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Kenna had been silent as her father talked; dull eyes watched as her siblings were counted for, rounded, and taken out of the den. Instead of talking, the young female decided it was far wiser to observe, and thus that was what she did; she took in the scene, and padded on, taking a moment to sniff at the air as Kidondo's roar rang true.

Mongrels, traitors, all of them.

But this was not the end; this was just the beginning. With that in mind, Kenna sneered, her tail hitting her slave's side as she deftly kept up with her parents' strides. There was no fear within her eyes, and no shaking within her limbs... but then again, it'd been proved long back that Kenna wasn't a particularly normal cub. It didn't matter though; revenge was a dish best served cold, right? Wasn't that what they all said?

Vuvimoto nodded at the directions given by the female who approached him and set to follow that trail. He might have mumbled a gruff thanks, he might not, for he was still growling. Agitated by the choice he'd just had to make and the headache his defeat had left him with. The large male was in a bad way and beyond making sure he got there (where ever there actually was) was as far as he was getting now.

By the goddess Finar-si did he need to get some rest after this awful change...

His roar had stretched across the ridged canyons, and over the blood stained bodies of the combatants below. It was enough to immediately set a reaction throughout the scene. The blood firekin recoiled at the tell tale news, and in that moment the black cat and her adversary split. Needed elsewhere by their people, No limped from her spot- shooting one last sidelong glance at the lion who had been just as intent to kill her as she him. A snort, and she spat out a small bloody mist. She was not so prideful as to not know when to quit. But she would remember the brute for as long as the scars likely showed on her sleek pelt.

Kidondo! Yes, that’s what she was doing. Beating back thoughts of her own vengence, she started to move towards the sound of his roar. Nothing more had been said of him since it echoed. He might have won the battle, but there was nothing to say some opportunistic of spiteful fool had not followed the kings in their battle. Despite the pain in one of her legs, she began to scale the rocks as if there were no injury at all. She’d feel it later, but for now, she needed to get to him.

A coolness. She’d always been level headed, even as a cub. Slow to anger, bitingly serious. There was a gap between the rocks, and she leapt across it. There was a fear in her she didn’t like and it only surfaced for him. So while her face remained stiff and her body, slick with sweat and blood didn’t shake, her heart was stabbing in her chest.

They were so close to victory. So close to everything they had tried to accomplish and everything they’d lived for. There had always been doubts in her mind as to whether or not she would make past the end- and now that she had, the idea that Kidondo might not of was unacceptable. Heaven help the fool who might stand between it.

The den areas. She remembered them- the night they’d been exiled, she’d found Kidondo in the back of one of their caves. Now the ground smelled like blood, and there were already obvious signs of a battle. The black cat froze and shifted, her sleek neck stretching forwards. No sign of either king, and she leapt off the rock face and across the den’s face, and around the back.

“Kidondo,” her voice cut sharply, jade eyes floating across the rocky terrain. She was prepared to face what she may- but still, that same part of her hung tenuously still as she waited for a response.

Azarax paused atop the sand dune. The mournful cry of mixed victory and loss ghosted across the desert toward his ears, a haunting sound that struck a chord deep inside the young lion. He knew in an instant that it was a sound he would remember forever.

War, what horror it was. And though the Firekin within him stirred every time he caught the whiff of battle, the side of him that acted less on impulse shuddered at the thought. Yet he was what he was, with the language of blood passed down to him by generations of Firekin before him, and there was no denying the fact. There was no wishing he could be anyone else.

Slowly, the reality of what Kidondo's dreadful call meant began to sink in. From where he was, he could see numerous brightly pelted lions of oranges and reds moving. They were slowly coming together and fleeing. For the rebels had won out. They were victorious.

Azarax scanned the moving lions, unused to so much color in his eyes as he sought out his family. They must be leaving as well. The thought made his heart break. The knowledge that he would never be able to know his sister, and brother. And even his mother. He had long since forgiven Ripuka. What was there to forgive? It was not her fault. She had acted only according to what she knew. What they had told her.

He lifted his eyes to the sky for a moment, and a small smile flickered briefly across his muzzle. Yes, change was in the air. Never again would what happened to him happen to another innocent little cub. There would be no more slave and master.

Then his eyes slowly returned to the fleeing Firekin, scanning the desert for that fiery glow of Ripuka's pelt. Where was she?

And then he heard it.

The low, drawn out roar that drew him even more than Kidondo's mournful cry earlier. The sound floated to his ears, and even before his conscious mind recognized it, he could feel it resonating within him. It was Ripuka. His eyes flickered as he tried to find her amidst the moving crowd of brightness.

And then there she was, looking back, looking back for him. Azarax stood, frozen as he memorized her face once more, and for a moment he closed his eyes. There behind shut eyelids, he could see her as clearly as ever she had been when she had appeared in his fitful dreams.

"Mother..."

