Brokefang VII's Den



My teeth and ambitions are bared.

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мαy тнe wolғ wαlĸ вeѕιde yoυ αɴd
ɢrαɴт yoυ reѕт ιɴ нιѕ ѕнαdow.
мαy нιѕ pαwѕ ever ɢυιde yoυr pαтн αɴd
yoυr нowlѕ вe нeαrd вy αll.

There is a mountain of some sort in the distance, and curious, you head towards it. As you come closer, you see a large pride of lion milling about. Most of the lionesses are relaxing in the shade of the tree around, and you see that there are rocks around the base of the strange mountain, presumably the dens for the pride. One young grey lioness spots you and comes over, green feathers twined in her fur.
“A visitor?” she asks, and you nod. She turns, heading back to the pride. “Come and join us for a meal, then.”
You follow her, and see that the male of the pride is busy with a mouthful of feathers. He dips his head in greeting to you, and buries the feathers, making the mountain just that little bit bigger. Only now you realise that it’s not a mountain at all. It’s the hoard of the pride, made predominantly of feathers. Peering closer, you can see a few other things. Rare items that fetch high prices, and a large amount of bones are only a few things mixed in with the vast pile of feathers.
With his mouth finally empty, the king walks over to greet you, and his tail flicks towards a much smaller pile of food. “Help yourself,” he says, and as he turns away, you notice the feathers in his mane.
It appears that you’ve found the legendary feather king, Fang.



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Feather Count: 22 953

About Wyndy

Who is Wyndy?
Uhm. I are feather queen. And giftbomber. I also come from the spiderland that I call home. I might use words that confuse you, but that's only my natural slang. ;)
I am 18 hours ahead of server time, however. Please bear that in mind when contacting me.

Bearfoxes

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Want a Bearfox?
Click Here.

Other Wyndy's

WolfWynd - LioDen Side
SilverRabbits - DeviantArt
WolfWynd - WattPad <-- Check here for my books
Wolf Wynd - ChickenSmoothie
WolfWynd - FurryPaws
WolfWind - MagiStream
SilverMare - DragCave
WolfWind - ClickCritters
WolfWynd - Goodreads
FAQ

How long have you been writing? Ten years now.
What's the longest book you've written? Longest is 111k words. Average would be 50-60k words, though.
Can I ask for advice/help? Sure, just send me a PM either here, or my side account (Here) and I'll reply as soon as I can.
Do you have a place you put your books? I do! I use wattpad, under the user WolfWynd. I only put finished books there though, so you may see me talking in chat about some book or character or plot, and not be able to find it when you check my profile.
Is Skye your actual name? Nope! That is a pen name that I use, although I do answer it, so feel free to call me that if you really wish to.
How many books have you written? I have finished 8 books, and so far am working on 11 others, with 6 more as just ideas at the moment.
OMG that's so many! How do you keep track of them all? I honestly don't have a proper answer to that. I can just keep all the plots separate in my head while I'm writing, and I often am caught writing with three books open on my laptop at once, flipping between them. I couldn't explain how I do that though.
What program do you use to write with? It's not Word! No, it's not. I use a program called Scrivener, which I bought from the LiteratureandLatte store. I love the program, and would recommend it to any other writers out there.

Pride Lore

Previous Kings and Queens, and the Pride Stories
Founding Pair: Brokefang and Nala
Second Generation: Reale and Calypso
Third Generation: Madigan and Keerva
Fourth Generation: Llwyd and Gyfrinach
Fifth Generation: Seren and Siocled
Sixth and Current Generation: Colyn and Wawr

Read from the bottom up for their whole tale. Corresponding stories in all the linked lions just there. They aren't kept as up to date at the pride stories, though. All stories are about 2 years out of date, so bear that in mind.

February 13th: The pride is content. With the hoards full, and the sun beating down on their territory, Seren has allowed the lionesses a day off from hunting, and the den site is covered in dozing lions, all sprawled under what shade they can find.
Hidden near the waterhole, Seren was happily curled with Kuro, both only half asleep in case something went wrong. For now, out of sight and earshot of the rest of the pride, they could snuggle together to their heart’s content.
After a while though, Kuro eventually stirred, shaking his thick mane as he yawned. Seren lifted his own head, his tail moving lazily. “Where are you off to?”
The big male nuzzled Seren affectionately as he got to his feet, casting a deep shadow over the little male. Seren rolled over, enjoying the new bit of shade, and Kuro gave a short rumble of laughter. “The cubs are coming,” he answered, going over to the pool to take a drink. Seren yawned, acting as if neither of them had only just been curled together when the cubs came racing over. They pounced on him, giggling when he batted at them. Since he was barely the size of an adolescent male, he was the perfect playmate for the little cubs of the pride, and often played with them. The kingfisher feathers in his nearly went flying, but one of the cubs managed to save them before they did.
“There’s a visitor!”
Seren rolled onto his tummy, stretching out his paws. “In this heat, little ones?”
Nero came over, hesitating at the sight of Kuro, the big male watching the happenings coolly. “Umm,” he said quietly, and Seren glanced up. A flick of his tail, and Kuro moved away, out of sight, and the young sub seemed to sigh a breath of relief. With the cubs trying to pounce on his tail, Seren sat, waiting for the report.
Nero hesitated again. Despite becoming a part of the pride that had adopted him, he was still nervous around most of them, preferring to patrol as much as he could to be on his own. “There’salionesscometovisit,” he blurted out quickly, the words almost running together in his haste. Seren snorted softly, batting at the cubs at his feet.
“Run along,” he said gently, and stood to go beside the younger male. “Thank you,” he said gravely, his blue eyes kind. “Rest, if you want to. There’s no need to be out in this heat.”
Nero just shook his head swiftly. “Can’t leave the pride unwatched,” he answered, but it sounded as if it was something he’d been forced to learn, and rattled off by rote. Seren twitched an ear.
“In your old home, perhaps,” he said mildly, and turned the suggestion into an order. “Rest, Nero. In the shade.”

February 8th: By now, most of the pride has observed that there is little love between their king and queen. There is affection, of course, and mutual respect, but no great love like the previous pride leaders. Instead, Siocled turns her love onto the cubs, and they all adore her. When she is not hunting, she plays with them as much as she can, allowing their mothers much needed rest, as it appears that the young queen will not be bearing any litters in the near future. Only Nerie and Siocled know what happens between Kuro and Seren, and neither of them speak of it. What their king does is his own private affair, and as long as it doesn’t affect the pride, then they are all content to let it happen.

December 20th: In much the same way of his beloved king, Fynn left the den in the early hours of the morning, not saying a goodbye to anyone. And once again, it was Nerie that saw him leave, but she didn’t speak to him. He was moving slowly, limping, and the young seer knew that his bones were hurting him again. He’d never complained though. He would have seen that as being ungrateful to the king who had taken him in, just as the younger teen had been.
He moved slowly, and Nerie watched him take the same path as his king had taken only a month before. She followed him quietly to their boundary, and he never looked back as he continued, heading for the dusty desert.
Saddened that he’d gone, Nerie just sat at the border for a long time, watching the horizon. The wind was only gentle, and his footprints stayed in the dust even after she got up and left, withdrawn a little. Even the small cubs that she usually loved to play with failed to bring her out of her mood.
Eventually, Seren came over to her, content to just lie with her until she wanted to talk to him. It was a side of his personality that his father had never had, and none of the pride had known his mother enough to know if it came from her. She’d only been in the pride for a few months, keeping to herself until she’d left.
After a long while, Nerie stirred, glancing at her king. He met her gaze squarely, his head on his paws. Resting in that position, she thought that he looked very much like a teenager, not the adult king that he was.
“Heavy thoughts, Nerie?”
Only the tip of her tail moved. “Fynn followed your father,” she finally said, and sadness moved in his eyes before he lowered his gaze.
“He was always loyal to him,” he murmured. “I’m not surprised, honestly. You saw him leave?”
She nodded. “I followed him to the boundary,” she explained in her soft voice. “He never looked back, nor did he waver. He was following the path of kings.”
“Will he join them?”
The question was quiet. Her answer was just as quiet. “I believe he will. He has a king to protect, after all.”
He nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, his nuzzled her before turning to leave. “Thank you, Nerie. The young one should know, perhaps?”
She sighed, glancing over at the young male curled in the corner of her den. He was fast asleep, exhausted from the patrol he’d gone on earlier in the day. Unwillingly, she nudged him with a paw, waking him. He woke with a start, his muscles tense until his huge eyes landed on her. Then he relaxed, and she sighed again. Even though they’d treated him well, he was still scarred from whatever had happened to him in his cubhood. He refused to talk about it though, and no one pressed him.
“Is anything wrong?” he whispered anxiously, making her smile a bit. She nuzzled him, almost as if he was her cub.
“No, not really. There is just news of Fynn.”
He swallowed. “Is he okay?”
She shrugged, her grey pelt rippling. “In a manner of speaking. He’s joined the stars now, little one. You’re the second in command now.”
He stared at her, his eyes somehow growing even larger. “I’m what? I can’t… I can’t do that. I don’t know anything!”
“You’ll learn,” she said patiently. “And Fynn taught you enough when he was here. The king and Kuro can teach you the rest. You’ll be fine.”
He pressed himself to the ground. “Will they kick me out if I don’t learn fast enough?” Fear coloured his voice.
She studied him kindly. So here was the source of some of his terror. “No. The king is patient. Kuro is not so much, but neither will hurt you, and this is your home now. Unless you want to leave?”
He shook his head almost violently, and she gentled her tone even more when she saw how much he was shaking.
“Then you don’t have to, fluff.” She brushed a paw down his mane, the reason for his nickname among the pride. It was very fluffy, much more so than the king’s, and he looked down briefly.
“You’re sure?”
“Of course I am. My mother was gifted to this pride, and the king’s mother was only here for a few months. Lions come and go, and many choose to stay. There is nothing for you to fear.” She nuzzled him one last time before heading outside, letting him think over the news in peace and quiet.

December 11th: It is a good thing that Fynn is still around to help with the pride. Seren is still learning what to do and the best way to do it, but it becoming very clear to all that he isn’t interested in the lionesses, especially his queen. That’s not to say he treats them badly, but there is none of the same degree of affection between him and Siocled that was between the previous king and queen.
As well as that, another young male, this one only an adolescent, has joined the pride. He was found on the border to the north, drenched and lying beside the fast flowing river there. Kuro was the one who found him, but rather than leaving him there as a rogue might have done, he brought the young male back to the pride, for Seren and Fynn to deal with.
He’s grey, like Llwyd was, with white speckles over his back and feet. Like the king, he has blue eyes, and to a few of the older lionesses, he is almost a reincarnation of their dead king.
As he recovered under the watchful eye of Nerie, Fynn and Seren had a hushed discussion, trying to work out what to do with the young male.
“Let him stay,” Fynn urged, but Seren didn’t understand why, and said so. The older male sighed.
“I won’t be around much longer, little king. You’ll need someone to help do the patrols, and to help teach your heir once you have one. I will teach him what I can while I’m here, but it’s not going to be long.”
“Oh.” For the first time, Seren looked at Fynn and saw his age. His mane was nearly black, while his muzzle was turning white. When he moved, it was stiffly, and Seren felt bad for making him patrol. However, the black male seemed to see that in his eyes, for he smiled slightly.
“Don’t be sorry. If I can’t do it, I will tell you. For now, it’s fine. Let the young one stay. He’ll be good for the pride to keep.”
Seren glanced at the teen, still sleeping deeply in the shade. “He had to be running from something,” he finally said. “The only way to cross that river is to swim, and no one likes doing that. It’s too dangerous.”
Fynn nodded his agreement, getting to his feet with a careful concealed groan. “I’ll go check it out, make sure nothing is wrong with the bordering pride. Could have just been a rogue chasing him out.”
Seren nodded, his tail flicking from side to side as he kept his gaze on the adolescent. “Sounds good,” he murmured, and Fynn walked off. As he did, Kuro came over, curling up near the small king. With all the lionesses busy with cubs or out hunting, they were effectively alone, and Seren took the chance to nuzzle close to the male, closing his eyes a little.
“Why did you bring him back?”
Kuro chuckled slightly, grooming the king’s mane with a gentle tongue. He rarely showed his gentle side around the females, preferring to keep distant from them. They still didn’t trust him, and he didn’t blame him. All he wanted was to be with his king, and he didn’t care what else happened.
“He wasn’t going to survive the night, little king. He would make a good king of his own pride someday. He just needed a chance.”
Seren nodded slowly, giving Kuro’s cheek one lick before getting to his feet. The young male was stirring, and Nerie had got to her feet to come over to tell him.
“He’s waking.” Her sharp eyes flickered between the two, but she said nothing, and for that, Seren was glad. He didn’t really want to be made the centre of attention for that. He got enough of that as king.
“Thank you,” he said softly, following her over to where the grey male was still lying. His eyes were full of fear as he looked around, and seeing Seren approaching, he cowered. Seren was suddenly glad that Fynn was gone, and Kuro had stayed where he was. Seren was tiny compared to those two big males, and still the teen was terrified. He let Nerie ask the questions. She was the gentlest of the lionesses, and the easiest to get along with.
“Are you hurt?”
Quickly, the teen shook his head, refusing to speak. Seren ran his eyes over he male’s body, and satisfied that he wasn’t lying, settled to lie on the ground near him, listening closely.
“Hungry?”
A pause, but another quick shake of his head. Seren growled softly in warning, only for Nerie to flick him with her tail.
“Hush,” she scolded him, and turned back to the teen. “There is food, if you want it. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. The only rule is to do what this one says, okay?” She indicated Seren with another flick of her tail, and then took a step back. As she did, one of the retired lionesses, Siarcol, came over to start washing the teen. He froze in fear, but as she continued, he began to relax, letting her mother him.
Happy with the outcome, Seren returned to his little rocky outcrop by the waterhole, where Kuro was waiting for him.

