Urban Habitat

She stood, arms bloodied, against the stone wall. Red dripped down the gold of her armor and mingled with dropped fur and dirt. Her eyes followed steady crimson drips up, up from the ground to the gleaming white fang of the lioness.

The crowd jeered. She was meant to die here, by the teeth of another caged creature.

She jabbed her sword into the ground, the very foil of Arthur, and knelt beside it on her un-gnashed knee. Head bowed, she sent a silent prayer to the goddess that this, her one chance, might work. The lioness growled, paw dragging through the dirt in preparation to pounce.

She pushed her hand into the dirt as well and tilted her pleading eyes to the lioness. If only she could speak the cat’s language:

Remember, you are caged as well.

Perhaps the goddess heard her; perhaps some miracle of evolution allowed their silent commune. The lioness paused, fangs put away, head slowly tilting as if a house cat considering a treat. And the lioness sat. Their eyes locked; the lioness approached, gently this time, resting her large wet nose on the woman’s shoulder.

And now we are unstoppable, thought the lion.