Chapter 4: Revenge of the Lion’s Pride
The very next morning, Abdi spied the burned lion leading a whole prowling pack of friends and relatives toward the little hut, teeth gnashing and claws extended for bloodshed!
Aisha gasped in terror. “Abdi, I told you we shouldn’t have been so cruel! Now they’ll tear us apart for what you did!”
Not wasting a second, Abdi grabbed his wife’s hand and fled for the biggest tree he could find, scampering up its
gnarled trunk just as the first lions arrived, slashing at the bark.
Trapped on his swaying perch with snarls all around, Abdi shook in his sandals as the lions began stacking themselves in a towering, furry pyramid – using the burned lion as the unfortunate base.
Up…up…up they climbed, mouths agape and frothy, until the tippy-top cat extended his hooked claws mere inches from Abdi’s pale, quivering face!
Just then, the quick-thinking man cupped his hands to his mouth and hollered down at the scrabbling feline tower…
What do you think Abdi could possibly have shouted that made every single lion go thumping back to the ground in a heap?
“AAAAIIISHAAA! BRING THE HOT WATER!”
Those four simple words caused the burned lion’s pupils to dilate in panic. Visions of searing, bubbling agony came flooding back like a freshly reopened wound.
“RRRRAAAAARRRGGGGHHHHH!” he howled in primal terror, instinctively ripping himself free of the lion tower’s foundation. WHOOMPHH! The whole towering pride collapsed into a tangle of furry limbs and surprised yelps.
By the time the dazed lions managed to untangle themselves, Abdi was already on the ground, sprinting back to his wife’s arms with the dust clouds of fear at his heels.
And from that day forth, neither lion – burned or unburnt – dared step one shaking paw near the couple’s humble herd again. For just the mere memory of that sizzling punishment was enough to make even the fiercest feline’s tail tuck itself tightly between its legs.
Sometimes, they still swore on particularly blustery nights, they could hear a distant, spectral voice riding on the hot winds shouting…
“Aisha…bring the hot water!”
Moral Lesson
And so we learn, as the old Mandera saying goes: “A burned child dreads fire.” For the hardest lessons are those that bite us hottest and stick with us longest.
The End.
