- Amira was your standard huntress. She neither surpassed her peers nor trailed behind them in skill. It had taken her entire family by surprise to find that out of Alake's daughters -- Amira and her sister, Tabia -- the prissiest was the one with the most promise to be something special. Unfulfilled potential in the end.
Tabia was likely better than her now, not distracted by the visions of a seer or the longing of a romantic heart. Or their despondent mother, though Amira hesitated to use such words in regards to her for risk of sounding cruel, if not ungrateful. That the flood had not claimed both parents was a blessing.
Her head was in the clouds when it should have been in the pasture. The wildebeests had gained too much distance for her to have chance of catching up.
Amira huffed a discouraged sigh and started for the shade of a nearby tree.
The close proximity of a watering hole assured her more herds were inevitable.
- Where there was water, there was food. At least if your food was a sentient being at risk of dying of thirst same as you were.
The land was absent any wildebeests by time Roka arrived. They'd been gone long enough to be out of sight, but the scent lingered still. With hopeful eyes she checked all four directions -- even the one she'd come from, just to be sure.
There was nothing. (Unless she took up cannibalism.)
Roka carried herself in an easygoing manner to Amira, speaking in a way just as amendable. "Pardon me. Do you know how long it's been since the herd passed through here?"
- Amira had a penchant for manners and keeping company. When given the opportunity to combine the two, she'd be a fool to pass it up. This stranger had made a marvelous first impression. If only Amira could reward her with good news in exchange.
"They're long gone," she said, sounding apologetic. It was her partially her fault, having been the one to chase them off. "If you wait here for a bit, another is bound to show up. They always pass through to get to that watering hole over there."
- The unfavorable news came as no surprise to Roka, for she had the gifts of both sight and common sense. It would have been polite to simply nod her head and leave it be. Truth be told, Amira had given her far too much credit where refined social conduct was concerned.
"I figured," Roka said. "Guess I'll have to wait."
She turned to the right, staring off at the vast stretch of grass, trees, and disappointment. Not a single hoofed critter in sight. Since time was the only thing they'd have to kill any time soon...
"Are you out here to hunt too?"
- Goodness. Perhaps she'd misjudged this lioness? She'd seemed so social to start with and now she wouldn't spare Amira a glance. The silence may not have been disrespectful by rule, but it was terribly dull and a tad awkward if nothing else.
What to discuss? What to discuss?
The weather? No, too predictable.
Males? No, too personal.
Blessed be, Amira didn't need to drum up some excuse to speak after all. "Yes, I'm a huntress in the pride. One of many, as you know. How long have you been in the Pridelands?"
The pride! There was a topic sure to prompt conversation.
- If Amira expected that to lure Roka into some long-winded conversation, she was setting herself up for disappointment same as expecting more prey to arrive in a timely manner.
Only the most reclusive of individuals hadn't heard talk of the Pridelands, so while Roka knew enough to be comfortable with hunting here, what she didn't know was anything about these lands and its lions that was worth chitchatting about.
Roka declared, "I'm not from here," and left it at that.
- A cub reared in the Roguelands grew up knowing you couldn't expect every stranger you met to be friendlier than the last. None the less, Amira was taken aback by her attempts at benign conversation being so swiftly shut down by such aloofness. She'd never dare say anything; to a point, she felt bad for thinking it.
Maybe she'd had a bad day? Could be hunger to blame. An empty stomach changed someone's mood for the worse without fail.
"Where are you from then?" Amira tried.
Let no one say she wasn't persistent.
- "Out in the Roguelands," Roka offered.
There was a routine she had grown accustomed to when speaking of her upbringing. Step one? Try to avoid it as much as possible. Change the subject if you must. In the event step one fails, move to the next: lying.
Ready, set...
"Were you born here?"
- Amira practically beamed. Her efforts had achieved some semblance of conversation and that was good enough for her. The only thing she'd hope for more of was eye contact. It felt strange to prattle on with someone who showed no visual interest in you.
Still, take what you can get and don't complain. That's what her father had always taught her, Tabia, and later her adopted brother.
She shook her head at the inquiry.
"No, I'm from another pride myself," Amira said. She often missed the flowers, the stories, and the neighbors. She wondered what had become of the neighboring group of lions and their drums.
"I came here with my family not long ago. It's nice. There's food, water, conversation, and security. You should consider joining."
- For the love of...
Was everyone so hard up for membership these days? Seemed you couldn't turn around without tripping over a lion trying to recruit you for something. Having seen a multitude of her own kind in the area already, Roka doubted the Pridelands was better off adding one more to their headcount. How they hadn't suffered a shortage of meals was a wonder to her.
"I'll pass, but thanks for the offer. Figure I'll be heading that way." Roka nodded ahead of her. "See if any herds are around there. Take care."
So what if they hadn't exchanged names? They'd never see each other again, anyway.