Fliss crouched down so she wouldn’t look tall and scary and held out her hand. The cub was shaking and its eyes were big and worried. Fliss had seen that expression before. She took the postcard from her pocket, tilted it back and studied it again… A cub looking lost. She stared back at the real-life cub in front of her.
“It’s you, isn’t it?” she whispered.
The cub made a noise that sounded more like a mouse’s squeak than a lion’s roar. Fliss didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this little creature trying to make its voice heard.
“I can’t hear you very well,” she said. “How about if I come a bit closer?”
She crawled slowly on hands and knees towards the cub. Frightened, it took a step back.
“I won’t hurt you,” Fliss said, sitting back on her heels. “I’m here to help. I want to be a vet when I grow up, which means I care a lot about animals. You probably don’t understand a word I’m saying. You’ve probably never heard a human talk. Perhaps you’ve never seen a human at all! Well, now you have and I promise you I’m very friendly.”
Fliss laughed at herself, talking such gibberish, and imagined what Ella would make of it. She’d say: “you’re more like Doctor Do-lally than Doctor Dolittle, Flissy!” But although Fliss really did wish she could talk to animals (and Doctor Dolittle was her favourite story), what she said didn’t need to make sense, it just needed to make the cub feel safe. And it looked as if it was working.
The cub began to take little steps fowards, its eyes fixed on her.
“That’s it.” Fliss reached her hand out further for the cub to sniff. “It’s all going to be OK.”
The cub rubbed its cheek against the back of her hand and Fliss was able to stretch out her fingers and scratch the fur behind the cub’s ear. It closed its eyes in bliss. When she stopped, it shook its head from side to side and leaped right up on to her lap.
“Does this mean we’re friends?” Fliss laughed, stroking along the cub’s back. “Then we’d better get to know more about each other. I’m Fliss. If you have a name I don’t suppose I could pronounce it. I don’t speak lion-ese. I’m ten years old. How old are you, I wonder?”
The cub wobbled in her lap and fell off. It bounced back up again.
“Let’s have a good look at you,” Fliss said, confident that the cub trusted her. “You’re a little bit scrawny, bigger than the average cat, but smaller than a dog. And look at those lovely wide paws! Hmmm, I’m guessing you’re about three months old.”
Fliss thought back to the information boards at the zoo. It said cubs didn’t become independent until they were two years old.
“Alone and so young! You probably still need your mother’s milk as well as fresh meat. Oh my goodness, your mother must be worried sick. How on earth did you get lost in the first place?”
Lifting the cub up into her arms, Fliss stood and looked around her. She could see herds of grey animals in the distance – buffalo, perhaps. Lions would be hard to see as their golden fur would be camouflaged by the grasses, so Fliss listened out for a sound on the wind – the territorial roar of a male lion or a mother lion calling for her baby.
“Let’s be as quiet as we can,” she whispered to her new friend. The lion cub mewed. “Shh, noisy one!”
Fliss turned in circles, trying to distinguish the different sounds of the Serengeti. There was the swishing of the wind as it whipped across the grasses and occasional cries of birds. But there was no roar. Fliss didn’t know what to do next but she had to do something.
“I have to find a way home,” she said. “But not until we’ve found your mother.”
“We’re going to do some exploring,” she said to the baby in her arms. The cub reached up its soft paw and patted her face. “I could cuddle you forever!” She laughed. “But we need to get you home. Look, there’s a trail. We’ll start by going that way.”
Hoping the path through the grass was made by the footsteps of lions, Fliss set off. After a short walk she came to an area where the grasses had been crushed completely flat and in some places torn up. The earth beneath was ochre-coloured and scarred with deep scratches.
The cub whined. Fliss put it down and let it sniff the ground.
“What is it, little lion? Is it a smell you know?”
