
You spot your target just a few feet away, as you crouch just behind the rustling blades of long Savannah grass. He lumbers proudly back and forth, giant paws stirring the dirt with every calculated footstep. You steady your gun against your cheek, your eyes locked on the lion's powerful jowls. All of a sudden, with the snap of a twig, the maned head whips toward your hiding spot and his sinewy legs tense, prepared to strike. You fumble for your trigger, heart pounding wildly — will your shot find its mark or will you become dinner for the pride?