The dirty man stayed completely still in front of the lion that had just appeared before him, wondering what the beast wanted with him.
His nerves lay between frightened and confused. He didn't know what to do in the presence of the king of breasts. What was worse was that the lion was not attacking him, 'Would you just get it over with? If that's what you want,' his mind screamed, 'What's a lion even doing this close to the capital?'
The lion, however, had other ideas. It walked up to him and gestured to the hole he'd dug with his own hands using its… paw. The man looked between the pit and the lion in more confusion.
The gesture alone caught him off-guard that he had no idea how to respond. The lion could tear him to pieces if he gave it the wrong 'impression'. Did the king of beasts even care for what impression he gave? He was already covered head-to-toe in dirt.