Maybe it's because humans hadn't been around for eons, but the lions aren't too wary of the newcomers. Once they figure out you aren't a threat, and with the lioness queen's silent approval, the two of you and the lion cub settle in and get along just fine with the pride.
Cubs are the most high-energy troublemakers on the savanna, and before long, Veronica's one-on-one sessions turn into a wild free-for-all for all the young lions.
These fluffy future rulers of the savanna really start to show their true colors. The tacticians pull off sneaky attacks from behind, the aggressive ones come at you from every angle, the social butterflies get everyone in on a group assault, and the hopeless oneDyour own cubDwhimpers and makes a beeline for you.
Of course, you have to get the dud.
Beat it!
It'll never take its training seriously with you around.
Oh, so who was it that said if we raise it away from the pride, it'll lose all its survival skills in the wild?
What exactly do you think you're doing? Are you trying to make sure it's a social pariah, a complete pushover that can't fight, hunt, or fend for itself? Are you trying to get it rejected by every pride it encounters?
Suddenly, you feel a pang of guilt. You sheepishly scratch your nose and take a few steps back under Veronica's steely gaze.
The moment you move, however, you become fair game. The cubs swarm you like a plague of locusts, a tumbling mass of fur, pushing and shoving as they crowd around your feet.
Veronica's brow furrows as she steps forward, determined to knock some sense into this rowdy pack of cubs.
Meanwhile, you frantically try to dodge the cubs' reckless charges, but find yourself trapped in a living quicksand of fur and paws. With each attempt to step free, you stumble and lose your footing, surrounded on all sides.
And so, the chaos pushes the two figures closer and closer together.
Bam!
Flesh meets metal as they collide—and worse than the unexpected pain is the undeniable realization that you've just made physical contact with Veronica again.
You haven't forgotten Veronica's visceral aversion to human contact. Rubbing your sore spot, you cautiously look up to gauge her reaction.
Her chin is up, all high and mighty, with that same old smug look. Her stare is ice-cold, like she is ready to go off the deep end at a moment's notice.
Tch... some fragile carbon-based lifeforms you are.
But instead of blowing her top, Veronica just gives you that irritated look you're too used to by now.
We don't have all day. Get over here!
Alright, everyone, listen up. Time for practice. No excuses, no goofing off.
After chewing out the trainees, Veronica turns on her heel and stomps off. The argument that seemed like it was about to go up in flames just fizzled out into thin air.
Lounging comfortably in the shade, the distant sound of Veronica's stern words fades into the background.
Grrr...
At some point, one of the little troublemakers has done a runner and snuck back in. The tiny cub keeps nudging its fluffy head against your hand, dropping a not-so-subtle hint for attention.
Glancing nervously toward Veronica, the stern instructor shoots daggers at you—a silent order to get the cub back to training.
You lift the fuzzy cub, give a little wave to Veronica, then shamelessly plop it right back in your lap and start scratching its fluffy belly fur.
...
Rawr, raawwwr.
Pretty soon, one runaway after another show up until you're surrounded by fuzzy lion cubs, all melting into puddles of fluff from the expert petting technique.
As the cubs get bigger and heavier by the day, this vacation-like existence just drifts on. The days and nights all blur together, and before long, several heavy downpours have come and gone.
On a peaceful afternoon, the cubs who've played hooky from their lessons are up to their usual antics, treating you like a jungle gym and getting into all sorts of mischief. The boldest little troublemaker in the house has staked its claim to the top of the heap, perched on your head like it owns the place.
Veronica comes back to the pride after finishing her lesson, carrying the one cub who's actually put her nose to the grindstone. The little one is the pride queen's only surviving daughter from this year's litters.
Unlike your other rescues, who are a bit on the fragile side, this one is in robust health, and even though she's just a little thing, she already has her mother's calm demeanor and sharp wits.
