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Everyone's life had those seemingly insignificant encounters they'd forget within the week. Dastell knew this was liable to be one, but none the less, he enjoyed the present company while he had it. They were a nice couple, older than him in both body and soul. Something haunted their eyes and weighed down their movements he didn't care to inquire about.

Instead they spoke of the weather and the world, he and the male. Of the plains, the mountains, the jungles, and now --

"What about the desert?" Dastell wondered. "Have you been there?" He had to admit he was impressed with vast assortment of terrain this lion had witnessed with his own two eyes. The road less traveled had this stranger's paw prints all over it, given what he was saying was true.

"Once," his company replied, shrugging his shoulders. There was nothing suspicious in his tone or his face to convince Dastell these were untruths. "It was hot. Lots of sand. Never made it far enough to see any of the prides out there."

"Such as the Firekin?" Most lions had at least heard of them when talk of the desert was had. In Dastell's opinion, they were such common knowledge it almost made his question rhetorical.

"That's right. Prides like the Firekin." The stranger frowned. If Dastell hadn't suspected some kind of personal connection already, what he said next would have sufficed to rouse his curiosity. "Terrible pride full of terrible lions. Thankful I missed them. This was back when they kept slaves, too. Before your time, I'd bet. Had a refuge wander into our neighboring pride once."

Contrary to popular belief, there was not always a time or a place to ask certain things. Curious or not, Dastell let the subject taper off into silence.

He hadn't asked the names of either this stranger or his mate; however, he knew the name of the female because the lion beside him had called for her a few times in the midst of their conversation, seeking confirmation or agreement of things he'd said. She -- Kitambi was her name -- gnawed on the zebra's carcass several feet from them.

"How long have you known her?" Dastell queried. A safe question.

The stranger's shoulders shook during his hushed fit of laughter. He grinned Dastell's way, and despite the greying fur around his muzzle, his eyes were alight as a cub's would be."Now that I'm certain was before your time. Been a long while."

Perhaps it was the roundabout way of being called old that drew the lioness' attention back to them. The topic of discussion did not leave her looking as merry as her mate. She squinted her weary eyes at them. "Are you two sure you don't want anymore?"

Dastell had enough manners (and enough of a full stomach) to politely decline. "No, thanks."

"We're all right, Kitambi," the stranger assured her. When she was (supposedly) distracted by the meal the trio had hunted together, he leaned over and nudged Dastell in the side with the sharp part of his leg. "She offers me food, but she complains about my gut when we're alone. Females, right?"

Dastell thought of his sisters and had to agree -- quietly, so as not to garner Kitambi's attention again. "True words, true words."

He didn't often pay much mind to the romantic affairs around him, but you couldn't help but notice with these two.

"Have a mate of your own you're keeping waiting?" the stranger pried.

"I don't, friend."

"Name's Mtembei."

"Dastell."

The stranger -- Mtembei, apparently -- bobbed his head up and down in acknowledgement. Learning Dastell's name seemed to prompt him to have another look at the lion in question. "Just keep on your way. You're young still and you've got time to settle."

That he did. What Dastell was short on was motivation. What reasoning was there to submit yourself to life of being henpecked? Mtembei's unsolicited advice left him feeling restless.

There was more where that came from. Mtembei offered nonchalantly, "Just be careful you don't leave litters of rogue cubs behind you."

Before Dastell could think of a way to ward off the silence that was bound to follow, Mtembei told him of his own cubs. Three of them, he said; two sons and a daughter.

"Sons are the most difficult when they're young," Mtembei explained. "They want to get into everything and start trouble. If you've got a set of brothers, you've got a long couple of seasons on your paws, because they're going to fight.

"The daughters are the ones you have to watch out for when they get older. When the males come calling... Well. I've been blessed, myself. My girl has a good head on her shoulders."

"I'm not very good with cubs," Dastell confessed. Or females, for that matter.

"Mtembei didn't miss a beat. "Me either. That doesn't stop you from finding a mate or having daughters." A grunt sounded off not far from them. Kitambi was agreeing with him again. "Lucky for me my daughter didn't get her mother's brutal honesty," he chortled.

The lioness took one final chunk of meat, then stepped away.

"Looks like she's done," Mtembei said. Some of the bones on his legs cracked when he stood, but he wasn't bothered. "Where is it you're heading, Dastell?"

Dastell joined them on all fours. "To the sea."

"Yeah?" Mtembei smiled at him. "If you decide you don't like it there, head on back over here to the Nchi. We've always got a place for you."

He truly was a warm lion. The lonely cub Dastell had once been felt a twinge of jealousy for the litter that had been raised by such a devoted, affectionate father. It was a fleeting emotion.

"Thank you," Dastell said sincerely. "And thanks for the hunt."

"If you lose your way, pray for Mwokoti," Kitambi suggested. "Goddess of the Lost. Old friend of the pride as well. She knows the way to anywhere you'd like to go. I can swear by it."

Dastell wasn't the type to linger, but he found himself watching the couple as they walked away.

Mwokoti, huh?