November 27th: As the moon began to rise, the king got to his feet, trying to disturb no one. Only Nerie woke, and she lifted her head to watch him leave the den before she followed him. He must have heard her, because he paused at the base of what they now called King’s Rock, and looked over his shoulder at her.
“Is anything wrong, Nerie?”
She didn’t answer straight away, studying him. It was all too clear that he was exhausted. His mane lay limp over his shoulders, and his eyes betrayed just how tired he was.
“No,” she murmured, daring to come closer. She was still only young, and wasn’t exactly sure how to act around him. But in this, she followed her instincts as her mother had taught her. “You’re leaving us.”
“Not entirely.” He didn’t question how she knew. The whole pride knew that he was going to die. “I will keep watch over you. This pride, and those who have moved away.”
She nodded, her green feathers sliding down to float on the ground. His own were gone, and she knew instinctively that he’d left them in his sleeping spot. “Seren will do well.”
“He hasn’t learned everything yet. But he will, and the pride will help him.” His eyes lifted to rest on the den behind her. “Even his friend will help. I can only hope that nothing will go wrong.”
“I will keep watch,” she promised. “There’s no need to worry.”
His dark eyes rested on her again, and affection seemed to come into them for a brief moment. “Then I can rest easy. Take care of them for me, little one, and keep an eye on the rogue.” He nuzzled her, surprising her with the rare affection, and turned away, padding off into the night. She sat where she was, watching him until he was gone, and even then, she stayed where she was until the sun came up and Seren ventured out to join her. The kingfisher feathers were in his mouth.
“Nerie?”
She turned to face him. “He died,” she said simply. “He said that you were ready.”
The little male gulped, and sat down rather hard on the ground. “He’s really gone?”
She nodded, and took the feathers from him. “Yes. Go to your queen, little king. You will need each other.” She tucked the feathers into his mane and nudged him along. When he was gone, she picked up her own feather, tucking in it back into her fur where it belonged, and glanced up at the sky, even though the stars were gone.
“Rest well,” she murmured, and padded off to join the hunting party that was getting ready to leave.

November 10th: Of course, it didn’t take Fynn long to come back to the pride with a dark brown male in tow. The brown male kept his head held low, watching the rest of the lions warily as Fynn led him straight to their king. Seren watched from the side, not daring to go near them. He liked the rogue, but he didn’t want to make the situation any worse than it already was.
Spotting him hovering around the other three males, Mel came over, and pushed him away, out of earshot. He glared at the elderly lioness, standing his ground.
“I believe you have a patrol to go on, little prince.”
He growled. “I don’t want to.”
“That doesn’t matter.” More strongly this time, she pushed him again, nearly pushing him over. “Go, now. Before your father decides to chase your friend away.”
He went still. “He’d do that?”
“If he wanted to. Depending on how he’s feeling. And if you want him to stay, go do what you’re told. Now.”
He slunk away, his tail flicking from side to side, and started on his patrol, taking one last glance over his shoulder at the rogue still lying in front of the king.

When he came back, he was happily surprised to see that the rogue was still there, but he hesitated to go near them, unsure if he would be allowed to. Depositing his findings in the food pile, he hesitated, only for Mel to come up to him again. He took a few steps back, wary, but she just batted at him with a paw.
“The king wants you,” she said shortly. “Be good, for lion’s sake.”
He ducked his head, slipping out past her and hurrying off to his father. Here pairs of eyes rested on him, and he tried not to flatten himself. He hated being the centre of attention.
Fynn moved away, looking tired, checking on the rest of the pride and making sure that everything was running smoothly while Llwyd was busy. Seren kept his gaze on his father, carefully avoiding the rogue’s brown gaze.
“You were lucky this time. Both of you.” With a soft groan, Llwyd got to his feet, shaking out his mane, and fixed his gaze on the rogue. “Don’t push your welcome,” he warned, and the rogue dipped his head. The king walked off, speaking softly to his lionesses, leaving the two younger males alone. Seren glanced at the male.
“He didn’t hurt you, Kuro?”
That earned him a low rumbling laugh. “No, little prince. Just a few warnings.”
Relief made Seren’s mane fluff up a little. “Good.” He rubbed his head against the older male’s, and stood up. “I have a patrol to do,” he continued, almost shyly.
“Go and do it then.” Kuro rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Llwyd allowing the younger male to join the pride surprised nearly everyone. Most of the pride still views the brown male with suspicion, wary of a betrayal, but so far he seems to be content to obey the wishes of the king. Only Nerie, and by extension, Siocled, are completely comfortable with Kuro. The younger lionesses find Siocled’s acceptance of the male strange, since Seren is her mate, but no one dares question them.

October 28th: Llwyd is dying. Gryffy has already gone to join the ancestors, and he is yearning to join her. But he can’t, not yet. Not until he is sure that Seren and Siocled are capable of keeping the pride strong. He’s spending the last of his days spread out in the shade of his rock, keeping watch over his pride. The cubs are the only ones to disturb him now, playing with his tail, or hiding in his mane.
The prince has grown well under the watchful eye of the pride, and when he turned two, albeit a very small two year old, Llwyd put him under the care of Fynn, who began to teach him how to patrol the edges of their territory. The big black male dwarfed the little prince, but he was a gentle giant with stores of wisdom from his years as second in command to Llwyd. And slowly, the fun-loving prince began to look at running the pride seriously, understanding just how much work went into keeping his family safe.
Eventually, Fynn allowed Seren to go out alone for longer and longer times, until he was trusted enough to be out all day. It was on one such day that he met Kuro, a dark brown male lurking at the edges of the territory. Surprisingly enough, the two struck up a friendship. Arriving back at the den, Seren cautiously went to his father, only to find that Fynn was already talking to him quietly.
“My king,” he said quietly. “There is a male lurking around the edges to the north.”
“A rogue?” With a gentle flick of his tail, the king sent the cubs away, out of earshot.
“I don’t know for sure. Do you want me to see what I can find out?”
Nervous now, Seren didn’t move from his spot, hidden by the shadow of his father’s rock shelter. Llwyd took his time answering, and even though he was old, he had seen Seren’s movement. He knew the young male was there.
“Yes, see what you can find. Don’t take Seren with you. He needs to learn how not to eavesdrop.”
The sharp blue eyes rested on his son, and Seren emerged from the shadows, his head hanging low in shame.
“Eavesdropping, young one?”
Seren crouched, unsure what to say. Fynn just grunted quietly. “I’ll go now. Leave you to it.” The darker male padded off, still impressive even for his age, and Llwyd studied the prince.
“And what have you to say for yourself?”
Seren hesitated, and Llwyd shook his head, getting stiffly to his feet.
“Come.”
He followed his father with head hanging, knowing that the whole pride could see him and knew that he was in disgrace. It was a particular habit of Llwyd, and one that worked rather well. Seren rarely displeased him now.
Finally out of sight of the curious pride’s eyes, Llwyd stopped, letting the brass coloured male sit in front of him.
“Did you know of the rogue?”
“Yes,” Seren muttered, unable to meet his father’s eyes. He didn’t want to see the disappointment in them.
“And you didn’t tell me?” Still, the king’s voice was level and calm, but Seren almost wished to be yelled at. He didn’t like it when Llwyd spoke like this.
“I was going to!” he protested, and quailed under the stern gaze. “I was…”
“When?”
“I was coming to tell you now…” He trailed off, pressing his body close to the ground. His father was so much bigger than him, it scared him sometimes.
“When did you meet with him?”
Seren couldn’t answer that. He was afraid of what would happen. Llwyd sighed and lay down, easing his old bones.
“Seren, you are going to be king,” he said, softening his voice. “And then you can do what you want with the rogues. But until then, you must tell me.”
“But he’s nice,” Seren protested. “He said he didn’t want to hurt the pride!”
“That doesn’t change the fact he is still a rogue. Fynn will find out what his intentions are.” Getting to his feet again, Llwyd turned to go, only to stop at Seren’s panicked question.
“He’ll hurt him?”
“If he has to.” It was clear by the tone of voice that his father would be answering no more questions, and Seren sighed, closing his eyes in despair. He didn’t know what to do now.

October 6th: It’s clear to all that Gyfrinach and Llwyd are nearing their end. Although the king is younger than his queen, it’s obvious that he is past his prime. Gryffy herself has gone white in her old age, looking more like a ghost than ever. She’s still leading the hunts though, drifting over the savannah as if she’s already gone and her ghost is staying with her pride. It’s a rumour that has gone through the pride in whispers, and no one is really sure if it’s true or not. After all, the queen rarely allows contact with anyone but her mate.
Surprisingly, though, a lioness by the name of Neredeth doesn’t question the rumour. She was a gift from an old friend of Llwyd’s grandfather, and seems to have a gift of some sort, almost like Gryffy’s mother, Keerva. In recognition of that, Llwyd’s allowed her to sharpen her skills, gifting her with a token of green feathers to symbolise her link with the Otherworld. Her gift hasn’t surprised any of the pride, if they’re honest. She comes from a long line, longer than most of her pride-mates, but despite that, and her gift, she continues to act like the newcomer she was so very long ago, even though she’s now an elder of the pride. Everyone has come to rely on her for insights into the future as she’s grown older, and with the birth of her last cub, a beautiful girl with a pale coca coat and the same markings as her mother, Neredeth has at last retired from the hunt.
The morning of the cub’s birth was cold and clear, the sky barely lit. The sun had only just peeked over the horizon when the quiet mewlings of a newborn cub broke the stillness. After a long silence, the sound of huge paws on the ground came next, as the king got to his feet and padded over to the old lioness’ den. His queen was right beside him, silent in the early morning.
The brown lioness barely looked up when they entered, although they stayed at the entrance cautiously. She was busy washing her cub, quietly confident that she would be staying. It was a girl, after all, and striking even with her gentle markings.
Llwyd’s thick mane blocked some of the light as he lowered it to sniff the cub. “Healthy?”
“Yes,” Neredeth answered, glancing up at him. He nodded, satisfied, and turned, walking out of the den. Gryffy stayed though, settling herself in a small corner. Neredeth returned to her cub’s bath, waiting patiently for the old lioness to speak.
And at last, she did, keeping her eyes on the little cub. “You will train her in your footsteps?”
“If she has the gift, I will.” Neredeth looked up at her old friend. “You’re scared to leave the king,” she murmured.
With a sigh, the aging queen lowered her head to her paws. “Yes,” she said simply. “He is very different to his father, but I fear what he will do when I am gone.”
“You don’t believe there is the same love between you?”
“No. Not as strong. But I don’t want to leave him.”
Gently, the dark lioness nuzzled her queen. “He won’t be far behind you,” she murmured, her eyes growing vacant. “You won’t leave him for long, dear queen. There is nothing to be worried about. I can see that.”
Relief shone in the quiet queen’s eyes, and she rose unsteadily to her feet, nudging Neredeth affectionately. “Thank you,” she murmured, and dipped her head to the cub. “She will follow your pawsteps,” she said quietly, but with certainty, and padded out of the den, leaving the dark lioness staring thoughtfully after her
A soft breeze swept through the den, ruffling the green feathers scattered around on the ground. The thoughtful gaze shifted to them, and to the single feather that came to rest on her cub’s paw, staying there.

August 1st: It wasn’t long after the floods and drought ended that an heir to both Gyfrinach and Llwyd was born. Born to the sister pride’s Verbrannt, the little male has very few markings, but is still a striking boy to look. Like his father and grandfather before him, he looks at the world through blue eyes, showing the king’s line very clearly.
But a mere five months after he was born, tragedy struck. His mother went to the king, clearly upset, unable to meet the wise eyes for very long.
“King,” she murmured, visibly nervous. She could barely sit still in front of him.
He studied her, and spoke gently. “What is it, Verbrannt? How can the pride help you?”
She hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at her son, playing with a twig. “I… I can’t feed him any longer,” she whispered. Everyone knew how important the brass pelted cub was. He was, after all, the next in line.
Llwyd sighed, following the flame coloured lioness’ gaze. Seren was a lively cub, showing promise to lead the pride. “There is nothing we can do to help?”
Sadly, she shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Luckily, Gyfrinach came over, her own young daughter nowhere to be seen. Llwyd gave her a quick nuzzle. “Siocled?”
“Asleep,” she answered quickly. She looked at Verbrannt, sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear about the situation,” she said quietly. “But I think I have a solution.”
A light shone in the younger female’s eyes. “Really?”
The gentle cream lioness nodded, leaning slightly against her mate. It was clear to all that she was growing old, even though she tried to hide the pain she was so clearly in. “Come. This should be discussed in private.”
They joined her on the outskirts of the den area, and the big male lay down on the grass, waiting patiently. His mate, curled her tail around her feet as she sat, thinking through what she was going to say. Verbrannt said nothing. Her birth pride was Mystery’s pride, and Llwyd knew that the older male had very little to do with the lionesses. The heir that was in training seemed to be of a different mind, though.
Finally, the old queen spoke quietly, glancing at her mate as she did. “The princess is still nursing,” she explained. “I can nurse the prince. It will be no trouble to me.”
Verbrannt didn’t seem to know what to say. She blinked at Gryffy. “Are… are you s-sure?”
“Of course. It will be good for the cubs, as well. They’ll learn to form a close bond.”
So it was decided. With Verbrannt’s agreement, Gyfrinach fostered the little male, allowing the younger lioness to return to her home pride, and Llwyd still had his heir. All was well.

