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"I'm weary and I'm dreary, need a place to rest my head. I'm weary and I'm dreary; got no place to call a bed! I'm weary and I'm dreary and I really need a nap, but a lion never gets to sleep when he is hauling crap!"

Tired digits were riddled with blisters as Nbowa tugged a cart full of packages down the uneven path of a dirt road. In those days, he was simply Nbowa, not Nbowa the Great, Nbowa the Smelly, or even Nbowa the Always Asleep When There's Something Important Going On.

Two of those three titles would have been acceptable, I assure you...but I digress, for this tale is much greater than the sum of the lion's smell and his penchant for sleeping approximately 21 hours a day.

This, my dear friend, is the tale of how a lion with only a first name became known as something much, much more to the war-torn continent of Furope.

"Oi!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you cut it out wit' dat bloomin' song? Ye sing it ev'ry bloomin' day!"

"It just helps me to pass the time! Don't you think your days go by faster when you're singing a jolly tune?"

"What's ta be jolly about? I'm a dirt farmer!"

Nbowa paused and set his cart down in the middle of the path so he could tap his chin in thought. "Well, you own a farm! That's definitely worth being happy about!"

"It's a _dirt_farm."

"Better than no farm at all! That's what I've got!"

When better days would come over the horizon, Nbowa's good mood would be infectious; sometimes by the nature of his joy, and sometimes by the brute force of town guards.

In those days, however, he could have smiled as wide as the Catlantic Ocean and not drawn so much as a snicker from anyone.

"Oi...sod off, ye bloody feline! Yer stinkin' up the street again!"

Poor Nbowa did his best not to hang his head, but his mane felt so much heavier than usual, as if it took the weight of the words thrown at him, in addition to the dirt, fleas, and other rubbish that were drawn to it like nails to a magnet.

He likely wouldn't have had quite as hard a time dealing with the insults if there wasn't someone narrating his entire life experience so that he had to live it out a second time, but someone had to be around to take record of a lion who was destined for greatness.

"And how exactly do you know that I'm destined for greatness, Joshiah the Notetaker?"

Because I'm writing this book as we speak, Nbowa. I have the power to break the fourth wall whenever I want, so if I say that you're destined for greatness, you're probably going to do something worthwhile before the end of this book.

"That's a very odd way to speak, my friend."

Marching beside Nbowa with a small pad of old, faded parchment and a miserable pen was Joshiah the Notetaker, a hybrid of very little distinction in the mostly unknown town of Bleaton, which was absolutely the name they decided on when the village was first established, and not a name-based pun that Joshiah gave it because he was the one writing down the story.

"I've been told that my odd manner of verse will one day make me the greatest weaver of tales in all the land," Joshiah the Notetaker swiftly cut the Earth from beneath his own feet with a spade of pure hubris. "And since I'm not being slaughtered in one of the hundreds of battles going on across the continent, I think I've got a pretty good shot of making it!"

"Aye, perhaps your unusual tongue will take you somewhere in life, someday," Nbowa replied. "You've already got a title, even!"

"Everyone has a title in Furope, Nbowa."

"I don't."

"Yes you do. You're Nbowa."

"But I'm just Nbowa."

"No, no. Your name would be Nbowa the Just."

"I'm not saying that I'm just, I'm saying that I'm just Nbowa."

"Nbowa the Just. I'm not sure why you're having trouble with the order of your honorifics...they're pretty simple, really."

Nbowa rested his forehead in his palm and rubbed his temples. "I am trying to say that my name is only Nbowa. I'm not Nbowa the anything!"

"Well, of course you're not! Nbowa the Anything lives a few towns over from here."

Rolling his eyes and picking up the handles of his pull cart once more, Nbowa picked back up with his route. "Do you really have to follow me all the way around town? Isn't there anything more important here to take notes about?"

Nbowa was absolutely correct that there were plenty of other things that were far more important than his delivery route. In the town of Bleaton, there was an ongoing investigation about the presence of two carnivores who were menacing the main street of the town with their presence...and it was only after writing that sentence that I realized that those jerks were definitely talking about me and the lion.

I no longer feel bad about what happened to them next.

"For some reason, none of the other townspeople like it when I follow them around and take notes of their day," Joshiah the Notetaker admitted. "They avoid me like I've been stricken with a plague."

"You're a hybrid. That's a lot worse than having a plague, isn't it?"

Joshiah the Notetaker was used to such cheap shots, and rolled his eyes in reply as they came to one of the many blind hills that dotted the countryside in Bleaton. The deer who first settled in the area didn't have much trouble navigating the steep drops and inclines of the hilly pastures, but they also weren't usually pulling a cart full of packages and goods to be delivered.

