Shaba's Cub

Shaba watched Bob as he knelt over the water, disturbing the surface with his long, pink tongue. His mane fell around his face, obscuring his eyes. Shaba turned away and walked slowly in a circle, having nothing else to do.

She wondered what the cubs would be like. She and Bob had mated numerous times, and Shaba was swelling up like a balloon, so there would definitely be cubs. She pictured a strong, fierce young male that would usurp the pride when his father passed on. Or a swift, clever lioness that would outsmart all the prey and earn a position as head lioness.

Shaba only had a few more days to go before her time, so she was busy searching for a safe place to store her cubs while she and Bob were hunting. She found the perfect spot: A tall cluster of dried grass that no animal would have any use for. Prey animals wouldn't go near it since it was brittle and crunchy, which they didn't enjoy. Predators would be able to smell the cubs but, since Shaba and Bob would be nearby, they would not attack.

Four days later, Shaba gave birth to a small, weak lioness. There was only one cub. It wasn't very strong; it seemed like a miracle that the cub could even find the strength to nurse. But it did. It survived for several months. Shaba turned and looked at the cub, who was nearly half her size. It was still small, but it had proved to be sharp and quick. It had already taken down several antelope.

Shaba eyed her cub thoughtfully. Bob strolled up and stood at Shaba's shoulder. Until now, he hadn't paid the cub any attention. But now he was looking at her with an emotion somewhat like admiration. Then he turned to Shaba. "This cub," he rumbled, "is the smartest, fastest cub I've ever seen. One day, she will lead this pride."