Chapter Ten: The Trap Beneath the Flowers

The mist rolled like breath through the clearing, pale and quiet, tinted orange and gold by the setting sun. A quiet stillness hung in the air—unnatural, deliberate. Every stone, every leaf, every breeze had been placed or planned. It was a trap. A beautiful one. Under Rafiki’s guidance, Vitani and her Guard had transformed a forgotten patch of forest into something deceptively tranquil. At the center of the clearing bloomed a vibrant circle of flowers—petals of crimson, violet, gold—arranged in a mesmerizing pattern. But beneath the blooms, hidden among vines and roots, were thorns dipped in Rafiki’s numbing paste. A touch would dull the body. A few steps more, and even Jitu’s keen reflexes would slow.Among the petals were sweet fruits—bright, fragrant, inviting. But these too were laced with Rafiki’s calming herbs. Not poison. Not harm. Just… silence. Slowness. Stillness. Around the perimeter, the Guard waited. Imara crouched low, her strength coiled like a spring. Shabaha paced with anticipation, claws flexing. Tazama clung to a high branch, eyes scanning from above. Kasi knelt in the underbrush, still and poised, ready to intercept. Rafiki, perched on a wide, low branch near the clearing’s edge, hummed softly as he tapped his staff against the wood in a slow, steady rhythm. In the middle of it all stood Vitani, her golden fur catching the dying light. She whispered, “Remember the plan. We catch him. No claws, unless he leaves us no choice.” Shabaha muttered, “Easier said than done.” Imara didn’t even blink. “Stay sharp.” Rafiki chuckled from above. “Sing with your hearts, little ones. Even silence can hear music.” Then—movement. Tazama’s tail flicked. “There.” A dark figure shifted in the mist. Massive. Silent. His eyes caught the light—icy blue, ageless, searching. Jitu stepped into the clearing. Vitani held her breath. He looked around. He didn’t move like approaching a trap—no hesitation, no caution. He walked as though this place were his. As though he had expected them. Vitani’s heart pounded. “Now—” But before anything could happen, a squirrel burst from the brush, chattered gleefully, grabbed a bright red fruit from the trap, and bolted. Jitu’s gaze followed the squirrel. His head tilted slightly. A faint twitch of his ears. Shabaha groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Imara lunged. “You’re not getting away this time—!” But a flock of startled birds exploded upward, and one smacked her square in the face. She stumbled back, roaring in frustration. Kasi dashed to intercept, but slipped on mossy stone and disappeared into a bush with a yelp. Tazama dropped from her branch—only for a vine to snag her hind leg. She dangled in midair, swearing quietly.Vitani surged forward. “Surround him! Go!” But Jitu didn’t move. He just stood there. Watching. As the Lion Guard scrambled and tripped and tangled, Jitu turned—calm as ever—and began to walk away. Only to find Rafiki already there. The old mandrill stood in his path, leaning lightly on his staff. “ Leaving so soon?” Jitu’s eyes narrowed slightly. A quiet rumble echoed in his chest. Not a warning. A question.Rafiki smiled. “They mean well. Young lions with strong hearts. And very little grace.” Behind them, Imara was still shaking feathers out of her mane. Kasi emerged from a bush, bristling. Shabaha hissed in embarrassment. Tazama flailed in the air, trying to free her paw from the vine. And Vitani—still standing—watched it all with equal parts frustration and disbelief. Jitu looked back at them. His gaze softened. Just slightly. Then, with a deep breath, he turned back and walked into the center of the clearing. The polished stone gleamed beneath him. He curled his massive body into a resting pose and lay down, paws folded, mane dusted in mist and fading light.Vitani blinked. The others slowly regrouped, forming a loose circle around him—panting, dirty, scattered. Rafiki joined Jitu, sitting cross-legged beside the great lion, his staff resting across his lap. “Well,” he said, amused, “it seems your grand trap did catch something. Perhaps not in the way you imagined.” Vitani’s fur bristled. “He’s laughing at us.”A low sound rumbled from Jitu’s chest. Not mocking. Not cruel. Just… calm. Peaceful. Maybe even fond. Rafiki’s eyes twinkled. “Perhaps it is not you who must catch him, young ones. Perhaps… you must simply be worth listening to.” Jitu’s eyes flicked to Rafiki, then to Vitani. There was something in his gaze now—not mockery. Not resistance.Curiosity.Vitani took a step forward. “Who are you, Jitu? What are you doing here?” He didn’t answer. But he didn’t walk away either. For the first time since their strange game had begun, Vitani felt something shift. He was still a mystery. Still silent. Still wrapped in frost. But maybe—just maybe—he was listening.