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Kimba crept forward first. He'd heard the news, and, feeling a sense of gratitude to the ancient one for taking he and his family in, Kimba approached. He looked to the leader, the young one, before he knew it alright to go on, and he moved to the side of the grave and bowed his head, speaking softly.

"Thank you, for your kindness to my family and I in sharing your land, and may you find peace."

One paw carefully leveled some earth into the lion's grave, and Kimba crept away to join the rest.

Bowe came next, scenting her father close, and the lioness moved as if to limp forward. However, in the 'favored' paw was sand, particularly fine sand. She wanted to make the old patron's grave as comfortable as possible, even in death, and she approached, bowing her head, the scent of death keeping the blind lioness from falling in.

"Thank you..." She whispered softly. She sprinkled the pawful of sand, the softest Earth she'd found, into the grave, and bowed, before moving toward the others, nose twitching as she scented her pride.

Tsi'hilu was also there, though she remain behind others for a while, silent, mirroring the young cub the Sky clan had found lost and wandering. A miracle, they'd said; Tsi remembered how very much NOT like a miracle she'd felt though. She'd not eaten in days and was slowly dieing of dehydration.

While it had been the sky clan that had taken her in, fed her and nursed her back to health, it had been Tawa'di himself whom had allowed her to re-establish the wolf clan. He had helped recreate her clan, her mother's legacy, in a way, and had allowed her mate entrance into the pride. All in all, it was the old male whom had allowed her to rebuild her life from the pieces that had remain.

For that, Tsi'hilu knew she'd be eternally grateful to him.

After watching several lions creep forward to pay their respects, the cloud marked female finally stood, giving her mate, whom sat beside her, a small nuzzle before pulling forth. Reaching the grave, the silently pushed dirt into the hole, then broke the silence with a whisper, "Not only did you help me get my voice back... you were the one that allowed my clan to roam again - you gave them their voices too. You gave them life. All of them," that said, she pulled away, "Thank you. I hope you find peace and rest," slowly, she walked back over to her seat and remain silent again.

Unu'le blinked hard as she watched Skan shift the first bit of dirt over their father's body. She, too, had known Tawa'di had not had much time left -- they had all known. His days had been numbered for a long time. Still, as much as she'd tried to steel herself against the inevitable loss of her father, there was no way she could have prepared herself.

After hesitating for far too long, she stood and walked on trembling paws toward the grave. Unu'le knelt next to the old male, pressing her pale nose against fur in one final nuzzle only to find her father's once warm and inviting body now cold and unforgiving. What to say? What could she possibly say to the lion who had been her guide and mentor for so long? And how could she possibly live up to her heritage?

There was only one thing to say. The one thing she'd never thought to say while her father was still alive.

"Thank you, Daddy," she murmured against his body. She hadn't called him that since she was a cub. She scooped a pawful of dirt over Tawa'di's form.

After a moment she rose, turned and walked back toward her mother and siblings, unable to speak further past the lump in her throat.

He'd always looked up to him. How couldn't he? Tawa'di had been the greatest lions Tawa had ever known. He was strong (mentally), just, kind, a leader, a teacher. His father. Who'd always been there, taught him, helped him, or simply kept him company. Tawa wasn't sure how to deal with this situation. It was dream-like, unreal.

He supposed it shouldn't be shocking, he'd known his father was old, didn't expect much longer (they all had, hadn't they?) Still, he felt like a wildebeest had kicked him in the chest. He couldn't take his eyes off that strange form in the ground. It felt so wrong to see him there. It was like he was sleeping but completely different. Tawa wanted to reach in and drag him out, tell him how much he admired him.

But soon the yellow male found himself at the edge of the grave, looking down at his father, and he couldn't move. He remembered his father's scent, like he'd always known it. And he leaned down, touching his nose to the old lion's mane and breathing in. But he didn't smell the same.

He hesitated, he felt like he should say something. How could he say anything? "Bye, " He mumbled, weakly. "Thanks for everything... I'll miss you. " He knew they all would. So Tawa scooped up some dirt with a paw and let it fall over the body, forcing himself to look away and join his family, eyes cast downwards, unfocused. He'd move on, eventually, but now he would grieve.

Hari blinked. Her eyes felt wet, and it took her some time to realize she was crying. Unlike the family, she'd been more-or-less oblivious to the idea of Tawa'di dying. Perhaps she was an optimist, or maybe it was because she wasn't one of them, but she'd never even fathomed the idea of Tawa'di being gone. She remembered meeting him, his taking her in. She remembered how nice he was, how friendly and kind and funny.

She realized that she hadn't known him for too long. But she also knew that he'd welcomed her here. He'd brought her home. And she felt like she owed him so much and couldn't do anything to show her how grateful she was. Hari felt sad, helpless. Why did death come and take the good away? Why must it make everything so terrible?

She sighed, moving to the grave, though she tried not to look. It was inevitable not to, and the reality of it was just shocking. So she shuffled before adding her own pawful of dirt to the grave. She couldn't think of anything to say, and was quickly frustrated by this. Why couldn't she even honor him now?

"Thank you. " She said quietly, before moving along so others could pay their respects.

Funerals weren't his thing.

Ahadi found it hard not to laugh. It wasn't funny, or even a happy occasion. No, one shouldn't mistake him for being happy about this, but they possibly could. He couldn't help it. He remembered always telling himself not to cry. He remembered, since his cubhood, how he'd laugh his problems off. How it did make him feel better.

