A pale crescent moon hung low to the horizon, shining mellow white light, tinged with the shimmer of silver starlight. Beneath their benevolent light, curved over by the cobalt bowl of the night sky, Azora's garden became an enchanted place of shadows and serenity. This gentle time of night, well after the sun's beams and warmth had faded, was Azora's favorite. This was partially due, she had to admit, to this being the time when the chorus of frogs were at its most joyous. Her frogs seemed to love the night as much as she did herself.
This had become her place and time of solace. It was here and now that she sought when her heart was troubled. After her initial fright of her first meeting with the amphibians, she had found the frogs much safer and more understanding than members of the pride. It wasn't long before she had established the habit of seeking out the garden plots that hosted the small creatures, especially when she was upset. Tonight she continued that habit.
Out here, well beyond the dens, she felt safe to throw herself down among the fragrant plants and cry. Without reservation she let the tears and sobs come. The frogs, well used to her by now, continued to sing around her, drowning out the sounds of her sorrow. Thus she was deeply startled to hear a voice speaking very close behind her. "Oh, you poor child. I can only guess that you have lost someone dear to you."
Azora jerked her head up with a gasp, nearly inhaling the rich earth that clung to her nose. For a moment her wide, searching eyes did not see anyone within the range of that voice. But the plants moving in a soft breeze revealed a patch of night that did not move. She blinked the blur of tears away and peered closer. Her ears registered surprise as she recognized Dirdia, a widow lioness who was known for being quite solitary.
The maroon lioness gulped, swallowing the remainder of her tears and removing the lump from her throat. "Thank you for your kindness, lady Dirdia," she replied, her voice steadying as she continued speaking, "but I am not worthy of your gentle sentiment." She was mortally embarrassed, for not only had she been caught crying, but also it was for a solely selfish reason rather than the more common sorts of grief learned by all who lived in the pride.
Dirdia's softened expression of pity and understanding shifted to a justifiable puzzlement. She had made a logical conclusion from finding a young liones weeping in the night, all lone, and it seemed she had somehow misjudged the situation. Even so, she was learning the role of comforter, finding it suited her and her experiences. As such, she refused to let her assumption prevent her from soothing young Azora. So she sat herself down and tipped her head. "Worthy or not, it sounds like you could use a friend," she tried again, altering her approach.
Azora wavered in her resolve to keep her fears and disappointments to herself. She was by nature very private, offering a companionable ear to others but keeping her woes internalized. That was what had led her here in the first place! But Dirdia was an aging lioness, and had seen and experienced much. Perhaps... perhaps she could after all understand? Azora folded her ears slightly and grabbed her tailtip in one paw, tangling her claws into the soft threads.
"I... was just...," she began haltingly, dropping her eyes to the side, watching the moon reflect in a puddle of recently watered herb bed. "I was feeling sorry for myself," she finally admitted. She didn't dare sneak a look at the disapproving look Dirdia must surely be wearing. Might as well get it over with all at once, she thought frantically, so she rushed on. "I have been wishing for and praying for a mate for ever so long," she gulped a breath, "but it seems as if I am destined to remain alone." More tears squeezed from her eyes, unbidden. "Aren't I loveable?" she asked the older lioness painfully, raising her eyes finally in a pleading gesture.
The face that met her gaze was not disapproving at all. To her surprise, she saw sorrow and pain there, as well as tenderness. "Oh child," Dirdia said softly, padding forward to wrap a paw around the younger lioness' shoulders. "I cannot tell you how much I share your sadness." She drew a deep but tight breath. "I have not loved or been loved for many years, whether in the romantic sense or otherwise. Not since... since my dear ones died." A tear rolled down the dark blue lioness' nose, much to the chagrin of the soft-hearted Azora. "But my dear, you must not give up hope. So long as you breathe, there is always hope for love."
Azora gazed in awe at the weeping, smiling Dirdia, pricked to the heart by the gut-wrenchingly honest admonition. "You... you have found another mate?" she asked, her eyes wide and ready for a reason to hope. She fought to suppress a surge of dismay as the sky-colored lioness shook her head in the negative.
"No child, I have not," she answered readily, "but I have learned that that does not mean it isn't waiting for me." She smiled, wiping tears away with her free paw, still embracing the younger female closely. "You see, I finally let the chance to love into my heart. I'd forbidden it for so long, I wasn't sure I was capable. But a rogue male who joined our pride came and proved that I was very able to love still, and now he is like a son to me." She smiled more, thought pain bled through it visibly. "A son I was denied years ago. Now he will bring back cubs and I will learn to love them as well. With such miracles occurring so late in a cranky old lioness' life, how can there not be hope for a young and beautiful lioness such as yourself?" She reached a paw and wiped away the tracks of Azora's tears. "I know the pain is very real, and I am not saying you should not feel as you do. It is normal and natural to despair when you need something so badly as this. But see the possibilities, and find strength and joy to go on, so that when love does arrive, you are ready to greet it with open arms."
Azora found herself smiling back at the aging female, the flutters of hope growing stronger in her heart, matching the beats and becoming a part of her inner rhythm. Still the frogs sang on, but now their song seemed to her to be a reminder of the good things in life, instead of being her sole comfort. "Thank you Dirdia," she said in quiet gratitude. "You are a very wise and... and... loving friend." She leaned forward and rubbed her cheek against the wrinkled, age-softened cheek of Dirdia. For a time they sat together, snuggled close as if mother and daughter, and each found comfort in the other's presence and quiet company.
Thus yet another bond of love and friendship was born within the place of disease and sorrow.
