The wind brought the scent of a thousand lives and every now and then there was the odd musky mark on grass, rock and tree; like milestones of information for each creature searching for another. The rogue lands were full of lions and other animals, each with their own little dens and boltholes, as well as the many constant movers like Ewansiha. Had someone rallied them together and created a council or ruler, it’d have been one of the richest communities in the area. But Ewan hoped no one ever would. His mother had wandered these same grassy plains for half her life and he was following in her paw steps - with one crucial difference. He wasn’t wandering alone.

Dumu had been a mixed blessing, but Ewan knew that the love between them was worth any and all downsides. He was younger or another male, but anyone who cared, didn’t and so didn’t matter.

Ewan saw his mate as fun and kind, honourable and handsome, everything he could ever dream of. And while Dumu had been as soft as the most pampered pridal –unable to keep his own fur clean for example, because he’d been too busy being taught his powers rather than practicalities such as self grooming – he was picking up the tricks and trade of a rogue lion rather well. Ewan was teaching him all he knew and was relying on his partner’s instincts to sort out the rest. So soon his mate would be capable as well as his other qualities.

On this windy evening, Ewan and Dumu had made their temporary den in the lee of a thick patch of brushwood. The dense vegetation blocked out the worst of the weather and it was warm, laying next to the handsome Dumu, but the often lazy Ewan was restless. Nogea and Rahima, his two aunts and the cousins were on his mind. As wonderful as it was to be here, safe and well with his beloved, there’d been no sign of any of his family. The pair of males had been looking for them, so they could meet his mate. While the rogue lands were huge, as big as all the different pride lands put together, surely there should have been something after such a long search.

But then mama never found Saburi, the sister I never knew...and Fedha and Asherah were lost too...I haven’t seen them all since I was just starting to grow into this mane of mine... With this thought and a sigh, Ewan got to his feet. His fretful shifting and sighing would wake Dumu at this rate and while his comfort was always a balm, they would need to hunt tomorrow since it had been a while since their last big meal. He’d let his beloved rest. Gently he rubbed his face once against the red-furred shoulder nearest him before he ambled off into the open, letting his worries be scattered to the breeze as he went. The wind was calming...

*

The wind was exhilarating! Asherah felt like she was racing it, with other imaginary lions alongside, as she loped along. Heart pounding and paws flying, all the clichés filled and proving how apt they were for it...

This was her relief, the adrenaline rush, addictive but distracting. It helped her deal with the fact that she was still lost. Auron had been an interesting travelling companion and meeting other lions had been wonderful. The god of Pride had been fascinating but the real prize had been meeting the pair of Pridelanders – it was a strong indicator that she was back in the area she’d been born into. And if she were in the right area, the Mistweaver lands couldn’t be far. It was beyond her wildest dreams when she’d been lost and alone in that lifeless hellhole she’d had to grow up in, miles and miles from here. Finding the rogue lands, once again, so full of that life...it was heaven.

Even knowing where the Pridelands were didn’t help much when the rogue lands were huge and she didn’t know the way and that was what agitated Asherah. She must have passed through the grass plains when she was young and looking for where her family had gone – but she didn’t remember much at all about that journey. The journey back however was one of the two things she was living for, finding her home and family. The second was revelling in her speed.

By the gods! By...erm – she tried to recall any of the gods names but the handsome god of Pride she’d met during a similar run was the only one she knew the name of. By the Lord Katana’k! It’s good to be running!

But she was not running long before she realised that one of her imaginary lion runners wasn’t so imaginary, and her mood switched from elation to anger and fear - she was being blindsided by someone.

*

The first couple of marks had told Ewan various things. A lioness was in heat somewhere within a few miles and she had a mate who’d left his own musk as well. He’d barely stopped his leisurely walk for a moment for that one – a few sniffs and he knew he should give the honeymooners a wide berth. He wasn’t the type to try to steal a chance at continuing his bloodline by force and well, for the sake of privacy and embarrassment, he changed his course.

A few more scents came on the wind, the odd few marks on his way – big male, some tracks from a limping cheetah, some stinky hyena mess he avoided... none that told of Nogea or Rahima. Ewan even greeted a male about his age that was as friendly as he was but neither stopped and just kept on moving after their paths crossed. An average wander and despite the lack of information left in scent by his own family, it calmed him. It reminded him that everytime he used his nose and other senses, he found out this much about the surrounding animals. Surely he’d find something sometime.

