It all started when I was born. My mother was a leaena or lioness of great power and with a noble blood line, tracing back to Lionid Amplusaum, great king of the lions. She was one of the strongest and fiercest females in her pack, and was respected by most. Unfortunately for her pack, she abandoned them for my father. She saw him out hunting, and thought he was the most beautiful thing she had ever laid eyes on. My father was only a homoinis mortalis, or mortal man, but when he was young he had been blessed with the glitter of a fairy who loved him. Unfortunately, no blessings could convince him to take her, for at the time he was young and not ready for such a commitment. However, when my mother and my father met, twelve years later, it was love at first sight. Because, as Martin the Adventurous and Ellen of Freedwall proved, cross lion and human marriages and births are not a problem, the Liohomus was created well before, say, the Homocolubra; the snake people, and so on, they were soon wed.
My parents gave birth to a leaena called Spesa, a human boy named Fortitudo, a Lion Keeper (they don't have names) and, last of all, me, Fidella Filiabenedictus, the Liohomus, a cross species freak. It is a sad thing for parents when a disgrace like me is born. First of all it shames the family’s honor. My parents still loved me. When They tried to take me away from my parents and drown me, therefore eliminating another freak of nature, my parents tried to protect me. You might ask who "They" are. They are the cruelest of all beasts, the mighty, four legged, hound police. They look like hunting dogs, but have human minds. Unfortunately, their minds are cunning as a fox's, clever as an old magician, and speedy and bloody as the hound whose body they share. They always take the freaks, the odd ones out. They take those who are not worthy to share lodging with the pure beings.
I remember the day that They came for me well. I was six at the time. I was a young Liohomus, and knew nothing of Them or, for that matter, any other unpleasant topic. My parents, my siblings and I were sitting around the dinner table, eating a balanced dinner of venison steak. My mother ate hers raw, digging into the meat with her sharp teeth. My mother was perched on a chair at the foot end of the table. She was tall and muscular and beautiful. She was golden all over, even her golden eyes. I loved my mother. Spesa, the eldest of my siblings at the age of fourteen, sat to the right of my mother. She followed my mother’s example, tearing of strips of raw meat and snapping them down. It was Spesa and my mother who had caught the two deer for our dinner. They, being lions, were far more skilled at hunting than the rest of us.
The Lion Keeper sat to the right of Spesa. He did not speak, or eat. His indistinct form quivered in his chair, flickering from lion to human, then back to lion again. He simply sat there and watched us eat. My father insisted that the Lion Keeper attend meals, even though he did not contribute to anything. I was not close to him. I barely knew him.
My father sat at the head of the table. He was tall, about six three, with dark, tanned skin. He had crinkles around his eyes from squinting into the sun all day. He rarely smiled, but at least when he did, you knew it was genuine. My father worked long days in the fields, and hunted for recreation when he got a few minutes here and there. Right now he was in deep conversation with Fortitudo, my human brother, who was sitting to his right. Fortitudo was brave and strong, and one of the tallest boys around who were his age, 12. I was quite close to him, and he called me his ‘lil’ sissy.’ I sat to Fortitudo’s right.
Then They came. I had just finished my steak, cooked medium rare, the way I liked it, when someone hammered on the door to the cottage. My father went to answer it. When he came back, he looked pale.
“Spesa, take Fidella down to the cellar and hide her among the barrels of fish in the corner.” He spoke quickly and urgently, but quietly.
“Yes, father. Come one, Fidella.”
We hurried down to the cellar. Spesa did her best to conceal me in the mess of fish barrels. Then she went back upstairs.
The smell of fish was almost overpowering. I had to hold my nose to keep it bearable. I thought I might pass out if I inhaled it for too long. All our salted fish was stored in those barrels, and the smell was pungent. I curled my paws under me, and crouched down as best as I could, trying to make as little noise as possible. I had to sit on my tail to keep it from twitching.
What was going on? Who had come and why must I be hidden? What was wrong with me? Why was I crouched here, among these smelly fishy barrels?
Eventually I heard the sounds of creatures coming down the stairs. There were snufflings and little barks, like many excited animals of some sort. Then I heard my father’s voice, agitated.
“Now, really, what would we be hiding in our cellar?”
“Shut up,” said a scratchy, barking voice, and I heard a whip-like sound. My father gasped in pain. I peered through a gap in the barrels to see him sprawled at the feet of a creature unlike one I had ever seen before. It was a large hound-dog, but with an intelligent face. The face was cruel, though, and currently it had a smirk on its lips. I did not know it at the time, but this was one of the hound police. My father was lying on the ground, with a slash that gouged along his back. It had ripped his shirt, and I could see blood seeping steadily onto the crisp, white shirt.