July 9th: Llwyd’s first cub has been born, a tiny girl with the colouring of her father. She’s a sweet cub, preferring to play with the birds and butterflies than pestering the lionesses, and her parents are proud of her. She’s been named Newid, a name that means “change”, for that’s what she will bring to the pride.
When she was born, Llwyd stayed close to the den, making sure that his queen was still alright, and when he was permitted to see her, the cub quickly snuggled in the thick grey mane, becoming hard to see in the dim light.
The queen only chuckled, grooming her mate tenderly. “She’s a sweet cub,” she said quietly. “Different to the rest of the pride. It’s strange.”
Llwyd didn’t move, not wanting to disturb them. “I’m sure she will grow up just fine.”
“Of course she will.” Exhausted from the birth, Gyfrinach closed her eyes, curled trustingly in the company of her mate. She knew that nothing would happen to her, or her cub, while he was around.

July 6th: The queen, Gryffy, is at last pregnant, and the cubs are none other than Llwyd’s, his first litter within the pride. It is a cause of great celebration, but even amongst it, the king stays apart, preferring to watch from the shade of a great rock that the floods deposited near their den. It had quickly been claimed by him and his mate, and it was rare that any of the pride took the spot without being invited. Late that night, when most of the others were asleep, Gryffy found her king sitting on top of the rock, staring up at the stars, and joined him there.
“You left us early,” she said softly, settling down next to him. He didn’t answer for a long while, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She just waited in silence, content to just be there with him.
“I wanted to look at the stars,” he finally said, and she knew the meaning behind his words. He often watched the stars, hoping that somehow his father would come down to guide him.
She sighed, and got to her feet carefully. She was soon to birth, and most movements tired her now. “Llwyd,” she said gently, and he turned his eyes onto her.
“I know.”
She nuzzled him, thankful that she didn’t have to break the news to him. They both knew well that his father wasn’t likely to visit again.

July 1st: Once again, the gods have decided to grace the plains with their presence, even if it is only the strange god Apedemak. From the small glimpses that the young adols have seen of him, they’ve given him a nickname, one that the lionesses are not sure they want to scold them over. Within the pride, the strange star-dusted male is known to all as Appie, and the cubs all love to giggle over it.
But with the self-proclaimed god have come gifts from the sky, gifts of glittering rocks, and flashing fireflies. With delight, the cubs chase after the shining bugs, while the older adols dig for the shards, both collectibles hoarded to give to Appie in exchange for rare lionesses and little friends.

June 30th: The season of much rain has come, and the whole pride is in hysterics over their king’s reaction. Even in the small rains that barely wet the ground, Llwyd keeps to his den, and it is only with the month of flooding that the reason for his hiding is made clear.
He doesn’t like getting his feet wet.
The extents that he goes to to avoid the water ensures that there is constant amusement threading through the pride, and his latest idea has meant that the king knows how to climb trees. When the cubs saw him there, they demanded to be taught, much to the lioness’ despair. Now there were even more ways for the cubs to cause mischief, and stay out of sight.
But despite all that, the flood season is a good time for the pride. Prey is found as often in the waters as it is hunting, and no one has had to go hungry. Gryffy, the quiet queen, is close to having her first litter of cubs, cubs who will join the bloodlines of the kings and queens, yet none of them will be crowned themselves.

May 9th: The month of arena battles have come to the pridelands, and like other kings, Llwyd goes to prove his worth. But to enter, he must have small token, known as Arena Tokens, and for them, he must challenge the other kings around. One such king is Satin, who rarely fails to give Llwyd a token in defeat.
In return, Satin challenges Llwyd, only to lose there as well. Only occasionally will the king let the other win, as a kindness, to make sure that he doesn’t become too down-spirited at his continual losses.
The fluffy, pink king is a constant source of amusement in the pride, and all gather round whenever he turns up, hoping that this time he will win fair and square. But Llwyd has grown strong over the cool autumn months, and refuses to back down.
After one such challenge, leaving the pink king cowering at the younger king’s feet, Gyfrinach came up to her king, nuzzling him. “You are strong,” she murmured.
Llwyd only snorted, nudging at his challenger, pushing him over to the high pile of carcasses leftover from the pride’s feeding. “Not that strong,” he answered her. “There are other kings I cannot hope to defeat.”
Her tail twined with his as she rubbed her sleek body against him. “Sglein will be having his cubs. Did I hear right?”
He licked her cheek. “You are far too clever for me, my queen. Yes.” He glanced over his shoulder at the female who was almost a clone of his predecessor. She was growing old, waiting for her king to decide on her last litter before she joined the ranks of those living in the stars. “If she is willing.”
“You know that we will do anything you ask of us.”
“I know.” He nuzzled her again, keeping a close eye on the pink king. “That is why I won’t push her. She will be the one to choose.” Deciding that the pink king had been around their den long enough, Llwyd snarled, chasing him away, his queen close behind him, a snarl on her muzzle as well. They were fiercely protective of the pride now. Many lionesses had left, searching for prides of their own, and while Llwyd was a fair and just king, they wished to see something new of the world, something more than the pride they had been born into.
But what this meant was that very few of them were left. And while it also meant that there was less need for hunting, there had been fewer and fewer litters. Colomen was the only teenager in the pride, while Glas’ cub, her last cub, was alone in her young age.
With a sigh, the grey king sprawled out in the sun, irresistible to the young cub, who climbed all over him, her sharp claws pricking his skin. He only closed his eyes, his tail flicking ever so slowly and calmly, letting her do what she wanted while he waited for the next challenger.
The newest challenger is very different to Satin in looks, being dark red with splatters of white over him. Known as Paine, he is usually kind to Llwyd and the pride, but nonetheless has continually bowed to the king, giving up his tokens as he is defeated. He too is a source of entertainment to the pride, and when both turn up at the same time, the amusement is clear to see in the eyes and bearings of the lionesses and cubs. Llwyd doesn’t scold them for it, content to let them have their fun – for he too is amused.

April 10th: The death of any pride member is hard, but the death of Niwlog has hit harder than most. She was the last true link to the old pride, to Madigan when he was in his prime. In addition to that, she was Llwyd's mother, the last living tie other than the king to Reale, and the first king of the pride. With her gone, only Llwyd is left as the link, just as Gyfrinach is the last link to the queens. They have the duty of continuing the line, as their forefathers and foremothers have done before them.
Niwlog was buried with the rest of the ancestors, and the night was held in silent vigil, the pride mourning her, and the lions that had gone before her.
Their numbers, once big, were small now, as Llwyd refused to bring new blood into the pride, preferring to let his lionesses breed to outside males. The cubs are few and far between, and much loved, allowed to grow and play among the lionesses, even getting Fynn to play with them.
The young male has grown stronger now, recovering from his trials, and seems content to stay with the pride for now. There is not a mean bone in his body, and while he will never - can never - be king of this pride, he is welcome.

March 20th: The moon is full, and as always, the pride gathers in the largest den, making a circle in front of their eldest denmate, Huddygl. For as long as the pride has been stable and thriving, the night of the full moon has been the night for tales, of legends and stories of the past.
For the newest member of the pride, a young male named Fynn, this is a new experience. Not much of his cubhood is known to the pride. He has only been with them a few days, having appeared at the edge of their territory bruised and battered, his mane tattered, and covered in dust. So far, he has refused to speak of why he was wandering alone, still only an adolescent, and no one has pushed him.
The pride likes him – it is clear that he enjoys being with the cubs, and the lionesses are pleased to have some time to themselves now. Llwyd, for now, has taken the young male in almost like an heir, although everyone knows that it would never happen. Llwyd is still young, having only just taken on the throne, and he will need a son of his own blood to carry on the line.
But for now, Fynn is welcome to the pride, and as Huddygl speaks, her pale pelt shining in the bright moonlight, they can all see the wonder in the young male’s eyes.
The lioness’ strong voice brings the tale to life, but almost immediately, a sudden shiver goes through every lion, and she stops.
Concerned, hoping that it wasn’t a rival male, Llwyd got to his feet, heading for the entrance. Gyfrinach was close at his shoulder, the two young greys ghostly in the moonlight. What they saw rendered them speechless.
Standing before them, ethereal and shimmering, not quite touching the savannah, were the kings and queens of their past. The first, their founder, the golden male who had given their pride the name of Brokefang, his broken right fang visible even in the moonlight, was there with his mate, the plain-looking, but loyal lioness called Nala.
Beside them were Calypso and her mate, the second of the line. The one who had once been called Reale, before taking on the name of his father. He was paler than the rest, a slight shimmer over his coat, and he was standing close enough to his queen to be pressing against her. Everyone had known of the fierce love between them.
And there, standing next to his adopted king, and in front of his son, was the third king. Madigan, with his beloved Keerva beside him. Twined around the mysterious lioness, as he’d been in life, was the white snake, Neidr. He’d followed her even through the sky.
Llwyd was trembling, unable to take his eyes off his father. Gyfrinach was the one who moved, pushing past to greet the ancestors with a respectful dip of her head.
“You are all welcome,” she said softly, her tail flicking to keep the rest of the pride quiet behind them.
Approval shone in Madi’s eyes, but he didn’t speak. Instead, Brokefang did, stepping forward with his thick golden mane rippling in a non-existent wind. He spoke, his voice deeper than any the young lions had heard before.
“Will you let us join your moon-night?”
Llwyd blinked, confused by the strange term. Beside him, his queen seemed equally as puzzled, and amusement flashed through Madigan’s eyes.
“The storytelling,” he explained, his voice the same as it had been in life. Beside him, Keerva shifted her shoulders, settling the snake more comfortably on her back and neck.
Understanding, Llwyd nodded, stepping aside and turning back to his pride. In a soft voice, and as little words as possible, he explained to them, and led them outside. They would not be telling stories in the den this night.
As he’d spoken, their ancestors had broken apart from each other, staying in their pairs. Brokefang and Nala had moved to a small den, no longer used, and the grey male realised in awe that it had once been their home den, when the pride had been no more than five huntresses. Reale and Calypso were at the den’s entrance, partially hidden by the shadow, their eyes glinting whenever they moved, and Madigan and Keerva had returned, once again, to the tree above the den, curled there as if they had never left.
The cubs were speechless with awe and shock, their mothers whispering to them to keep quiet, so that the ancestors would be proud of them. But all stopped dead, even Huddygl, when they saw the founders. They had all only ever heard of them in stories, and knew that their noble blood ran thick and strong through the veins of their young rulers.
The night of tales began hushed and respectful, but it was only when Brokefang himself earned the irritation of his mate that the rest of the pride relaxed enough to enjoy it. After all, it wasn’t often that the ghosts of the past came down to visit.

March 18th: The decision about the little boycub was abruptly solved. Sometime during the night, he stopped breathing, and died, a peaceful death, but heartbreaking for his mother and the pride nonetheless. He was buried with the others of the pride who had gone before him in the pridegrounds, and Neredeth was allowed to take the day apart, not joining in the hunting or care of the cubs. Her remaining cub stayed close to her mother, confused about the loss of her brother.
That evening, Gyfrinach went to find the other lioness, sitting in front of her. It was a few moments before the grieving lioness acknowledged her queen, but Gryffy didn’t mind. She was content to wait.
“Neredeth,” she finally said, softly. “It is a loss for the pride. I am sorry.”
Neredeth only shook her head slightly, nuzzling her little cub closer.
The young queen rubbed her cheek over the other lioness, trying to comfort. “We will remember him,” she assured her. “And remember that you do not grieve alone. We are all with you. Don’t forget that.”
Still silent, Neredeth only nodded, pressing her head against her queen’s side as she left. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to do now, but she knew that her daughter would be cherished all her life. The pride knew nothing else but that. Their cubs had always been cherished.

