[PRV] Fourth time's the charm?

[Meepfur]

Asali'jua sighed, hauling herself out of the pool she had been lying in. Day by day now, she was getting heavier, although she wasn't putting on as much weight as she had while pregnant with her first two litters. This one was going to be smaller - just three, and all girls. She supposed that was for the best, since there would be the Goddess' cubs to tend to as well, and there would be four of those - she knew that too. Seven was a manageable number, certainly better than ten or even twelve. She was a good mother, but everyone had their limits!

Shaking some of the water from her fur, she headed northeast through the swamp in search of one of her adolescent daughters. It was time again.  

[Meepfur]

Mluziluzi was waiting for her, stretched across a fallen log. One hind paw dangled in murky water, rippling the surface every time she moved. Like every child of the swamp, she had always known that the day would come when she'd be sent away to find her name, but this morning she had woken up know that that day was today. Ever since, she'd been waiting with a mixture of anticipation and impatience. She was more than ready to just get it over with and go, but she knew she couldn't just up and leave. That wasn't the way it was done, and so she had to wile her day away waiting for her mother to decide it was time.

Zi noted the Queen's approach with a nod of acknowledgement, her paw stirring in the water. Finally! She'd been getting tired of just hanging around.  

[Meepfur]

As her daughter nodded, so too did Asali. For a moment she simply stood and regarded her, inwardly reluctant to do what she knew she must. Already she had sent three litters - ten young lions, all told - from their home in just this way, and all but one child had yet to return. Zi would be the first of six more to leave - how many of them would return? Any at all? Still, whatever the outcome, it had to be done. This was the way of things.

"Mluziluzi." It was odd to say her name without shortening it simply to 'Zi' as she and everyone else so often did.  

[Meepfur]

"Hello, Mother," Zi responded. She stood, and once she was certain of her balance on her perch, she leapt down to the ground before her mother. Her hind paws came down in shallow water, with more of a squelch than a splash. There she waited expectantly, staring into eyes that matched her own - though perhaps it was more proper to say that her eyes matched her mother's.  

[Meepfur]

"It is time, child. Time for you to leave here and learn; your body grows, but so too must your mind, or else you will never truly be grown, no matter how beautiful you become." The words seemed worn and familiar now, already spoken ten times before. The only thing that really changed was the child to which she must say goodbye.

"I gave you a name, once. I called you Mluziluzi; it is a child's name, and as long as you bear it, you will be a child in the eyes of the spirits, in the eyes of the Mother, and in my eyes as well." A child she loved with all her heart, but a child no less.  

[Meepfur]

There was no shock or fear or uncertainty in Zi's eyes. The adolescent only nodded her acceptance. Though she could not begin to understand her mother's feelings exactly, she knew that Narindima'moyo was the only one of her older siblings to have returned from his quest for a name, knew it was possible that once she left, she might never see Abhaya or Chaka or any of her other littermates again. They might not all return. "I am ready."

And she knew too that when and if she did make her way back, it would be to meet three younger sisters for the first time. And then, one day, it would be their turn. It just went on and on and on.  

[Meepfur]

"You must leave home, and you must leave it now. Leave these lands without delay - do not turn to bid your brothers and sisters goodbye, nor your father nor anyone else. Go, travel as your paws take you, as the spirits and fate take you. Go and find your name." And please, please come home!

"When you have found your name, and only then, return here, to your home. Return to your pride and speak your name before us all."

This time, the words she spoke next were difficult not to choke on - because she knew that this promise she made now, as she had made to her other children, was one that she would soon have to fulfill for them. "If, after one year and one moon, you have not returned, know that we will say the rites for you, so that you will not roam as a ghost forever."

Zi continued to nod along with her mother's words, calmly accepting of them all. It wasn't that she didn't worry, didn't wonder what would happen to her while she was gone, how long it might take her, or any number of other things - she just knew it had to be done. It was the way things had always been, and would always be, regardless of who returned and who did not. Even if the former were forever outnumbered by the latter, it would not change. And who knew? Just because they didn't come back didn't mean that they were dead...perhaps, instead of names, they had found new places in the world.

But which would she discover?

"Now go, my daughter," Asali said shortly, to bring Mluziluzi from the thoughts she seemed to have become lost in. And with that, Asali'jua turned and disappeared, fleeing into the solitude of the deep swamp to weep.

And return to me, one day...please...

Mluziluzi's head snapped back up as she came to attention once more, just in time to see her mother's form retreating. After standing for another several moments, she sighed, and nodded once again - this time to herself. She could do this! She would go and find her name, or her place, or even her death...whatever the world held for her, she would find, and everything would be as it was meant to be.

"I'll be alright, Mother," she said to the empty air, "I know it. I can't see it, but...I know it." The adolescent bowed her head, and turning, left her home behind her.