Unable to hold back, he opened his muzzle and let out a slow roar, letting it rise from within him and spread, a roar laced with the sorrow of parting. He stayed where he was after his roar had ended for many moments, staring blindly toward where Ripuka and Jua were moving.

Then life seemed to return to him and, with one last look at the family that was leaving him behind once more, he descended from where he stood atop the sand dune and toward the victorious rebels.

Dark ears twitched, the cold gaze of red eyes turned toward the unmistakable cry. Unmoved by emotion, no trace of sorrow or joy touched the young assassin, only the thought that at least one traditionalist had fallen, one spared life that would not later become a regret.

No second thought spared for the red lioness, Hiashi'ikusa rose to his paws, his own injured leg tucked under his body, weight carried on three paws. No further time to waste, it was time to return to the dens, to the pride forever changed, the land forever plunged into war.

His mother was there, she would be expecting him, and now he returned to her side, to the one who held his loyalty. Though he felt no worry or concern, as his steps carried to the waiting rebels, he wondered how she had faired, if she had been injured as he had or if she had inflicted such a wound on another.

She stumbled. His heart twisted, fearful for her health, her safety. And then she was gaining speed and all of a sudden time seemed to speed up and there she was; a mere two or three steps away. He came to a halt, aware of his body’s trembling, aware of his pain but mostly aware of his joy at being with her again.

And then she moved forward, pressing her head against his and suddenly he felt complete again. It was as if his heart had been returned to him. He never wanted to be parted from her again.

“No…”

He stood patiently under her scrutiny, trying his best not to flinch away from her attentions. It hurt but they needed to be looked at and it was easier for her to do it for him.

And then she spoke of Kimeti and his head sagged a little more. “Yes. He is dead.” He lifted his head to her, sensing that she was thinking deeply, wanting to see the intelligent gleam in her beautiful eyes. She seemed her normal self, calm and controlled as always and it helped ease his turmoil. His eyes scanned her own bloodied form, noting that despite her appearance she seemed to be in one piece. And of course she had fared well, he had never doubted her abilities, though he had worried that some might try to overpower her by sheer numbers.

He felt odd. He wanted to relax now, wanted to lie down and absorb what had happened, wanted to groom the blood from her pelt and make sure she was completely okay. But he couldn’t. There was still so much left to do. He felt weary just thinking of it.

“Retreating? Then they do have some sense.” Kidondo shook his head. “I thought they’d fight to the death, I’m glad that wasn’t the case.” And he thought of Ripuka and the others, leaving their home, bitter and angry and full with revenge.

“But they will be back...” Kidondo muttered. “…Someday.”

Still, for now they could relax and wallow in their victory. It was a good day, despite all the bad. Because after today there would be hope.

He managed a smile. “We have. It’s over, at least, the first stage. But it won’t be over, it’ll never be over. There’s so much to organise and…there’ll always be the traditionalists to worry about.” Yes, they were in for the long haul now. It was going to be a long and trouble-filled journey but it’d be worth it. “But it’ll be okay. The Firekin, the new Firekin are strong and wise. They have fought successfully today and they will meet all the other challenges, I know this.”

He noticed the change in her eyes. His own expression softened, became warm. He was never truly an emotional sort, but now, in his eyes, you could see it. The pain, the relief, the sadness, the joy, the love. It was all there contrasting dramatically with each other.

“I'm better for being with you.” There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to get off his chest. But again duty was getting in the way. He was starting to realise, over the past few weeks, that the price of being a leader was a heavy one. Top of the ranking they might have been, but there was much pain and sacrifice and decisions to make. There was always the safety of the others and they had to put them first. He had to win their trust and loyalty, prove to them that he wasn’t just an idealistic, headstrong young prince.

He glanced over a shoulder at the ridge and nodded thoughtfully. “I can.” He rubbed his face against her. “I must earn my rest.” And as he turned he heard the roars of his companions blasting across the desert.

Victory.

He hooked his tail around No’s, wanting to keep her close, then he started towards the ridge, looking down at his paws, watching the glass beads as they tapped against his foreleg. It took him a while, full of pain-filled steps, but as he crested the dune, he saw the trickle of traditionalists disappearing amongst the dunes. They were too far away to recognise but he hoped Ripuka was with them, hoped she was safe.

“Finar-Si has a lot to answer for.” Kidondo murmured. “She brainwashed generations of my father’s people with her legendary teachings, forced them to depend on her like unweaned cubs. I’ll tell you something. If Finar-Si dared show her face here after what her power hungry deeds drove us to do today, I’d kill her without a second thought.” Then he continued softly. “But she won’t come. Maybe she doesn’t even exist. Maybe the stories of her and the Firekin are just some vain old lion’s way of making himself feel important.”