March 10th: The pride had a surprise today. A litter of cubs was born, to the young lioness Neredeth. Understandably, for the cubs were certainly not Llwyd’s, she was very protective of them, snarling at any who came near her. Finally, the king himself came to see her, refusing to let anyone else in with them.
He stood at the entrance to her corner of the den, looking down on her with quiet blue eyes. “Neredeth?”
She flinched at his voice, curling around her cubs, but she didn’t snarl at him. She was only new to the pride – she hadn’t known Madigan that long or well, and she knew her new king even less.
He stepped closer to her, his gaze falling on her cubs. There were two of them, both the colour of their father and mother. One had white splashed over its feet and belly, the other didn’t.
“My-my-my king.”
He shook his head, stopping the lioness’ stammering, and crouched down near her, studying the cubs closely. Now, he could see that the white marked one was a female, which sent relief surging through him.
“They are his?” His words were gentle. He knew that she was wary of him. As well as being her first litter, they weren’t his cubs.
She nodded slowly, drawing her cubs closer to her to comfort them.
He didn’t speak again for a while, thinking. Then, he sighed, knowing that he would have to tell her.
“Neredeth, the male won’t live.”
Panic flared in her eyes, and her muscles tightened. “What do you mean?”
He searched for words to soften the blow. He didn’t really know how to explain it himself. He’d only ever heard about it during their nights of storytelling.
“It’s a legend of the pride,” he finally said, hoping to explain. “No male has survived past adolescence unless they’re of the first king’s bloodline.”
Horror flashed through her eyes this time. “They were killed?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He shrugged, his mane rippling over his shoulders. “If Keerva was here, she’d be able to explain better. The male before me died when Gryffy was born. Ensem’s brother. He’s buried in the pridegrounds.”
The dark brown lioness lowered her head to nuzzle her cubs. “But they are the old king’s,” she whispered. “Is that not the king’s line?”
Regretfully, he shook his head, settling to lie where he was crouching, making himself more comfortable. “No. My father wasn’t of the first king’s blood. He was chosen by Reale because there was no one else. None of his lionesses gave him an heir.”
“Then you are not …?” She frowned, confused, but he shook his head again.
“My mother,” he said simply. “Her father was Reale.”
“Who is she?”
“Niwlog.” He turned his head to glance out of the entrance to the den. “She’s grey, like me.”
With a final sigh, Neredeth, let her head drop. “So what will you do with him?”
He swallowed. “I can take him now,” he said quietly. “Before you grow attached. Or I can let him live, possibly in pain, until he is taken from us.”
She shivered at his words, and he watched as she closed her eyes. “I do not know. I cannot choose now.”
He rose to his feet, turning to leave. His tail brushed over her as he moved, lingering on the female. “I can’t let you have long to decide, Neredeth. If you wish me to take him, it must be before you form a close bond. It would be too hard on you otherwise.”
He left before she could answer him.

March 9th: They buried Madigan with Keerva, as they knew he had wanted to be. Gyfrinach had gone after her pride-brother that afternoon, following his scent until she found him curled under a pile of rocks, covered in dirt. Around him was evidence of his grief – slashes in the rocks and ground, small bushes completely uprooted. For a moment, she thought that their king had returned from the dead, grieving all over again for his queen.
Then she looked, and saw the differences, the smaller figure of Llwyd, and the dirt covering him. Nothing had changed.
“Llwyd,” she said gently, walking towards him. He refused to move.
She sighed, and settled beside him, not quite letting herself touch him yet. In silence, she waited, knowing that he would speak to her when he was ready. She understood. After all, the king had been his true father, not the father figure like he’d been to her.
“Why?” he finally asked, miserable, and lifted his head to meet her gaze. His blue eyes, so like his father’s, were full of grief and fear. “Why did he go there? Surely he would have scented them?”
She inched closer, laying her tail over him, and groomed his mane tenderly. “I don’t know,” she answered. “I don’t know why he went, or why he didn’t flee. But he’s not in pain anymore, Llwyd. And he’s with my mother. He’s happy now.”
He shook his head, denying it even as his body was racked with grief. He leant into her, burying his face in her side, and she curled around him, comforting him as best she could. She hummed deep in her throat, almost like a mother would to her cubs, continuing to groom him, never ceasing.
They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, just sharing their grief. At last, the young lioness moved, nuzzling her mate.
“We are stronger together,” she said softly. “Don’t give up on us.”
His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them as he looked at her, and she found that she couldn’t look away. The world seemed to tilt, only for a second, before it returned to normal, and she took a deep breath. She didn’t know what had just happened to her.
He finally blinked, breaking the hold over her, and turned his face away from her. She nuzzled closer to him, her heart heavy. But she knew what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do now.
“Llwyd,” she whispered. The name sent a thrill through her, from now on, she would be the only one to call him that. He ignored her for a moment, and then looked at her again. She touched her nose to his gently.
“I have something for you,” she said softly. “If you want it now.”
His mane fell into his eyes, hiding the expression in them for a moment. “What?”
Slowly, she moved her paws, uncovering what she had been hiding from him. He looked down, and his whole body went still, so still that she had to reach out and touch to him make sure that he was still with her. Perhaps it had been too soon. It was too late to hide it now.
The kingfisher feathers, battered and covered in blood, lay on the dusty ground between them, the long revered sign of the king.
She didn’t know what to say, how to make him feel better. “Llwyd?” she whispered.
He didn’t answer, extending a paw to draw the feathers closer to him, turning them over to hide the bloodstains.
“Can you, Gryffy?”
She nodded, and reached out to tuck the feathers carefully in his mane. She knew that they were old, had once been their founder’s feathers, and the whole pride knew what they meant.
He carried the blood of all the kings before him, just as she carried the blood of all the queens. They were just what Keerva had foretold. A king of the first king, and a queen of the first queen. They were the ones to lead the pride to greatness.

March 8th: The King is dead.
He was found by Llwyd, on one of his patrols, not far from the den, near the small pond that he and Keerva used to disappear off together. He was lying by the pool, his front paws in the water, as if he’d been trying to see his queen, his love.
What confused the young male was the amount of flattened grass around the huge male. It was almost as if he’d been in a fight. But no male had ever dared to challenge Madigan, for he had been strong and smart. He’d rarely lost a fight.
Llwyd didn’t understand what had happened. The scent of blood was all around the pond, hanging heavily in the air. He could almost see it.
Fear thrummed through him as he crept closer, placing his paws silently on the flattened ground, as if making too loud a noise would wake the king. The scent of blood and death grew stronger the closer he got, and soon he couldn’t bear it. Frightened, he fled back to the den, to his pride.
Seeking out Dahlia, he found her in the shade, watching over the cubs as their mothers hunted. At his hurried approach, she lifted her head, looking at him curiously.
“What’s got your mane tangled?”
About to blurt out what he’d seen, he realised that the cubs were staring up at him curiously, and held his tongue. “It’s not for the cubs,” he said instead, and nosed them away. “Find Gryffy,” he told them gently. “She’ll play with you.”
At the sound of Gyfrinach’s nickname, the cubs scrambled off, mewling with excitement, and Dahlia chuckled with amusement.
“She will be irritated with you, young prince.”
He ducked his head, not contrite in the slightest. “They couldn’t hear this,” he said quietly, and her humour vanished.
“What have you found?”
He swallowed, shaking his mane. “Come see,” he whispered. She stared at him for a long time, and then stiffly got to her feet. She was the oldest in the pride now that her denmates had gone, and was nearly ready to join them. He could only hope that what he was going to show her wouldn’t speed her on her way.
Before she moved to follow him, she cast her still sharp eyes over the cubs, making sure that another lioness was watching over them. When she was satisfied, she followed the young prince, back to the small, secluded pond.
What she saw shocked her, and she stopped dead. He crept closer to her, not allowing himself to look at his once mighty king. He didn’t want to see him, looking small and lifeless.
“Dahlia?” he whispered, tentative.
She shook her head, her eyes filled with grief, and stepped carefully forward, moving around to the other side of the lion’s body.
“This was how you found him?” Her voice was husky, almost too low to hear.
He nodded. “I haven’t touched him. I didn’t want to disturb him.”
She dropped her head, sniffing at the brown male’s blood soaked pelt. “He died bravely,” she murmured.
He stared at her. “What?” His legs stiff, he walked to join her. “What do you mean?”
She licked at the king’s side, cleaning blood off the fur. “Look,” she said in response, and he did.
He recoiled at what he saw, unable to believe it. “No,” he breathed. “It can’t …”
She nuzzled his grey fur. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “But he protected us to his dying breath. You will do him proud.”
He shook his head, backing away. “No. No, I can’t do this. I’m not ready for it. Please, Dahlia.” He was pleading with her. “I can’t.”
She turned away from him, continuing to clean the dead king’s pelt. “You must,” she said gently. “Would you leave the pride without a king?”
He shuddered, his claws digging into the ground. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his king, couldn’t get the image of the bullet holes out of his mind. “No,” he whispered again. He turned and ran, away from the dens, away from the place of death. He had to be alone.

March 4th: Madigan is more white than brown now, giving the appearance of eternally covered in the snuh that was briefly around a few months ago. His joints are even stiffer, meaning that he rarely leaves the shaded around the dens.
But he is still alive, still lending his wisdom to the pride. And in this time of poachers and fear, that wisdom is needed. It is only because of him that the pride understands what is happening. There are more two-leggers than ever, leaving mutilated corpses in their wakes that the pride struggles to keep from the cubs. They are too young, too innocent to see the slaughter.
And Madigan only knows because it has happened before. Under the rule of Reale, the poachers had come last year, the same month. And the pride had survived. From that month, Madi had learned all he could about them, for it was only halfway through the month that Reale had died.
The cubs were hidden, and the last cubs of Madigan were conceived. With a few lionesses carrying their last litters, no one but the king and his chosen knew who was carrying his cubs, and they would not tell. With Madi growing old, it was clear that they would be born after his death, and only then would they know. Only then would the bloodline of the brown king be carried on.

March 3rd: Thankfully for Llywd, the negotiations between Nkanyezi, his mentor Iklwa, and Madi went well, and an alliance was formed. The young lioness Musara was chosen to join the pride, for she seemed eager to leave and find new lands. Madigan, his eyes still sharp, had noticed her shy glances at the young king to be, and sent her on her way, knowing that she would be content, at least. For now, there is no exchange of gifts, but because of the growing friendship between the two young heirs, there is none needed.
“My King?”
He lifted his head, sighing gently as he took in the features of his oldest lioness. “What can I do for you?”
“Nothing,” she said simply, padding forward to lie before him. “You do so much for us. What can I do for you, my king?”
Slowly, he began to groom her, his tongue still gentle. “There is nothing now,” he said quietly. “The boy is growing well. The pride will be strong under him.”
“You are leaving us soon, then?”
“I must.” He sighed again, closing his eyes as weariness washed over him. “She is calling for me, Aurora.”
“Then go.” She nosed him, her amber eyes understanding. “No one will blame you. You have done so much for us.”
“Not yet. There is not long before he has learned enough. But he is not quite ready yet.”
“Are you sure? He seems ready.” Concern filled her eyes, and she began to groom him cautiously, smoothing the tangles out of his thick mane.
He snorted softly with amusement. “He is only young. I doubt anyone is ready to take the throne, no matter how old they are.” He got to his feet, shaking his mane and stretching. For a brief moment, he looked as he had in his youth, dark and shining, the young and strong prince of the pride. Then the image was gone, and he was the wise elder once more.
“Go with your pride, Aurora. There is not much time left for either of us. Treasure it while you can.”
She nodded, dipping her head to him, and left him, still standing in the shade.

December 2nd: Though the grief and pain is no longer as clear in the old king’s eyes, he still takes a side role in leading the pride. Llwyd has in essence taken over, still looking for guidance, which is given by all of his elders. The young lioness Musara has left the pride, to go as a peace gift to the pride of Nkanyezi, only a little younger than Llwyd. In this way, an alliance will hopefully be forged between the two prides, to strengthen their positions in the lands, and to help through the tough times.
The two young lions had met during patrolling, and forged a strong friendship. To begin with, they tried to keep it a secret, unsure if their respective kings would approve. Unfortunately, this wasn’t to be.
“And where have you been?”
The low rumble startled Llwyd, and he spun in the dust to stare into the wise eyes of his father. Unsure, he crouched low to the ground.
“Uhh…patrolling?”
“All day.” The disappointment was clear in Madigan’s voice, and Llwyd crouched lower, confused. Before he could speak again, the king flicked his tail, walking to the small stream that ran past their den. It was out of earshot and out of sight of the rest of the pride.
Unsure what he had done wrong, the young male followed, his ears and head lowered. When the King stopped, Llwyd dropped to the ground, watching cautiously. He didn’t understand.
“Where were you?”
The heir couldn’t look at his father, too ashamed. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
With a sigh that sounded suspiciously like a groan, the huge old king settled on the ground, watching his son. “I’m sure you are,” he said dryly. “You were out all day, with only a feather and a skull to show your efforts. What else were you doing?”
Llwyd didn’t know what to say, and kept silent, his eyes on the dusty ground between them. “I…uhhh…”
“Stop stalling. I can smell him on you. Who were you with?”
Caught now, the male had to answer. “He’s an heir, too.”
“That tells me nothing.”
The words tumbled out of the lion’s mouth, unable to be stopped. “It was at the border, maybe a week ago. He was patrolling too. He seems like a nice lion. He said that he’s in training. His pride was all killed when the rabies came around. There’s only four of them, and his old mentor left. He said he wanted to make an alliance with us, if we were willing.”
“And when was this?”
Llwyd paused, hesitation entering his eyes again. “Um. Last week?”
With a sigh, Madigan heaved himself to his feet, shaking his head. “Tell your new found friend to come to us. Negotiations will have to be discussed. A gift determined. Not everything can be trusted on words alone, youngster. Keep that in mind.”
Llwyd nodded, grateful. “Now?” he ventured.
“Yes, since you’re so eager to patrol.” The King’s voice was dry, and the young male ducked his head, embarrassed. “At least bring back a carcass this time. The store is running low.”
“Of course.” Deciding that escape would be the best option now, the grey lion almost fled.

