Sun-kissed stones pressed against Ithemba's back as she slept, black fur soaking in rays of warmth even while the branches of an Acacia tree shaded her.

The lioness's throat was dry, and no matter how much she swallowed, it remained itchy and hoarse. Flies buzzed around her ears constantly, seeking out any moisture or sustenance they could gather in the heat of the day. Ithemba allowed them to swarm close to her, for they were the only company she had.

She was alone.

A small cub in the middle of the savanna, no parents, no siblings, no relatives, no pride, not even a single friend. Her small body, though lying up against warm rocks, was cold, and the more the little lioness stayed still, the more she feared she would die. It was a seizing, chilling fear that ripped through her so shockingly, so that each time she feared she would die, she would start up with a gasp and a small cry, eyes wide as a scared gazelle.

All light was dim, as the sky was full of a vast expanse of gray clouds which blotted out the sun. There was suddenly no more shade, for everything had turned to shade. The wind blew constantly and fiercely, moving the tall grasses, moving the tree branches, and moving Ithemba's fur. All was shaded, and all sky was fast-paced and dark.

The cub stood up on her paws and tried to look about--tried to find something, someone, anything, but her eyes didn't seem to want to open all the way. It was like she was gazing at the world through more than half-lidded eyes, sleeping while awake, but not sleeping, but not awake, but not alive, but not dead.

The cub's mouth was open and she tilted her head up to stare at the sky. Her face was pointed up, and her eyes were pointed up, but she couldn't see the sky--only the grass in front of her. She wanted to gasp and scream, but her breathing wouldn't respond to her will. It came in and out through deep, steady streams.

The little lioness began to walk, and as she walked, her eyes opened a bit more and she was able to see clearly, though not by a very large margin. Before her, several yards away, was her mother. Heart making a small flip-flop in her chest, the cub began to sob softly and stumble off in the direction her mother went.

She stumbled and hobbled, but no matter how hard she tried, or how much she willed it, she couldn't run--only walk. But she was going slow, too slow, and she could not reach her mother. Even though she kept on walking, it seemed she wasn't getting any closer.

Ears full of buzzing and itching terribly from the flies, her only friends, the juvenile lioness swatted at them for the first time, and they vanished. But the buzzing sound remained. Ithemba examined her paw, but even though she looked down, she couldn't see it. So she brought it up directly in front of her face.

Now able to see it, she realized that it wasn't her paw, but someone else's--it was a blue paw, not black like hers.

When the juvenile stepped back, she saw the paw was attached to a blue arm, but nothing else. There was torn flesh and blood, but nothing else--no one. It was an arm...just an arm.

Somehow, in her heart, Ithemba felt it was one of her brother's arms. But why was one of his arms torn off? Where was the rest of him?

As that thought slipped through the young female's tired, whirring head, she heard a roar. It came from the sky. When Ithemba looked up at the speeding gray canvas above, the sound of the wind stopped, and instead all she could hear was her own steady breathing.

As she gazed upwards, she could see a figure in the clouds--black face with a tan-colored mane...her father. His mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out--all Ithemba heard was her own calm breaths. Then her father was no longer in the clouds, but on the ground, walking. Her yellow eyes followed his dark form lazily, and as they followed him, they found her mother. Her father and her mother were together.

The adolescent lioness saw her mother's lips move to form a name, gently, "Ithemba." But then both she and her father had vanished.

And Ithemba was alone again.

Stomach rolling and heart pounding, the adolescent crumpled to the ground in a heap of shuddering, her body aching with cold and hot at the same time.

"Where did they go?" she sobbed loudly, pathetically, face burying itself into the grass and dirt, though she couldn't feel the touch of either on her face. "Where am I?" she sobbed.

The scent of wet clay filled the lioness's nose, and she brought her paws up to her face to examine them. They were covered in wet clay, but they were also covered in blood. She stopped crying immediately, as if she had never been crying at all. As her eyes fell from her paws, she saw a neat line of clay figures assembled before her. They, too, were splattered in blood. The red was bright and vivid against the muted colors that surrounded her as a result of the gray clouds overhead.

The smell of clay was pleasant, but the sight of blood was both puzzling and chilling. She couldn't smell it, but it sickened her. She felt sick. The adolescent brought her paws up to her face again to examine them, to smell the clay, for it soothed her. But there was no more clay--just blood.

The adult lioness reared back in an attempt to escape from herself, screaming. The scream ripped through the silence, and as if it were a signal--a switch to turn all noises back on, the roaring of the rushing clouds overhead began once more, the sounds of the wind whirred past, and the buzzing of flies filled Ithemba's ears once more.

Amidst all sounds was a scream--one loud scream, terrified, sick, lonely, and long--never-ending. Ithemba continued to try and escape herself, continued to hear the scream, though it went on despite the steady sound of her even breaths. The blood was thick and heavy, and soon it covered her from head to paw, drenching her and soaking her in its vividness and stench. She collapsed in its weight, and it rose up in gallons all around her, gushing from no where and everywhere at once, until she was drowning in it, screaming all the while.



A piercing clap of thunder sounded out, and Ithemba jerked away with the sharpest gasp she had ever taken in her life. She was on her feet in a hair of an instant, yellow eyes bulging, mouth gaping open, and lungs violently leeching the air for breaths.

The lioness's entire body was quivering from the fear of her nightmare, but also from cold. She was completely soaked in water, and was standing in a pool of it up to her ankles. She had taken refuge from the heat in a small cave, but had been too careless to realize a storm was approaching. The cave had begun flooding with water, and nearly drowned Ithemba in the process.

Body shivering and teeth chattering, the large lioness whined softly to herself, the sound acting as some sort of comfort to herself--something like a noise to take the place of another lion beside her, offering comfort to her fears. It helped a bit, and the lioness leapt out from the cave, limbs hobbling as she did so. She still breathed deeply, her body still shuddered and quivered, and she gazed around quickly and sharply, paranoid of hidden phantoms in the shadows of the smothering storm.

But it was all right now.

She was alive, she was no longer in her nightmare. It was all right now. It was all right.


Even though she was alone, she would always be all right.




...But as the sound of buzzing flies reached the lioness's ears, though no flies were present during the storm, Ithemba wondered how much longer that statement would be true.