Despite having lectured her sister about restlessness earlier, Aribak was now the one doing the pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, under the golden gaze of her mother's falcon partner, Tala. The bird, usually good-humored and quick with witty quips, was somber and weary, nothing at all like her usual self. She had flown from the eastern oasis to the western, relaying the first news of the status there after nearly a week of tension, then back east, and now west again. Back and forth. Kotu and Adala were both alive, but her mother had been severely injured and would likely never fully recover. War and the desert were not kind to those with an impaired ability to fight, and any muharip so injured would be expected to leave, whether for other lands - if they could make it - or to die with honor. But Adala was Hatun, not a muharip, she was vital...
Ari shook her head, curling a lip in annoyance at herself. No. There was no room for sentiment now; there rarely was in the Namib. The important thing was that her mother was alive. While Adala yet breathed, the Qyrhyeshti still had a leader, although Tala continued to emphasize that her injuries were grave, injuries that, for a Muharip, would have rendered them a burden to the pride. If Adala had been a Muharip, she might have wandered into the desert to die, or else taken up the position of a Buyuk. But she was not a Muharip: she was their Hatun, and she had fought tooth and nail all her life and led them well. She would not abandon them now. Not yet. Aribak had asked after her mother's mental state, but Tala was evasive with her answers, saying only that Adala would do whatever had to be done.
But Aribak could hear the concern in her voice, see the uneasiness in her manner as the falcon did her best to avoid giving her a straight answer, and it wasn't difficult to guess that Adala was likely in as sorry a state emotionally as she was physically. Because she was badly injured, suffering from wounds she could never fully recover from, she would likely feel obligated to abide by pridal tradition and leave, which would mean leaving her mate. She had lost him once already, and for all her strength and power and experience, Ari wasn't sure how she would handle losing him again, or how he would handle losing her. It was entirely possible that, if she left, he would choose to go with her, putting love above pride in the end. Either way, a successor would need to be chosen, and soon. Split in two and without an able-bodied leader, the pride itself was crippled. Defeat - true, utter defeat - was inevitable. After generations of war, the Qyrhyeshti would be wiped from existence.
That was not how this story as supposed to end.
"We'll do whatever we have to do." That was what she'd told Nesf, and she'd meant it.
"We can't keep doing this," Aribak decided abruptly, ceasing her back and forth pacing to turn and address Tala.
"Doing what?"
"This! Back and forth, what happened, who's here, who's there, trifles back and forth and not actually doing anything! I'm tired of waiting."
"It's called 'recovering,'" Tala corrected her. "There is a difference."
"Not much of one," the small lioness snarled, "And it doesn't matter what it's called, it's going to get us killed."
The tawny falcon sighed. "Your mother has been lucid for all of a day. You cannot expect-"
"This is a war, Tala. I've had that pounded into my head all my life, and I thought I understood, but I didn't. Not really. But I do now. And we can't afford to worry about recovery or- or about-" Aribak choked on words she didn't want to say, didn't know how to say, forced them out anyway, "It's not important, how she is. How she will be. This is about survival, for all of us. She's just- she's just one lioness."
"She is your mother," Tala gasped, horrified.
"I know," Ari said, her voice pained and her gut twisting. "But you know I'm right, and she'll know I'm right, too. I'm sure she's already thinking it herself. We can't survive, split like this. Everyone in the east, they have to come west. We have to consolidate."
"So you propose they, what, walk almost six days through what's now enemy territory? They'd never survive."
"No. They'll have to go north, over the river - farther north than patrols ever go, then come west, then south to here."
"That sounds lovely and easy when you say it, but that's a long way to go. Longer, with all the injured. Some of them might not even make the trip."
Aribak flinched, knowing full well who was implied to be among that 'some.' "I know."
"And you also realize that you have no actual authority with which to issue such an order."
"I know. But m- Adala does. She can order it, and they'll do it, whatever she says. Tell her- ask her to do it. She'll know it's the right thing to do."
"Is it? I won't deny you're right about needing to get everyone in one place, but why in the west? Why not take this group east?" 'And spare your mother the journey' was unspoken but clear.
"Because the west has more strategic value. It's closer to Baj-Jer. If we concentrate here, we might have a chance at taking it one day. If we give up this oasis and go east, we're putting ourselves too far away. Getting this far west again would take time, and cost strength that we can't afford to waste. No. They have to come here."
"I know."
"You- What?"
"I know." Ari got the distinct impression that if Tala were capable of smiling, she would have. "I just wanted to see if you did."
Aribak stared, silent at last. That bloody falcon had been leading her on this whole time!
"Close your mouth, girl." Finally, the hoarse chuckle Ari hadn't heard in weeks burbled up Tala spread her wings to take flight. "Best get ready for a reunion."