Moricorm was rarely awake during the daylight hours. It really just wasn't what a demon did, period. End of story. But this time...this time, she was. And she had been since some time in the mid-morning, when the sun was just high enough to banish the darkness from the savanna ad desert areas of the pride. She, and those leaving with her. And now...they were on the borders. The others were slightly ahead, already past the scent markers left by the tirma'ath and tirma'eth, but she stayed behind for a moment. This was it. Until there was an Aran'shale or Tari'shoter that BELONGED on Morifaer's throne...she was never setting paw on these lands again. The lands she'd been born on, the lands she'd grown up in, the place where so many of her memories lay and her dark heart was at peace most often...
And she was leaving. Not for good, but for a long, long time. How long, she wasn't sure yet. Would her fur be silvering by the time she returned? Stepped foot on these lands again? Would she even be remembered? Would those she knew be long gone, or would they still be fixtures in the pride? She'd have to bid Tani farewell when they passed that way. He, like Nyota, deserved to know she would not be close by any longer. She closed her eyes and sighed, remembering the conversation she'd had with Nyota the night before. If only things had been different for them...But they had not been. Shortly after she'd left Nyota, she'd seen his grandcubs, and one of them in particular, the one no one could mistake as anything but one of Hakuna's line, had taken an interest in the shiny bells she wore. She'd let him play with them, for Nyota's sake. For the sake of his bloodline. For the sake of what had once been. And then she'd gone to see Hakuna'jina.
She'd always admired the lioness. She was Sparda-side, but even with her advancing age, she had a fire in her few could match, a strength that rivaled both founding Aran'shale, and a loyalty Moricorm understood far too well. And since her son's ascension to the Morifaer throne, Moricorm had caught glimpses of Hakuna's sorrow that one of hers had upset the balance. She and Hakuna had talked for some time...about the pride, about their families, about others who had left. They'd talked about their duties, and how things had changed since Moricorm and Nyota'Angavu had first set their eyes on their parents' thrones together, planned together. Had it really been so many seasons ago? It had been. It had been so long, and yet the memory was so clear...
Two cubs, dark of pelt and mind and heart, plotting and scheming with the aid of a parent who thought their cause worthy. Two cubs who had found their lives changed beyond what they could ever imagine. Beyond what they could imagine...
She'd tried talking to Kasdeya...but in the end, all she could do was say she was leaving on another round of recruiting, and would be back soon enough. Nothing out of the ordinary for one who wandered like she did. She couldn't stand to see her closest sister's heart break, not with everything they had been through. They'd lost enough, the two of them. Any who claimed Moricorm had no heart had never seen her with those closest to her. And then...it had come to Umarth.
Her brown daughter, her green-eyed daughter, the daughter who reminded her time and again of her slave mother, the mother who'd given Ri her tiny size. As she'd told Nyota...Umarth was her reminder of things she did not want to remember, but she was still her daughter, hers in blood and soul, with a loyalty to the pride that rivaled Ri's own. Her daughter had been suspicious at first, cautious...but as they talked, the suspicion faded, though the caution never did. And then Moricorm told her daughter she was leaving, and Umarth exploded on her. How could her mother leave like that?! How could she betray the pride?! HOW COULD SHE JUST QUIT?!
Ri tried talking her daughter down, tried telling her she would one day return. Umarth simply growled at her, told her that if she saw her again, she would kill her. Ri had sighed and left. At least her daughter had some loyalties, to pride and to family. Moricorm, with all the mistakes she'd made raising her, had done something right. Or had in been her teachers who had done something right? Moricorm did not know. And she likely would never know. And that pained her. She hated to not know.
The Neumare gathered those who would leave with her, those daughters who were going with, and her Na'artu and Na'artue, and told them what the schedule was. They'd woken at mid-day, finished gathering the last of what they needed, and left when the sun was high, a gathering of dark fire and pale servitude.
And now, she was here, on the borders for the last time in a long while.
“Sparda, protect and watch over me and mine, so we may one day return. Morifaer, guide us, as we venture into the world, and help us keep the ways true until we return.” She bowed her head and turned to face her group, trotting to them with her head high and her bloody eyes trained forward.
“Let us go. Until we return, we and any who join us are the Aegnor'andirae. We shall return when there is a competent ruler of Iartuupe or Morifaer's bloodline on Morifaer's throne. Let us go. Before anyone wakes and tries to stop us.” With the bells on her person ringing clear and the gems clinking together in an odd, cacophonous harmony, Moricorm led her small band out of the pride, head held high and a fire in her eyes.
One day, they would return. And that day would be a glorious one.