Mated To The Ruthless Savanna King

The golden light faded, leaving Franco standing in the middle of the savanna, once again in his naked human form.

This time, he didn't panic. He just sighed, instinctively covering his groin with one hand, and cleared his throat.

Sean and Roy tilted their heads, their blue eyes wide with curiosity. The creature in front of them looked different, but he smelled the same. He smelled like Dad. They trotted forward and began sniffing his knees.

From their hiding spot, Phillip and Aaron's jaws dropped. They had thought the first time was a fluke, a trick of the light. Now they knew for sure. The cheetah was a monster.

Franco ignored his sons' inspection. He had a job to do. He scanned the ground and found what he was looking for: a heavy, sharp-edged rock.

He walked over to the nest, lifted the rock high above his head, and brought it down with all his might.

CRACK.

The thick shell splintered. The rich scent of raw egg filled the air.

The cubs rushed forward, ready to dive in, but Franco grabbed them by their scruffs and held them back.

He wrinkled his nose at the slimy, raw goo. Salmonella. His human brain screamed at the thought. He wasn't about to feed his kids raw eggs if he could help it.

He was going to cook.

He gathered a pile of dry grass and twigs, piling them up next to the nest. Then, using a technique he'd learned for a wilderness survival shoot, he found a hard stick and a piece of dry wood and began to drill.

His hands quickly blistered, but fueled by a desperate need to provide, he pushed through the pain. Finally, a thin wisp of smoke curled up from the wood dust.

He blew on it gently. A tiny flame flickered to life.

The moment the fire roared to life, Sean and Roy yelped and scrambled backward, their fur on end.

The lions, watching from the distance, trembled. Fire. It was the one thing all animals feared. The urge to flee was almost overwhelming.

"It's okay," Franco said, his human voice soft and reassuring. "It's magic. It makes the food better."

He carefully pushed the cracked ostrich egg to the edge of the fire, letting the radiant heat cook it slowly.

Soon, a new smell filled the air. Not the raw scent of egg, but a rich, savory, cooked aroma that was utterly intoxicating.

Sean and Roy stopped retreating. Their mouths began to water. Their eyes were glued to the fire.

In the tall grass, Phillip swallowed hard. His fear of the fire was at war with a hunger that was now ten times more powerful.

After twenty minutes, Franco used a stick to roll the cooked egg away from the heat. He tapped the shell, cracking it open to reveal a steaming, golden custard. He scooped out a piece with his finger, tasted it, and a look of pure bliss crossed his face.

He let it cool for a moment, then served it to the cubs. They devoured it, getting egg yolk all over their faces.

As he watched his family eat, Franco's sharp hearing picked up a faint sound on the wind. A cry of pain.

He instantly shifted back to his cheetah form, the golden light a familiar, fleeting cloak. He leaped onto a tall rock and scanned the horizon.

There. A black-tailed gazelle, limping badly, separated from the herd.

Fresh meat. A real meal.

He licked his lips, his eyes narrowing. He motioned for the cubs to hide in the hollow of the empty ostrich nest. Then, like a shadow, he slipped off the rock and began to stalk his new prey.

Phillip saw the cheetah move. He nudaded his brother, who was still mesmerized by the lingering smell of cooked egg. The hunt was on again.

And they were going to be right behind it.