November 9th: Madi has, in essence, retired from the pride. He takes no interest in the proceedings, instead preferring to stay in the shade of the huge old tree above his den. He has allowed Llwyd to tentatively begin ruling, knowing deep down that it is for the best. The young male needs to make mistakes while he is still around. It is the only thing keeping the King from joining his beloved Keerva.
“Dad?”
The King lifted his massive head, his muzzle silvery white from old age, to look at his heir. Despite his age, his blue eyes, inherited by the cub, were still bright and sharp with intelligence. “What is it?’ he asked wearily. He was tired of living.
The grey male sighed, and ventured to sit in front of his father. “Will you join us for the tales?” he asked cautiously. Madigan had not joined the pride for the ritual since Keerva had gone. She had been the chief storyteller, the one who had captured everyone’s imaginations with her tales and legends.
For a long moment, Madigan did nothing, thoughts swimming in his eyes. But he soon lowered his head, saying nothing, turning his face away from the young male. His answer was clear. With a sigh, Llwyd got to his feet, turning away. There was no point in pressing the huge male further.
The rest of the pride gathered around the entrance to the main den, the teenage cubs for once calm and quiet, their fur shivering with anticipation. Aurora, as the eldest, began the night of storytelling, the full moon hanging huge and round in the sky above. She took a breath, meaning to begin, when a shadow fell over them all. The cubs scrambled to their mothers, despite often insisting that they no longer needed them, and the lionesses themselves looked up in shock, fear entering their eyes for a brief moment.
It was Madigan, his mane making his shadow seem even more terrifying. With a dip of his head, he entered the den, moving to the back to settle down, watching with calm eyes. His pride stared at him, but wise Aurora was the first to break the still silence.
“My King,” she said softly. “What tale would you wish to hear?”
He merely rested his head on his paws, his gaze shifting between them all. His pride, his beautiful lionesses, his handsome heir. The playful and intelligence cubs. His legacy.
“None,” he finally rumbled, and a gasp ran through them all. Before they could protest, he continued speaking, a trace of his old fire coming back into his voice. “It is time for a story from me.”
Shock fell over the pride. Never before had they heard a tale from their king.

October 16th: One lioness didn't wake up this morning.
She was found, her silver-gold coat smooth and unruffled, in her customary spot above the den, watching over them even though she was gone.
The King was furious in his grief. Before anyone realised the true depth of his grief, one of the youngest lionesses approached him, hesitant to interrupt him, but needing to ask him a question.
“My King?”
He turned on her, lashing out with a paw. Mercifully, he didn't touch her, but he terrified her enough for her to flee his den, her fur standing on end. The same happened with any other who approached him until, finally, they left him alone, brooding in the back of his den, distraught with grief. He refused to leave the den, and for the first time in anyone's memory, he snarled at his pride. Even the heirs, Llwyd and Gyfrinach, were refused entrance to the den. No one could comfort him, or even try to.
When he finally emerged, it was to disappear into the distance. He didn't return for nearly five days.
When he did return, he was a shell. His personality had gone, and though he resumed running the pride, they could all see that his heart wasn’t in it. He just found no joy in his place in the pride any more.
Llwyd found himself being turned to more and more for guidance and leadership, and though he tried, he wasn't the King. He was too young, too inexperienced, and didn't know what to do. The princess tried to help, but she was even younger, even more unsure, and neither of them could bear the burden.
At last, Dahlia went to the King, managing to get him alone.
“My King.” She dipped her head as expected, showing the respect that the pride felt for him, even though he didn’t seem to notice anymore. He barely glanced at her, and she felt her heart ache at his grief. “Please, my King,” she whispered. “The pride needs you to lead them.”
He turned his head to her, and she saw with shock and despair that his eyes were blank, devoid of everything but the deep grief that he felt.

October 2nd: Llwyd has grown to adulthood, the first male since Madigan to do so, and so ventures forward into the big wide world. With the blood of all the kings running in his veins, he is destined for great things, but no one speaks of it.
The King sent him off for his first patrol today, partly to start training, but more to give them all a rest from the pranks that both heirs think up. While all was quiet, he took the opportunity to settle beside his love, flopping on the ledge beside her with a sigh. Her response was to laugh softly.
“Exhausted, little king?”
He grunted, unwilling to talk. She didn’t press him, beginning to groom him affectionately.
“You will do well with him, little king. He has great promise.”
He grunted again, seemingly unwilling to talk, and she butted his head. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed, letting his head drop to his paws. “They are a mischievous pair,” he said softly.
She snorted with amusement. “Yes, I know. The whole pride knows. What of it?”
He looked at her, worry in his voice when he spoke next. “What does it bode for the pride?” he asked. “Can they be trusted to lead them well?”
Now she cuffed him hard, and he promptly rolled onto his back, exposing his furry belly. “You are a fool sometimes,” she said, but her voice wasn’t as sharp as it once had been. “They are of your blood and mine. Let them have their fun. They will grow up soon enough.”
He blinked at her, not bothering to move again. It was a lazy afternoon, the sun beating down on them and making the horizon hazy. “You’re sure about that?”
She nipped his ear. “Yes, little king. As I remember, you were very much the same. Don’t worry so much. All will be well.”
He yawned, his teeth sharp and glinting in the sunlight trickling through the leaves of the tree. A disturbance at the edge of the den area roused him slightly, and he twisted to look at what was happening. It was Llwyd, coming back covered in dirt and twigs, and Madi groaned, pressing himself into the rock, as if to hide himself from sight.
“Do I have to?” he muttered.

September 15th: Thankfully, the strange lioness seemed to sense the tension in the pride. She made no fuss when the king quietly asked her to leave, and when she had, the tension evaporated. He returned to his queen, once more above their den, and settled beside her.
“Better?’ he muttered, almost darkly. He was in a bad mood, having slept badly, and now the cubs were clamouring for his attention. His head was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed, where it was dark and quiet.
She snorted slightly, and rested her head on his briefly, before beginning to groom him gently. “Bad mood, little king?” Her tone was light, teasing him, and he sighed, letting his head drop heavily to his paws.
“Yes,” he admitted, shutting his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. “I don’t want to move, Keerva.”
“Then don’t,” came the calm answer. “No one will blame you. It’s been a tough few weeks. We can manage for today.”
He opened an eye cautiously to look at her. “You’re sure you can?” It was obvious that he was feeling terrible if he was even considering her offer.
“Yes,” she murmured, nuzzling him affectionately. “Go on. The den will be quiet.”
He heaved another sigh, and lurched to his feet. His head throbbed in response, but he managed to push it away for the moment. Nuzzling the top of his queen’s head lovingly, he made his careful way down the small hill, heading for the dark comfort of their den.
Keerva stayed where she was, listening to the sounds of her pride. She’d lived her whole life with them, helping them through many hardships and highlights. She didn’t want to leave them. With a sigh, she headed down the small hill, pausing to swing her head in the direction of her king, her mate. She could hear the sounds of his sleep breathing, a sound that she’d often lain awake listening to, letting it comfort her. After a few moments, she turned away, leaving him in peace to sleep out his dark mood as she ran the pride.

September 12th: A new lioness had appeared on the horizon, merely visiting. Curious, one of the younger lionesses of the pride went to meet her, bringing her back to offer hospitality and a place to stay. When Madigan saw her, though, something about her triggered a memory, and he only stayed long enough to greet her cordially. He needed to talk to his Queen.
As normal, she was found above their den, lounging in the shade provided by the acacia tree. “There is a visitor,” she remarked as he scrambled up to join her. It didn’t surprise him much anymore. With her sharpened senses, and Neidr as her constant companion, she seemed to know more than he did about the activities of the pride.
“Yes,” he muttered darkly, dropping to lie beside her. His dark coat – thankfully – blended in well with the dappled shade and dark stone around him, and he was not easily spotted. “Keerva, she…”
The old lioness turned her head to him, pinning him in place with her sightless gaze, and making him feel like a cub again. He lowered his head submissively, shifting his gaze so that he was no longer looking at her directly.
“What is it?” she asked, almost sternly. “Is there an issue with the girl?”
He hesitated, knowing that she would be hurt by his suspicions. “I…I think this is best spoken about where we won’t be overhead,” he muttered quietly. She nudged him hard enough that he almost fell off his perch. Glaring at her as he saved himself, he grumbled under his breath. “What was that for?”
“Coward,” she answered, almost mildly. There was still that hint of sternness in her voice though. The tone that made him want to crawl so that she wouldn’t use it again. He sighed.
“The visitor,” he admitted. “She…I don’t know for sure, but…she….” He sighed again, knowing that the wait wouldn’t be easing her temper. “She looks like Golau did.”
The old lioness froze, her fur rippling in the tiny wind that carried through the land. “No. It isn’t possible.”
He reached out with his nose to nuzzle her, hoping to comfort her. She made no response.
“She can’t be here.”
“Keerva.” He tried to talk to her, to comfort her, but she snarled at him, warning him away. He refused to go.
“Send her away.”
He stared at her. “We can’t do that, Keerva. She’s a guest.”
She snarled again, rising to her feet with grace despite her age. “If you won’t, I will.”
Before she could move any more, the snake curled around her strong form moved, lifting his pale head.
“You are being hasssssssty, queen.”
She paused, clearly thinking. “No,” she finally said. “I will not let her stay.”
“Why, Keerva?” he asked her, standing so that he could stay close to her. “Why is it such a problem for you?”
She snarled at him again, pushing past him to leave the den. She left the area swiftly, not stopping, even when the cubs scampered up to her. With a sigh, he ran after her.
“Keerva!”
He finally caught up with her a fair distance from the dens. “Keerva, please tell me. I can’t help you if you don’t.”
She refused to answer until they were a fair distance from the pride, where there was no danger of being overheard. When she stopped, he plonked his furry butt on the ground, refusing to go any further.
“Keerva.” He only said her name, his tone stern. He wanted her answer.
She gave a heavy sigh, and settled on the ground, all her muscles tense. “She cannot stay past tomorrow night,” she finally said.
He was confused. “Why?”
“The stars do not tell all,” she chided, almost gently though. Her bad temper was slowly evaporating. He inched forward, reaching out to try and comfort her.
“What have they said, my Queen?”
She sighed again, lowering her head to her paws. “Only that she cannot stay. It will put both our prides in danger.”
He blinked, startled. “Both? What do you mean?”
“Mystery’s, little king. She is of mystery’s pride, and must return to it.”

September 8th: Calm has settled over the pride with the birth of the princess Gyfrinach. Named for her hidden nature, she is a lively little thing, keeping all the younger lionesses on their toes as they try to keep her out of trouble. The morning she was born, Keerva was alone, but Madigan soon came in, settling at a cautious distance while he waited.
“Keerva?”
She merely flicked her tail, telling him to be quiet. He obeyed, lowering his head and ears as he waited patiently. The pride could wait. He had his queen to look after.
After enough time had passed to make his nerves stretch thin, Keerva lifted her head. The movement revealed the tiny pale bundle of fur curled at her side, and Madigan felt his eyes go wide.
“She’s beautiful, my love.” He rose to his feet, hesitantly going over to her to rub his head against hers. “She will make a wonderful Queen.”
“She is,” Keerva answered softly. “Little king. There hasn’t been a cream queen since the time of Nala, my grandmother. She carries the blood well.”
He snorted in shock, and lowered his head to sniff the tiny cub. “How do you know what colour she is?”
“I just do.” Amusement coloured her tones, and he smiled slightly before nudging her gently. “Rest,” he ordered softly, turning to go. “There is no need for you to do anything today.”
“For now,” she responded. “For now.”
When he returned, she was still there, tenderly grooming the mewling cub. He made to lie in his usual place, still wary of his queen’s temper. Even though she had mellowed a little, she could still be intimidating.
“Come, little king.”
He hesitated, unsure, but he went over to her, curling at her side. She transferred her grooming to him, and he began to relax, letting the stress from the day drain out. He returned the favour, letting her know just how much he loved her, and would miss her. Between them, Gyfrinach wriggled around for a moment before settling down to sleep.
“Must you go?” he finally murmured, resting his head on her shoulders with his eyes closed. “I don’t want you to.”
She chuckled softly, not stopping her soothing grooming. “Yes, my king. I must. Everyone goes when it is their time. Nothing can stop it.”
He grumbled under his breath, and she nipped his shoulder, making him yelp. “What?”
“Stop it,” she scolded. “There is nothing you can do about it, so stop grumbling.”
He sighed, pressing close against her. Around her, he always felt like a cub. She was so wise. She began to hum softly, the sound threading through the small den that was theirs alone.
“Please,” he whispered. She merely licked his mane, smoothing it away from his face.
“I wish I could,” she answered softly. “But there is nothing we can do. I will be waiting for you, little king. I will always wait for you.”

