---Lane's POV---

Night had arrived and everything was silent. Even with my advanced hearing and smell, I couldn't pick up any of the pride members. The scent of their urine clung to my nose and made me cough before I covered my face with my sleeve.

I need to focus...one slip up and they can catch me.

Hiking the small bag further up my back, I slowly ventured out my den. Ears pricked for any sound, I opened my mouth slightly to help me in picking up anything unusual.

None of the pride members were nearby...good. There were very distant sounds of felines scurrying up trees and stalking through the thick grass. But they were too far away to notice me. With baited breath, I slowly slipped further away of my old home.

My right eye was opened wide, trying to catch and reflect as much light as possible as it scanned through the darkness of the night. A slight breeze tickled my face, the scent of Lions near the eastern border made me back up.

I'd rather try my chances against a Leopard or a Tiger than a whole pride of Lions. At least I could try and escape a single feline but the Lions would tear me to shreds before I'd manage to scramble into a tree.

A scuff of paws over rocks made me turn around, noticing one of the Lions approaching my old den. I swallowed deeply as I watched its tail flick with irritation as it slowly got into stealth mode.

I left at the right time... The elders have sent for me.

The knowledge that I was basically prey to my pride now slowly sank in before I started to move faster. If word got out that my life had been forfeited and the lion discovered I wasn't in my den, the chase would soon start.

It was only after a few more minutes that an angered roar broke the silence of the night, followed by other felines calling in.

Run!

My feet instantly picked up their pace though I managed to remain as quiet as possible. Already I heard the approaching thundering of paws, heard the growled inhales of breath and the pants that accompanied each powerful stride.

The edge of the territory was close, so close in fact that I could feel the weak hold it had on me, could feel it simmer and twist in my blood. The stronger your allegiance to your pride, the harder the border pushed against you, especially the younger cubs.

A fail safe of the species so no cub could stray out of bounds by accident. Anyone who willingly passed over the border were either rejecting their pride or were fleeing from it. But the rules were clear.

Once you went over the border, you couldn't get back until you gained permission of the counsil, and they rarely ever did.

Which is why I was soon neglecting the silence, bursting into a fullout run when I heard a cat rappidly approaching me.

A human can't outrun a big cat. Why did I even bother?

My heart plummeted as I heard the cat push off seconds before I ducked, could feel its jaws snapping shut inches above my head. It had been aiming for my throat, a killing blow. And even as I managed to scramble past it,  my eye caught a blur of dark manes and the deep, agressive snarls of the adolecent male lion that got back on its paws and charged after me.

Pain was immediate as claws sank into my side and back as the lion's immense weight dragged me to the floor. It roared with anger, dragging its claws down as I struggled and kicked, punching at its face to avoid the dangerous canines.

I knew if it got a hold of my vunerable neck or throat, it would throttle me to death. And it seemed the lion knew I was avoiding it at all cost too, because it was trying its best to flip me around and gain access.

In doing so however, its claws drew deep and agonizing wounds over my stomach, chest and side as it roared and clawed at me. I managed to kick it off, keeping my arm pressed against my stomach to keep my wounds closed.

My heart thudded in fear as adrenaline fueled my body to keep moving. I could feel blood dripping down my face from where the cat had clawed at me, deep scratches running over my brow, my cheek...my left eye.

There were no hints of light, no colorful spectacle of shades and sunlight. Just a deep and throbbing darkness to the left, while my right eye was blinking heavily, blood dripping down my eyelashes.

I made it across...

 Stumbling, I glanced behind to see several members of the pride gathered near the boarder, soon kicking up into a roar. A powerful and impressive display of territory, possession and union. Showing me clearly that I wasn't welcomed back.

For a moment, I wondered what my father would think...would he be glad to know I was gone? Had he wished for my death instead of my exile? I'd never know and I honestly didn't care anymore.

Slowly I started limping away, my bag hanging on by a thread and probably resembling how I looked. It was smeared with fresh blood and I felt my stomach turn as I forced myself to look down at the wounds I had.

Bile rose and I tried my best to swallow it down. Even in the pale light of the moon, I could see that the lion had been close to killing me. If I wasn't pressing my wound shut...I'd be disemboweled.

Shock was slowly settling in as my body shivered and shook, yet I stubbornly forced one foot in front of the other; moving away from my former pride and into no man's land. My strength was leaving my body along with my blood but I had no other option but to keep moving.

I was lucky enough that I had enough healing abilities to slowly heal the minor scrapes and wounds but I was too tired and too weak to heal the enormous cut across my stomach, not to mention the scrapes on my face.

When I spotted a small creak, the sunlight was already filling the air. I landed heavily on my knees, groaning in pain as I tried with a shaky hand to cup some water and rinse the wound. I-I knew I had a spindle of thread and a needle in my bag...

My stomach turned at the thought but there was nothing else I could do. I had no-one to turn to, what I had wasn't hygienic to begin with but my wounds would get infected anyways if I didn't do anything.

Strengthening my resolve, I searched through my bag before gulping at the sight of the small yet sharp needle along with the thread. Dragging myself to a nearby tree, I laid back against it while preparing the needle as best as I could with shaking hands before removing my belt and biting down into it.

The next minutes seemed to feel like hours of torturous pain, every pained inhale through my noise followed by deep cries as I bit harder on the belt while sewing my own wounds shut. Each time I pulled on the needle, I begged it was the last but knew I had barely started.

By the time I was finished, I had bitten clear through my belt, blood slipping past my lips as I panted, feeling feverish. The wound was shut but looked awful, bright red and swollen, threatening to snap the threads that barely held it together.

Leaning over to the side, I cried as I emptied my stomach, each gut tearing wrench made me fear for the stitches. When I was finally done, my head throbbed with each heartbeat, my eye burned and the marks on my skin glowed with heat.

I dragged myself back to the water and washed off the sweat before pulling myself under the cover of some shrubs and curled up. Exhaustion, pain and fever were setting in and succeeded to drag me under, my last clear thought still floating through my mind.

How am I going to survive this?