[ Backlogged]
Kibaazi had known from a young age that she wanted to be a medic. Not only to hide the scrapes and bruises from her overprotective – and often outright insane – mother, but also because she quite simply liked to help people. She liked to fix things. She liked seeing a wound heal, a bruise disappear, or a scar fade. It wasn't about her own glory, like if she became an elder – and with her training, she probably could have – it was about...helping, in her own tiny way. She had been gifted enough to see the pridal members blood, to see them bleed like normal folk. That was why she became disillusioned. She saw them bleed, and why would immortals bleed?
She huddled closer into her 'den' for the night, a collection of rocks which barely covered her ful body, even curled into a ball. A drip had developed above her, wetting the spot above her shoulder blade as the storm raged out side – the first since she had been thrown from her pride. At home, the storms hadn't seemed scary. They weren't bad, just a little frighting when the trees nearly bowed completely, but now, on her own, in the constant dark with only noise and cold to keep her company, it was as if a nightmare had come true.
She was not a coward, and she didn't fear much in her life, but since the herbs had taken effect and robbed her of her sight, she felt...lost. She wasn't even sure if being thrown from home made her feel this way. At least, if she could see, she would be able to understand where she was, and what she was doing, and instead, she was left with...nothing. Blankness. Empty space. It was a little terrifying. She had never, ever thought of loosing her sight before, and so it had come as such a shock. And with her own potion at least! She had made those herbs to rob the sight of others, never once considering it's usage on herself. Life was not fair, she thought.
She sniffled, curling her paws closer to her chest. “I miss you, Maja,” she whispered to herself, thinking of the boy she was raised with. They had been raised side by side, though seperate as he was royal and she was merely the Healer's daughter, the one who would take the female's place when she was gone. He had been sweet – albeit clumsy – and a wonderful friend to her. He was the reason she was out here, looking for him. She had to survive, to find him and, when she did find him, whack him over the head for not keeping his mouth shut and doing what he was supposed to do.
He had spoken out of turn, which she had later done too, and had gotten himself kicked from the pride, banished into the rogue lands and blinded – helpless! He was such an idiot. She sighed. Of course, he was her best friend as well, so she had to race after him and save him – even if she was just as blind and helpless as he was.
Perhaps she could even convince him to return to the pride, and save them all from the horrible elders. He probably wouldn't, she thought, her shoulders slumped. How could he rule a pride he could not even see? It was impossible, but someone had to save the pride. Someone had to do something to stop the elders. She would have, if she hadn't spilled her secrets stupidly to someone she really shouldn't have.
A crack of lightning above her lit up her den through the cracks of the rocks, and she shuddered, slipping back as far as she could go, trying desperately to hide. She couldn't see the light, but the thundering rumbles that chased lightning and that resounding crack told her that the storm still raged above her. A sign, perhaps? She was in a dangerous place, surrounded by dangerous people and she was completely helpless. She sniffled, her face hidden by her face.
“If you're not dead already,” Kibaazi whispered to herself, “I will kill you myself, Maja.” She didn't mean it. At the moment, she would have given anything for Maja to be with her, even in the cramped den. She missed him. She missed feeling safe. She wouldn't kill him, but she would hurt him something good for leaving her alone with her crazy parents and the crazy elders. How could he leave her alone? How could he do that to her! He was her best friend and he just left. She sniffled again, feeling almost betrayed.
Why was everyone in the pride crazy? And what did that say about her? She chuckled to herself, the sound weak and small. She used to be so independent, so self-assured. She knew exactly where she was, who she was and who she wanted to be. She felt more lost then simply in directions. She felt like she had lost a part of her, a part of her she wondered if she would ever get back. She didn't want to be this lost forever. She wanted to know who she was, to know where she was going and who she was going to be in the future.
“I don't want to be another nameless rogue,” she whispered. To speak normally felt wrong in the dangerous storm, as if it would tell the storm where to get her, and it would hurt her. It was crazy, but still, no louder then a whisper would pass her mouth.
In the pride, she was a healer. A medic. Someone that everyone looked up to. She looked after cubs, and youth and adults a like. She even tended the elders. But that had no saved her. No. She had been blinded by her won concoction. Robbed of sight by something she had made, designed. She had never used it before, but she had gotten the recipe from her grandmother – a fellow medic. It was a family secret. And now someone else had their grubby paws on the recipe, blinding helpless victims of the crazy pride.
What had the pride been told of Majaliwa and Kibaazi? She had heard that Majaliwa had been sent out to find their god, but what would they tell people of her? Did they think she was dead? Did her parents? She whimpered. She hated her parents. They were irritating and overbearing and drove her crazy, but she couldn't hate them at all. She loved them.
She missed them.
She missed feeling safe.
“Mom...Dad...Maja,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and her ears pressed low to block out the thunder. “Help. I'm afraid.” I think I've lost my way.
(WC: 1,12 cool
