The Braided Hair Lion

 
Timbae wasn't afraid of lions. He had grown up, if not among them, close enough to know the habits of the pride. He knew their feeding patterns and mating rituals enough to know when to steer clear.

This was one such day, and so Timbae decided to take the long way around the lion's territory to get to his steady fishing hole. This part of the river didn't come without dangers of its own, but Timbae still wasn't overly concerned. He was an expert with his hunting knife which he carried sheathed and strapped to his hip.

In addition to his blade and fishing gear, Timbae knew well the craft of the longbow and steel-tipped arrow. A sign of respect among the village elders and one that helped establish Timbae as a superior hunter. It was about a mile from the river when Timbae whipped his longbow from off his shoulder and notched an arrow to the ready.

It was a lion alright that came cantering out of the bushes lining the side of the dirt path. Timbae was caught slightly off guard because the lion had made no sound. Most people wouldn't hear a lion anyway, but Timbae knew their padded gait. He found it oddly curious, in that instant, that the lion didn't surprise him completely. It was as if somehow Timbae had sensed he was coming.

The next thing that struck Timbae as out of place (once he realized he was still alive) were the braids in the lion's mane. Small beads in the shape of skulls twisted their way through the matted hair like some macabre macrame. Then there were those eyes....

By the time Timbae made it back to his village, he was soaking wet with sweat. "Good thing", he thought as it would hide the soil in his crotch. Timbae wondered where he should begin, or if he should even tell his story at all. It didn't seem likely anyone would believe him...