wrong. Arif wasn’t with them.

            “Father,” Baraka said as he and Etana approached.

            The Prince Regent looked up. He smiled at Etana. “I trust you’re feeling better?”

            The lioness bowed. “I am thank you, your highness.”

            “No, thank you for healing Saada,” the regent replied.

            “It was nothing.”

            Baraka addressed his father again. “Where’s Arif?”

            Before Kovu could speak, Adabu answered, “Dad told us early this morning that he was going to Rafiki’s.”

            “What, so soon? I thought he’d want –”

            “We did too,” said Adisa, his expression falling. “But he said that he needed to function, to do something, and to keep busy…”

            “Uncle Baraka, as much as we want him home, and with us, he needs to… handle Mom’s death in his own way.” It was Njozi who spoke these words, and they caused her to tear up. She forced the tears back into her throat. She couldn’t get emotional now. To distract herself, she looked up at Etana, realizing that the blind lioness did not know what had happened. She lowered her eyes. She felt Adisa’s warm presence beside her and allowed him to rest his head atop hers.

            “So, we’re going to let him,” said Adabu. “We know he won’t abandon us. We know he’ll come home. He has us and the pride. He still has a family.”

            Baraka mused. “And what of you, kids? Do you want some –” He watched his eldest nephew walk up and put a paw on his foreleg. Baraka looked into those kind red eyes and understood. As painful as it was for them to lose their mother they had to handle her death in their own way as well whether it was with their father or with each other. Baraka nodded. “Alright, I understand. Just, please be careful, okay? If you need to talk, I’m here. I always will be.” He nuzzled each of the cubs.

            “Thank you, Uncle Baraka,” said Adabu, a tear rolling down his cheek.

            “Yes, thank you,” Adisa added, rubbing his face against the king’s.

            “We love you,” Njozi said, giving her uncle a gentle lick on the cheek which he returned and licked his nephews. He wasn’t about to show favoritism. Like his parents, he did not believe in it.

            “Kiara and I will look after them, Baraka, and Arif already knows,” said Kovu. “Everything else is fine. The guardians have their duties.”

            The king nodded then turned to Etana. “Shall we?”

            The lioness flexed her paws along the stone ground. She knew the cubs’ pain and was filled with sorrow. She wanted to embrace them, to let them know that she too would be there if they needed to talk. Instead she faced Baraka. “Yes, let’s go,” she said quietly.

            “I’ll be home in the afternoon, Dad. You three behave for your grandparents, okay?”

            Adabu nodded. “We will, Uncle Baraka, don’t worry.”

            Baraka smiled and rubbed the cub’s head gently with a paw. Giving another smile to his other nephew and only niece, he left them with Etana at his side and walked down the stones.

            Once in the grass Baraka sighed heavily. “Etana, what Njozi said is true. Akase is dead. It happened yesterday.”

            “I felt some of their pain,” Etana replied. She shook her head sadly. “Such heartache… Poor young ones and Arif… Their lives won’t be the same. I hardly knew Akase, but this…”

            “I know. It surprised us all.”

            As Etana’s paws walked through the grass, she felt something in the earth. Sadness… a need for peace of mind and a need for release… What it meant she didn’t know. The air around her was calm and quiet.

            “We’re going to her grave,” she guessed.

            He didn’t reply.

            “Baraka…” She would choose her words carefully now.

            “Yes?”

            “Thank you for keeping watch over me again.” She lifted her head to face him and smiled.

            Baraka returned the gesture, and it was warm, kind and genuine. “You’re most welcome.” Half realizing it, he felt his heart skip a beat. He wanted to walk closer to her, but he dared not. He didn’t want to offend her or make her uncomfortable. It was the last thing he’d ever do.

            The rest of the walk was silent.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Arif wandered the Pridelands. His paws brushed the grass and dirt softly. He had been to this side of the kingdom many times over the years. Not only did this place hold memories of his cubhood, and talks he’d had with his parents, but this was the place where – Arif stopped, a pain filling his body. The ache in his heart returned. This was where he and Akase first met. He smiled faintly. It seemed like a lifetime ago. He had been so young and still new to shamanism. He remembered telling her about himself and becoming a shaman.

            At this, his face fell. She accepted it then, so what changed? What tore their connection? What caused them to drift? They vowed to be partners and support each other in good times and bad. If that was true, how did everything fall?

            He shut his eyes, hoping to keep the tears at bay. No such luck. A few seeped out of his eyes and down his cheeks. He bit his lower lip. His body felt heavy, nothing more than emotional stress.

            Slowly, he sank in the grass. His heart pounded, choking him at every beat. With every pound, he gasped in pain. When one beat felt like it was going to rip through his chest, he couldn’t hold it. He simply threw his face into his paws and sobbed aloud, not caring who heard. He had cried yesterday with his cubs, but this was the first time he cried alone. It was proper now. He was torn to the depths of his soul. The stark reality finally struck him and slapped him in the face with such force it knocked the wind out of his lungs. He couldn’t breathe.

            She was gone. Akase was truly gone. His wife, his partner and the mother of his three children was gone forever. More tears streamed down his face and Arif rolled to one side, put his paws over his eyes, and wept. Could anything fill the void? Would he be happy again? How was he going to care for his cubs?

            These questions made him fear the future. This was punishment. He had failed. He didn’t deserve to be a shaman; he didn’t deserve to even be royalty! Why was he born into a line of royals where someone close dies? Death had always played a part in the Circle of Life, but this was unfair!

            His mind burned with thoughts. He should never have married. He’d been emotionally attached. And that was something Rafiki avoided, and with good reason. Shamans were supposed to be separate from others. They had a different perspective to life, death, and the afterlife that no mere mortal could grasp. It’d be impossible, unless some special mortal was born with the gift and or knowledge to take everything in and use it.

            And he, a prince with amazing knowledge, had been ready to use it and for shamanism and to be separate from all others until he meddled