As you reach for the precocious cub, the little lioness lets out a loud hiss, puffing up like a fluff ball of pure indignation before bolting away with a quickness that is something to behold.
Cubs at this age are basically little whirlwinds of energy. Even a drill sergeant would have a tough time keeping up with them.
I already have my hands full with their training. Babysitting them is your job.
Veronica backs away, her tail retreating as if in disgust, while she taps the ground with a bored look on her face.
With a gentle nudge to the cub's plump little behind, you steer the cub toward Veronica's tail. The swishing appendage is like a moth to a flame for the little one. Sturdy little paws come out as the cub pounces forward—
Veronica shoots a piercing glare that could curdle milk, fixing you with an irritated look. She's caught the culprit behind this whole mess red-handed.
Hmph.
Veronica's flicking tail is an instant hit with the cubs. Like a cat playing with a ball of yarn, she keeps her eyes closed, still as a statue, while her tail sends the little ones scrambling across the field with excited yowls.
Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she scoops up the very female cub that had turned up her nose at your touch. Right under your nose, Veronica takes her sweet time, methodically grooming the little one from head to tail.
After another light shower, the acacia trees have new, soft branches. You wave a few into a green "laurel" and look over. The cubs, taking a breather from their special training, are chugging their daily nutritional supplement with loud gulps.
The vain male lion from the pride comes strutting over too. For the sake of that sweet baby formula, he has learned to butter you up all on his own, becoming a "fierce warrior" on command.
Under Veronica's questioning gaze, you offer her the freshly woven "laurel."
Since it's a victor's crown, it should belong to the winner.
Everyone up! Time for a fight!
Under Veronica's watchful eye, the cubs—now thick as thieves from their shared training—reluctantly tear themselves away from their snacks and throw themselves into the "Cub Wrestling Championship."
With great ceremony, Veronica crowns the winner with a human-woven laurel. Sadly, the little one is at the bottom of the pile; the champion is the lioness queen's daughter.
Rawr—Raaaawwwr—
All their roughhousing seems to have created a real bond between the cubs. They're as close as can be. Even the little one can now sneak in for feeding time without getting chased away.
The vain male lion struts over, gives the "laurel" on the little lioness's head a once-over, and then turns a longing gaze toward Veronica.
...
The cold, mechanical look Veronica gave him is a clear no-go. The lion, crestfallen, slumps nearby and begins scarfing down the cubs' food—specially prepared meat, ground to a pulp.
Reaching out, you start stroking the male lion's messy mane, casually weaving a rough little braid. The lion, vain as ever, shakes his massive head with delight, his new braid swinging back and forth with surprising charm.
Rargh—!
With a new lease on life, the lion trots to his favorite puddle to admire his reflection. The lioness queen, who is by the water, lazily flicks her tail, saunters over to Veronica, and rolls her eyes at the whole silly display.
When Veronica sees the lioness roll her eyes, she is a bit taken aback. She leans in to check if there is something wrong with the lioness's eyes, like maybe the socket is out of whack.
I wasn't worried.
Veronica's temper flares, and she shoots you an irritated look. It's nothing compared to the murderous glare she'd given you before—this is just a bit of a tiff.
Veronica doesn't answer, instead looking off into the distance at the frolicking lion cubs. The mechanical girl and the human are right at home among the pride, as if they've been there all along. The lions have taken the oddball cub and its peculiar guardians under their wing.
BAM—BAM BAM—
Several gunshots break the peaceful quiet of the savanna.
The days of calm haven't lulled them into a false sense of security. The second the gunshots ring out, they dive behind a rocky outcrop, their hand already on their weapon.
Veronica swoops down from above, hovering over an acacia tree, her gaze fixed on the direction of the gunfire. Her expression is dead serious.
Gunshots. Human ones.
Veronica's memory data is suDDenly flooded with the memory of that skinned lioness from the day they found the cub.
