She awoke before the others and for a time lay in silence, awaiting movement more promising than the rise and fall of breath. Badriya had already outgrown a child's narcissism; no longer could she bring herself to disrupt the peaceful sleep of her kin, instead forced to tarry there night after night, counting stars and heartbeats.
In the light of day she was known to observe rather than engage, but the ambient noises from the pride was enough to appease her. They might not have been talking to or interacting with her drectly, but they were at least awake and meandering around. In her loneliest hours, Badriya hoped to stir them with a stare. Only for two phases of the moon could she justify this passive selfishness. It felt to her that willing them awake was no less generous than beckoning them aloud.
"I think the sky is the biggest thing in the world," Badriya mused.
"The ocean is the biggest thing in the world," Bia corrected. "It never ends."
They never cared for exchanging hollow pleasantries and these were the first words shared amongst the pair that night. Badriya had put enough distance between herself and her slumbering pridemates that neither her nor Bia's voice would encroach on their dreams. Hers was too hushed and the vulture's too gentle.
Of the many things Badriya admired about her, Bia's sweet manner of speaking was her favorite. It wasn't an unexpected quality for someone like her to have. Never had there been a vulture — no, any avian — quite as majestic. Her alabaster feathers had a translucent quality burnished by the moonlight. Her eyes were white, too. Everything about her was lustrous. She looked how Badriya heard what they called spirits in lands faraway might.
Soft, continuous murmuring sounds stilled the both of them. Had someone woke up? Badriya waited, listened, and when she was sure that soughing had been nothing more than sleep talk, she said quieter, "I wonder if lions live by the ocean."
"Lions live everywhere." Bia didn't lower her voice. "They live in the mountains, the ocean, and there are some dwelling in swamps who are immune to fire."
"Sanele told me that," Badriya said, but of course Bia knew.
She knew everything the cub did and nothing more. Bia couldn't tell her the brackish waters of the sea were lethal to them or the kinds of predators that lie in wait in the depths below. All she could do and did do was agree, reiterate, and encourage.
Badriya stared wistfully at the stars. They had been her only company during nights when the fog obscured the moon like this one. She was grateful for time spent in their good graces, yet all they did was shimmer and wink at her. "I wish dad would take me with him sometimes."
There was no segue from one topic to the next. Bia nodded just the same, seamlessly transitioning into this more melancholy state of affairs. "You could ask him," she suggested.
Badriya shook her head. She had forgotten about the cut on her right paw until now, her penance for climbing too high the past afternoon. It didn't run deep, but it ached again. If she showed it to her father, would he pay attention? "I'm afraid to. I don't want him to get mad."
"I don't think he'd get mad," Bia said, sounding all too certain what the reaction of a lion she'd never met would be. This was why Badriya preferred her presence over the stars'. They could never be so assuring.
"He might..." Badriya turned to watch those assembled behind her. "And mom might. Grandma probably would. She'd probably say to quit bothering him."
"Just ask him next time you see him. When he's not busy."
"He's always busy," Badriya complained. She'd tried that idea already to no avail. Granted, if she'd been willing to compromise on the rigid standards of what constituted her father being 'busy,' perhaps she'd have found his schedule was not so hectic as to not grant an audience with his eager daughter.
"Maybe he won't be tomorrow."
Bia and Badriya looked to the left. Ambling around was Dogo, a less impressive specimen than his sister. He was a dull shade of brown with lackluster eyes about the same hue. Not as beautiful or as wise a vulture as Bia, no, but cherished in his own right.
"You could try talking to him before anyone else does," Dogo went on. He pecked at the ground, clawed at it with his talons. From the dirt pile he'd capsized, he filched a wiggling worm and gulped it down ravenously. Then he searched for more.
"He'll be grouchy if I bother him before the sun is up," Badriya predicted. Who wouldn't be? Besides, she couldn't leave. Lingering around here in the dead of night was one thing, but imagine if her family couldn't find her when they left their sleep to join her in the wide awake world?
"It wouldn't work," Bia agreed.
"It's better than doing nothing." Dogo was having poor luck finding other worms to placate his strange appetite. He continued sifting through the dirt, watching with his ever astute gaze.
Bia brought the cub comfort, but it was him who made her feel safe from the phantom hyenas that prowled around all through the night. Usually. When she succumbed to the perils of a vivid imagination, there was nothing that could instill a sense of security quite like the warmth of her mother's fur or wedging her way into a pile of siblings.
Badriya swore she'd glimpsed something nefarious out of the corner of her eye. She took several retrograde steps toward the other lions. "I'm going back now."
Both the vultures bowed their heads to her. They weren't offended at all. "Tell us tomorrow how things go with your father," Bia insisted.
"Yes, tell us," Dogo chimed in. He shuffled from side to side, ruffling up his feathers. "Remember to keep it a secret."
"And be brave," added Bia.
The best part of having imaginary friends was they had little else to do but invest themselves wholly in your welfare. Badriya smiled, but a dubious noise that was too easily suspect of something going bump in the night deterred any further conversation. She joined the others, the real ones, and got cozy.
The sun would be peeking over the horizon before Badriya dozed off.