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At the call that echoed across the dry landscape, Kwazi turned his snowy head slowly. The fish eagle almost cried out in joy at hearing another voice - one that might lead him out of this arid land. But his pride, unlike his feathers, was not tattered. Raising his head as he banked, he called out as majestically as he could still manage, the return of the ancient greeting. As he effortlessly pinpointed the source, he saw another hawk, a cousin, he shrewdly perceived. He flew closer, not wanting to betray his relief.

The sparrowhawk watched the other's descent, not moving from her position. Fortunately, should he wish to land, there's plenty of room on the cliff ledge that she's made her haunt. She looks as if she can take care of herself - and she somehow looks much larger than the normal range of a sparrowhawk should be. Her feathers glisten with well-being. Her eyes are a wicked black color, and they watch without blinking; there's a hint of sadistic pleasure behind them. Hestia's not one to cross lightly.

But, as Kwazi comes nearer, she duly greets the new avian, appearing rather friendly. This is one of Her children, she thinks, sagely. It's a relief to see one; she's only seen felines these past few moons, and the small scurrying creatures that have gone into her stomach.

"Greetings, wind-walker," She offers as he flies within speaking distance. "How go you, this fine day?"

Hestia, however, appears not to notice - at least, she doesn't remark upon his appearance nor state, and nothing in her bearing and manner suggests that she is thinking anything ill of him. She merely inclines her head and allows him to land, watchful as ever. Whatever else he may be, he's respectful and courteous - and she prizes those things even above honor. "Thank you, sky-lord," She replies, likewise. "And you may rest as long as you'd like. 'tis a rarity that I get to speak with a cousin this far out here." If birds could smile, she'd be smiling to him; but as they can't, her beak merely gives a slight twist.

In truth, the desert is largely devoid of birds; and since the Greater merely stay in the desert, there would originally not be any reason why Hestia should so hate them. But one of her sacred places - indeed, the most sacred - lie within these realms. She craves to reclaim it as her own once more....

"Why are you out this far, if you don't mind me asking?" She continues, head cocked in curiousity.

Kijinga awoke from her slumber. her droopy eyes blinking slightly as she lifted her self off of the dusty ground. she shook her fur to let go of all access dirt that had gathered onto her, and she looked around. her mother was asleep as was her siblings. her ears rose as she grinned. perfect time to go exploring she thought as her tail flickered around. she quickly began at a slow trot out into the open, were her brightly color fur stood out. she winced at the sun, as it shone into her eyes. another grin appeared on her face as she took a glance back to her mom, then took off to explore.

kijinga sniffed at the ground. her body gittery and ready to do a million things at once. but she calmed herself. she had to make sure she was exploring, but safe. her heart slowed to its normal rate, as her paws stoped. she was now bored. noone was around, and she had been walking for a while. it seemed that if she went further out, no one would be there. she sat on her haunches, and waited, for nothing preticular, just...waited.

"Some," She admits, "But not many. Our lower kin, the vultures, largely." They were a rather curious invention on her own part, when she started to create all the birds, and they remain high in her state of interests, despite their eating habits. "They're able to thrive wherever they live." She pauses slightly, then decides to take the conversation in a bit of a different direction, just to see what he knows - and what he doesn't know. She ignores his quiet hint for directions, instead stating: "In truth, I came out here seeking Hestia's oasis...to pay my homage. Alas, however, I have not been able to find it."

Mwali had heard the voice speaking but he didn’t assume it was directed towards him. He had been lost in a lazy state of half-sleep, watching the birds flying in the sky seeing as he was still laid out across his back. His claws poked out slightly from his great paws to scratch at his belly as a deep yawn parted his lips and allowed the rows of white teeth to show. The days were long and dull, nothing was left for the prince to do but sleep and wish for something more. Of course- most of the time he would curse himself for not doing anything about his thoughts but still remain laying himself down in the sand or wherever he felt was good enough for him at the moment. His thoughts still troubled him- now more than ever. He’d always thought of leaving the pride as an adolescent, but he never acted upon it. Now he had reason. As an adult lion he had two options- to remain with the pride and continue his way of life until the royal linage before him died out (which he didn’t hope for in the least… the pride wasn’t fond of him in the first place and he gladly returned the feelings) or to leave and seek his own fortune. Males would often leave their prides at his age -some times younger- and live on their own until they found a pride whose king they could overpower. Then they’d take over the pride and the territories, father all the cubs and kill the cubs of his successor. It was a bit harsh in his opinion…and if he had the fortune of taking command of a pride he’d probably leave well enough alone.

