The sound of a crashing tree caused Three Squeaks to duck into his hole. It was instinct, even though he was expecting the noise. As a traditionally weak group, meerkats were prone to hiding from whatever dangers showed themselves. And a toppling tree was certainly one of those.
In this case, it was on purpose. Contented Grunt brought down the tree like many others- though most of them weren’t from this area. They didn’t want to give away their plans.
They tended to do most of their work during the day. It was when they were most comfortable, and the lions might come for them at any time so it was simply better to work when they pleased.
Three Squeaks checked his little burrow. It was barely large enough to keep him below the surface, out of paw’s reach. But that was just the right size, even if not the purpose of the structure. Instead, it was meant for a lion to get a paw trapped in. Even if it only hindered them for a few moments, throwing off their coordination would be worth it.
And realistically, they didn’t want to fight the lions at all. But every indication from their sneakier members was that the lions were going to make another attempt. And soon.
That was why they had to take the initiative. Their training was as good as it could be in the near future. So the only other thing they could do was pick their battlefield. And perhaps prepare it a bit.
Sustained Chittering had come up with the plan for traps. Sometimes, meerkats hurt themselves on sharp rocks and sticks on accident. Why not do the same but… on purpose? That had expanded out to what they were currently doing. Three Squeaks watched as warthogs ran their tusks against the bark of the tree, rubbing it off- and sharpening parts of it. They would set up the bigger sticks in just the right way to hopefully cause damage, partially burying them in the dirt dug up for their little pits. All of this was concealed by tall grass… mostly.
Everyone was working diligently, with the eagles currently gathering rocks. The biggest they could carry, with the intention to drop them on the enemy. Soon they would have to finish their preparations… and then provoke the lions to come fight them here.
But first, there was another night. It was nerve wracking, staying just on the edge of the lion’s territory. Especially with him stomping about. Nobody knew a proper name for him, but he made a Bloodcurdling Roar as he patrolled his territory. Even the alliance was unwilling to enter that territory. Fighting the lions in a place they knew well would result in too many deaths. They would inevitably have some, of course, but more deaths.
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Forceful Snort was the one responsible for drawing the attention of the lions. He had volunteered, even. The warthog leader was quite a large specimen that would be a tempting feast… and sending more than a small number of individuals would make their ploy more obvious. If they could think of it, their enemy could see through it. Anton said that no plan should rely on enemies making a mistake. Which mean, in the worst case scenario, their preparations might go to waste if Forceful Snort wasn’t followed.
He didn’t just go stomping into their territory with his head held high, directly taunting them. No, the warthog leader did much better than that. Since he was in the area it would be a waste to not root up something to eat. And it added to his natural look as well. He just kept a pair of eyes open for any trouble. And his extra senses, because while the lions might hide in tall grass well enough they hadn’t learned to conceal their natural energy. Or at least not very well.
The same would likely be true for the whole of their alliance, if they didn’t have the teachings of Anton the Tall One of Energy. He knew so much, but he said that was the result of many generations and hundreds of years. Almost a thousand, which was a number they had never had a reason to count to before he arrived. But now they stored food, and the number came up occasionally.
Forceful Snort continued his journey, taking care not to lose his position. He needed to be able to return to the ambush site without running into any hazards along the way. He tried not to look up into the skies, as eagle spotting was not something he was supposed to think about.
He noticed her. The first one. He spent a minute judging his own chances of beating her as he munched on some tasty bark. Either she judged the same as him- which was fairly even odds- or she simply would have gone to find others either way. Regardless, the lioness slipped off. It was true, he would be a feast for more than one or two lions. He could probably feed the whole pack.
Which was why he was bait. And so that he didn’t become useless bait, he slowly began making his way back towards the ambush spot, doing his best to not look like he was retreating. His trail would be easy enough to follow. He made sure his smell was especially strong this day.
When the first one leapt out at him, his panic was only partially performative. He ran, focusing on his goal. They chased after him. They wouldn’t go far, so he tried to not get too much ahead… while still surviving of course. That was ultimately what this was about. They wanted to live, but they couldn’t do that with the lions around.
The lionesses must have felt something was wrong as they approached. They slowed… but that was just the time that Three Squeaks took a shot at one of them. Specifically, the same one whose eye he had injured in their previous conflict.
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That was sufficient to provoke them, regardless of how many scents they smelled. They charged forward. One was unlucky enough to truly impale herself on a stick with her natural energy focused on leaping, while the others were more fortunate and only got scratches or nothing at all. But the pits made at least a few stumble, catching one for more than a few moments.
The warthogs began to charge forward to support Forceful Snort, who had turned to face the enemies. Three Squeaks continued to shoot his arrows at them, but they were mostly able to focus on defending against his attacks at the moment.
