of those wounds, the way his breath had been hot and ragged against her ear as he pinned her down. He had been rough, almost savage, in a way that left her feeling violated and hollow. And though she was certain she couldn't become pregnant—her body wasn't built for it, she told herself—the fear lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind. What if? What if he had done something irreversible? What if he had marked her in a way that would never fade?

Amara had been tasked with watching over her, and Lira could feel the lioness's scathing gaze even now, burning into her like the sun on a cloudless day. Amara's eyes were sharp, judgmental, and unyielding, as though she could see every weakness, every crack in Lira's fragile composure. It was a gaze that made Lira want to shrink into herself, to disappear into the earth and never emerge. But she couldn't. She was trapped—trapped by Kiros's actions, by Amara's watchful eyes, and by the weight of her own helplessness.

The wind whispered through the grass around her, carrying with it the faint scent of blood and the distant echoes of the fight that had brought Kiros back to her in such a state. Lira closed her eyes, trying to block it all out, but the images flashed behind her lids anyway—Kiros's snarling face, the way his claws had dug into her flesh, the way he had looked at her afterward, as though she were nothing more than a possession he had claimed.

She shuddered, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The ground beneath her seemed to pulse in time with her racing heart, and for a moment, she felt as though the earth itself might swallow her whole. But it didn't. She was still here, still alive, still bearing the weight of what had been done to her. And Amara's gaze was still on her, unrelenting and cold, a constant reminder that there was no escape.

Lira curled in on herself, her tail wrapping tightly around her body as if it could shield her from the world. But she knew it couldn't. Nothing could. Not now. Not after what Kiros had made her do. Not after what he had taken from her.

SCENEBREAK

Taka paced back and forth, his claws digging into the earth with every agitated step. His golden eyes burned with frustration, his tail lashing behind him like a whip. He hated this—hated the helplessness that gnawed at him, hated that he hadn't found Lira yet. She was out there somewhere, alone, possibly hurt, and he had no idea where. No one did. Not his friends, not even Zazu, who was usually so reliable when it came to gathering information. The thought made his stomach churn.

Mufasa sat nearby, his large frame a picture of calm authority, though his eyes betrayed his concern. Sarabi was at his side, her gaze steady but tinged with unease. Rafiki, the wise but often infuriating baboon, leaned on his staff, watching Taka with that knowing look that always seemed to see too much. They were waiting for another report from Zazu, but Taka's patience had long since worn thin.

"Taka, calm down," Mufasa said, his deep voice carrying the weight of a king's command. "Lira is a wolf. She's stronger than you think."

Taka whirled on his brother, his lips pulling back in a snarl. "You don't get it, Mufasa! She's—she's the only one who dares to care about me. You showed me that much." His voice cracked, raw with emotion, and he threw a sharp glare at Sarabi, who lowered her head under the intensity of his gaze. He didn't have time for their placating words or their pity. Not now.

"And I love her," he growled, the words spilling out before he could stop them. They hung in the air, heavy and unshakable. He flicked his tail, his decision made. "I'll go out and find her myself."

Rafiki raised a hand, his tone mild but firm. "That will be dangerous, young prince."

Taka huffed, his frustration boiling over. "I'm a prince, you bumbling baboon! I can fight those outsiders. I'm not some helpless cub anymore."

Mufasa's expression softened, but there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Taka, it's not about whether you can fight. It's about the risk. If something happened to you—"

"Something's already happened to her!" Taka snapped, cutting his brother off. His chest heaved as he glared at the group, his claws flexing in the dirt. "I can't just sit here and wait. I won't."

Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked away, his mind made up. He didn't care about the danger. He didn't care about the risks. Lira was out there, and he would find her—no matter what it took.

SCENEBREAK

Lira's nose twitched as she sniffed at the dead pigeon Amara had dropped at her paws. The bird was small, its feathers ruffled and its body limp, barely enough to take the edge off her gnawing hunger. She prodded it with a claw, her stomach growling in protest, but the thought of eating it made her feel even more hollow. It wasn't just the meager offering—it was everything. The weight of her captivity, the memory of Kiros's claws on her fur, the way Amara's sharp blue eyes never seemed to leave her.

Amara stood nearby, her sleek form poised and her gaze piercing. The lioness's tail flicked impatiently, her lips curling back in a sneer as she watched Lira hesitate. "Eat it, you jerk," Amara snapped, her voice cutting through the stillness like a whip. "Kiros decided to be lenient with you. Be happy you're not in a mating press right now."

Lira's ears flattened against her skull, and she bared her teeth in a silent snarl. The words stung more than she cared to admit. Lenient. As if Kiros's cruelty could ever be described as lenient. The memory of his claws scoring her fur, the way he had pinned her down, the way he had looked at her—like she was nothing more than a possession—flashed through her mind, and she had to fight the urge to shudder.

"Lenient?" Lira growled, her voice low and trembling with barely contained rage. "Is that what you call it? Being torn apart and treated like—"

"Like what you are," Amara interrupted, her tone icy. "A wolf. An outsider. You should be grateful Kiros even allows you to live."

Lira's hackles rose, and for a moment, she considered lunging at the lioness, consequences be damned. But she knew it would be pointless. Amara was stronger, faster, and far more vicious. And Kiros... Kiros would make her pay for any defiance.

Instead, she lowered her head and tore into the pigeon, her teeth sinking into the thin flesh with more force than necessary. The taste of blood filled her mouth, metallic and bitter, and she forced herself to swallow, though every bite felt like ash on her tongue.

Amara watched her with a satisfied smirk, her blue eyes gleaming with triumph. "That's better," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "Remember your place, wolf. It's the only thing keeping you alive."

Lira didn't respond. She couldn't. Her throat was too tight, her chest too heavy. She ate in silence, her mind racing with thoughts of escape, of freedom, of Taka. But even as she swallowed the last of the pigeon, she knew the hunger inside her would never be sated—not until she was far away from this place, far away from Kiros and Amara and the nightmare they had dragged her into.