He was raised differently than his brother had. His father knew that nothing would become of him within the pride so all the lessons and training had gone to Kiu. The religion was pushed on Kiu and the ideals that would conform his brother to the ways of his father were pounded into his head from a young age. Mwali’s childhood was one of luxury when compared to the other cubs. He had among the first pickings from the kills and was always given what he had wanted- but little mind was paid to him. Because of that whenever he felt ignored he would raise hell and insure that either everyone was annoyed into misery or he was given what he was raising hell about. He was older now and not anyone in the pride took to him well because of his earlier behavior as a cub. As a result he would often lay alone outside and watch. He, of course, would take part in eating the kill but not without being growled at by his father or older brother to remind him of his place in the pride. Now and then an annoyed lioness would express her distaste in him as well.

He also didn’t know the desert like the others did. Kiu had been taken into the desert on hunts and to recognize his territory with his father. He was taught how to hunt, how to mark their range, and how to recognize friend from foe. He only knew a bit about it. He knew to travel south to reach the barren flat lands and that beyond that lay the thorned valley. None had seen beyond that but he thought that perhaps it was worth traveling to. Thorns grew from vines, vines were plants, and plants needed soil and water. Perhaps beyond the throned valley there was a grassland. He’d only heard of such places- never seen them for himself. A place were the ground was cooler and plush with things softer than the dried bushes found in the desert. Where waters fell from the sky. It seemed impossible. He also knew of the northeast breeding area- but if he were to venture there he might be killed by cranky lions bound and determined to prove their dominance or to protect their mate.

The crimson male rolled to his belly, pushing up with his paws to get to all fours. His groggy golden eyes lay only half open as he shook himself free from the sand that clung to his horribly well-groomed fur. He would often spend hours grooming himself, but with the lack of mud or anything else that would cause a coat to grow dirty it wasn’t hard to keep nice looking. The birds above went on with their chattering but meant little to nothing to him. He faced the south, looking out into nothing but golden dunes and blue sky. The bright orb that illuminated the land and the sky caused much of the sand to sparkle- but it was on it’s voyage from the sky. Orange began creeping along the horizon and the sky highest from the ground had begun turning a darker blue.

I’m lucky to have lived this long as a useless paw to this one unit. My father might one day see me as a potential threat to his females and perhaps his throne. I might not have any other option but to leave on my own…., he turned over a shoulder, looking back to the dens, If not now in good health with a full belly and a well-watered throat… then later I might be driven from the pride and left to die…, he turned back towards the south with a groan. It was so far of a walk… and it would be foolish to run.

Mwali was lazy and somewhat selfish but he was far from stupid. The desert was both a friend and a foe. It could be his greatest defense while being his worst enemy… but he had pretty much made up his mind to leave it behind. His father was not the kindest lion and just might see Mwali as a weakling… something that used up scarce resources and gave nothing back. He turned his head up to address the birds speaking over him, his voice raising just over what he usually spoke in, “Travelers of the wind! Tell me what you have seen and how far you have flown. Where might one like me find a place to survive in lands apart from this one?”

"It does," Hestia agrees, eyes glinting. "I have searched quite long - but I fear the felines that live here may have taken it for themselves." The sacrilege, while not entirely true, adds a new depth of disgust and thinly-disguised rage to her voice. It's close enough to the mark to be true...damn Finar-si and Mau-ri. She'd like to meet them again, someday - filthy gods. They've enshrouded themselves in mystery, unlike the normal gods and goddesses of the day - much like the Mistweaver's Storm God. She's never met him, however. It'd be an interesting meeting....

"Prophecy..." She murmurs, to herself. Jua's cubs cannot be allowed to come back and fulfill what they were created for. The Firekin will slowly crumble, die; not be ressurected through a handful of b*****d children. The pure irony of it is that it'll be purebred Firekin cubs that will be it's destruction...she withholds a chortle, and stops short as she sees the dark red blot below her. Her gaze sharpens, and for a moment, she looks like a cat with a mouse; greedy and hungry.

Firekin princling..."Cocky child, aren't you?" She crows, amusement dripping from her feathers. "Leaving those who cared for you? Your family won't much like that - wouldst you end up like your sister, child of the Blood...either of them?" Hestia has cursed her lack of being able to find Mwezi. Finar-si must be protecting her own. But Jua...Jua's quite dead and gone. Good riddance. One less obstacle to overcome.