So now, when someone passed away, someone who had caused such an impression, despite him not having known him for long... Ahadi felt like laughing. Because he desperately wanted to feel better than he did now. But he held it back, walking up to the grave. He looked down at the body, covered with irregular bits of dirt, and he almost giggled as he added his own bit. He hurried away because he didn't want to laugh (cry) in front of all these lions. He went further, to the back of the crowd, head low, staring at the floor as his mane obscured his face. He saw some drops of water hit the soil, and vaguely wondered if it was raining, then realized it wasn't. He didn't want to laugh anymore.

The burly male stepped forward, staring down at the grave. Such a curious custom for a lion pride... Very... Human... But it was fitting. It kept the scavengers off the body. Kubwa let out a puff of breath. "You gave me a home, a real home.. Amid a real pride... Helped me to forget about a part of my past I did not wish to remember so easily, and yet let it go in a way it won't destroy me later." He bowed his head, ears back. "Goodbye, Tawa'di." He tossed some dirt in, before turning and stepping away.

Huong glanced at Dongo, then the grave, swallowing a bit. When she stepped forward, she felt a painful pull. She sprinkled dirt on, letting out a shuddering breath. "Thank you for giving me a safe haven... A safe home, where I don't have to fear invading lions..." She turned, going to press into Dongo.

Nuzzling at Huong, Dongo stepped away, going over to the grave. "May you rest in peace, may the gods smile upon you as you've smiled upon so many lions around you... You gave many of us direction, and a place in the world." He tossed in some dirt, before whispering a 'Thank you'. Returning to Huong, he pulled her into a hug.

Another death, then, was it?

Ona'raha Subiani trailed a step behind his daughter, Eeva - now Leader of the Shadow Clan - his heart heavy and cold. Death had been a big part of the male's life and now all those painful memories seemed to awaken again on this terrible day.

He was a cub again, struggling along the mountain paths, looking desperately for the promised lands. A golden bird flew above him, calling out encouragement but he turned back to see his travelling companion broken on the mountain path. And beyond him the dead lands of his old home, nursing the bodies of his parents and grandparent and his friends... and all those he loved.

Tears gathered in his eyes to think of another tie of the past leaving him. When would the death claim him, too? Was it only a matter of time? He did not want to die. Once, long ago, he might have thought death a more pleasant thing. But he had family now and he had found his purpose.

A tear trailed down his cheek.

Eeva, oldest daughter of Ona'raha, paused a moment to walk alongside her father, sensing his sadness, sensing that he was lost in memories of a time where she had not yet existed.

She touched the side of her face against his, blottting the tear against his fur.

"Father, are you sure you want to do this?" She whispered softly. The wreath of leaves on her head - from her coronation - rustled in a bitter wind.

"Yes, love, I'm sure. I need to do this." His throat was thick and words did not come easy and together they walked, side by side with little Laka following behind them.

There was quite a turn out, and as Ona'raha looked around at faces familiar and strange, he felt a sudden warm tug in his heart. Look at the pride. Look at how much it had grown and flourished. Newcomer and old Ela'wadiyian alike were here, all stirred by the passing of old Tawa'di.

"Time passes..." He whispered, glancing down as little Laka slipped up between his forepaws.

"Come, let us go together..."

The three of them approached the old lion's body, his spirit already passed on. To the clouds, perhaps, where their ancesters swept high and bright through the skies.

He leaned against his daughter for support and drew Laka to his chest with a paw.

"So here we are then." He spoke softly. "The end of a chapter in a never-ending story." His throat tightened. "We survived the plague and we will continue to survive, thanks to you, my friend." He dipped his head a little. "And I will make sure our history is not forgotten, Tawa'di. And your name will live on in such stories. Thank you for being here to welcome me at the end of my journey." A pause. "We will meet again someday." He scooped a pawful of dirt and cast it across the body of the friend who had allowed him and his Clan to stay.

"Goodbye, Mister." Laka squeaked softly, reaching forth a tiny paw to cast a little dirt onto his body. She did not truly understand death, but she felt sad and the tears trickled down her little face.

Today was a solemn day indeed.

She cuddled against her father's mane and closed her eyes.

"You will not be forgotten." Eeva ended, feeling that all that had needed to be said had already been and gone.

"Thank you for all that you have done for us." She cast the earth, too, and with tears gathering in her sky-filled eyes she turned with her father and little sister and led them away.

"Where is he now, Father, Eeva?" Laka asked softly, casting one last look back at that old lion she had never met and was saddened by it.

Eeva cast a look across at her father and answered for them both. "He's in the clouds, Laka. He's in the clouds."

Stepping up alongside Ama, Binti'sokota stared down at the old lion who'd done so much to make her feel truly at home among the Ela'wadiyi as she'd striven to raise Us'kali's brood, and then later as she took a place at Ama's side. The path hadn't been easy, but there had always been something about the old nvwati that had made her feel welcome, and a part of something larger than herself. He'd come to be a living embodiment of the pride, in her eyes.

Death was a part of life, something she understood and respected..but that didn't lessen the feeling of loss she knew that every other pride member present shared with her. When Ama stepped forward, Binti hung back, allowing him his moment to place his own pawful of dirt respectfully over Tawa'di. Pressing her shoulder comfortingly against Ama's hip, she raised her voice with his before stepping forward, scooping up a bit of earth to drop carefully over Tawa'di's body.

Thank you. Nudging Ama lightly with her nose, she turned and padded towards where the rest of the pride was lingering, allowing her mate the time he needed to grieve in peace at Ama's graveside.