It's hunting time for the pride and the cubs are along for the ride, getting their first taste of the hunt. Luckily, they aren't too far off. Veronica and you exchange a look that says it all and take off like a shot toward the sound of the guns.
Grrr—Mewl—
Halfway there, you run smack into the little one and the lioness cub, wailing their little hearts out. You kneel down just in time for the cubs to barrel straight into your arms. The little one's fur is on end, and it's shaking like a leaf, instinctively seeking comfort and a safe harbor.
With her jaw set, Veronica bolts toward the pride's hunting grounds.
The pride has a whole convoy of wanderers surrounding it. The air is thick with the roar of lions and the crackle of gunfire as the wanderers work together like a well-oiled machine, laying down covering fire for each other.
The moment Veronica and you show up, the lioness queen, who had been holding her own, suddenly goes off the deep end. She lets out an angry roar at you two through the gunfire, trying to warn you off and get you out of harm's way.
In the blink of an eye, a bullet grazes your cheek.
RAAWWWR———The lioness queen loses it, letting out a furious roar and charging with all her might at the vehicle that fires the shot. The wanderers' defenses go belly up in an instant, and a hail of bullets flies straight for the lioness.
Woah, stop... I think there are people out there.
Cease fire! Cease fire! Don't shoot! There are other people out there.
The wanderers all hold their fire. Taking this chance, you give them a once-over and see that their firepower is nothing to write home about.
This isn't some fly-by-night crew of young bucks. This squad has a mix of elderly people, women, and kids. They even have wounded folks they're taking care of in their vehicles. They seem like a tight-knit bunch, holding each other up in this apocalypse and watching each other's backs.
Our bad. Are you okay?
The name's Sewani. I'm the one in charge here. What are you doing out in these parts?
As she takes a step forward, a lance comes out of nowhere, flies right by the tip of her foot, and sticks deep into the ground.
When death is breathing down your neck, there's no need for a proper introduction.
Hanging around this weirdo human for too long almost made me forget what disgusting creatures your kind really is.
What? Hey, what are you doing?!
Veronica lunges forward, rips the lance out of the ground, and grabs Sewani by the throat with her free hand.
The mechanical girl's steely gaze meets yours, cold as ice.
What? You're sticking up for them?
The pride of lions lets out low rumbles while the wary wanderers grip their weapons tighter.
Just as I thought—you still see those humans as your own kind, don't you? You can be all sweet and cuddly with these lions, but the moment humans draw steel on them, you'll jump on the human bandwagon in a heartbeat.
You let out a weary sigh.
No pecking order? If you didn't think human lives were more important than lions', then why do you only ever stick up for the humans when both sides are hurt? Is this world built on the gospel truth that only humans can hunt animals?
You humans lean on your bigger guns to have the last word, don't you?
Veronica tightens her grip, and a breathless Sewani claws desperately at the mechanical girl's fingers, gasping for air.
Lucky for me, violence is my bread and butter.
Your blood runs cold. Under your steely glare, Veronica lets out a cynical laugh and loosens her grip, as you'd asked—only to slam Sewani to the ground with a sickening thud.
So you've thrown in your lot with the humans after all. Fine. If you're not going to protect these creatures, I will.
Veronica snorts. Her eyes harden and the tip of her lance trembles in her hand, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
Back then, we had no choice.
Cough... Hold on a second, what are you two even talking about? We'd never go after a lion pride on purpose!
We need food, yeah, but... we'd hunt weaker animals, like wildebeests or antelopes. Even going after a lone leopard would be easier!
Who in their right mind would pick a fight with lions? We're not out here looking for a death wish.
We only cut through the lions' turf because we were backed into a corner. We must've thrown a wrench in their hunt, and that's why the whole pride came at us...
We'd never pull the trigger unless our backs were against the wall. Every bullet we use is one less we'll have later, and who knows what other nasty surprises are waiting for us out there...
Hmph... If you don't mess with lions, then what's the deal with that cloak you're wearing?
