When fire had consumed the swamp and driven them from their home, Laanfa had been almost as afraid of what would come next as she had been of the flames. The world outside of the swamp was a terrible, dangerous place full of bad things and even worse people, according to her mother, and Laanfa had never had any reason to doubt her. She was her mother, after all, and her mother could only ever be right. All of her life, she had hung on Apanthi's every word, absorbed every lesson, done as she was told. The red lioness had always made it very clear that her words were to be heeded, or else soemthing might happen. That 'something' had never been as clear, just a nebulous threat looming over them, but Laanfa believed it nonetheless. Apanthi only wanted to keep them safe. Apanthi would keep them safe.
But she couldn't stop the lightning or the fire, couldn't spare them from having to walk for days during their exodus, couldn't keep Asami from leaving. And now, even in a new home they were assured by the Queen would be safe for them, Apanthi would be just as powerless as she had been over the last several weeks. Her children were of the age where they would be sent out on their pilgrimages; in fact, they were a bit past the age when they would traditionally have been sent away, one every few days or so, forbidden to hesitate or say goodbye. Practicality had trumped tradition, and quests for those of age had been delayed until after the pride had reached its new home, so that they would know where to return to. It hadn't stopped Asami from leaving anyway, a decision that had left Apanthi sick at heart.
For her part, Laanfa was confused, questioning. Why would her sister do such a thing? Why would she want to? The flower-marked young lioness didn't understand, couldn't fathom it. She didn't want to leave at all! She wanted to stay here and never go, never see any more of the world than she already had, never wanted to be subjected to any more danger than she had already faced. She didn't want to be alone, forced to fend for herself. They had been taught the necessary skills, of course, how to hunt and survive on their own, but for Laanfa, that didn't make the prospect of actually having to do it any less daunting. Even if she was able to adequately feed herself, there were still so many other things that could go wrong! She could injure herself, or get lost, or fall prey to one of the countless shadowy characters Apanthi assured her were out there, just waiting.
There were plenty of young pilgrims who had been sent out on their quests never to return, and it was anyone's guess what happened to them. Most everyone always seemed so sure that they were either being especially slow about it and would turn up 'one day,' or that they had found other paths in life, other prides to make their homes in, or else that they simply enjoyed rogue life and decided to take it up permanently. No one ever liked to admit - no one ever even liked to think - that maybe something bad happened to them out there. No one wanted to acknowledge the possibility that they had just died, or maybe even been taken captive. Oh, sure, they held little mock 'funerals' for them just in case, but there was always more hope than sadness in the air.
'So-and-so was gone for years!' they would say, pointing to their chosen example, someone like the Queen's aunt Koko'kizuka, and at the same time ignore that other lions from that same litter had never been heard from again. How many, over the years? Dozens? Hundreds? Had anyone ever bothered to count? Could they, even? Laanfa wondered how many lions had been forgotten by the course of time. If something happened to her, would she be forgotten, too? Would they hold her little funeral and hope?
These and others like them were questions that had been keeping her awake ever since they had reached the mountain. Her nights were restless, filled with tossing and turning, and her days she staggered through, pacing, wondering when the time would come that she had been dreading all her life. And she watched her mother do much the same, fretting endlessly over the departure of Asami and the inevitable departures of the rest of her children. But despite all of this, they didn't talk about what was to come. If Laanfa tried to breach the subject of her pilgrimage, to confide her fears in her mother, Apanthi changed the subject. She was in denial, and trying desperately to avoid facing the reality that she could lose her children forever.
Again. She had lost so much already. She had been young once, naive and hopeful and excited for her chance to experience the world. And at first, it had been wonderful, magical. In no time at all and without looking for it, she had found love and a life for herself, and had decided never to go back to the swamp, but then fate had taken it all away from her. Her mate had died, she had miscarried her cubs, and in the end she had returned to her birth pride as a ghost of a lioness. Unable to face the thought of finding a new mate, but longing to fill the void in her life, she had found an agreeable sort of male and born cubs. It had worked, for awhile, but now they were going to leave her, and there was a chance that they might never come back. Or, even worse, the world would break them just as it had broken her.
The sun had set hours ago, and though Apanthi lay beside her pale daughter, she hadn't bothered to close her eyes, and she knew from the telltale tossing and turning that Laanfa was no more asleep than she.
"Promise me," she whispered, knowing she would hear.
"Hmm?" Laanfa turned back over, blinking her blue eyes.
"Promise me you'll come back."
"Of course, Ma. I promise."
