The pride had been very quiet. Jamila wasn't sure she liked it like this. The thought of leaving, however, was something she couldn't handle. The scared female had been inside the temple since the run in with that demon, Roth. The one that tried to do horrible things to her. The one that haunted her in her dreams. Red eyes narrowed as she looked off to the side and sighed heavily. The pride was practically deserted now.
Her once boyfriend was long gon. Her mother and father were still here, but she didn't know about her siblings. Somehow, she doubted it. There were a few cubs running around every now and then, but no one was having cubs in the pride anymore. No one came seeking the life they once had. It seemed as though the gods had turned their backs on them. The desert lions were lost, confused and dazed without the guiding paws of their gods. They simply continued about their jobs, the ones that were here, like the pride was still booming and well off. As a scribe, her job was more important than ever. She had to write down the history of the pride. In case someone came to take it over. So she could show the new rulers where the old ones went wrong so history doesn't repeat itself.
She had no motivation to do that, though. What was the point? She wouldn't be able to do it herself. She wanted no one to see her like this. Her scarred ways. Too many memories flooded her head and she curled up in her corner of the temple. She curled up tightly, putting her paws over her face and let a whimper eescape her lips. This was not a good way to start anything at all.
Maybe she should leave. As much as it panicked her, maybe it was for the best. Roth couldn't be out there again, could he? Not like he was last time. She'd gotten him almost as good as he got her. Jamila hadn't enjoyed it, of course. She wanted nothing to do with harming others again unless they were a meal. The thought of harming another lion made her sick to her stomach. Either way, perhaps leaving was the best solution. That way she could start a new life. Maybe get a backbone and stick up for herself.
She swallowed thickly as she raised her head, seeing the sun was setting. Leaving at night would be best, if she did this. Letting her ears flick this way and that, she thought long and hard about this. Leaving the pride meant leaving saftey, leaving her parents, leaving protection. But it also meant leaving awkwardness, leaving the snickering and whisperings she got when she left the temple for supplies for her job, which she wasn't doing anyway.
Getting to her paws, Jamila started pacing her quarters, muttering to herself, trying her hardest to figure this out. It took a few hours, but finally comfortable with her decious, the female looked up to the 'door' and sighed. It was still night. Even darker now than it had been, so it was perfect. She didn't need to take anything with her, either.
So, stepping out of her quarters, her paws were met with warm sand and she headed towards the boarder like she did so many moons ago. Leaving was hard, but it would be for the best. She just knew it.
She walked for an hour or two and looked over her shoulder. There was no sign of her pride anywhere. Nothing out here but tumbleweeds, cactus and her pawsteps. Occassionally she heard the wind pick up sand, or saw a rabbit running across the dunes, but for the most part, Jamila was completely alone. Like always. Her brows knit at that thought and caused her to swallow. Who needed others, anyway? Others meant the whispers. Others meant stares, questions, the name calling. She concluded before she left that staying in the pride wasn't worth it. She wasn't happy there anymore.
When she was a cub, she'd been very happy. She played with her siblings and parents. She played with other cubs, on her own, too. She would get muddy, get in trouble. She had fun learning the songs that comforted her for so many nights as an adult. Honestly, she didn't need to be int he pride to song those songs. They were in her heart. She memorized them so she wouldn't have to sing with everyone else.
So, she would comofort herself by singing one now. Her voice was raspy from not using it, but her words were filled with emotions. As she sang, her voice got loud and louder. It filled the silence and made her feel so much better. Perhaps she would have to befriend a rabbit or something so she wouldn't have to sing all the time. Her voice tired out easily since she didn't talk much. Now she wished she'd heard more stories when she was younger. She could tell herself one in her head.
Before she knew it, the sun was peaking over the highest dunes near her and it startled her and caused her to look up. A smile graced her lips. She had survived the night without any scares, without anyone trying to talk to her. Jamila couldn't be more proud of herself. If she had told her parents, they would have been proud of her as well. Jamila had proved to herself that she was a lot more brave than she had thought she was. Honestly, the girl had absoltely no confidence in herself. All she saw when she looked at her reflection was a lump of ugly scars and a shock of moron hair.
Somehow, Jamila had convinced herself that no one else would see past them. They wouldn't see the peach color on her coat. They wouldn't see the potential beauty she had. She'd see these stupid, rough, scars that littered her body almost completely. Her uncle had really done a number on her when she was younger.
Now she wouldn't think about that. Every footstep she took was one more towards freedom, towards happiness. She focused on that.