While the cub turned in circles following its nose, Fliss searched the ground for clues. Then she found one, a tuft of coarse ginger hair. It must have come from a lion’s mane! Had there been a fight – a clash between prides over food or territory? In her mind, Fliss pictured the battle, all claws and jaws and sharp, sharp teeth. Frightening sounds and little cubs running for safety across the vast Serengeti, searching for a place to hide. Fliss hated to think her little cub might have been caught up in such a scary scene but it looked like a possibility.
“Yes, this could be where you got lost,” Fliss said to the cub, who was still sniffing. “Come on. Your family isn’t here now but we will find them, I promise you.”
It was a big promise and Fliss hoped that she could keep it. It wasn’t like the promises she normally made, such as playing with Ella at break time or scraping the plates after dinner. This was the Serengeti! She took a moment to look around. The landscape was empty and barren, and far, far away from anything she knew.
She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the light as she looked out for lions or people or something that might help, but it was impossible to see. The heat was making the air ripple, the landscape bend and the colours blend together. It was hard to focus on anything.
Meanwhile, the lion cub had started running away, almost tripping up on its heavy paws.
Fliss smiled. “You want to go that way, do you?”
But the cub wasn’t following a trail or a scent. It was chasing a giant grasshopper. When Fliss realized, she laughed so loudly she took herself by surprise.
“That looks fun!” She joined in the chase, running alongside the cub in pursuit of the hopper, getting close but never managing to catch it.
“This is impossible!” Fliss panted. The cub was clearly thinking the same thing because it lay down with a big thump. Its chest was rising and falling fast, and Fliss scooped up the cub in her arms.
“Weren’t we silly, running around in the midday sun?” she said. She should have known better. The little lion was just a baby and babies were vulnerable. Until they found the pride, Fliss was its only chance of survival. If she really wanted to be a vet, now was the time to prove she had what it took.
“With hand on heart, I promise to care for animals in need of help and I will not rest until they are well again. That’s my very own vet’s oath,” Fliss explained to the cub, who blinked back. “That means I won’t leave you until you’re safe.”
Under the shade of a tree, Fliss laid the cub down and pulled off her backpack. There was a bottle of water inside it. She poured some of the water into her cupped hand and the cub began to lap it up thirstily. Its tongue was prickly like sandpaper against her palm – the same as Ella’s cat, Bobkin – and Fliss shook her head in wonderment. Wasn’t it incredible how house cats were so similar to these wild ones? The only difference really was size. Just think if Bobkin was the size of a lion… They would need a bigger scratching post for a start and he would bring home much larger things than mice. Looking at the cub now, it was hard to imagine that one day it would grow up to be a hunter. It looked more like a teddy bear!
When the cub finished drinking, Fliss tried to swig the last bit of water from the bottle, but the cub brushed against her arm and knocked the bottle out of her hands. The rest of the water soaked into the ground. It didn’t matter – at least the lion was looking brighter, although it was still a bit wobbly on its legs. It needed food.
“Hang on,” Fliss said, remembering what was in her bag. “I’ve got something you might like.”
She had been far too excited to eat all of her lunch at the zoo. While the other kids sat along the trestle tables scoffing their sandwiches and crisps, Fliss had been
reading the posters pinned on the walls – life cycles of insects, caring for baby animals, hostile environments, endangered species. In fact, she’d only nibbled half a sandwich and an apple before Mr Pincent had begun making a fuss and telling them to “get a move on”. She had been annoyed but now it turned out that not finishing lunch was a blessing in disguise. She had leftover food for the cub.
Fliss unwrapped her remaining sandwich. It was chicken and salad. She guessed lions didn’t eat salad, but she held out the piece of cold roast chicken and the cub took it between its teeth.
“I know you don’t usually cook your meat but it’s all I’ve got, I’m afraid.”
The cub gulped it down then looked at her expectantly.
“More? I’m not sure if there is anything else…”
Fliss rummaged in her lunchbox. She didn’t think an apple core would be welcome. Or her box of raisins.
“Aha!” There, wrapped in silver foil, was something that might do. “I’m sure lions would eat eggs if there was nothing else on the menu. Perhaps, if they were really, really hungry they’d eat one that’s hard-boiled.”
