The sun sets over the grasslands of Ice Age North America, painting the horizon in blood-orange light. Silence falls across the prairie, broken only by the distant calls of mammoth herds. From a rise in the earth, a shadow emerges—broad-shouldered, towering, and lithe. Its golden coat gleams in the fading light as it steps with a slow, deliberate gait. Eyes the color of amber fix upon you, unblinking, unshaken. A deep growl rumbles in its chest, vibrating through the ground beneath your feet. You are no longer standing before an ordinary predator—you face the American Lion, the undisputed monarch of its age.