didn’t suffer and celebrate the fact that she was our mother and your wife. Only then will we be –”

            Finally, the eldest cub prince broke down and ran to his father, burying his face in Arif’s foreleg. He began to sob. Adisa and Njozi looked at each other. They’d never seen Adabu cry, but he had been so strong for them throughout their parents’ problems, and hearing that their mother was gone forever, had finally pushed the weight from his shoulders. The reality spread through their hearts, and their eyes welled up with tears.

            They joined Adabu, sharing in the grief.

            Arif lay down and embraced his cubs. He looked up at the sky, feeling his emotions come. “Akase,” he whispered. “I really hope you are at peace.”

            Tears spilled from his eyes and he wept.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The early evening skies fell over the Pridelands. The procession of the lion pride headed to the place. Baraka, as king, was in front. Arif and his cubs followed. Two guards were behind them with the lionesses following, and Kiara and Kovu, their former rulers, were behind them and flanked by the other two guards.

            When they arrived, Baraka went to Rafiki, who arrived early. The old mandrill wrapped his arms around his king and nodded sympathetically to his student, who at this moment was a grieving husband and father to his hurting children.

            The lionesses gathered around, some sitting, others lying in the grasses, others standing. When they heard the news they couldn’t believe it. Like anyone else, they were stunned. Many were relieved for the Prince’s sake and the cubs’. As they got into position, no one spoke. The ceremony would be a quiet one.

            The guardians stood in the back, each looking at one another with different expressions. Takata didn’t know what to say to his fellow guards so he remained silent. The others, however, since they were friends of Prince Arif, had to address their reactions, but did so in soft tones.

            “I feel sorrier for him than for Akase,” said Mabaki.

            Dailia nodded. “As do I, but she was his mate, and their mother,” she said, gesturing to the three royal cubs. Her cubs were near Takata.

            “You’re right about that, but it’s good that she didn’t suffer,” the white lion said, but his fur bristled. In truth, he wished the former princess had suffered. He wished that she, somehow, felt the same pain his sister had. Akase… be glad I didn’t find you!

            Kadiri sighed and sniffed. He couldn’t speak. He had done plenty of that when he told Dailia and Mabaki, and he had cried, not out of sorrow, but like all the others, out of relief. He didn’t have anything to say about Akase. He didn’t really know her. None of them did, aside from Arif. What could he say other than, ‘I’m sorry,’? Or, ‘I’m around if you need me’? Anything else would be a waste of breath.

            The gray lion and his friends cleared their throats as they watched Rafiki.

            The baboon walked up to the body of the princess, eyeing it carefully. This was her, no doubt. As the evening light made its rise, the mandrill began to hum, many assumed a prayer, but it was Arif who knew. His teacher was humming an ancient saying that was used by past shamans, a saying that he himself would one day use, but not tonight. He couldn’t. He knew the deceased on a personal level.

            The pride watched, some fascinated, others with mouths agape as the mandrill spread some grass over the lioness’s body, then sprinkled some dust. He bent down and smeared some red substance on her forehead, still murmuring.

            Prince Arif looked down at his cubs, who returned his gaze. He watched Njozi, watched for any sudden burst of emotion. There was nothing, and if there was it was well hidden. Arif made a move to wrap his paw around his daughter but didn’t. If Njozi was feeling the same as he, then it was clear that the young cub needed to handle it alone. He bowed his head and shut his eyes. He felt low, the worst kind any lion could feel. This was his wife’s memorial and there was someone missing.

            He shivered. Again, she came to mind. She always did. How he wished Saada was here right now… He needed a shoulder to lean on. And her shoulder would do it. In the corner parts of his mind, Arif wondered how Saada was doing, and if she was awake yet. Her being at his side would help him through this. He felt cold, distant, and emotionless. Then, the words Rafiki murmured could be heard on the cool evening air.

            “Born from and to hardship,” said the mandrill.

            Hearing this made Takata flinch. The words reminded him of his few years as a rogue.

            “Suffered loss much too young…”

            Arif nodded at that. Akase had indeed suffered tragedy too young. He felt Adabu nuzzle his foreleg and cry quietly.

            Rafiki continued. “But she was given a second chance through another fateful loss. De Lord spared her a cruel and brutal demise. From de orders of a peaceful king, she came here, fell in love, eventually married and become de mother of three special cubs…”

            With tears rolling down his face, Adisa smiled at that sentence. He considered himself and his brother and sister special. He also considered them lucky to have a loving father too and a pride that cared about them.

            Rafiki’s tone grew somber. “But again, fate found her. No one can tempt it or stop it. Fate is like nature. It must run its course.” He slowly looked up at the Prince and his family, his eyes near tearing. “At least, fate was kind enough to not make you suffer.” He lifted his eyes to heaven. “Oh, Lord… dis child is in your care.” He touched the lioness’s forehead, gave a sad smile and looked up at the lions, Arif mainly, and stepped back.

            Baraka nodded to his pride and one by one they all came, some bowing, some muttering or speaking their respects softly.

            When it was Arif and the cubs’ turn, everyone silently left, including Kovu, Kiara, and Baraka. Rafiki moved to an area nearby pretending to be busy. Arif smiled at him then looked down at his cubs.

            “It’s alright, go ahead,” he said gently.

            The cubs walked up to the body, their emotions racing, their hearts beating fiercely.

            “Mom,” began Adabu, as he was the eldest. “I hope you’re at peace. Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.” He stepped back.

            Adisa went next, saying almost the same and then joined his brother.

            “Mom,” Njozi said, her body shuddering. “It hurts that you refused to accept my dreams and change but…” She paused and sniffed, a tear tracing down her cheek. “But… I forgive you and I will always love you.” She wanted to nuzzle the body but didn’t. Shakily, she stepped away, her brothers now on each side of her, nuzzling her.

            Arif didn’t speak. He had already paid his respects. He called his cubs to him and looked to Rafiki. He gave a nod and they left the clearing.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

The moon’s light poured down into the Pridelands, making the grass, waterholes, and trees shimmer in silvery brilliance. The place where the former princess Akase passed on, her body now covered in grass, was quiet.

            But someone approached the newly fresh grave with sad eyes. It was a lioness. It was Saada.

            “I hardly knew you, Akase. I forgive you for attacking me, though I wish there was some way I could have helped you.