My mother snarled menacingly, but she seemed to have her own attendant, a creature that looked much like the one who had sent my father to the floor, as did my other siblings. The first creature licked my father’s blood off of his claws one by one.
“Delectable,” he snarled, “now, where is the girl?”
“We have no girl!” gasped my father. He received another slash, this time across his face.
I had to do something, give myself away! I had to stop them from hurting my father! My mother seemed to know what I was thinking. When no one was watching she looked directly at me and shook her head ever so slightly. I knew what she meant. I must not reveal myself, no matter what happened. I must not let the dogs find me.
“Seems we have an uncooperative here,” growled the hound, “let’s use Technique 47F,” he told the others.
“Which one, sir,” asked one of the other hounds. The first hound examined each one of his captives carefully: my mother, Spesa, Fortidudo, and the Lion Keeper. He petted my mother on the top of the head. She growled defiantly, but was again restrained by her own hound. Spesa he scratched behind the ears. She could do nothing but glare at him.
“You sure you won’t tell me where your sister is, beautiful? You’re going to let your father be hurt all because of a no-good cross-species freak? Why not end this all now. Just tell me where she is.”
“Never!” snarled Spesa.
“Aha! There is a girl!” the hound crowed.
“I didn’t say that!” said Spesa hastily, but the damage was done. The hound moved on to Fortitudo.
“Ah, a lovely little boy,” he purred, squeezing Fortitudo on the cheek with a clawed paw. “He’ll do,” he said shortly to the hounds. They closed in, forming a ring around my family. I watched in horror.
“Now, this is really very simple,” the lead hound told my father, who was still sprawled on the floor, blood oozing out of the cuts on his back and face. “You tell me what I want to know, or we hurt the boy.”
“Father, don’t tell them anything!” yelled Fortitudo. He was struggling against his captors, who were holding him back, laughing at his attempts. The lead hound slowly approached Fortitudo. He quietly spoke to the hounds, who pinned Fortitudo down on his stomach. Four hounds did the honors, one holding down each limb. The lead hound crouched down next to Fortitudo. Fortidudo was thrashing about, trying to get free. Slowly and carefully, the hound used his claw to cut away the fabric of Fortitudo’s shirt, exposing his naked back. Then, just as carefully, he drew his claw diagonally down Fortitudo’s back, starting at his left shoulder and finishing at his right hip. Fortitudo screamed with agony. He thrashed on the floor, blood pouring from his back. He thrashed about until he cracked his head on the floor, hard, and was rendered unconscious.
The hound crouched down next to Fortitudo’s limp figure, lying on the floor. He extended his second claw once more and brought it, this time, towards Fortitudo’s face.
“No!” My father shouted. He pulled himself to his feet and staggered towards the lead hound, who straightened up.
“Foolish human,” he said, “tell me now, where is your daughter?”
“Never!” yelled my father, and flung himself toward the hound dog. It happened so fast that for a moment, I didn’t realize what had happened. My father crumpled to the floor, dead. Fifty pairs of eyes gazed at the body on the floor, fifty tongues licked their lips.
“You boys may dispose of the body later. Right now we have work to do,” said the lead hound. He turned back to the boy lying unconscious on the floor. However, while the pack was distracted, my mother and Spesa had managed to break free from their captors. Together they attacked the lead hound. Like all bullies, the lead hound was a coward. When he saw two furious lionesses flying towards him, he backed away.
“Boys, assistance!” he called. However, the Lion Keeper had been hard at work. He may have had skills mainly with lions, but he could work some magic on all animals. He had been weaving quietly through the hounds, incapacitating each and every one. They now silently trooped out of the house, dragging the lead hound along with them. My mother ran upstairs after them and slammed the door. She then came back downstairs. Spesa, fetch me the bandages…and the cruorobturochara.
“Yes, mama,” said Spesa. She ran swiftly upstairs.
“My baby, my baby boy,” my mother murmured, crouching beside Fortitudo and stroking his face. She and Spesa spent the entire night caring for Fortitudo and preparing my father’s body for cremation. I did not move from the fish barrels, and fell asleep to the smell of salted fish and the sound of my mother and Spesa talking quietly.
As vox nihili said, the beginning is really dry. When something is dry, readers are less apt to read it. I would mix history with current. This way if something happens, you haven't already explained it and your reader forgot.