Morgana had not mentioned her run in with Rizardon to anyone, not thinking too much of it after she got back to her Druids. Okay, so maybe she had thought a lot about it, but just had not wanted to share. That lion was so strange, and so kind. He had no anger or bitterness in him, and no reason to look at her with any kind of distrust. Sometimes she thought her sins were all too plainly written on her, and anyone that met her would be able to tell how awful she had been before. Getting away from all those familiar faces, though, and stepping into something new seemed to be the best thing for her. It was surprising, even scary, but it was… nice. So far, anyway. She slipped away from the little pack early, unable to wait too long into the day. They had not agreed on a time to meet.

He probably was not going to be there. Maybe he was just nice, and forgot he had even offered to meet up with her again? Maybe he just padded off humming, head high, to go keep someone else warm with that big body of fur. She blushed under her own dark fur as she remembered it, though she was smiling all the while. Okay, so maybe she was a little excited to see him again, at least to prove he was not some sort of strange figment of her imagination.

A manifestation of her loneliness, maybe.

It turned out, he was very much real, as she saw him waiting expectantly for her already. Would he have stood there all day, since they had not really said when they should meet up? And they met later in the day yesterday, so if she had assumed to go around the same time, he would have been there for ages. He smiled brightly at her, though, and she sheepishly nodded her head at him, slowing her pace and walking up to him as leisurely as she could manage.

“Good morning! I’m glad you came early! Would have been pretty boring, if you hadn’t. I forgot to think yesterday, and didn’t ask you for your name when I introduced myself! That’s not very nice of me, so I’m sorry about that. Sometimes my brain gets away from me. So uhm. What is your name?”

“I am called Morgana,” she said, hoping he had not somehow managed to hear of her, though, out here, no one seemed to know of the trouble so far away. It was almost refreshing. There was no recognition in his eyes, though he did look surprised and then happy at what she told him, and she blinked at him until he grinned and explained himself.

“That’s a very nice name! You have a nice way of talking, too. Very… uh… you know. Nice. Pretty. What’s the word?”

“Uhm. Refined?”

“That’s it!” Probably, anyway. Sometimes he did not actually know the word he was looking for, and only asked so he could actually be supplied it. He added this one to his vocabulary, nodding his head eagerly and chuckling as he swung his tail happily behind him. She found herself smiling again, relaxing in his company. “Hey, so you ready to look around? Come on, I’ll take you closer to my pride, eh? It’s nice over there.”

Morgana agreed and the two began their walk. It was longer than she had expected, but not unpleasant. He spoke to her about all sorts of things, basically anything that popped into his head, and she shared some of her own stories. Not the bad ones, nothing about the war, but some of her more recent, happier tales during her travels. It was nice to talk, to share, and she lost track of the time and the steps of their paws as they moved up the sloping hills and into the snowy mountain.

“Oh,” Morgana said, looking around the snowy, sparse trees and the thickly covered ground. The pure white was beautiful, and she looked enchanted by it. Another lion who had never been in snow before, Rizardon was sure, and he delighted in sharing his beautiful home with her. She watched as he bounded off, toward the ridge of rocks, and she hurried to follow him. It seemed like his massive paws were somehow able to walk on top of the snow, while she kept sinking in to it despite being on the dainty side. How was he able to do that?

“Look down there, that’s the valley,” Rizardon was saying, as she crawled her way up the snow bank and on to more solid footing on the rocks. She looked down into the valley, and her breath was taking away. He spotted the large puff of smoke as it curled in the air and flitted away, looking at her and smiling broadly when he saw her face. The wide eyes told him that she agreed. His home was beautiful. And so was she, he noted mildly.

“That island, in the lake, that’s your pride?” She looked at him and he nodded his head eagerly, proud. She was quickly looking back at it, unable to take it all in. She had seen a lot of things in her time, but nothing quite like this. Perhaps it was the serenity of it all that really got to her. Nothing looked like war here. She felt Rizardon leaning against her and started, jumping a bit and turning her head up at him as he looked down at her. They were almost nose and nose.

“You were shivering,” he said dumbly, voice soft. She nodded, bashfully turning her head down and away, but not moving away from him this time. He smiled at her, feeling like he had managed to accomplish something. What that was would probably don on him later. For now, he was just basking in the content, warm feeling filling him. “Come on. I’ll show you around the pride. Visitors are welcome here. I’ve got a den. I dug it myself! That’s what I do. I dig ice. Come on, I’ll show you!”

He bounded down the snow back, sliding down toward the valley. She watched him, sighed while smiling, and followed without any doubt clinging to her.


Word Count: 1,050 in Word