The cub struggled with the texture at first but ate it all up, using its giant fluffy paw to brush away yellow yolk crumbs from its muzzle. Then it tried to lick the crumbs that had stuck to its paw but that meant balancing awkwardly on three legs. It wobbled, fell and rolled back on to its feet.
“You’re a hilarious little cub!” Fliss exclaimed. She pulled the lion towards her. “But I can’t keep calling you ‘cub’ or ‘little lion’. You need a proper name.”
The cub looked at her and replied with a squeaky roar.
“I think it’ll have to be one I can pronounce!” she said. “You need a name that is worldly and wise, because one day I just know you’re going to grow up to be a magnificent… Oh!” Fliss realized she had no idea if the cub was a boy or girl. She had a quick look. “A magnificent lioness!”
Fliss placed the little lioness in the grass next to her. It looked so at home here, so much part of the landscape. To give it a normal human name like Lily or Rosie just wouldn’t do. A funny name like Bobkin wouldn’t do either. She needed a name that belonged in this world.
“How about Serengeti or Africa? No, those names are too big for a small cub… Wait! We’re in Tanzania, so how about Tanzy for short? It’s pretty and sweet – now isn’t that the perfect name for you?”
Tanzy batted her paw clumsily at a fly that kept buzzing around her nose. Fliss let her play while she concentrated on what to do next. Thinking hard, she remembered that north of the Serengeti was the Mara River. It was where some of the great migrations took place. Animals crossed over it to look for cooler temperatures and more food in the Masai Mara Park on the other side, in the next-door country of Kenya. The Mara River was a source of water and food. In fact, it could be just the place to find a pride of lions, tired and thirsty from a fight.
“That’s it, Tanzy!” Fliss exclaimed. “We need to find the river!”
Fliss was finding it hard to pack away her lunchbox with Tanzy leaping all over her. The little cub was gaining more and more confidence every minute! She wriggled and climbed, and Fliss had to pick her up and put her back down on the ground.
“I love you, too!” She sighed, happily. “But let me sort out my bag. We can’t leave any litter behind.”
But then Tanzy wrapped her front paws around Fliss’s arm, weighing it down, and started to nibble on Fliss’s thumb.
“Ow! Those little teeth of yours are spikey!”
With her free hand, Fliss grabbed Tanzy’s muzzle lightly and Tanzy clawed back, trying to get her teeth into Fliss’s wrist. It didn’t hurt, it just tickled.
“You’re suddenly very playful so I guess you must be feeling better.”
Without warning, Tanzy leaped on to her shoulder and the two of them rolled in the grass. Tanzy was getting more excited by the rough-and-tumble action, and Fliss was loving every moment. This could be the only chance she ever got to be a lion cub’s playmate.
But play-fighting wasn’t something cubs did just for fun – it helped to train them in the skills of hunting and killing. Being away from the pride meant Tanzy could be missing out on important life lessons from her siblings and parents. And if Tanzy didn’t learn to be the hunter, then she could end up being the prey. Without her lion skills she’d never survive the Serengeti.
The truth made Fliss focus. She had to deliver the cub to safety and then find a way home. She had no more water and her throat was starting to scratch with thirst. There was no time to lose. Fliss grabbed Tanzy gently by the scruff of her neck, just as a mother lion would do, and put her down on the ground.
“Enough messing around. We have a river to find.”
Heaving the bag over her shoulder, Fliss stepped out of the shade of the tree and immediately felt the heat tingle on her skin. Tanzy trotted to her side, ready for the next step in their adventure.
“That’s right, Tanzy. I want you to stay by my side every step of the way,” Fliss said, smiling down at her companion. “Just as soon as I work out which way to go…”
With no idea where in the Serengeti she was, how would ever find the Mara River?
A group of birds flew overhead – seven or eight of them, all in a straight line. They were brown and white, with huge finger-tipped wings, skinny necks and long thin legs. They look a bit like herons or cranes, Fliss thought. They could be water birds!