That was when the massive form of Contented Grunt levered herself out of the dirt behind them. Screeches came from the sky as a large number of relatively heavy and sharp rocks were dropped on the lionesses. They cried out in pain and anger.
“Foolish prey! Don’t think we can’t kill you all!”
It was scary, to hear a lioness roar that. But they already knew that, which was why they had to fight now. Because ultimately, that was what they were planning to do… just one morsel at a time.
As warthogs began to collide with the leading lions, Forceful Snort in particular tossing the verbal lioness onto her back with more momentum than she had anticipated, meerkats popped up as well. Their claws were only meant for digging and catching bugs, but with natural energy they could at least cause some damage to these much larger creatures. And the warthogs were there to help draw attacks.
The eagles began to circle back with another round of rocks from their stash behind the battlefield. Contented Grunt was harassing the rear of the lions herself, fending off two of their number. Things were looking good for their little alliance.
Until that roar. It wasn’t simple Bloodcurdling on an abstract level. It shook them all, while inspiring the lions. Even so, they couldn’t simply flee. Or rather, they shouldn’t. This was their best chance. But they seemed like they might.
Three Squeaks saw the effect that was had on his fellows, and he couldn’t stand it. “Don’t give up!” he said. He wanted to use flames, but in their current position that was only good as a last ditch effort. Basically suicidal. His other plan wasn’t much better… but it should at least do something.
A few meerkats and warthogs were looking to the rear, as if thinking they might run. But how could they, with Three Squeaks rushing towards them?
Even as he fired his bow, he drew ever closer. Closer to them, and closer to the lioness with the missing eye. “We can beat them!” he said. And as he said it, he chose to believe it.
Contented Grunt slammed one of the lionesses into another, just in time to spin around and toss the first at the incoming beast. As a hippopotamus, there was very little that could match her in mass… but Bloodcurdling Roar was at least half her weight, with an emphasis on his sharp claws and fangs. More than that, his natural energy was near the peak of what Anton called the Body Tempering stage. Given the power of a lion to begin with, it was terrifying to even consider fighting alone. But Contented Grunt knew that her allies were pressing towards her.
A shower of rocks did little more than make the lion blink as he charged forward. But perhaps every little bit would weaken his energy.
The lioness with one eye pounced towards Three Squeaks as he got within her range. He did the most terrifying thing he could do in such a position, which was to dive towards her. And under. He could only scramble along on all fours with his bow barely clutched in his hand, seeing powerful hind legs land on either side of him. He made it out just before her rear end came down upon him, trying to crush him into the dirt.
With the state things were in, he was willing to take some more serious risks. He swiveled, firing a single arrow behind him… one made of flame. It struck next to her tail, and while it didn’t do more than burn away some fur instantly without real ignition… it had some effect. Which was to make her yowl in pain and filled her one eye with even greater bloodlust. So much so that she basically ignored the handful of warthogs she had to push through to pursue Three Squeaks, letting them get easy damage on her sides.
More than half of the lions were dead, now, and the alliance was doing their best to use lion hunting tactics against the lions themselves, including Bloodcurdling Roar. Contented Grunt was just barely able to hold her own against him, huge scratches on her face and upper torso notwithstanding. Several brave warthogs found themselves with their skulls crushed by him, despite their recent training, or torn apart.
The meerkats he basically ignored, even as they danced around his feet trying to cut into his ankles somehow. There were a few patches of blood, but ultimately he could do enough damage to them by accident rather than needing to focus on them.
He prepared to roar once more, but as he raised his head a great screech came, followed by several others. Several eagles slammed into the back of his head, talons extended. Others targeted everywhere along his back. Forceful Snort found that a perfect opportunity to charge, digging his tusks as deep as they could go into the massive creature. He at least got a decent flow of blood.
It might have never even crossed the large lion’s mind that he could lose. Especially not to a bunch of prey- with the potential exception of Contented Grunt who was a rare treat for a lion. But away from the water she was in a riskier position.
But regardless of what the lion thought, he was not going to leave the battlefield. Eventually miniscule wounds began to build up, and he fell from blood loss. His natural energy was basically exhausted regardless, and his body was quickly torn into by his numerous attackers.
Dead on the battlefield were five lionesses, one great lion, nine warthogs, and fifteen meerkats. Five of them from the guard, and the others who simply couldn’t choose to not fight such an important battle.
Of the numerous wounds on the great lion, nobody noticed a thin but deep cut towards one artery on his neck. The matted blood on his mane could have come from any number of places, and it was likely they wouldn’t have questioned it even if it were noticed. But beyond their knowledge, it played a significant role in the battle… though not enough to discount their teamwork and sacrificial bravery.