With a breath, Nbowa calmed his nerves and stepped out over the ledge, unable to see the deer that was standing in the middle of the path until the weight of the cart behind him was pushing him along.

"I'd rather have a plague than get run over by my own livelihood!"

" Not helping!" Nbowa yelled back at his hybrid companion as the cart continued pushing his footpaws along the path. Sprinting ahead uncontrollably, Nbowa watched in horror as the deer looked back over his shoulder.

His eyes went blank; his body remained completely still.

"T-t-t-typical d-d-deer!" Nbowa's words were minced by the pace of his footpaws slamming against the path, but no matter how they thundered upon the ground, the deer in the road just stood there and stared, his eyes telling the tale of a man who was devoid of rational thought or survival instinct.

Surely, the crash would be a violent affair. The deer would be mangled by the weight of the cart as Nbowa jumped out from in front of it, having done all that he could to prevent the collision, but the paralyzed creature would continue to watch the surely boring reel of his life flashing before his eyes, even as the impact of the cart hitting him sent him flying through the air.

That's what I wanted to write, but...that's not what happened.

"Wait! I t-t-think I've got it!" Nbowa may have been nameless, but he was ready to earn a name through his heroism. His heels dug in against the thick, padded dirt of the road and kicked up clouds of dust as he managed to slow the cart, a feat that was nothing short of miraculous.

His footpaws carved out trails of dirt as he did all that he could to come to a complete stop in time. He knew that the odds were against him, and his friend was standing and taking notes instead of trying to help move the deer out of the way, but all signs pointed to a peaceful resolution as Nbowa's body held strong against the damning weight of the cart.

The only contact made was the very tip of one of his sharp, deadly claws against the thin, bony ankle of the deer that was too busy daydreaming to move.

That was all it took.

" AAAGH! My leg! My bad leg! You stupid, smelly lion, you!" he collapsed to the ground, wrapping his palms around a wound that didn't actually exist on his ankle. He rolled from side to side in such a dramatic fashion that no one would have believed he was in any real sort of pain, as the thrashing of his legs would have made the injury worse instead of helping it.

The plethora of deer that jumped out from behind the trees on the path revealed that Nbowa was lured into a trap by the crafty citizens of Bleaton. They ran at him with accusations on their lips and hatred in their eyes, even when the kindly lion knelt by the fallen cervine and tried to help him.

"He's trying to eat me! Oh, by the gods, he's going to finish the job! I can feel his fangs sinking into my flesh with great force! Dear me, it's an unfathomable pain!"

"But I haven't eve-

" Oh heavens! There goes my leg, clean off!" The deer interrupted Nbowa's attempt at character defense. "I'd describe the volume of blood that doth leak from my severed knee, but I want this book to remain within the realm of PG-13 violence and there could be children around! It's so terrible that I could faint, but the pain keeps me here in the realm of the living!"

"Dude, your leg is still attached."

"Tis a lie! There it goes!" the deer threw a stick into the crowd of his allies, and they all gasped as it flew over their heads. "He's already finished it down to the bone! His hunger for our flesh is insatiable!"

Though records might one day show that he'd been baited into his fate, Nbowa had no defense for the mob of deer that surrounded him on all sides. He nervously shrunk back to his cart as they began picking up whatever rocks and sticks they could find, and still, Joshiah the Notetaker was just watching and taking notes, even though he totally could have done something about all of this.

"It was only a matter of time before he gave in and started eating us! He's too dangerous to remain!"

"I knew we couldn't trust a smelly lion! His shorts are likely stained red with the blood of his previous hunts!"

"Yes, and his bangs are so bright and blonde!"

"What...what's that supposed to represent, brother?"

"He's clearly had them dyed that color, and my highlights never turn out that well! It's not fair!"

Members of the crowd shared a series of curious glances before nodding their agreement. "He's right; that's completely unfair! The lion must be banished!"

The crowd was able to turn on a dime as far as tragedy was concerned. Their fervor was now greater over the impressive shimmer of blonde that made Nbowa's mane so unique, but their intention was still clearly to do harm to the poor feline.

Outnumbered, wrongfully accused and trapped on all sides, Nbowa would need a miracle to escape a terrible fate. He would have been happy with an ex machina from the author, but he had to settle for the hybrid, now that he was finally done taking down notes.

"Hey, Nbowa!"

"About time you decided to chime in! What the hell took you so long?!"

"...That was pretty rude. Do you want my idea or not?"

"Is it going to save my tail?"

"It should."

"THEN WHAT IN THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!"

"I was waiting for the deer to do something cool, but...I think they're just gonna congregate and throw accusations at you."

His observation wasn't wrong.

"You're a real friend, Joshiah the Notetaker."

"I'm your best friend, Nbowa the guy who is gonna owe me such a huge favor in about two seconds."

