At the base of Pride Rock, the centrepiece of the savannah known as Ankh-Morpork, Sam crouched low on his forepaws, his eyes focused on his target and his rear stuck up in the air; “Like this?” he whispered, giving his derrière a wriggle and his father a quick glance from under the spiky tuft of fur hanging over his eyes; that little fringe would one day be his mane.

Sam Senior crouched by his son’s side, eyeing up the unwary albatross in the distance that was perched on a rock, protruding from out of the ground ahead. He gently bit down on his tongue; “Hmm…” he mused, crawling round to Sam junior’s other side and giving the albatross the same look.

Little Sam watched his father with eager eyes; he and his father had the same roguish look to their faces, but Sam Jr.’s colouring was his mother’s, his coat gleaming a glorious red-gold, whilst his father was more of a brown. His sprouting little mane looked like it would grow like his sire’s, though, launching itself recklessly in all directions from his scalp.

Finally, a grin materialised on Sam Senior’s visage; “Perfect,” he smirked, giving his son an mischievous grin, “Now, remember to take it slow.”

Little Sam was already off, traversing the ground like some kind of crab, the dry soil rubbing against his underbelly as he went. He watched the albatross with an utter and complete focus, his mind set to the task; it was all but his.

“One more step,” Senior murmured to himself as he monitored his cub, nodding all the time, “And then… POUNCE!”

On cue, Junior catapulted himself through the air, paws outstretched, and (after a loud ‘caw’ and ruffle of white feathers) he stood haughtily and firmly over the messenger bird’s waylaid form. He threw his dad a grin.

“Hah!” Sam Senior laughed, his paternal pride brimming to the rim, “That’s was perfect!”

The albatross turned a surly eye on Sam Jr., more than a little teed off, but the cub, being his father’s son, merely threw it a sarcastic grin, before he trotted back to his sire. As soon as the young lion was gone, the albatross scuffled back onto its feet, snorting with heightened disapproval. It shook the dirt from its feathers and tried to think as much as possible about returning home to the Counterweight continent, where it wouldn’t be molested by insolent children egged on by their equally insolent fathers! What an uncivilised place this Ankh-Morpork was… or a rotting and corrupt one, if nothing else.

“Samuel!”

All merriment halted and both Sams shuddered, trying to withdraw their heads into their necks as Sybil - Senior’s mate and Junior’s mother - trounced into view before them. She was a bulky but refined-looking lioness, contrasting greatly to the scrawny, roguish looks of her partner. Their son was a culmination of both of them, so caught between the appearances of the upper and lower classes.

“I hope you weren’t encouraging our son to pounce upon innocent albatrosses,” she snarled, glaring straight into Sam Senior’s eyes.

Sam quaked a little, managing a nervous laugh, “Aww, c’mon, Sybil… dear” (a convulsive gulp) “There’s no such thing as an innocent albatross!”

She scoffed. Loudly. “No one’s innocent in your books, Samuel.”

Both Sams shrank into their feet again - Senior taking the full force of the remark, and Junior feeling for him; to be called by one’s full name was a reproach at its worse.

“Well, you try policing these lands for the rest of your life,” Senior piped in a feeble attempt at a comeback, “Then you’ll see how innocent everyone really is…”

“You’re just paranoid, Sam,” she insisted whilst she paced over to her son and smeared his unruly little mane back with a long, lathering and wholly maternal lick. The cub cringed with mortification and ground his teeth together, hoping that none of his friends saw him.

“I’m realistic, dear,” he pouted, “And don’t do that to the lad! He’s got a rep to uphold!”

“Or a lack of one, rather, if you keep up your thoughtful pruning of him…”

Sam Senior cringed - ouch, that had stung! His partner had the unerring ability to make him really feel that he was A Very Bad Boy at times. He wished she wouldn’t - it reminded him of his mother. Meanwhile, Junior could see the albatross pulling faces at him from out of the corner of his eyes, completely making fun of his mother’s cleaning session; “Dad, he just -!” he began to whine.

“Don’t shout at your father, dear,” Sybil ordered, covering his mouth with her paw.

Sam Senior rolled his eyes, “So, can we go home now?” he sighed, shaking out his scraggy mane and giving his thin body a stretch. Junior was now exchanging warning glances with the albatross, but the bird just threw him smug smiles in return.

“Honestly, Sam, I didn’t drag you all the way here to have you wait outside then escort me home again.”

Sam Senior blinked, “You didn’t?”

“No!” she snapped.

Senior looked started, his partner beginning to scare him now.

“I think you, of all lions, should be the first to offer your congratulations.”

Sam turned away when he rolled his eyes this time and sat, shoulders hunched, facing the horizon, “Can’t they wait?” he whinged.

“NO!” Sybil barked, managing to be even more frightening than before.

Senior pouted, as good as defeated.

“Hanna’s done very well.”

Sam turned, “It’s arrived?”

“Yes!”

“She was quicker than you…”

Sybil gave him a light slap whilst clinging on tighter to her son, who was now striving to break free and maul the albatross, who was making rude gestures at him now.

“I just took my time,” Sybil insisted.

“And everyone else’s…” Senior mumbled whilst Sybil resolutely ignored him, grasping her struggling cub in her jaws and hauling him up by his scruff.

“Come onf,” she ordered through her son’s hackles, making sure that her partner went on ahead before she followed from behind.

~~~~~

“Oh, my word…”

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Charming, so charming…”

“She’s so like her mother.”

“But her eyes… her eyes…”

“Look at its eyes!” Sam Senior gasped, halting in his tracks as a shudder traversed his spine.

“Don’t be so silly, Samuel!” Sybil sighed with exasperation whilst her son toddled between her feet, “She has lovely eyes.”

Sam frowned at his mate, who now had the distant, broody, motherly-love look in her eyes as she looked upon the newborn cub, a look that his male hormones couldn’t recognise; “They’re his eyes.”

“Well, I should hope so.”

“No,” Sam grinned nervously, “No, that’s not a good thing. That‘s scary.”

Sybil gave him another reproachful look, “Stop embarrassing yourself, Sam!” she warned him, “She’s her father’s daughter - what do you expect.”

“I expected him never to bless the world with his progeny.”

Sybil gave him a loud hush and stepped on ahead, leaving Sam skulking at the back.

They were now in a cave in the depths of Pride Rock where Hanna - ‘Preener’ to Ankh-Morpork’s ruler, the Patrician - had just given birth to a cub, a young lioness. A crowd of fellow well-wishers - members of many of the Prides that existed within the [city].

--End of Notes