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It had become a custom of Jani's to wander the Kitwana'antara's lands, nearer the border, most evenings. She was eldest in the family Mittere and Tarafa had created in love and in spirit, and it was often her voice that gave orders to the rest in family matters.

As it had in the ambush.

Kestven had been near furious with her in the aftermath. Others as well. Some had wanted desperately to have the blood of these not-so-strange-strangers upon their claws.

Yes, she was eldest. But she wasn't King - that was her nephew Maji. And she wasn't Master Warrior - that was her adopted brother Kestven. She was just...Jani. Tarafa's eldest.

"And who am I without that?" the green lioness murmured to herself.  

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The lioness' head whipped around with a speed that her mother would have considered her due at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. What she saw...Jani's jaw dropped, blue eyes wide as she considered the large - and winged! - lioness before her. No, not lioness. Goddess. She'd heard that such a being was hanging around, but not many had seen her.

Belatedly, the Huntress realized she'd been asked a question. Making an effort to calm her racing heart and keeping her claws firmly sheathed, she spoke.

"I am Jani. And what would I call you?" she dared to ask the goddess before her.  

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The goddess of Souls. That fit with what Jani had heard. And Mtima'safi was...well, somewhat ordinary of a name. It didn't sound outlandish, it wasn't pretentiously long as compared to names beyond Jani's. Frankly, if not for the other's size, wings, and sense of presence, she could have been any lioness.

Not that Jani would have taken her for anyone else, but she supposed that was part of the point.

"It's an honor to meet you," the lioness said at last. She wasn't really certain what there was to say. Sure, Souls was important to the pride, but it was worship of Pestilence that most, including Jani, adhered to. But only a fool would fail to show a Goddess respect.  

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There were long silences between responses. It felt appropriate, given the Goddess. But when Mtima'safi asked her next question, it stunned the green lioness far more than the fact of a goddess before her. She hadn't thought it would affect her so, but when Jani opened her mouth to say it was nothing, just distancing herself to think, the words would not come.

Closing her mouth, the lioness's brain raced until it latched onto an idea almost totally preposterous.

"Can you speak with the souls of the dead?" the question came out almost before Jani could think to stop it. "Because that's what I came out here for." Not to literally speak with the dead, but to speak with their memory, to figure things out on her own with their thoughts to guide her. But if she could truly speak with them...would she? Well, that depended on how the goddess answered.  

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She...she could. She really could. That was the moment that Jani believed - that she understood deep beneath her fur that Mtima'safi was truly a goddess.

The green lioness had gone very still as the realization sank in. To think that this goddess could speak with her parents, both years dead of the disease...it was almost too much and Jani pressed her eyes closed against a sudden moisture.

It was something she'd never seriously considered before. If she could speak with Mittere and Tarafa...or even just one of them...one more time...what would she say? What if there were limits, or rules? What if...

She could almost hear mother's voice in her head, berating her. Mittere would never even consider this notion unless it gained her some tactical advantage...

Blue eyes opened wide as the idea struck quick as lightning. Not a trace of tears showed as Jani considered Mtima'safi before her.

"I want to know why that pink lion wanted to kill my mother."  

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It wasn't an immediate answer, it was the sort that should make a person stop and think. And...if she was to ask any question of the dead, yes, this was what Jani most wanted to know. The question then became...how much did the goddess need to know?

"He said he was my mother's brother," the lioness answered. "And though we didn't know why, he came to kill her." Jani was silent, remembering.

"He died instead."

Now her voice was cold, hard, as sharp as her claws. Blood had been spilled and by more than one. Some would bear scars for the rest of their lives.

"What more do you need to know?" The question was sharp now, and Jani's blue eyes were cold. She was usually more gentle, like her mom. But Mittere's influence was strong when it needed to be. When she needed to be.  

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"He came as the rainy season shifted into the dry, three years ago," Jani answered. Her eyes were distant as she remembered. "He was late. Mother had died earlier that year, as the dry turned to rain." Better that she had died of the disease before they'd even had a clue about Facio.

Although...if she hadn't, maybe she would have told them about him.

But Mittere had never spoken about her life before the Kitwana'antara, so maybe not. Maybe not at all, even if she had lived.

Were Jani and her relatives at fault, for never asking about it? Mother had never brought the subject up, but they could have asked. Except, of course, that asking questions of Mittere rarely went well...which was why Jani could only ask this goddess in the end.