September 6th: With the Queen carrying her last cubs, a sense of sadness and grief has swept over the pride. She is growing old, her fur now almost totally silvery-gold. Despite some stiffness, she is still agile, and still leads the hunts, refusing to back down from her duty. The night after she revealed her news to the pride, she stayed out, lying on her back under the stars, Neidr curled around her body and legs. Madigan found her there, and lay down near her.
“Are you alright, my Queen?” he asked softly. It was almost like she could see the stars, her gaze was so intent.
She turned her head, a sparkle in her eyes. “Yes,” she said simply. The snake began to slither away, leaving them alone, and she rolled onto her side, tilting her head to the king. “You are pleased with the pride, my king?”
He sighed, dropping his head to his paws. He seemed to be doing it a lot lately. “Yes,” he answered.
She shook her head slightly, and rose to her feet, still surprising him with the grace and litheness that she still possessed despite her age. She came over to him, rubbing her head over his as she made a soft sound in her throat.
“You will teach your son well,” she assured him. “But be careful. He’s not like you. He doesn’t have the same kindness that you have.”
He looked at her, returning the headrub affectionately. “What do you mean, Keerva?”
She settled on the ground again, letting their tails intertwine. “I haven’t been shown much,” she admitted. “And Neidr refuses to speak of it as well. He is different to you, little king. A harder personality. Still sweet, but not as laid back as your rule has been.”
“But he will do well by the girls?” He was anxious, unwilling to hand the pride over to a male who was not worthy, and who wouldn’t treat the lionesses right. They were the blood of the pride, after all. The ones who kept them alive.
She snorted, amused. “Yes. He is merely stricter, Madigan.” Abandoning their talk, she pressed closer to him, rubbing her side against his side.
He leaned against her, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to be alone,” he murmured.
“I know.” Her voice was very soft, a whisper on the breeze that tickled his ears. “You won’t be for long. I promise.”
He pressed as close as he could, feeling like a cub. He didn’t ever want her to leave him. “Don’t leave me,” he begged. “Please.”
She nudged him closer to her, comforting him. “I won’t,” she promised again, her voice gentle. He rubbed his head under hers, trying to get as close as she would let him. It didn’t matter to him that her last cubs were fathered by another lion. All that mattered was that they were together.
At last.

September 3rd: When the king returned, Keerva beside him, a ripple of relief ran through the pride. Both Shira and Desert had pleased looks in their eyes as they watched the couple, taking note of their deeper bond.
“It seems you were right, Shira.”
The cream lioness merely nuzzled her cubs, comforting them. The fear that they had felt when Madigan’s anger had gone through the pride was still strong in them, and they’d trembled, whimpering, when they’d seen him return. It didn’t comfort them when the dark male came towards them.
“Shira. A word.”
The two elderly lionesses exchanged a glance, but she followed the king out of earshot of the rest of the pride, although still in full view. Whatever he was going to do, he wanted the whole pride to know.
She dipped her head, lowering her ears in respect. “Yes, my king?”
He studied her for a long moment, not talking. He was aware of the glances from the rest of the pride, knew that even though they looked busy, they were watching. What he did next would cement their feelings for him until he died.
“You will not speak to me like that again, understand?”
He watched her eyes go wide with shock at his hard tone, but she bowed her head, lowering her gaze.
“Yes, my king.”
“Good.” With a quick jerk of his chin, he dismissed her, and watched her walk back to the pride. Desert met her halfway, speaking to her quietly, but neither of them looked at him. He ignored the rest of the pride, instead climbing the outcropping of rock that was over the small royal den. Settling onto it comfortably, he watched the actions of his pride in the shade, his eyes half closed.
Keerva soon joined him, but he barely moved, only shifting enough that she could lie in peace beside him.
“You were kind to her.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he retorted, lifting his head. She nudged his head.
“It is good,” she rebuked. “Don’t jump down my throat because of a simple observation.”
He sighed, and dropped his head back onto his big paws. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.
She snorted, dropping her own head to her paws. “You have been a good king,” she said after a while. “Why are you so dissatisfied?”
He shrugged, his thick mane rippling over his shoulders. There was white in it now, for he was over ten. He was nearly ready to leave the pride for good.
“I feel like I don’t know enough,” he admitted, glancing at her.
She snorted again, and began to groom him, smoothing that thick mane. “You know plenty, my king,” she assured him. “You’re still here, aren’t you? No challenger has defeated you.”
He tilted his head to her, conceding her point. As she continued to groom him, he closed his eyes, enjoying it.
“There’s nothing to worry about, my king. You have an heir who is strong and healthy. Mystery has chosen his heir, who is also strong and healthy. They will form a tighter alliance between the prides, as well as with the rest of our allies. There is nothing more that has to be done.”
He sighed, and rolled onto his back, laying his head at her feet, looking at her upside down. She seemed to smile, and nuzzled his white belly.
“Silly,” she said, and rose to her feet, leaving him where he was, frowning after her in confusion.

August 31st: It was a few days before he could convince her to return. In those days, he never left her side, not even once suggesting that he return to the pride without her. He needed her first and foremost.
At last, she agreed to return. He nuzzled her, overjoyed, a deep rumble sticking in his throat. He had no words to express his joy.
“Tell me the truth.”
He froze, and drew away slowly, blinking at her. “Th–th–the…the truth? About what?”
Pain filled her eyes, and she pulled away from him sharply. “I know he told you what he did. Yet you don’t even remember,” she said bitterly, walking to the edge of the waterhole. He followed.
“Keerva, please. You’re pushing the whole pride away. We all love you.”
“Then tell me the truth!” She lashed out, her claws unsheathed, to rake at his face. He flinched, but bore the slashes in silence.
“Keerva…” he whispered, taking no notice of the blood trickling down his cheek, the blood dripping into his eye, matting his fur. It wasn’t important. “Keerva. We miss you. We’re worried. Your cubs…”
“They will be taken care of,” she interrupted callously. “They won’t miss me.”
“Keerva, listen to yourself! They’re your cubs!”
“So was my son!” she snapped, her voice breaking. Anguish was clear in her voice as she looked away, closing her eyes. “My son…”
He drew closer, his tail curling over her back. “Reale chased him, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. She nodded, a sob tearing out of her.
“Because he was a boy?”
She nodded again, and her legs folded under her, sending her to the ground. He curled around her, providing comfort as he groomed her.
“Tell me of him,” he crooned softly. “Tell me of your son.”
“He was my light,” she whispered. “My Golau. Ysbryd’s brother. She doesn’t remember him. He was so little. So full of fun, of mischief.” She lifted her head. “It was just before you took over. Don’t you remember?”
He did now. A memory was coming to him. A memory of a pale coated cub, like Reale had been. His fur splattered with black, like his mother. He’d had the beginnings of a scraggy golden mane, and cheeky eyes that had always been bright.
“But Reale said he couldn’t stay. Because he threatened your position. He feared that my son would kill you. Because he had a stronger claim.”
Madigan wanted to do more than groom her. More than just be there for her. But there was nothing.
“He was gone. I came back from hunting, and he was gone. My little light, my Golau. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
“No.” He couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe that the kind Reale had done something like that. “That can’t be true.”
“It is. He told me later. When we were alone, and my mother was asleep. She hadn’t known either. I never told her.”
Hurting because of her pain, he touched his nose to her neck. “What did he say?” he murmured.
“That the cub was fine. That he was in a better place now. Where he would have a pride of his own.” Her voice was bitter now. “I knew he was lying. Knew what he had done ever since I’d returned. He’d killed my cub, my son. And then he expected me to welcome you.”
“Oh, Keerva…” He could offer no words of sympathy, and she wanted none.
“He killed him for you!” She nearly snarled at him, but didn’t move, and neither did he. “You’re the reason my son was killed. And you both expected me to return your affections!” Her voice had risen. She was shaking with anger. “You have no idea what I felt. He’d betrayed me. He was my king, and he’d betrayed me!”
“Keerva.” He spoke firmly, stopping her words. “None of your cubs will die while I am king. I promise.”
The tension left her, slowly, and she nearly collapsed against his side. “Promise?” She sounded like a cub, scared to hope.
“Yes. I promise.” He nuzzled her. “I don’t care if your last cub is a boy. He will not be killed.”
“I cannot have a boy,” she whispered. “Niwlog’s son will need a queen.”
“Then we will go to the Mystical Waters,” he answered. “They will have a solution.” He licked her cheek lovingly. “I love you, my feisty queen. I will do anything for you.” Even take her pain. Blood dripped from the scratches on his cheek. She seemed to sense it, for she began to lick the cuts, cleaning them.
“I’m sorry,” she said between licks. “You don’t deserve those.”
He shook his head slightly. “You were hurting. I am fine.”
For the first time that he could remember, she laughed, a soft, magical laugh that charmed him instantly.
“I am loved,” she repeated, almost in wonder. “I never thought that would happen. I never wanted it to happen. Not after seeing how much pain Reale went through when my mother died.”
He licked her cheek again, pressing as close as he could to her. “You are my only love. I promise.”

August 28th: He finally found her, hidden in the long golden grass next to the waterhole. She was alone, the snake nowhere to be seen, but the remains of a carcass was beside her. Madigan sniffed at it curiously. It was fresh. She wasn’t starving, then. And with the waterhole so close, she wouldn’t be worried about water, either. Unsure what to do now, he sat a little way from her, watching her.
He knew she was awake. Her tail was flicking slightly, and her ears were moving. She made no move to speak to him, or even acknowledge him though, and he grew even more worried. Finally, he could think of only one thing to do.
Crawling on his belly towards her, he rolled onto his back at her feet, exposing his vulnerable underside to her claws. If she wanted, she could kill him now and he wouldn’t move to stop her. They both knew it. He waited, watching her.
He was kept waiting. A long, long time.
Finally, she moved, just as the sun began to touch the edge of the savannah. Except that her movement was to walk away from him, turning her back on him. He stared after her, and slowly rolled onto his side, lifting his head to look at her.
“Keerva,” he whispered, knowing that she could hear him. “I want no one else. All I want is you.”
She didn’t move, but it encouraged him. She hadn’t moved away. Slowly, carefully, he got to his feet, and padded over to her, settling near her, but far enough away that she wouldn’t feel threatened. He was cut to the core at the pain in her sightless eyes.
“Keerva…”
“Go back to your pride.” Her voice was harsh, cutting him off. “There is no need for me there. You have an heir.”
He shook his head violently, and inched closer, crawling at her feet. “No, Keerva.”
“Leave me. Let me die alone. Like I deserve.”
To his horror, her voice broke, and something inside him broke as well. A tear slipped down her cheek, and he forgot all care that he was trying to take. Moving without thinking, he nuzzled her, licking her face, washing away the tears.
“I’m never leaving you,” he vowed, continuing to groom her. Her silvery-gold coat was full of dust and mud, and he cleaned it all away. “Never. You are my world, Keerva. I could have done nothing without you.”
“Your pride needs you.” Her voice was still broken, and he sensed that her spirit was too. “Go back to them.”
“You need me more,” he murmured, pressing his cheek against hers. “You come first, my love.”
She stiffened at the words, and he drew back slightly, watching her carefully.
“You cannot mean that.”
He nuzzled her, wanting to keep touching her. She calmed something inside him, completed him. When she wasn’t there, he felt like half of him was missing. “I do.” His voice was rough. He didn’t know what to say, or how to express himself. “When you’re not around, I feel empty. Like something’s missing. You scared me, Keerva. When we found you were gone. You scared us all.”
She turned her head away from him, her eyes closing. “You can’t mean any of what you say. You don’t believe it.”
“No!” He begged with her, trying to make her see. “Please, Keerva. Please. I mean every word. I love you.”
In one last desperate attempt to convince her, he rubbed his head under her chin as he’d seen her cubs do. The unmistakeable sign of trust and affection.
“I love you,” he repeated. “Come home, Keerva. Please. We need you. I need you.”
She was trembling. So was he.

August 26th: With the birth of Niwlog’s cubs came great celebration. At last, the future of the pride was secure. There was an heir to the throne, a boy of both Reale’s and Madigan’s blood. Worthy to lead the pride.
In all the excitement, no one noticed the queen slipping away, except for Ensem. Still young, though, the teenager said nothing of what she had seen, assuming that the queen merely needed some time to herself. As time passed, night fell, and no one could find her, though, Madigan was furious. The pride was in turmoil. Their queen was gone. Disappeared. Even the snake was gone.
“Find her!”
His tail was lashing, his blue eyes alight with a fear and fury that none had seen before. Those who had been here while Calypso and Reale had been alive recognised it. The king loved their queen.
Trembling, Ensem crawled to her king, and he looked down at her, shaking on the ground in front of him.
“What is it?” He fought to steady his voice, to control his anger. He didn’t want to scare her.
“My king…” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. He sighed, and sat down.
“Look at me, my daughter,” he said gently, his deep voice barely concealing his anger. She obeyed, her eyes so like his own. “What do you have to tell me?”
She trembled, her ears lying flat against her skull. “I…I saw her leaving,” she whispered, dropping her gaze again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything.”
“When was this?” He kept his voice soft.
“When the cubs were born, my king,” she answered. “She was alone, heading for the waterhole.”
He nuzzled her affectionately, his mane cascading around his strong form. “You are good to tell me now,” he praised her. “Thank you. Stay with the lionesses.” He waited until she had moved away before he raised his voice. “Shira!”
The elderly lioness came to him, her teenage cubs following her loyally. “Yes, my king?”
“Watch the pride,” he ordered. “Until I return.”
“You are going to search for her?” Surprise was evident in her voice and eyes, and he snarled, nearly turning on her.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“She has always been alone, my king.” Shira didn’t flinch. “I am a daughter of the first queen – she has my mother’s nature. If you press her too hard, she will flee further. Be careful with her.”
He narrowed his eyes, his teeth bared in a snarl. “Watch the pride,” he ordered again, and moved away. Her voice pulled him back.
“And her cubs?”
He froze, looking over his shoulder. The kingfisher feathers in his fur flew about his head as he shook his mane. “They stay here,” he commanded. “You all stay here.”
“You would doom us to death to search for an old lioness?” She almost sneered, and those within earshot froze, waiting with bated breath for Madigan’s response. She was pushing him very close to the edge. So far, he hadn’t touched any of them in anger – not even the cubs when they became too annoying.
“Face it, my king. She doesn’t want you. She’s never been a true part of the pride.”
He growled, deep in his throat and stalked back, towering over her. Her cubs cowered, whimpering with fright. “Watch your tongue,” he snarled. “Or I will watch it for you.”
Shira lifted her chin, searching his eyes. What she saw there satisfied her. “You doom us all.”
His body trembled, and they could all see the struggle he was having. The struggle between punishing her and gaining their fear, or not and keeping their trust. The trust won out, and he merely turned his back on them all. “You have enough food,” he snarled. “Take care of yourselves.”
As he left, Desert came to stand beside Shira, watching the dark vandal king leave. “Are you sure that was wise?” the darker lioness asked softly.
Shira sighed, nuzzling her cubs to comfort them. “I wanted to be sure,” she murmured. “She is so alone, Desert. I worry for her. He has given her his heart…”
“But she hasn’t given him hers,” Desert finished. “I know. This is the breaking point. Let’s hope you didn’t anger him too much.” With a wise glance at Shira, Desert left, returning to her own cubs.

