Walking back to the cave, Bruce gathered a few dry branches, stacked them neatly, and struck a flame to life. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow across the stone walls. The scent of smoke and scorched fur lingered faintly in the air, but to Bruce, it was familiar, almost comforting.
He had earned this moment of stillness.
Ever since he slaughtered the entire lion pride yesterday, one question had lingered in the back of his mind: Was there a true lion among them? A leader? A king of the pride that simply wasn't present?
He hadn't forgotten. It was just waiting, parked at the edge of his thoughts, ready to be revisited later.
After adjusting the firewood and strengthening the flames, Bruce walked over to his makeshift bedding, three neatly skinned hyena pelts layered for comfort. He lay down, staring up at the uneven ceiling of the cave, expression unreadable but faintly content.
Twelve straight hours of nonstop hunting.