Ewan was starting back to Dumu when the wind brought a strong scent of something familiar and very close by. At first he dismissed it, then he stopped when he realised he knew it. It was maddening. He wasn’t sure who it was at all but he knew he knew that scent from somewhere. Maybe that pretty Pridelander he’d flirted with a long time ago? No. The memory of it was that faint...something from his youngest days...

Oh my. Is that Ithibati? No. Too young, softer, but not as much as Denge...close...oh. Oh. No, no, no! Asherah? My ‘Rah? The second-Saburi? The lost cousin? Gotta be kidding me. Oh my gods, oh my gods...

Skirting around some more brushwood, he could see the darker shape of a big cat running in the distance. The lazy appearance Ewan usually had dropped away as with an excited growl, he suddenly sprang into action. He had to catch up with her, find out if he was right. If it were a stranger he’d be mortified, and not only because he’d look like a nutter.... this could be Asherah! Or someone who was close enough to he to carry her scent in their fur.

Once, his mother had sat down with Ewan and his twin Nogea, and told them of their family. She’d not believed in not telling them about where they came from. Ewan knew his father had either lied to Rahima or had been – in his opinion – insane, and had walked out on them. He also knew she’d been in love before and that he had elder half-siblings. The monster Nyekundu, the reason his mother was shamed, who’d been born at the same time as his lovely aunt Ithibati, had always just pissed Ewan off...

But the story of the other, a sister, had always intrigued him. The only female Rahima had had, and by her accounts a patient and wise cub beyond her years – until she’d gone missing entirely without a trace, the second blow to his mothers heart. Saburi. And then one day after Fedha went, Asherah, his dear ‘cousin’ vanished from the Mistweaver lands. From existence, seemingly. It had been like another sister, another Saburi vanishing in his mind, he’d been that close to her. Nogea, the cheerful Nyunya and the odd ‘Rah were the lights of his young life and then she’d just...

Not again. He was catching up, his desperation and hopeful anticipation lending him speed to intercept her. Black, and he thought he could see the white as they ran. It was hard to keep up but after a few long strides, she half turned her head, eyes wide then narrowed.

Next thing he knew, she’d slowed and half turned with a loud snarl. Ewan almost slammed into ‘Rah since he’d been running full pelt, and he had to dodge the second he stopped as a heavy black paw was aimed straight at his face.

“Get away from me!”

“Wa – “

He had to duck again, and couldn’t help the growl that entered his voice. Ewan tried not to get his game face on and show his teeth. A series of blows and feints and dodges followed, then pain.

*

Asherah was terrified and furious. This male had chased her down. Like prey. And while he wasn’t landing any hits - maybe he’d relied on a surprise strike because he was a rubbish fighter? - he was persistent in staying close to her. If she ran at the next opening, he’d be able to keep up with her and might be able to pounce on her from behind... exactly like a hunt. No way was Ash going down easily.

She raked her claws through that annoying mane that protected him and scored a hit. The mane that was long enough to flop into his eyes and over his cheeks stopped two claws, but she felt one scratch deeply. YES! A red streak, the bright colour of fresh blood, downs his now visible cheek. And it wasn’t the only one. She recognized the red, black and white marking before her. ...Oh NO.

Paw still raised, Asherah stopped and stared as Ewansiha growled and scowled at the pain, already moving to deflect the next blow. The shock swung her mood and she realised he hadn’t hit her once. Yes he’d chased her down but she’d over reacted, didn’t even take what he looked like or given him chance to speak.

Those handsome marks...
She’d found someone at last.

*

“Stop? Asherah?” He blurted out when the dark figure didn’t try to hit him again. She just stopped, giving him time to sneak glances at her tail and paws, her forearm and finally her face to find those identifying white markings. Then her eyes – aqua and bright and wide with shock. He stared back with his blue ones, and saw her look over him likewise.

Mentally he went down his own checklist, thinking she was probably ticking off the same features – red mane and tail, black butt, the distinctive eye marks ...one side of which would be obscured by blood, he mused, feeling it’s wetness as well as the slashes sting. Dumu’d have a fit when he saw it probably.

“Siha? Siha?”

“Most call me Ewan now ‘Rah...” He smiled at her, hopeful and grasping at the chance, only not wincing by effort. She recognised him, she wasn’t going to hurt him...oh gods it’s her.

“And you’re the only one to have ever called me ‘Rah.” A tenative, apologetic smile. A few steps, a nuzzle and that was that. Asherah was with Ewansiha and what was lost was found. Right now, all that mattered was that. They’d work out the problems and complications sometime.