The savanna woke with a yawn of heat, the morning sun clawing through a haze of dust to paint the Sundrift Pride in shades of gold and grit. Kael crouched in a patch of tall grass, his patchy mane damp with dew, his amber eyes glinting with a plan that was half-formed but all trouble. A week had passed since the Starlit Telling, and Drenn's tale of Veyra and the Star Lions burned in Kael's chest like a coal that wouldn't cool. The canyon, the hyena, Lyss's cryptic mutterings about the stars—Vyrn was whispering secrets, and Kael was done waiting for answers.
He'd tried talking to Drenn the day after the telling, padding up to the old lion's den with a question about the canyon's stones. Drenn had fixed him with that one-eyed stare, growled, "Cubs don't chase ghosts," and sent him to haul bones for the huntresses. Mira was no better, her sharp eyes catching Kael's every twitch, as if she smelled his scheming. Even Lyss had dodged him, scurrying off whenever he got close. But Kael wasn't a lump. He was a lion, and lions hunted truth as fiercely as prey.
Today, he had a new target: the river. The electric-blue fish that sparked in its shallows were more than prey—they were a mystery. Cubs whispered that the fish glowed because they ate starlight, or that their scales held the same power as Veyra's stones. Kael didn't care what the truth was; he just wanted to know. And if he could catch one, maybe Drenn would talk. Maybe Lyss would spill her secrets. Maybe Mira would stop calling him a runt.
"Kael, you're plotting again," Sira said, her voice a low growl as she lounged nearby, gnawing a stick. Her tawny fur was streaked with dirt, her eyes narrowed with the weary suspicion of a sister who knew her brother too well.
Kael grinned, not bothering to deny it. "Plotting's just thinking with teeth, Sira. You should try it."
Sira spat out the stick, baring her fangs. "Keep thinking, and Mira'll have your hide. She's still mad about the hollow."
Kael's tail flicked, dismissing the warning. The hollow's lion skull still haunted him—those empty sockets, the hyena's snarl—but it only fueled his hunger. Vyrn was alive with secrets, and the river was close, its burbling song audible from the pride's edge. He'd go, fish or no fish, and he'd drag his friends along. They always followed, even if they grumbled.
A rustle in the grass announced Tira's arrival, her sleek form cutting through the morning haze. Vorr trailed behind, his lanky legs tripping over a root as usual. "Kael! Sira!" Tira called, her eyes blazing with that familiar fire. "What's the plan, runt? You've got that look."
Kael's grin widened. "River. Fish. We're catching one."
Vorr groaned, flopping onto the grass. "Fish? Why? They're slimy, and they shock you. Let's just wrestle."
Tira smirked, nudging Vorr. "Wrestle? So I can pin you again, twig?"
Vorr growled, but his tail flicked playfully. Kael laughed, his heart lifting. Tira got it—she craved the world as much as he did. Sira was tougher, always the voice of reason, but even she'd come. Vorr? He'd complain, but he'd follow. They were a pack, bound by dust and defiance.
Sira sighed, standing. "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm blaming you, Kael."
"Fair," Kael said, already bounding toward the river. The cubs followed, their paws kicking up clouds of red earth. The pride buzzed around them, a chaotic sprawl of 4,000 lions—huntresses sharpening claws, males sparring, cubs darting underfoot. Kael's nose twitched, catching the pride's scents: musky fur, blood from a fresh kill, the faint buzz of the river's fish. His world was a pulse, and he was its heartbeat.
The river gleamed ahead, a ribbon of silver snaking through the savanna. Its banks were lined with smooth stones and clumps of reed, the water alive with flashes of blue—fish, darting like lightning. Kael skidded to a stop, his claws scrabbling on the pebbles. The river smelled sharp, electric, like a storm trapped in water. His fur prickled, not with fear but with that same hunger from the canyon, the hollow, the stars.
"Whoa," Tira breathed, sliding up beside him. "They're fast."
Vorr peered over her shoulder, ears flat. "And sparky. One zap, and you're twitching for a week."
Sira snorted. "Then don't get zapped, twig."
Kael ignored them, crouching low. The fish were small, no bigger than his paw, but their scales glowed with an eerie light, pulsing in time with the river's flow. He'd seen huntresses catch them, their jaws quick and precise, but cubs weren't allowed near the river. Too dangerous, Mira said. Kael's tail lashed. Danger was just another secret to chase.
"Watch me," he said, inching forward. His belly brushed the stones, his eyes locked on a fish darting near the bank. Its scales flashed, blue and gold, like a star fallen to earth. Kael's muscles tensed, his heart pounding. He'd catch it, show Mira, show Drenn, show everyone he wasn't just a runt.
"Kael," Sira hissed. "Don't—"
Too late. Kael pounced, his paws splashing into the shallows. The fish zipped left, and he lunged, jaws snapping. Water sprayed, cold and sharp, and a jolt shot through his muzzle—hot, electric, like biting a storm. Kael yelped, tumbling back, his fur sparking. The fish was gone.