"I don't owe you jack until you give me that idea!"

"Move forward."

It felt like such a simple thing that Nbowa couldn't imagine what kind of help it would be, but he'd been holding the weight of the cart the whole time for nothing.

Still worried the collection of rioting deer might actually do something to him, he stepped forward on a quivering leg.

Every weapon dropped to the ground as the deer all turned their heads and stared at him blankly.

"...W...What in the world?"

The entire town of Bleaton was utterly silent, as if they were trapped in a void of sound. The normally forgettable grind of the wheels over dirt was deafening when it was the only thing to be heard, and granules of loose gravel shifting under wooden wheels were never so profound.

"This is _really_creepy," Nbowa murmured, "How did you know that would work?"

"I take a lot of notes," Joshiah the Notetaker replied redundantly. "I've seen this kind of thing before. If you just keep walking forward with your cart, they'll stand there and stare at you until you're half a mile down the road."

"I don't believe it," Nbowa continued walking forward slowly, bumping into other members of the crowd of deer as he moved. "They're just staring at me like I'm some kind of a mythical beast! They must be terrified of my presence!"

Joshiah the Notetaker shook his head. "Nah...I think deer are just really stupid, probably."

On that note, an alternate version of the author ducked, expecting a book to whipped at his head, but in the realm of Furope, he strode down the hill and walked alongside his feline companion, grinning from ear to ear that his idea had worked.

"Though you are a gross, smelly hybrid, I do owe you my thanks, Joshiah the Notetaker. Your skills could be of great use to people who enjoy reading...you could even make a living off of that, someday!"

"It's...it's my job already."

"Oh. Tis a silly job. No one reads anymore."

It was at this moment that the author of the book had a small existential crisis and almost didn't finish this book at all, but deep inside, there was a yearning to tell the tale of how two commoners from the town of Bleaton became so deeply entwined in the fate of the continent of Furope, and he knew that if he carried on, there would be so many opportunities to mock his friends and make inappropriate comments about how bad lions smell that he couldn't possibly give up right then.

"You say that, but without my words, you would be greatly inconvenienced right now!" Joshiah the Notetaker reminded him. "It was only a herd of deer, but you'd still be trapped in their midst without my assistance. There is a place for words in this world, I truly do believe!"

"Yes, and that's coming out of mouths and going into ears!"

"I'm just going to take that as a win before I stab you with my quill," Joshiah the Notetaker was starting to wish that he'd left Nbowa surrounded by the improvised army of deer. "Though, with or without a quill, I suppose we can't return to Bleaton anymore. Where shall we go?"

Nbowa dropped the cart behind him the moment they were through the crowd of blankly-staring cervines and clapped his paws together, shaking the dust from them. "We're not getting anywhere fast if I'm pulling that," he claimed. "I'm done delivering packages for people who are jealous of my good looks. I'll find a new way to carve out a living somewhere in Furope!"

"Where, exactly? Bleaton was one of about six cities that wasn't somehow involved in the war...we don't really have a lot of places to go if we don't want to end up dying a slow, horrible death."

"Look on the bright side! We could die a fast, horrible death."

"How about we try going some place where we're not going to die at all?"

"Seems impossible," Nbowa claimed. "However, there is a place nearby where we can have a statistically better chance of survival!"

Joshiah the Notetaker cocked a brow. "Where does such a place exist?"

"You said you came from a town not too far from here where everyone practices statistics, right?"

"We should not go there."

"But a place run with such logical practices will surely provide safe passage for us to a new home!"

"Nbowa, we are not going back there."

The lion refused to take no for an answer. He was already walking down the path that so conveniently connected the two cities, mostly because the plot demanded it, and it would waste a lot fewer words of exposition for the duo to walk a short distance than to describe how they got lost in some forest where nothing of note actually happened.

"Nbowa! Get back here right now! We can just eat all the stupid deer while they're distracted and stay in Bleaton where it's safe!"

"A town full of statisticians sounds pretty safe to me!" Nbowa called back over his shoulder, trotting eagerly down the path, almost certainly just to spite the hybrid at that point.

Trust me, he does this stuff all the time. Like, spiting me is one of his favorite pastimes. He just goes and does things and doesn't worry at all about the consequences, and I swear, if we actually end up walking down the path to that stupid t-

"Joshiah the Notetaker! Are you done monologuing? We've got a new home to find!"

Dejected but unwilling to face the army of deer alone, Joshiah the Notetaker shook his head and followed in the path of the lion's footsteps, writing down every little detail of their adventure as they went. He couldn't be sure, but someday, he fathomed that their days together in Furope might be the stuff of legends.

First, they'd have to start over again somewhere new...and their first destination was the village of Numeria.