She had been walking steadily alone, her gaunt but strong body moving with a fluid and purposeful step. A rogue had turned to approach her perhaps an hour back but she had only to snarl and strike out at her poor, wretched face to be left alone again a few moments later. Her patience for anyone who wasn’t her brother had grown extremely thin, especially since the loss of her other brother and the others who had died that day in the Aka’mleli lands.
She did not mourn them. She never had. Not really. They had all known and accepted the risks and if they had not escaped due to their own inabilities than that was no fault of hers.
She did miss her brother, though, and had not been able to contain a slither of grief at his loss. Mchawi had suffered much loss and it had hardened her. Turned her into the bitter lioness she now was. All the love she had now was saved for her one surviving family member: Msiba. He was the only one she could trust now.
She paused, quite suddenly, mid-stride. Ears bolt upright, eyes wide, pupils flickering from side to side. The visions came to her suddenly and never when she most expected them. That was a failing in herself. She had never been considered a powerful seer. She had no control over when they came and often found it difficult to interpret the images. It angered her.
The vision brought nothing but the sound and sight of dark wings and then it was gone.
She blinked, clearing her vision and felt the smile return to her face. She paused to cast a glance over her shoulder, knowing now that the raven had chosen to follow her – just as she had known. And, with a small huff, she shifted over to an outcrop of rocks, pulled herself up upon them and waited.
--
The raven’s flight was not pained, but it did not look natural. The winds buffeted and caught at her bent and broken feathers, tossing her wildly so that she had to battle fiercely to keep aloft. And, even as she flew, she cursed the lioness, not knowing why she was leaving.
Why she was following in her brother’s wing-sweeps.
He was dead because of this lioness. Dead.
She told herself it was because she wanted to seek some odd revenge upon the lioness. But, the fact was that she had been fed up with the copse of her birth. She had been jealous about Nondo being chosen and she wanted a chance to rise in rank. To order lions! The thought thrilled her and as much as she hated to admit it, being with Mchawi would give her that chance.
The lioness was a scary creature and none would harm her bonded and risk her wrath. She would, by becoming Mchawi’s familiar, have the power of fear at her grasp, too.
Her keen eyes spotted the lioness just ahead and, with a harsh caw, she made to circle, sweeping low over the feline’s head. Then, with a small sigh of relief, she came to land at the very top of a finger of rock and peered down at that gaunt, serious face.
“You are not hard to find.” She sneered.
--
“Because I wished to be found.” Mchawi replied smoothly, not bothered to wait around to ask Moma’s intentions. She already knew them.
With a soft growl, the lioness stood and leaping from the rocky outcrop, started off again towards the place she had arranged to meet with Msiba. She wondered what he had been up to since her departure of him. Wooing pretty ladies, perhaps? It amused Mchawi to think of her brother doing such things. He was so charming, so wonderful to those who did not understand the workings of his mind.
She admired him for that trait; a trait which she had never been able to harness. She had no patience of need for wit when she could quite easily instil fear in others.
She was aware of the flapping close to her head and glanced up. “It is a long walk.”
--
“Short flight.” Moma shot back, eyes rolling with annoyance. “You slow me down, ground-dweller.” And, without warning, she came to land on Mchawi’s shoulders, her claws pinching into fur to catch the sensitive skin beneath.
“Since you damaged my feathers, you should oblige to give me a lift.” The raven smirked, flicking her wings to her sides and, when better balanced, moved to preen them as best as she could.
“Are you not curious as to why I am here?”
--
Mchawi growled, throwing up her shoulders only once to encourage the raven to loosen her grip. Other than that she gave no complaint. It was perhaps better and less annoying to have her perched at her shoulders than to have her flapping around her head.
“Not particularly.” She replied, knowing it would annoy her new ‘familiar’ to no end. What her reasons were didn’t really matter. What did matter was that she had come. Mchawi didn’t much care for details.
--
“Fine.” Moma responded. “But let me warn you now, Mchawi. I am not like my brother. I will not take orders blindly and I will not be treated like a slave. If you anger me then I will leave and the benefits you gained will leave with me.”
She seethed at the silence.
“Do you understand me, Mchawi? Are you listening?”
--
“Understood.” And, without warning, she quickened her stride, enjoying the feeling of fear that emanated from the raven and the tensing of her talons. Oh she would find it incredibly entertaining and enjoyable to torment this one.
Moma, no matter how much fighting spirit she had now, would eventually come to understand that no one said ‘no’ to Mchawi.
Even if it took a while, she’d break her down. Moma would become a slave.
“We are looking for followers, my brother and me.” She spoke at length. “He may mate and steal cubs, or we may simply find some ridiculous fools to follow after us. But we do not intend to stray pointlessly forever. You will help seek out these followers. You will help seek out these lands.”
--
“What about the others?” Moma asked suddenly, remembering that Msiba had had his own avian familiar. And that the others, too. Kitisho…Unyevu…and Mchawi’s other brother. They had all found birds to attach themselves to. And yet, clearly, they had gone elsewhere or Mchawi would not be here now.
She almost feared the answer, her little body tense. The flutter of her heart growing more rapid than good health required.
--
“Dead.” Mchawi replied in a steely voice. “All dead.” Not quite true, as Unyevu’s avian probably did still live. But she cared little for that. Little at all. They had all gotten what they had deserved, though the loss of the vulture king had been perhaps one of the worst blows they had received that day.
--
Moma was shocked by her response, but it had not been unexpected. She had feared it to be the answer and that was what it was. Dead. All dead. Nondo’s body had not been alone, then, at least.
But why? And how? She wanted to ask these questions but, for some odd reason, could not bring herself too. It was likely that Mchawi would not answer, that she would grow angry and snap. Besides that, Moma didn’t think she really wanted to know what had happened. Mchawi’s story would be biased or filled with lies. That was not the story she wanted to hear.
She reasoned that finding out the truth was the reason she had accepted Mchawi's offer, though that was only part of it.
/fin.