Tira burst out laughing, her roars echoing. "Nice one, runt! You're glowing!"
Kael spat out water, his cheeks burning. "Shut up. I almost had it."
"Almost doesn't catch fish," Sira said, but her eyes twinkled with amusement.
Vorr snickered, then froze, his ears perking. "Uh… guys? We've got company."
Kael followed his gaze. A lion approached, his stride smooth and deliberate, his mane a cascade of dark gold that caught the sun. Zorak, a young male barely out of adolescence, was a rising star in the pride—charismatic, strong, with a smile that made cubs idolize him and elders nod approval. But Kael's fur prickled. Zorak's eyes, sharp and calculating, always seemed to see too much.
"Well, well," Zorak said, his voice a smooth growl. "Cubs at the river. Mira know you're here?"
Kael straightened, forcing a grin. "Just… looking. No harm done."
Zorak's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Looking, huh? Funny, looks like you're fishing. Dangerous for cubs. River's got teeth."
Tira stepped forward, her chin high. "We can handle it. We're not babies."
Zorak's gaze flicked to her, lingering a moment too long. "Bold. I like that. But bold gets you zapped—or worse." He nodded at Kael, whose fur was still faintly sparking. "Case in point."
Kael's ears flattened, but he held Zorak's stare. Something about the older lion set his teeth on edge—not fear, but a gut-deep warning. Zorak was trouble, the kind that smiled while it struck.
"We're fine," Sira said, her voice steady. "We're going back now."
Zorak's smile widened. "Smart. But first…" He padded to the river, his movements fluid, and crouched. His paw flashed, scooping a fish from the water with a flick. It landed on the bank, sparking faintly, its scales glowing. "That's how it's done," he said, tossing it to Kael. "A gift. Don't say I never helped you."
Kael caught the fish, its scales cold against his paws. "Thanks," he muttered, but his eyes narrowed. Zorak's help always came with strings.
"Run along," Zorak said, already turning away. "And stay out of trouble. The pride's got enough to deal with."
The cubs trudged back, the fish dangling from Kael's jaws. Its glow faded, but its weight felt heavy, like Zorak's gaze still lingered. Tira nudged him. "What's with you? You got a fish. Be happy."
Kael spat it out, glancing back. Zorak was gone, vanished into the pride. "He's up to something," he said. "He didn't have to help us."
Sira snorted. "Maybe he's just nice."
"Yeah, and hyenas sing lullabies," Kael said, his tail lashing.
Vorr shivered. "Can we not talk about hyenas? I'm still dreaming about that hollow."
They reached the pride's heart, the air thick with roars and scents. Kael's eyes scanned the crowd, landing on Lyss, who sat alone near a pile of bones, her pale fur glowing under the sun. She was muttering again, her paws tracing patterns in the dirt. Kael's ears perked. Time to try again.
"Cover for me," he told Tira, dropping the fish. "I'm talking to Lyss."
Tira raised a brow but nodded. "Don't scare her off, runt."
Kael padded over, keeping his steps light. "Hey, Lyss."
Lyss flinched, her green eyes wide. "K-Kael? What do you want?"
"You know stuff," Kael said, sitting beside her. "About the stars. The Star Lions. I saw you at the telling. Spill."
Lyss's claws flexed, her voice a whisper. "I don't… it's nothing. Just stories."
Kael leaned closer, his voice low but firm. "Stories like the canyon? Or the hollow? I'm not stupid, Lyss. You're hiding something."
Lyss's ears flattened, and she glanced at the sky, as if the stars could save her. "It's not hiding. It's… dangerous. The stars show things. Patterns. Like Drenn's tale, but… more."
Kael's heart skipped. "More? Like what?"
Lyss hesitated, then traced a shape in the dirt—a circle with jagged lines, like a mane. "This. I saw it in the stars. It's… old. Like Veyra's stones. But it's moving. Coming closer."
Kael's fur prickled. "Closer? To the pride?"
"I don't know," Lyss said, her voice trembling. "I'm not sure. Please, don't tell anyone."
Kael nodded, but his mind raced. A star-sign, moving. The canyon's roar. The hyena. Zorak's smile. It was all connected, and he'd find the thread. "I won't tell," he said. "But you tell me if you see more. Deal?"
Lyss nodded, a flicker of trust in her eyes. Kael padded back to his friends, his heart pounding. The pride's roars filled the air, a lullaby of strength, but beneath it, Kael heard something else—a whisper, sharp and wild, like the river's teeth.
That night, he lay in the den, Mira's warmth steady beside him. The fish lay uneaten, its glow gone. Kael's eyes drifted to the stars, their patterns burning. Vyrn was waking, and he was caught in its jaws. Tomorrow, he'd chase the next clue. Tomorrow, he'd be ready. He was a lion, and he was unbound.