Sewani is wearing a newly tanned, noticeably rough-looking leather cloak.
That's made of lion skin, isn't it?
Facing Veronica's accusation, Sewani's brow furrows, clearly troubled but keeping her cool.
Yeah, you're not wrong, but—
Never messed with lions? What a load of baloney.
No! By the time we stepped in, that lioness was already on her last legs!
So you did kill her.
Would you just let me finish? It wasn't that long ago that we stumbled into a real dust-up between some lions and a herd of buffalo. One of the lionesses got the short end of the stick and was left for dead by her pride.
Her guts were hanging out; she was a goner. We were just putting her out of her misery.
At this point, a quick death would be a blessing. It'd put her out of her misery.
The hyenas were already circling. Even if we hadn't stepped in, she was just going to go through a slower, more agonizing death.
So? You're telling me that's your excuse for skinning her and taking her meat?
Look, lady, we get hungry, the nights get cold, and we have kids and sick old people to look after in our cars. Everybody's just trying to make it. The meat was right there for the taking—only a fool would have just walked away, wouldn't they?
The meat? That was a living thing. Who gave you the right to just help yourself to whatever you want from anything and everything, all to satisfy your own selfish needs?
Veronica whips around, shooting you a look that's both furious and disappointing.
Shut up!
You think a couple of days together gives you the right to get all high and mighty and tell me what to think?
Then butt out!
Justice, fairness, truth—they're all just ideas, things you can't touch or see. But for Veronica, living by them has always been her north star.
The cold lancehead presses against your neck again.
Shut up!
We're in this together?
Veronica snorts, glaring at you, who've been her traveling companion for days. Now you've turned your back on her, siding with the ghosts of her past.
I'm not in this together with a human. I'll never forgive humanity for the suffering and cruelty they've put me through.
Before her stands a group of humans, "united" against her, their eyes full of suspicion and disgust. Behind her is nothing but a vast, empty expanse—a place free from human laws, where restless lions roam, their unease unspoken. It's history repeating itself.
The world never changes, but the savanna stretches on forever, and this isn't the only place to lay her head. The lone dragon rider spreads her wings and takes to the sky, leaving the herd behind.
It's only after Veronica's silhouette disappears over the horizon that Sewani walks up, rubbing the back of her neck.
You've got some serious guts. She was ready to tear your head off—what would you have done if she'd run that lance through your neck?
You really trust her that much?
Right. So you're a total badass. My mistake.
You let out a wry smile.
Babylonia? Well, that explains it.
Our conservation area went belly-up ages ago. We survivors grabbed what we could and we've been on the road ever since. We tried to find a home in other conservation areas, but... I guess we're just jinxed.
Each new home we found went down in flames, so our group just kept growing. We started with one vehicle, then three or four, and now we've got a whole convoy—a big family with the whole world as our home.
We only just got here recently... But what about you? Why are you here? Is Babylonia planning to set up a conservation area? Are you recovering this territory?
Oh...
You pull up a map and show Sewani the route to the nearest conservation area.
Thank you... That's a load off my mind. At least we'll have a new place to settle, but...
Sewani breathes a sigh of relief, her smile a little bittersweet.
No... I'm just a little sad to leave. This place is actually where my grandparents once lived. They were researchers at this reserve. My name means "savanna" in my grandparents' language.
I grew up on stories of this savanna, and I just soaked up every last bit of them like a sponge. That's why I bit the bullet and brought our whole group here, hoping we could get a fresh start.
It's even more beautiful than I ever imagined. Just being here... it feels like I've got my grandparents and my parents right here with me again.
Sewani shakes her head, a solemn look on her face.
No, something's... not right here. The animals are migrating at a weird time. The rainy season hasn't even wrapped up yet, but nearly every single animal here is leaving.
Just look at your own lion pride. There's only one young male and a lioness running the whole group, and yet no nomadic adults have come to try and take over.