August 24th: Niwlog, the last link to Reale, became pregnant today. Carrying Madigan’s cubs, she is more careful with herself, not getting into as much trouble as normal. The whole pride knows the value of her cubs, knowing that her son will be the next king.
To that extent, the king himself is not sure what Keerva thinks about the events. Even though he was told that only a boy of the first king could become king, he still doesn’t understand. Managing to catch her as the sun beat down on them from the middle of the sky, he pressed her for answers. At first, all she did was sigh, turning her blind head away from him.
“Please, Keerva.” He pushed his nose into her fur, wishing that she trusted him enough to share her thoughts. “Don’t you trust me, still?”
She refused to speak, and the snake hissed. Madigan ignored the serpent, not caring what it would do. It couldn’t hurt him – not when it would leave the pride without a king.
Finally, with no answers, he sighed, and got to his feet. If she didn’t want to speak with him, then he wasn’t going to press her. They were both growing old, and if she didn’t trust him now, then she never would.
It was much later when she came to him. At first, he was tempted to ignore her, as she had ignored him, but it wasn’t in his nature to do that.
“What is it?” He couldn’t stop himself from being blunt, brusque. She had irritated him, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling.
To his intense shock, she crouched in front of him, her head resting just in front of his paws. He lowered his head so that he could see her eyes, but she turned her head away.
“Keerva?” he whispered. He had no idea what she meant by her actions. They were typical submission gestures. The way that the sub males would normally act towards him.
Not his queen.
He nosed her gently, trying to make her stop. “Keerva,” he murmured again. “Please. Stop it.”
She only shifted away from his touch, confusing him even more. The snake wasn’t even with her, and he felt his breath quickening.
“You need a queen, my king,” she whispered. “One that can do her duty.”
To hear her repeat it angered him, and he growled low in his throat. She pressed herself to the floor of their den, her ears lowering, and shame filled him.
He’d though he’d understood her, but he didn’t. He never had.
“Keerva, please. You are my queen. I would have no one else.”
She still refused to rise to her feet. Eventually, he curled beside her, pressing as close as he could to her side.
“I won’t ever forget you,” he murmured in her ear. To his distress, she pulled away from him, curling into herself. He was at a loss of what to do.

August 15th: They buried the boycub with the others who had gone before him. The whole pride is subdued, trying to remember the happy little male who lost the fight. Even though they knew it would happen at some point, it is still a shock. And for his death to come on the same day as the queen's cubs were born only made it harder.
Phoibe stayed apart from the pride most of the day, only letting Ensem near her to try and comfort. Both of them needed each other. Keerva did the same for Madigan.
As night fell, the sky clear with the stars blazing like tiny fires, she stood beside him. "He is no longer in pain," she murmured, causing him to stare at her.
"What? He was?"
She nodded slowly, and turned away, leading him into their own space. He followed, almost stepping on her heels. "Keerva! What do you mean?"
She barely looked over her shoulder, but the snake did, unnerving the king with the flat, pink stare. Unsure what to do, Madigan stayed silent after that, following the queen as she left the pride behind.
To his surprise, she led him unerringly to a small pool of water, hidden in the long grass under a shady tree. he pushed through the long fronds, and settled next to her, waiting for her to speak. he didn't know what she wanted to say to him.
"He was a brave boy," she finally said quietly. "He hid his pain well. None of the pride knew."
"What was it?"
She shrugged, her silvery-gold fur rippling over the still strong muscles. "It was in his bones. I could see it, feel it. It hurt him, Madigan. He is better off where he is, in the stars." She looked up, staring so intently that he did as well. For a moment, he saw nothing unusual, but then he blinked. He could have sworn that the stars were moving, oh so slowly, but they were. After a while, he could see the outline of a young male's head, looking down at them. It lasted only a second, and then it was gone, but it left a feeling of peace spreading through the king's body.
"He watches over us, little king. Like my father, and his father before him. The pride is never apart. We are just in different places. We will meet again."

August 14th: The queen's cubs were born today, a healthy litter of four. One was, unfortunately, a male, and so will be chased, but one of the girls has already been picked out as staying in the pride. The other two will go to other prides when they are older, as a peace offering. The one who is staying, the copy of Queen Calypso, already has the sparks of her mother's link with the Otherworld.
As expected, Madigan is besotted with all four, and spends as much time as he can with them when he is not patrolling the borders. And as before, Keerva allows the cubs to run riot, wreaking havoc in the otherwise organised pride. No one cares. They can all see the change in the normally cranky queen, especially in her bearing and demeanour towards the king.
As night fell on the small cubs' first day, Madigan found all five curled in the small den, four of them sound asleep.
"How are you feeling, Keerva?" he asked gently, crawling in cautiously. She lifted her head from nuzzling the babies.
"They're fine," she said, sounding amused as she answered the question he hadn't asked, but was thinking. "Don't worry about them."
He sighed, settling himself as close as he dared, gazing down at them. "Two look like you," he murmured. "One with your eyes, one with mine. The male looks like me. The fourth..."
"She looks like Cally," she finished. "I know. You've told me." Again, amusement coloured her tones.
He chuckled, and nuzzled her. "Have you chosen names?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. They will have to grow into names, first."
Before they could speak more, there was a commotion at the entrance of their den. Startled, and a little annoyed, he swung his head to the opening, very prepared to give a tongue lashing to whoever had interrupted them.
"Don't be angry," Keerva murmured, and he looked at her, confused.
"what?'
It was too late. One of the young teenagers crawled in, her ears lowered. "My king, my queen," she murmured. "There..." She hesitated. "There is bad news."

August 11th: It has been a long time since the queen was pregnant, but she is. When the pair returned, even Ensem could see that something had changed. There was a softness in Keerva's eyes that hadn't been there before, and affection in her bearing towards the king.
There was a different sort of silence in their den that night, one of both sorrow and joy. He lay with his head resting on her shoulder, which was normal, but she'd rested her head on his paws, which wasn't.
"Keerva?"
She barely moved, but he sensed her shift slightly. She was listening.
"Why have you hidden yourself?"
At that, she got up a moved, pacing the small den that was theirs alone. He watched her, as always marveling at the way she knew just where the walls of the cave were. He'd never seen her bump into something in his lifetime.
"I had to," she finally said, and he frowned, not understanding.
"Why? That doesn't make sense, Keerva."
She shot a narrow glare at him, and he held his tongue, wary of her temper.
"I had to," she snapped. "I saw what my parents had between them, and felt my father's pain when Cally left. I wasn't going to risk it again."

August 10th: The cub has reached his adolescence. There was much rejoicing in the pride, except from Keerva. She stayed away, curled under her tree as she listened, and Neidr watched. She knew that the longer he lived, the harder it would be to say goodbye. When the King came to her, rubbing his head against hers affectionately, she told him.
"I know," he replied softly, settling next to her. "His sister will find it harder. She needs a name, my queen."
Closing her eyes, she dropped her head on her paws, waiting. A name had been fluttering at her since the cubs had been born, unable to be pinned down and known. Now, she sensed that it would be.
"Ensam," she finally said. "Alone."
He gave a rumble of surprise. "You are sure?"
"It is not my choice," she snapped, glaring at him even with her blind eyes. "It was given to her on her birth."
He began to groom her, hoping to ease her vicious temper. "I'm sorry," he murmured, and she turned her head away. She could feel the smooth scales of the snake as he shifted about on her back, keeping his own counsel.
"You need a queen who can do her duty," she whispered.
He rested his head on her shoulders, avoiding contact with the snake. "I have one," he replied just as quietly. "I could not have done anything without you, Keerva."

August 6th: Every day that dawns on the male cub still alive is a day that the whole pride breathes. It isn't long before he reaches the milestone of adolescence, but everyone knows that his life hangs in the balance. Everyone except him and his sister, of course.
He has been growing weaker, but for some reason today seemed stronger. Phoibe, though, knows better than to doubt the words of the Queen. Everything the Queen has foretold before has been true. This cannot be any different. Even though it means losing a precious cub of the pride.
Each night, Madigan hopes that the cub will make it through the night. Keerva says very little on the subject, not even answering direct questions, but he has to know.
"Keerva, can you answer me?"
She lifted her heavy head, seeming to gaze right at him. "Depends on the question," she replied. He sighed heavily, and settled down beside her, the stars twinkling through the opening of their den.
"Will the cub live?"
She was quiet for a long time, not even the snake around now. Madigan didn't know where the reptile went at night, but he was grateful for the time that they got to themselves. He waited patiently, hoping that she would have an answer for him.
"I do not know," she finally replied. "All I know is that he will not reach adulthood. I haven't been told when, why, or how. Just what."
His head fell, landing with a thump on his paws. He shut his eyes tight, fighting back the disappointment that threatened to dig claws into him permanently. After a moment, he felt her begin to groom him, and despite himself, he felt his muscles start to relax.
"I know your disappointment," she murmured between licks. "Reale was the same. It is rare in this pride for males to live long unless they have been chosen."
He opened one eye, intrigued. "Why?"
She shrugged, her greying fur rippling over her still lean muscles. "I do not know that, either. It’s just the way of the pride, and the stars above. We are not one to question their ways.”
He sighed, closing his eyes again. They lay in silence for a long time, her rough tongue continuing to groom him, smoothing the burrs and tangles in his thick mane that came from each day’s exploring.
Slowly, he began to fall asleep, further lulling by the soft sound that was coming out of her throat. It wasn’t until he dropped off that he realised she was speaking to him.
“Only a male of the first king will be king. Just as only a female of the first queen will be queen.”

July 29th: Madigan finds it hard to remember his Queen's words when the cubs play with the feathers in his mane. Kingfisher feathers, the sign that he is the king. He had hoped that he would pass them on to the little male cub, but it is becoming quite clear that it won't happen. He is steadily growing weaker, despite the whole pride's care and concern. As the boy grew towards adolescence, Madigan watched him, hoping that they were all wrong.
"Don't raise your hopes."
He turned his head, glancing at the golden lioness. The grey on her muzzle had turned silver, giving her the appearance of unearthliness.
"It's hard," he responded, looking back down at the sleeping cubs curled between his front paws.
His Queen sighed, and settled near him, gently pulling the male towards her. The cub stirred, mewling in his sleep, but didn't wake as she began to wash him carefully.
"I know," she answered softly. "I've had cubs of my own."
He blinked, unsure what to say. Neidr curled on her back, resting his head on her shoulders, the brilliant red eyes glinting in the starlight. She spoke again, lost in thought.
"There was one of each, my first litter. I knew I couldn't keep him, could only keep Ysbryd, but I couldn't help getting attached. It is hard to let go." She lifted her head, her cloudy white eyes boring into him and, not for the first time, had the sense that she could see into his soul. "He will not live, Madigan. I'm sorry."
Her voice was astonishingly gentle, almost tender, and he rose to his feet, nosing her affectionately. he didn't know what to say. He'd never seen this side of her before.

July 25th: As the days pass, the Queen is proven right. The boycub is weaker than his sister, seeming to prefer to stay curled near his mother. Madigan had to speak to her.
"Keerva."
For once, he didn't question her. He was the King now, not just Madigan. Still, though, she refused to grant him that courtesy. Somehow, she managed to glare at him, staring straight into his eyes.
"What?" she snapped.
A growl rumbled in his chest as he stepped closer, not wanting the rest of the pride to overhear. "What do you know of the cub?" he asked softly, making sure he stood over her.
A hiss answered him, and he met the cold eyes of the snake. Keerva, however, appeared to be considering his words. "Come with me," she finally said, rising to her feet and leading him out. Her tail slid under his chin with a teasing flick, and he narrowed his eyes at her retreating back.
He followed her a fair way from the den, until she curled under a shady tree. He settled next to her, watching her closely.
"What is it, Keerva?"
"The cub is weak," she replied softly. "He will not live through adolescence. Don't get attached to him." Before she could continue, though, a young lioness rushed up, her tail flicking anxiously.
"Queen Keerva!" she gasped, belatedly dipping her head to Madigan. "Please, come."

