Tigerlily

Once again, Tigerlily found herself at the mercy of a monster.

She lay at Ivar’s hooves, winded and wheezing, her head ringing, and her body aching. Something was very wrong. The child in her womb had grown still. This realisation turned her heart to ice, but it was Ivar’s sickeningly soft caresses that had her shivering. Anger seared her from within, her blood burning with rage. Oh, how she wished she had the strength to lift her head and sink her teeth into the soft skin of his muzzle. He’d pay for this, and one day in the future, Tigerlily would hunt him down and take her revenge.

As it was, all he got from her now was a weak whimper in response to his soft, menacing words. She was in no condition to fight any more, and her eyes fluttered closed as the beastly male took his leave. Only after she was sure he had left did she allow the sounds of her agony to escape her. She had been here before, alone, afraid, in agony. And she tried to be strong, she really did. But Tigerlily’s heart was breaking. After all she had lost, still the world demanded more.

Once again, it was an innocent child who suffered.

It was dark when the buckskin and white mare mustered enough strength the stand. The scent of blood was heavy in the air, and there was no sound, save for the chirping of insects and the gentle trickle of running water. Tigerlily hovered over the motionless body of her son for a few minutes, her muzzle tracing the lines of his tiny damp face, smudged with blood. And then she turned and left the glade, her movements slow and her expression pained as she limped into the dense jungle, pausing only for a moment in the fringe of trees, but not looking back.

There was only one thing keeping her going now, and he was waiting out there somewhere, patrolling the Ridge to keep her and the others safe. Her Bear King.

the lion-hearted tigress of the ridge