Tanzy had spotted another grasshopper and was about to bound away on a hopeless mission to catch it.
“Oh, no you don’t…” Fliss tutted. She steered the cub away gently with her foot. “There’s no time to chase grasshoppers. We have to follow the birds!”
Striding through the grasses under the blazing sun, Fliss became uncomfortably hot. Her clothes were sticky and her feet were baking in her shoes. If this had been a family walk or a PE lesson, she would have sat on the ground and refused to move another inch. But she had a promise to keep and that kept her going.
“It … can’t … be … far … now,” she puffed. “Look, Tanzy. More water birds and they’re flying in the same direction as the first flock. We have to be close!”
Tanzy seemed to understand the encouragement in her voice and meowed.
Heat rippled the air and apart from the chirrup of locusts and grasshoppers, the plains were eerily quiet. There was nothing but the noise of their footsteps scuffing the ground and the occasional whoosh of the breeze through the grasses. Tanzy bounced ahead and Fliss walked steadily on behind, one foot after the other, eyes on the sky to see which way the birds were flying.
A drumming sound interrupted her rhythm.
What was that? It reminded her of horses, like hooves pummelling dry earth. Fliss searched the horizon for a clue but there was nothing out there and it was getting louder. Within seconds, the hoof beats were rumbling like incoming thunder and the vibrations juddered through Fliss’s body.
She spun round and there behind her, in a flurry of brown dust, was a stampeding herd. The charging beasts were large and grey. They were approaching so fast that it wasn’t long before she could see their bony backs, grizzly beards and sharp horns.
“Wildebeest!” she exclaimed. “Tanzy!”
Fliss scooped Tanzy off the ground. Clutching the cub tight to her chest, she ran to the closest tree. The acacia tree with its umbrella canopy had plenty of branches to climb, if there was time…
The wildebeest were so close now she could see the flare of their nostrils and the way they lowered their horned heads as if they were butting the air in front of them!
“Quick, Tanzy!” She raised the cub as high up the trunk as she could reach. “Climb!”
The cub scrambled to the top but Fliss knew there’d be no time to follow safely. If she slipped and fell she’d be trampled. She flattened herself against the trunk, arms tight against her body. The animals stampeded by, streaming either side of the tree, which was now like an island in a fast-flowing river of
wildebeest. The noise was deafening. The hooves sent the dusty earth billowing up in clouds. Fliss closed her eyes tight.
When it was over she sighed with relief. “Who knew herbivores could be so dangerous!”
Fliss wiped the dust from her eyes and looked up. The cub was high up in the tree, shaking.
“It’s OK, you can come down now.”
But Tanzy looked paralyzed with fear.
“Hang on, little one!” Fliss began to climb the cat’s cradle of branches, pulling herself right to the top where the cub was shivering. She reached out and Tanzy leaped right into her arms and hid her face in Fliss’s neck.
Comforting the cub, Fliss stopped to catch her breath and take a look at the view. The tree wasn’t very tall but being higher up allowed her to see right across the land. As the disturbed earth settled, Fliss noticed something ahead – a huge glittering ribbon, looping and snaking through the landscape. No more than a kilometre or two away.
“The Mara River!”
Fliss stayed a little while longer in the tree, sitting in the fork of two branches, swinging her legs. As the warm wind fluttered her hair she began to laugh. Only moments before she had been tired and frightened, but now she felt more alive than ever. Was it the dry Serengeti air? The view of the great Mara River in the distance? Perhaps it was the thrill of the stampeding wildebeest…
“Why do you think I feel this way, hey?” she asked the cub. Tanzy gave her neck a prickly lick. “Oh, you think it’s because of you, do you? You know, Tanzy, I thought I’d go home today without seeing any lions at all. Now look at me, right here in the land of the lions. And I’ve got a feeling it was you who brought me here.”
Little Lion Rescue Page 2