My guess is, once the pride started losing members, they hightailed it out of here. They're only safe for the time being because every other pride is too busy getting out of dodge to worry about who owns what territory.
The storm from that rainy night thunders in your ears all over again.
You did feel like something was off before. Finding three or four lion prides in such a small area to evaluate for the cub went against the grain of natural behavior, even during migration season.
But with an Earth already beaten to a pulp by the Punishing Virus, it's a whole other ball game. How can you even tell if the laws of nature still have a leg to stand on in these godforsaken lands?
Looking at the lion cub you snatched from the jaws of death on that rainy night, you take out a tracking device and slip it around its neck.
Nature's children have a sixth sense for danger. The writing's on the wall for this place.
You should get out of here as soon as you can, Commandant.
The acacia trees rustle in the wind as a solitary horn blows, a clear sign to get a move on. Once more, the caravan of wanderers hits the road.
The lions, for their part, scatter into small groups and go back to their own business.
You trail the lioness queen to one of her pride's usual wildebeest hunting spots, and the second she lets out a soft roar, you feel the hair on the back of your neck prickle up. Someone's watching.
High up on the cliff, Veronica stands by herself, keeping a close eye on the human who has barged into this neck of the woods.
When she hears your footsteps, Veronica doesn't so much as bat an eye.
What is it?
I just couldn't bring myself to throw the book at them. They may be clean as a whistle now, but it's only a matter of time. Humans are a lost cause. You can't trust them as far as you can throw them.
You stand behind Veronica, all your eyes fixed on the savanna where the wild and the serene live side by side.
Below you, a pride of lions hunts like a well-oiled machine. The same lioness who once let you share the shade of an acacia tree now has her teeth buried in a wildebeest's neck, its blood staining the emerald grass.
...
Humans are bottomless pits. You eat the world up whole. Your greed is a bottomless well, far beyond what you need to survive. Even if those people are harmless, even if you're one of the good guys...
It doesn't change what humanity is at its core. You're a species that has to be top dog, taking no prisoners and tolerating no rivals.
I come from a place where mechanoids were treated like animals—where even humans were treated like dirt. They called it an arena, but to me, it was a bloody fighting pit. That's why... I can see the world through the eyes of an animal.
To a lion cub, humans are a roll of the dice. Will they meet a god who offers a helping hand, or a devil who stamps out life without a second thought? All they can do is cross their fingers and hope for the best.
We're all in this together, animals and humans both struggling to survive this apocalypse. But in these life-or-death times, humans still get to decide what happens.
In nature, hunting is just survival of the fittest—a raw fight for life. No creature is ever judged for fighting back. But humans always take the moral high ground. In your world, humanity always comes out on top.
Why can't animals be seen as gods, as our equals? Why can't humans ever learn from the animal world and follow their standards?
All I want is to stand with you as an equal, to have a say in ruling this world and setting the rules. I don't want to be treated like an animal—a friend or a pet when things are good, but a meal or an enemy when disaster strikes.
Would humans ever willingly share that power with mechanoids? I seriously doubt it. And since I'd never give you that chance, we're bound to be enemies.
Veronica isn't the only mechanoid you've met. You can't imagine you being enemies.
Oh really? When it's a choice between us and you, I won't hesitate to sacrifice humans to protect my kind. No, wait... I'd sacrifice everything, even myself.
What about you? When push comes to shove, what would you be willing to sacrifice?
Whatever it takes, huh... Good. At least you didn't feed me empty promises I couldn't possibly believe.
So I've made up my mind. When it all hits the fan, we'll inevitably be on opposite sides.
Veronica's voice is a punch to the gut.
Is that so? You're welcome to try... but that's just the way the world is.
Compared to the sharp edge she had when they first met, Veronica's voice isn't cold anymore. Yet her quiet certainty is another kind of wall—she has no hope left for this world.
