Morning Light

Chapter 9 – The Final Frontier

Five years after that one Christmas, Dorothy Wayneright was depressed. After the northern hemisphere had been turned into lions during the war, something had kept her unfaltering hatred present in everyone's life. She padded around her den, occasionally bating at some unknown speck of dust. Her temper flared as she recalled how she had gotten there.

Spike and Faye had been killed years before in a freak African safari mishap involving two stuffed rhinoceroses and a sack of unused peanut brittle. The details her foggy, seeing as since she had become a feline, her memories had to be collected and tested by researchers. Dorothy considered why it had all happened as she gnawed on the carcass of a grey mouse. Now in some remote zoo in Brazil, she had little privacy and often had little to nothing to eat, so she took what she was given.

Inuyasha and Kagome had been in the southern hemisphere during the war, touring in Antarctica in search on Inuyasha's lost older brother. His brother was, most certainly, dead, but that didn't stop them from dropping out and falling in with heroin in the Arctic Circle. Dorothy had not heard from them in years. Kagome had stopped writing when the war came. Which brought Dorothy to the war altogether – why it had happened, why they had become lions, why lions at all?

With all of these in mind, Roger sauntered out from the opposite den. He took one look at Dorothy and huffed his way over.

"Hey," he mewled, nosing her ear with his rough muzzle.

"Hey yourself," she growled, shaking her ears and licking her chops. Roger had been with her when the war of lions had taken them to South America. Although, he was still charming, Dorothy was not as interested in procreating and lying in trees as he was.

"So, what's the plan today?" he panted, tongue lagging to one side of his mouth. Dorothy growled and rose on all fours.

"We must get Simba and the other lions together. It's time for a meeting," she roared, yawning extensively. Roger nodded, but before the two could seek cover, an airplane was looming far closer to the ground then they had ever seen before. Its jet engines were flaming, as if the Devil himself had sent it to Earth to slay them. Dorothy and Roger could not so much as glaze in awe at the spectacle before it crashed into the artificial stone den that the Brazilians had constructed for them.

Children cried and mother's reached for their hands to draw them away from the fire, soon extinguished by a local firehouse. Sadly, there were no survivors. The last Northern Singing Lions were consumed in fiery hell.