it, Arif and Akase were very different, but one thing prevented them from divorcing, though verbally they were. The cubs: the princes and princess of the Pridelands. Baraka thought of them. The three young ones had been through so much. He admired them, his nephews especially for their strength and love, but how would Njozi take this? Baraka wondered about her more. She was the dreamer and Akase, from what Arif told him, rejected that, thinking it was foolish and Arif’s fault.

            That’s why he defended his brother and niece against Akase’s cold words. He loved them and hated to see them hurt. But this would send them all spiraling. The coming days, weeks, even months, would not be easy.

            Baraka was so enamored that he failed to hear his father’s voice. “Baraka, why are you home so early? Something wrong, son?”

            The king had a pained stare in his eyes. He looked up at Kovu, who was getting concerned by the second. Suddenly, Baraka ran at his father and nuzzled him fiercely. Kovu was taken aback but nuzzled him back and purred. He felt Baraka shudder. That was a first. Baraka never shuddered during nuzzles from him, or his mother. Kovu figured that something was wrong and a moment later, Baraka pulled away, his head low.

            “Son, what –” Kovu began to ask, but Baraka told him everything, spilling it out as quickly as he could. Kovu stood there, surprised, stunned and worried.

            “He said he wants a memorial, I suggested early evening. I imagine he’s either still there or telling the cubs.” Baraka sighed.

            The Prince Regent found his voice. “Arif is a lion of responsibility…” he said softly.

            Baraka didn’t reply. His father was right. He moved toward the den, feeling strength go out of him.

            “Want me to roar for the pride?”

            “Do what you want, Dad,” Baraka answered over his shoulder. He went into the den and lay down near his chambers.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The sons and daughter of Prince Arif looked up at their father gravely. As expected, the one torn was Njozi. When the words were uttered, the young princess, with tears streaming down her face, left the clearing. Adabu and Adisa exchanged glances and made movements to retrieve her but Arif held them back.

            “Don’t, my sons. Let her go.”

            The princes nodded and Adabu broke the silence. “Dad, did Mom suffer?”

            Arif shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”

            “It was a snake that –” Adisa stopped in mid sentence, afraid to say it.

            “Yes, a poisonous one,” his father answered. “Your mother couldn’t have known. Snakes are clever creatures.”

            “Dad,” said Adabu, putting a paw on Arif’s foreleg. “It was an accident. Kadiri believed that Mom was walking at night, right? That’s what you said…”

            Arif nodded solemnly.

            The older cub prince continued. “Well then, it was an accident. It wasn’t on purpose or anything.” He paused and his ears fell. “I’m just relieved she didn’t suffer.”

            “Me too,” said Adisa.

            Arif was silent. He couldn’t speak.

            “Dad,” Adabu said, looking up at him. “We loved Mom dearly. Yet after all she put you and Njozi through, we didn’t view her as a bad lioness. All we wanted was the family back together. What happened between you and her was not your fault. You wanted an understanding, and ‘Jozi wanted to share the dreams with Mom, but she refused and rejected both. By doing that she didn’t love you as you are.” Adabu sniffed.

            “And that hurt us more than anything, which is why we remained strong for your sakes,” Adisa said, taking over. Tears fell from his eyes. “We knew she wasn’t going to come back, but we never gave up hope until you, ‘Jozi, and Saada returned home that day.”

            “We’ll always love her, and miss her.”

            Arif nodded, his lips trembling. The mention of Saada’s name brought a tear to his eye. “I will always love her, too, and I shall miss her.”

            “We know you will, Dad,” Adabu continued. “At first, it was hard adjusting to her not being there after your fight, and especially when Njozi got sick –”

            “I should have been there for you,” Arif said miserably.

            “We understood, Dad,” said Adisa, putting paw on Arif’s. “But Njozi got better, thanks to Etana. Not to mention the warmth and love from Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Baraka, and the rest of the pride. That’s helped us. Dad, even in death, she’s still our mother, but there have been times, just recently, we haven’t thought of her as that, and…” He stopped and bowed his head, wiping a few tears with a paw.

            “She’s at peace now. We know she is,” said Adabu softly. Adisa agreed with a nod. Adabu continued. “I know that she missed us and maybe wanted to come home. Perhaps she was afraid, I don’t know. She did love us, and she loved you.”

            “Dad, this entire thing was an accident, a misunderstanding that was no one’s fault. You and Uncle Baraka say that the Circle of Life isn’t always fair. All things exist in a special balance. Life and death is part of that balance, a big part. We’re all bound to the Circle, to its blessings, and its unfairness.” Adisa paused and pinned his ears back. “But, I for one am not mad. Yes, Mom is gone, but she’ll always be part of me, part of all of us. But we have to move on, that’s also part of the Circle: change. Whatever happens will happen, just as long as we live each day to the fullest.”

            A small while later, Njozi came back. Her eyes were red, her face tired. To Arif, it looked as though she had been crying a lot and digging her paws into the earth in frustration, anger, and pain. He couldn’t blame her. Njozi had more right to be angry than any of them.

            Arif stared at her, concerned. “‘Jozi, you okay?”

            The brown cub nodded stiffly. “Dad, I’m mad at her for not making things right between the two of you,” she said, her voice cold. “I’m also mad at her for not making things right with me.” She turned to her brothers. “And for not seeing you two…” She shut her eyes, hoping to keep some of her anger in. “But… I know getting mad won’t bring her back. I’m not expecting it to. What’s done is done, right?”

            “Njozi –” Arif began, but his daughter held up a paw.

            “Dad, please, let me finish. We all loved her in our own way, as did she with us. Now while I am mad, I will forgive her. You taught us that forgiveness leads to healing. Let’s start now.”

            A tear rolled down Arif’s muzzle. These were his children? And they were taking the death of their mother like this? Most cubs would be crying their eyes out, asking the unfair questions, and or blaming someone, but not these cubs, not his. They were so young and understood how life worked, that it can be unfair, that the Circle could be unfair, and they accepted it? How blessed was he!

            “Dad,” said Adabu, his strength almost breaking. “Mom is at peace. I humbly ask that instead of mourning, we should be thankful that she didn’t suffer and