It was staring at her.
It had been a few months since the tidal wave had just about thrashed the pride, moving the earth from right under her, destroying all that she had left and ripped families apart where it could. Some called it a disaster of their generation - some called it the water gods' revenge on the lightly lived pride that had taken up home near their domain. Regardless, this had been the first time that the previously titled jana had not been close to the ocean since the event.
So, here she was - the now adult Pololia'eu - sitting at the edge of the water, the sounds rippling around her as the water crept up the shore, edging closer to her grey toes. She wouldn't let it touch her, her distaste for the feeling deep with in her ripped up soul. It had taken her family - everyone she had known and loved. She couldn't find her mother - her father - the great king that was here before - her siblings paw prints were erased in the sand, just leaving her own, prancing through the domain of the pride.
She had spent the months since the loss hiding within the brush that was pushed back in the waters - where she had found the pride member hanging loose. It was comfortable, the conglomoration of bramble, large trees (that had both withered and died, or taken to their new albeit more horizontal lives,) and the sticks had created a warm womb, keeping her comfortable, and slightly elivated from possible floods that came afterwards - even if they never came again.
But, she stayed there, and watched - waiting for souls to return from where ever they had disappeared to. It was home to her, she woke up every day, and blessed the warm sun that broke through in bits from the foliage overhead, blessing the drowned goddess for allowing her to live just one more day. She felt she at least owed it to that one Goddess.
She had done the rights of Ba'Kifa over and over, never allowing her feet to touch the water - her fear resounding deep in the sands as she watched the drifting wood carry the souls out to be reunited with those already returned to the waves. She had grown superstitious - believing that the markings of her pelt was an omen, her head swimming nightly with dreams and stories that plagued her.
Everything felt like a world away from the pride, as if she had been taken out of the bigger picture, hidden away - until the dark spot came.
He was always there, at least twice a week, almost like clock work - infact, she had started to keep track of the moons that passed her by his faithful trek back to the disaster zone. He also, faithfully, did the same thing - humming and hawing as he looked out in to the waters, obviously distressed by something.
It had taken her three and a half weeks before she started sitting next to him, their silent reveries almost a companionship between friends. She didn't even know his name. But he sat next to her, and together they continued a jaded life.
Hearing the telltale sounds of his paw falls up the sands, she didn't even allow a movement betray her concentration, accepting him to take his post next to her, before the paw falls took even harder the ground, breaking her reverie, turning back to the adolescent lion as he barrelled down, taking only a moment to give her a look before his feet broke the water, the dark fur spanning out under him already.
"Wh - what are you doing!" Her voice betrayed her - a look of shock broke over her face as she realized that that was her. Hoarse voiced and astonished, she found herself already taking to the waters - stopping just before her paws licked the wet ground.
"I'm the only one left to take my rites, will you watch me?" He called back. He was . . . quiet. She found it almost fitting that the lion who had been so silent next to him had a voice that was strangled, strained under some invisible force. Soft, and sweet.
It felt like an eternity, like a clock in her mind, ticking away the decision that she was going through.
Then . . .
She found herself walking in to the water again, a string of prayers running through her head, hoping that they would bleed through her paw-pads, and in to the sands underneath. She did not want to drown . . . but she could not allow him to be swept up either, at least, not alone. "I will take the rites with you, then." She offered, the fear eating away at her voice, until she was as quiet as he was. "I have not taken mine, either. I lost my family before I could." If it hadn't been for the astonished look on his own face, she would have thought he was debating about turning back.
But there was no turning back.
Feeling the waves crash softly against her ankles, and then her legs and closer to her stomach, she watched it engulf the younger lion, his toes already having problems catching the sands under him, claws out to dig up whatever hold he could find, his eyes wide as he watched the water well up around his chest.
It was like a large inkstain a squid would leave - that is what she thought of when she saw him - a squid with leaves on his back. "Do not squirm so much, just, let it wash over you. I'm sure you'll need the cleaning." She joked with him. His response was a simple one, he pouted at his feet in the water, starting to kick to keep himself afloat, giving her a small "Easy for you to say."
Allowing herself a soft chuckle, it dawned on her that she was floating too. Feeling her feet out, it was like . . . she thought about it. It was flying. Or, so she would assume. She had never flown, nor did she know any lions with wings to ask. Maybe one day.
Feeling out the ebb and flow of the water, she sent another prayer to the water. This is what she needed, this calming feeling, being one with the water, and just letting everything go. She felt the weight of the world lift with her paws, and her sorrows and losses just ooze away, out from the jellyfish markings that were on her shoulder. She would not be a bad omen anymore. She would turn things around.
Hearing the splashing of the youth behind her, she allowed herself to follow him, and together they paddled back to the land, a calming feeling overcoming them both as their paws touched sand again - he rocketed up the beach like he had before, amusing the elder lioness once again.
He turned back to her, his wide with reverie, his fur matting and speckled with misplaced sand that had been misplaced in the scrabble back to the shore. It was like watching a child hunt it's first bug - and made the older lioness laugh for the first time in . . . what felt like forever.
"Palama." Broke the silence. Snapping her back to reality. Cocking her head, she gave him a silly look, before he himself found him sobering up, a sincere smile on his youthful face.
"My name is Palama, I want to be a Hlare. You?"
It was. . . it was very easy to answer this. She was not Pololia'eu. She had washed that away. It was time to start a new, make amends with the ocean, and allow herself some happiness in her life. She would watch over this youth when she could, and find her rhythm again.
"Lilo'kai."
And, it was so.
