Lion cub falling asleep after lunch with family
The sun hung high over the African plains, casting long shadows under the sparse acacia trees. The air shimmered with heat, and the distant hum of insects filled the silence between rustling leaves. A pride of lions lay sprawled in the shade, bellies full after a successful morning hunt.
Among them, a small lion cub named Tamu yawned widely, his tiny teeth barely visible. His face was still smeared with traces of lunch — a young antelope caught hours earlier by the lionesses. He had eaten more than his share, clumsily pushing his way to the front of the feast with soft growls and flailing paws.
Now, full and drowsy, Tamu blinked slowly at the world around him. His mother lay close, her steady breathing a soothing rhythm. Nearby, his older siblings groomed each other lazily, flicking flies away with their tails.
Tamu’s eyelids grew heavier with each blink. He tried to stay awake, his little head bobbing as he fought the pull of sleep. A butterfly fluttered by, briefly catching his attention, but even that wasn’t enough. He gave in with a soft sigh, curling up against his mother’s side, his tiny body rising and falling with her breath.
The pride was peaceful, united not just by blood but by the quiet rituals of daily life — hunting, feeding, resting. In the golden stillness of the afternoon, the savannah paused with them.
As the sun continued its journey westward, Tamu slept soundly, safe in the warmth of his family. Around him, the world held its breath, cradling a moment of pure peace — a lion cub dreaming gently beneath the noonday sun.
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