July 20th: With the birth of a male cub, the future of the pride seems certain. He is of Phoibe's blood, and shows great promise. However, when Madigan came to tell his Queen the news, he found her curled in the back of the den, her sightless eyes shut tight.
"Keerva?" He stepped closer hesitantly, wary of her temper. The only movement was that of the white snake, his scales scraping the walls of the cave as he moved around the lioness' body.
Madigan felt fear shoot through him. It can't have happened. It wasn't time. He came closer, settling to lie next to her. To his immense relief, her fur was warm, and now that he was closer, he could hear her breath. He sighed, relaxing, and rested his head on his paws.
"A boycub was born, Keerva," he said softly. "An heir."
She finally moved, lifting her head to look at him. She was starting to go grey, but he thought secretly that the soft colour suited her - not that he would ever tell her, of course. He'd only get his head bitten off for it.
"He won't."
The quiet words shocked him, and he couldn't speak for a moment. As it began to sink in, he managed to say a couple of words. "What? How?"
She shook her head, getting to her feet. The snake curled over her back, resting his head on hers, and they both looked at him. Madigan found it rather disconcerting. "I've seen his future, my King," she answered softly. "It is short, but sweet. He will not grow to be an adult."
Madigan shook his head, trying to deny it. "No. That can't be right." He rose to stand with her, towering over her. "He cannot die."
"You cannot fight it, Madigan." Her voice was harsh. "Accept it, and it will hurt less."
He shook his head again, but she walked out, not speaking again. As she left, the snake's hiss floated back to him.
"You will nottttt die yet, ssssssmall king. Your princcccce will come sssssssoon."

May 16th: As the Queen has grown older, she has become more mellow, not minding the various cubs to climb over her. In the past, she would have snarled, sending them running back to their mothers. Madigan, slowly, has grown closer to her, and they are often found together, away from the pride. As yet, though, she has borne no cubs. Ysbryd is the only one of her bloodline left, as the daughter of Reale.
"Keerva?"
She glanced up, Neidr twining around her body as she got to her feet. Now over ten, her age is showing slightly in the grey on her muzzle, and the slight stiffness to her movements. "What is it?"
The king came over to her, nuzzling her shoulders. "How are you feeling?" he murmured, and she snapped at him, pushing him away from her.
"What do you want?" she snarled. She heard his sigh, and then he came back to her, nudging her with his nose.
"The sun is shining," he said softly. "Come and lie outside. It’s nicer."
She growled, and turned away, heading deeper into the den.

March 12th: The King has died. Madigan has become the new king, guiding the pride in this time of grief. The cubs, the last cubs of Reale, are confused, but none of the lionesses have the courage, nor the will, to tell the little ones exactly what has happened.
Keerva stays away, secluded in her own den, refusing company, even that of the snake, Neidr. All she wants is to be alone. Sometime near dusk, though, Madigan came to find her, approaching hesitantly.
"Keerva?" he asked tentatively, not knowing the depths of her grief. She didn't move, apart from her tail gently flicking, beckoning him closer.
"What is it, young king?" she answered.
He hesitated, and then lowered himself to sit in front of her. "I'm lost," he admitted. "I...I don't really know what to do. The King - he's just....gone."
She nodded gently, and beckoned him even closer. "It was the way he wished to go," she murmured, beginning to gently groom his dark mane. "But you are ready, and competent. Don't be afraid. He has trained you well and you will lead the pride well. We are here with you every step of the way."
He nodded, and began to return the grooming, although unsure at first. She relaxed under the rough tongue, and felt him relaxing as well.
"There is no need to be worried," she assured him. "I am here to help. The pride will prosper."

In between because LioDen ate it. That will teach me to keep an update backup.
Reale

When Cally died, Reale was heartbroken.
Calypso

Ahh...something about the Christmas event. ;)

November 19th: Reale came home from his weekly visits to neighbouring prides today. This time, however, he came home followed by a young lioness. Cally walked over to her mate, interested in the new arrival.
"Who is she?"
Reale shrugged his shoulders, purring as he nuzzled his mate. "A gift," he replied, glancing back at the young female. "From Krypt's pride. The new male, Iri, wishes to ally with us."
"Hmm." The experienced lioness studied the young one closely, impressed when she didn't shrink away under the scrutiny. "What is your name?"
"Chenoa," was the quiet reply, although the blue eyes met Cally's evenly. Cally only nodded, still examining her, before she turned back to her mate.
"Will she stay here?" she asked. "Or will we give her to Mystery for a while?"
Reale only shrugged again. "She's one of Krypt's last, " he said quietly. "Perhaps Mystery is the best way to go. She will have family there."

November 11th: Snowdrop gave birth today. As Reale seems to have a soft spot for her, despite - perhaps because of - her age, he allowed her to choose her own mate for her last litter. True to form, she chose a male who has a brilliantly fiery coat, a stark contrast to her own brilliant white. The cub, a beautiful female, has neither her mother's albino, nor her father's fiery coat, but instead a deep auburn coat, reminding the whole pride of the rare lionesses with the 'prune' coats.
Despite the cub's colour, Reale refuses to treat her any differently to any other cub. She will learn that it is her mind that is valued here, her mind and her personality, rather than the rare colour of her coat, and she will learn to choose her mate accordingly.
Grateful for the king's kindness, Snowdrop has named her daughter Llachar, an ancient word for bright. She senses a special future for the cub, a future in which she will be a bright beacon.

October 26th: The night has become full of strange scents, and eerie sounds. Shiver keeps the cubs well inside, no longer trusting the darkness, even as Reale explores. He comes back with tales of strange and terrifying creatures, and a strange new beetle, the colour of blood. He collects them, as there is a new shop, run only at night by the bat, Vlad.
In other, happier, news, Mystery has sent back Caorach, so named for his fluffy mane. The cubs couldn't stop themselves from burying themselves in it, managing to hide all four of them completely at the same time. Thankfully, Caorach is a gentle male, having learnt well from Mystery, and is happy to play with the cublets, as well as learning from Finn while he is here.

October 23rd: Zeke has returned from staying with Mystery. He has decided that he wishes to learn from Finn, who is gaining a reputation as a good and patient teacher. Reale allows this, knowing that it will not harm the pride, but he keeps an eye on the younger male, ever wary.
However, Zeke has left. He has decided to become a loner, roaming for his own territory. Although no one voices the thought, the whole pride is relieved. He had made them all on edge.

October 17th: Shiver's last litter was born today - four healthy, happy little lionesses. Poor Reale doesn't know what he should do, or what his father would have done. None of the lionesses can help him, for it is his choice whether the cubs stay or go, but Shiver is understanding. She does have a suggestion however. When Reale came into the small cubbin den, she lifted her head.
"I have a suggestion for you," she said, in her quiet voice. Somehow, though, it made everyone listen to her. He looked at her, and came over, interested.
"What is it?"
She nuzzled her cubs, pulling one of the more adventurous girls back to her. "Send them to Mystery," she replied. "He will take care for them, and you can bring them back when you wish." She dipped her head, waiting for his thoughts, grooming her cubs while she did so.
His answer was long in coming, but grateful. "I think that will work, Shiver." He rose again, and nuzzled her before leaving. She watched him go, and sighed with relief. She hadn't wanted any of her cubs to be chased, but she wouldn't have protested. Only the Queen could argue.

October 10th: Frostfur and Griffyn have gone, joining the others who had begun this small pride. Snowy went as well, leaving the pride with only Shiver as their most experienced huntress. Thankfully, she is teaching the young ones the tricks of the trade, and they are all confident that they will learn the best they can.
In other news, Finn has decided to stay with the pride. Despite knowing that he will possibly never lead this pride, he has opted to stay and help teach the young king. There is a chance that Finn could take over the pride's close ally, ruled over by Mystery, but that day will be a while in coming. Mystery is still only young.

September 30th: The King, Brokefang has died, as has his Queen, Nala. They were found this morning, curled together in a final embrace. It is clear that they passed in their sleep, painlessly, but their strong personalities will be sorely missed. Calypso has been chosen as the next Queen, and her half brother, Reale, is the next king, young though he is. Luckily, Frostfur and Griffyn are still hanging on, and they will give him their valuable knowledge for the years to come. He will be a good king.
Nala

September 22nd: Again, sadness is rife in the pride. Kiara, the light hearted elder lioness, has departed for a new journey. As Sirabi was, she was given a farewell, and buried in her own resting place, the place where she had played with the cubs. She will be missed.

September 11th: Sadness swept over the pride today. Sirabi, the pride's eldest and most experienced huntress, passed on. Understandably, Fang and the other elders were most upset, with all four of them refusing to come out until the sun had set. Then, they came out to bury the former pride member. She was buried in her favourite resting place, overlooking the pride's den. Nala stayed with her throughout the night, keeping watch over her until the dawn.

September 2nd: Nala's cubs were born today, 2 males. Fang is over the moon, at last he has an heir of his own blood to carry on the line. They are both good looking boys as well. Unfortunately, only one can succeed, and the other will be chased. Unless...perhaps as a sub male? Hmm...

August 30th: Again, Fang woke to find that it was another bittersweet day. He walked in to greet his Queen, and was greeted with the news.
"I'm pregnant, Fang."
He stared at her, disbelieving at first. Then, he rubbed his head against hers, purring in pleasure.
"That's great," he rumbled. "Your last?"
She nodded, her eyes sad. Then, she changed the subject. "How is Finn going?"
Fang snorted, and glanced over his shoulder. "He's fine. Filled out now, which is good. He's beginning to get the hang of patrolling, too."
She was shocked. "You're sending him out?! He's only a baby!"
Again, Fang snorted. "Try telling him that," he muttered, and walked out, his stomach growling.

August 27th: More good news! 9 more lionesses gave birth today, bringing the total up to 40 cubs! The four elders, Sirabi, Kiara, Griffyn and Frostfur had their fifth litter, also their last, but are coping well. Fang's Queen, Nala, is in heat, but she is not being very receptive at the moment. All he can do is hope that she will be soon.
Again, Fang has retreated to his own cave. 40 cubs is a little too much, and he growled to himself. It was all Iron's fault, urging him on. There would be payback for this.

August 21st: Good news for the pride! 19 healthy cubs were born, to 10 of the lionesses. Most are first time lionesses, but the aging lionesses are happy to help. Fang has retreated to his own cave in the den site. He can handle cubs, but not 20 at a time all wanting to play catch the tail. Many have commented that having the cublets around make them feel young again.

August 20th: Today was bittersweet for the pride. Griffyn, Sirabi, Frostfur and Kiara are all expecting, but it will be their last litters. They have told Fang that they are growing old, and they wished to have one more litter. Understandably, Nala is most upset, and has stayed in her den most of the day. While she was the first to join Fang's pride, Sirabi has been her mentor from the start, being somewhat older than the Queen. The wisdom and kindness of all four will be missed greatly. Also good news, Fang's two beloved mahogany lionesses, Red Dust and Rhaena, are also expecting. He knows that the cubs are not his, but he will take care of them as if they were. This brings the expectant mother count up to 19!

August 19th: Today was a happy day for the pride. 10 of Fang's lionesses were pregnant! When little Harri heard the news, she was nearly over the moon with excitement. At last, she would have some siblings to play with.
In other news, Finn is no longer as scrawny. With Nala looking after him, he has recovered from his trials, and hopes to repay the pride's kindness as best he can.

August 15th: It was Fang's birthday today. When he woke, none of his lionesses could be seen, not even little cublet Harri, who was still with her mother. He padded out, only to find that all his girls had put together a massive effort, and made him a carcass cake, complete with feathers. He blinked at it for a moment, and then thanked them all. His Queen, Nala, purred happily. It was nice that she had been around for this happy day.

August 14th: Fang met more of his kind. Together, they started an alliance, which they aptly named the Insane Ones. Nala, his beloved Queen, watched from afar, and vowed to keep a close eye on all the males. There was no knowing what they would get up to.

August 12th: Fang brought in another stray, this time a male teen. Nala glanced at him curiously, and noticed that he was thin and scared, much in need of love. She rose to her feet, leaving her cubs in the den for a moment, and went over to her mate. She twined around him in greeting.
"Who is this?"
Fang grunted, and nuzzled her gently. "A stray," he replied. "Take care of him, since you want to." He disappeared into the den, and she looked at the young male. He was an unusual colour, she decided. The golden mane was tattered, only bits of fluff at the moment, but she could see that he would grow into it, and it into him. She beckoned to him with her tail, walking back to her cubs.
"Come. What's your name?"
He followed her hesitantly. "Finn. Finnikin," he replied.
"Well, Finn. Welcome to the Den."

August 6th: Brokefang walked over to Nala after his weekly sifting through his hoard. She looked at him curiously.
"What is it?"
"We have an excess of legs," he told her. "Maybe we should help Brin out, this time."
She didn't reply, knowing that he would do it no matter what she said. Instead, she asked a question. "How many do we have?"
"Seven," was the reply.
She sighed, shaking her head. Really, all the males in the Savannah were cubs, not matter what they looked like. Ahadi was in for a surprise.
Mod Stamps and Art

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[Kindred was here and was too lazy to find their stamp so hi]


Den CSS done by Krafty
All pieces of art have their artist created if you hover over them ♥

Brokefang VII, the Phoenix
Level: 14 Branch: Broken Fang, Broken Branch
Stats: 1098 Territory: 40
Lionesses: 32 Beetle Slots: 3 / 18
Cubs: 2 / 200 Grandpaw:
Male Slots: 1 / 2 Subordinate Males: Blaze
Frozen Slots: 1 / 1 Cave Slots: 2 / 3
There is 1 lion with mutations in Brokefang VII's pride.

Brokefang VII's Player
Member ID #8495
Wyndy
Joined: 2013-04-02 08:30:11 Last Active: 2024-03-27 23:24:23

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