The native Bonelanders might not have had much of a concept of it, nor even the Qyrhyeshti, but for all intents and purposes, Khazine basically considered herself a princess. After all, had it not been for the catastrophic turn of events that had forced the Qyrhyeshti to flee the Namib, she would have one day taken her mother's place as Hatun, and doubtless led her pride to a final victory over the Burkuteshti. But fate had had other plans for Khazine bint Aribak, and it had been disease and human intervention that had finally brought an end to that war, without a winner. Instead of growing up an heir, she'd spent her youth travelling, making the long journey from her birthplace to the birthplace of her father, as they sought a safe home and position of security for their little fragment of the pride that had once been.
She and her cousins had been adolescents by the time they'd reached their destination, and in the intervening time had been prepared and taught the culture of the Ithambo'hlabathi, insomuch as Umkhombo remembered and interpreted it, after having left as a youth himself. As a result, she hadn't been subject to full-on culture shock, but it had certainly been an adjustment regardless. The Bonelands were a relatively peaceful place, especially coming from a culture where a neverending war was the norm, and compared to the gossip-loving, traditional huntresses of the Ithambo, Khazine and her extended family were basically savages, particularly the dappled lioness and her cousins. The adults of the Qyrhyeshti were mature, tempered by experience and the resulting wisdom, while Khazine and her cousins...were not. Even now, fully grown and then some, they were often rough at best; in their adolescence, they had been hellions, and had earned a reputation for hotheadedness and rash behavior. They were even prone to quarrelling with each other, no matter how close their bonds or how much of a scene they might make in the process.
But rather than change to fit themselves into the pride, they'd carved out their own place, and there were enough of them that for some time now, they had been a solid subgroup within the Bonelands, with her aunt Nesf serving as their Umama. Even that likely raised some eyebrows, as Omama were almost exclusively elevated from and by Abazingeli, but the Qyrhyeshti, once again, had made themselves an exception. Everything about their entrance had been controversial, from requesting to join en masse to having to prove themselves by eradicating a hostile hyena clan. This supposed obstacle had been met with eagerness, especially from Khazine and her cousins, clamoring for the chance to fight a real enemy, to earn their first scars and prove themselves. Now a Busisa, Khazine still wore the scars from that battle, and just as proudly, the trophy pelt that she had taken.
But that had been both their first real battle and their last. In the time since, there had been no call for them to fight. With the hyenas exterminated, they had both won their way in and deprived themselves of any further battles. The Ithambo's closest neighbors were allies, and enemies were evidently few and far between; ever since the hyenas had been eradicated, no other group had tried to muscle in. The most fighting that was done was by the Abaholi and Inselele, defending their positions from challengers. So, in no time at all, the Qyrhy had been back to having no one to test their claws on except each other (albeit usually in a friendly-ish manner). It was only once the pride had migrated north and been brought back into proximity with their redpelted neighbors that Khazine had been able to find new opponents, and it was about damn time.
She'd quickly developed a fascination with the Firekin, desert-dwelling warriors that they were, and had taken to dueling willing redpelts at the Outpost they occuppied. It had alleviated much of her boredom and restlessness, and she'd even made a friend in the form of Turiya, daughter of one of the Regents. Much like Khazine, her parentage didn't confer to her any special rank, but she carried herself and had attitude as though it did. They got along like a dry tree on fire, and took to regularly beating the absolute snot out of each other. Things had gotten convoluted, in a very typical Bonelands way, when Turiya not only became ambassador, but chose to have cubs by Khazine's own father. Anywhere else, it would have been weird or at the very least awkward, but Khazine had taken it in stride.
This set of half-siblings was the first she actually even cared much about, and truly viewed as siblings. And her friend's decision to have cubs, moreso even than her cousin Kasirga's ages ago, had made her restless, but her choices for prospective sires were slim. No one was good enough. She didn't want either of the Abaholi who were open to her, nor any of the Inselele that had come and gone. No, she had an eye for their allies to the north, their sheer size and physical power, but they were frustratingly off-limits.
Until now.
Their newest Inselelo, the one who had defeated too-pale Pahana, hailed from the desert, one of their non-redpelted rejects. While he might not be red, though, he still qualified as Firekin - at least by Khazine's standards. She didn't care what color he was, as long as he had all the other qualities she wanted. He had the build typical of the Motoujamii, and since he'd fought his way in, he was, presumably, a good fighter. That he had beaten Pahana, however, wasn't enough for her. She'd needed to fight him herself to know for sure.
Annoyingly, Sinir had actually sparred with him first, although her interest had been purely the result of boredom. Khazine had caught and baited him into a spar the next day, and the next after that. And he was good. Good enough. She had let it go for a week, but she was short on patience, and now set out to catch him alone while he was on patrol. She tried to sneak up on him, even, but it would have taken a damn inattentive male to be ambushed while actively on patrol.
When she jumped at him, he deflected her easily, shoving her away with a brusque laugh. "Back again? I was starting to think you'd given up."
"You wish!" she snorted as she regained her balance, hopping back into ready stance. "Come on! We can make it best two out of three."
"I'm a little busy," he tried to protest, but there was too much amusement in his tone for him to come off seriously.
Khazine rolled her eyes before pouncing forward to 'tag' him with a paw and bounce away again, out of reach before he could retaliate. "Patrol is boring. Come on!"
"I really-"
This time, when she bounced in close, she shoved him and then bolted, slowing only to call over her shoulder, "Are you coming or not?"
He sighed, but any hesitation was short-lived, and he broke into a loping run to try to catch up to her.
Best two out of three. Right.