The lioness trotted near the borders of the pride lands, the sun just barely inching its way over the hills. Nawiri'chiwa was often an early riser, enjoying the quiet moments of the morning when many within the Kitwana'antara were still asleep. Unfortunately, there was almost a constant state of unrest amongst the pride, and it was most unfortunate to hear the echoes of coughs and hacks or moans of pain serenading the night.
The fever always seemed to worsen at night. . . .
Perhaps its why the grey and black striped lioness took small comfort in daylight. It was one more day for the pride, for its members, for its children, for her. . . Though she would never turn a deaf ear or blind eye on those that suffered, the young female couldn't help but selfishly yearn for just a few minutes to herself. A few minutes she could pretend everything was going to be all right, a few minutes she could pretend she wasn't sick and wasting away, that her most beloved family wasn't in a constant state of suffering. Even those members whom helped care for the sick, the leopards, the cheetahs, the wild dogs and hyenas. . . there was a weariness in their gaze, a pain she could swear she witnessed every day.
Sometimes, the young femme wished she hadn't been picked. Sometimes, deep down, she wished she might have some how been over looked to carry such a responsibility upon her shoulders. Her mother had been strong but had made many mistakes; would she too follow in her foot steps? All she wanted was peace. . . to pick up the pieces of what remaind of their broken numbers, to start all over again. But tensions on the borders were high, and with so much death the recent months it was hard to look at the broken pride and see how far they had fallen.
It was bad enough so many lions were struck down and dying alongside each other, but to see so few familiar faces. To see empty dens, whole family lines eradicated and cut down due to war and disease. It wasn't fair to expect Nawiri to have all the answers, and unfortunately, the young queen feared it was something the pride demanded.
Heaving a small sigh, the lioness lowered her head and let her tail drag behind her. She kept her ears alert for the approach of another, she didn't want to be caught in a moment of insecurity. No, she was stronger than that. . . She had to be, even if she herself had doubts. Regardless, it was her turn to bring joy back to the Kitwana, relief despite their curse.
Ignoring the aches in her joints, her dual-toned gaze looked up to the hills. It was where the bones of all the dead were buried, where the Secret Keepers were most frequently sent; old Kings and Queens of the past were buried amongst those lands and the young lioness could only hope she might be granted a little wisdom to help her on her way.