He shook his head. “Ironic that a pride of warriors would worship a Goddess so cowardly that she wouldn’t even come to their aid in battle.” Unless, of course, she had wanted her worshippers to be dispersed. Maybe, Finar-Si wanted to be forgotten. Maybe she wanted to try and undo her mistakes.

Either way, Kidondo would never forgive her.

He lifted his head, roared, roared a congratulations and a welcome to those who would be remaining with No and himself. He cast his eyes across figures, some close some distant. Then putting on a brave face he made his way down towards them.

Azula growled in parting as Aza fled the scene. It had been a fierce and vicious battle but Azula had expected nothing less. With a slow exhale the lioness turned to rejoin the rebels, red eyes absently searching among the faces of her children. She gave only one call, drawn out just long enough to be recognized, then slowed and sat among the victorious warriors. As she spotted them one by one she felt satisfaction creeping in. She'd raised them well after all then, though she did not see Vita among the lot, and Zita had left on her own stubborn whim. Azula's eyes narrowed sharply at that thought. If there was just one thing that she could not stand it was being disobeyed, it was intolerable, but all lessons would be learned in due time...

She was joined by Zari first, only rolling her eyes just so as she realized that the girl retained her chipper attitude. As Zari began seeing to her wounds Azula spotted Kadogo as well, to her indifferent surprise and mild disgust, off speaking to Ilahle, his supposed "cousin". Only Kadogo and Ashi knew the truth from what Azula could tell, not that it would matter now.

No sign of Meilin... or her brats... where was Vian, had he managed to survive? And Uuo, that slave that had been spying from the inside? Her thoughts slowed to a simmer as Ashi finally joined her on her other side. With a single lash of her tail Azula spoke, sounding just as pleased as ever, despite her obvious, but mostly minor wounds.

"You've faired well." She observed, though she noticed his leg was injured, though already tended to, so she called no attention to it. It's doubtful if she would have beyond maybe tending it herself. "What a fine way to greet the day..." She purred with narrowed eyes, settling onto her haunches as Zari stepped back, reared her head back, and echoed the triumphant roar, not out of instinct or need, not even nature could dictate her life as such, but she didn't mind expressing her triumph in such a way just then.

For the first time, a weariness in the black cat’s face as she looked out into the desert. They had retreated, but she believed wholeheartedly that they’d be back. It was easy to wish they had fought to the death- but at the same time, she knew that in a pride as inter-connected as the firekin had been; the deaths of today would far scar both prides for the time to come. “Someday for sure.” She breathed. “But not anytime soon. I think they will think twice before they dare strike- but, I do not doubt they will strike with all the blessings of vengeance when they do.” As such- there would be a time to establish their own army and prepare for the long haul against them.

But for now, there was only the empty crags and the thick smell of blood on the sand. No moved up against Kidondo to try and bolster his bad side- but, perhaps not as much as she could, so as not to give anyone the wrong idea. Kidondo could stand on his own two feet better then any lion amongst them.

At his profession, a low, easy chuckle slipped from her throat. It seemed unnatural against the musk of battle, but she smiled and shook her head. In another time, she’d have to remind him just what he had given her. If he was better for her, then she could only imagine the enormity his influence had had upon her. “Mm,” She commented. “Not many would say that about black cats,” She breathed. She might have taken the statement easy- but she had known what Kidondo had meant. She was no seer- but she doubted even Kidondo would ever truly need words to know all the devotion there was between them. It was stronger then the word love. Love didn’t do what they had any justice.

“Up here, they are gathering.” She spoke, but by then, they had both reached the edge. His tail had linked with hers on the journey, and she gently stroked hers against it. Down below the pride was scrambling about. They would need to be sure all injuries were tended too- but, No noted the kind of pride some of them had brought. They had fought for their people- whether by blood or by spirit.

“…The affairs of gods are not those of mortals.” No could only speak. She found more and more that these so called ‘gods’ seemed as hollow as rotting logs. “If there is a god of this desert, then she would know better then we of her people’s suffering. Times are changing. Gods don’t bring change- but mortals surely do.” Whatever had happened between the firekin and their god- for what it was worth, she hoped that the god’s just did not exist rather then believe the traditionalists forsaken.

His roar- she let the thrum of it cross about her frame. Still so powerful despite being wounded. Before she had kept quiet- but this time, she added her own thick and low cry to the desert. Perhaps loud enough for those retreating to hear. She was not born of this land, but this was her land. It was in her. And she’d defend it and it’s people until she was old and dead.

They started to descend- although carefully in consideration for Kidondo’s wounds and her own. She could spot the faces in the crowd- brave, stiff faces. The good faces of warriors and kin. She was honored to have known them.



And somewhere in the back, a sunken faced Kaanga pulled up with the rest. There was a blank sorrow in her eyes. One for each eye, she thought. Her son, gone. Her father, gone. The fish had fled, but they’d only moved downstream. Her heart. She’d buried it somewhere…

Under the sand?