Mawe, a curious and spirited lion cub, woke up with an odd sensation in his throat. What had begun as a faint itch had quickly turned into a fierce, burning pain. Just the day before, while darting after butterflies through the tall grass near the pride’s watering hole, Mawe had accidentally stepped on a snake hidden beneath a sun-warmed rock. Startled, the snake had struck, sinking its fangs into the soft skin just below his jaw. At the time, it felt like nothing more than a sharp sting—but now, with his throat swelling and every swallow a struggle, the seriousness was clear.
His mother, Lela, noticed immediately that something was wrong. Normally the most energetic and vocal of the cubs, Mawe was unusually quiet. He didn’t wrestle with his littermates or nuzzle in for milk. Instead, he curled beneath the shade of an acacia tree, pawing at his aching neck and letting out faint whimpers. Lela nudged him gently, her instincts alert—this was no ordinary illness.
The pride’s elder, a wise lioness named Nuru, examined the wound and let out a low growl. “Snake venom,” she declared. “We must keep him cool and wait it out.” The lions surrounded Mawe, their bodies forming a protective circle to shield him from the harsh sun. Birds called from the trees and a breeze swept across the golden plains, but Mawe barely stirred. Even breathing was painful.
As the afternoon wore on, the swelling reached its worst. Though still sore, the pain began to ease. Lela licked his fur tenderly and coaxed him toward a shallow pool. Slowly, Mawe managed to drink a few mouthfuls. He wasn’t out of danger yet, but the worst had passed.
That night, beneath a sky thick with stars, Mawe drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep, nestled close to his mother’s side. The day had been harsh and frightening, but he had endured. And tomorrow, if the butterflies returned, he might chase them once again—this time with a little more caution.
