that.

            He smiled, closed his eyes, and silently prayed. When he opened his eyes again, she was sitting at his right side.

            “Morning,” he said, smiling.

            “Morning, Baraka,” she replied, her blind eyes staring ahead.

            “Did you sleep well?”

            Her ears flickered. “Yes, I did, and yourself?”

            “Better than I’ve had in months,” he said softly.

            There was a small comforting silence in the air. A moment later, Baraka spoke. “Are you thirsty?” It was a question he’d asked so many times…

            Her blind eyes were locked on him, as if she knew he’d ask the question before the words left his mouth. “Yes, and you are too.”

            With that, he rose and walked down the stone. In the grass, his steps were light and soft. She was beside him, her own steps in perfect time with his. As they walked, Baraka mentally thought about what she had said of her cubhood and the memory she shared. Silently, he watched her. She surpassed the cold and cruel words of those who persecuted her. Here she was, alive and well, and using the gifts given to replace her eyesight. “If only the mockers could see you now,” he thought to himself.

            They got to the waterhole and drank, but didn’t lie down in the grasses. Instead they stood, experiencing the warm, comforting silence again.

            Baraka looked around. Kahuni would be arriving soon. Again, he looked up at the sky. The clouds were still soft, but soon, he knew, they would grow hard and threatening. The rain season was coming and would start before the day ended.

            His eyes fell on her, concern etching his face. He wanted to ask if she would accompany him on his travels, but decided against it. It’d be asking too much, and after last night surely she needed to be by herself. But the thought of her walking around alone as she often did when he didn’t need her help was… Then there was Hasira… Has the name of his childhood friend crossed his mind, he realized he, or anyone else for that matter, had rarely seen the gray-brown lioness. Not even Dailia knew where her sister was, and didn’t express concern. Baraka couldn’t blame her for that. He often wondered how Dailia lived with a sister like Hasira. Their mother… Baraka shivered.

            Etana felt his eyes and flexed her paws on the grass. The ground was damp, which meant one thing: rain. She sniffed the air. The moisture was strong. When it would commence and bring the lands water, she didn’t know.

            Baraka looked down at the ground, closing his eyes. His mind flooded with more questions. He wanted her to go with him, but he also wanted her to have her time alone, her privacy. He respected her so much that he was willing to let her have the time if she wanted it. He found himself caring about her well being, what she wanted more and more.

            Before either of them could break the silence, a voice did. Baraka turned, smiled, and bowed his head. “Good day, Kahuni.”

            The cheetah bowed back. “Good day, sire. Miss Etana.” He bowed to her.

            The gray lioness returned the gesture, her head movement graceful and smooth. “Good morning, Kahuni.”

            “Are there any problems, Kahuni?” Baraka asked.

            The cheetah thought for a moment, then nodded gravely. “There are a few, yes, sire…” He looked regretful, as if he sensed Baraka didn’t want to hear that. That he hoped for a day off to spend with his family and the lioness that joined him every day at this waterhole. Kahuni couldn’t pass blame or judgment on his king. There were times when he himself, though honoring every moment he served the King of the Pridelands, just wished the other animals stopped pestering each other with foolish, cubbish, and petty problems.

            The king sighed. “Alright, let’s get to work.” He turned to Etana, pain filling his face as he stared at her. Did she know he probably wouldn’t need her help? Or did she sense that though he wanted her to come with him, that she needed her space instead? Before the question could be given, she walked up to him, and nuzzled him gently, speaking in a low, yet soft voice.

            “You’ll be okay, Baraka. You don’t need my help. Not this time.” She sensed his tension, and in spite of herself, she rested her head against his. His mane was soft. She shivered faintly but ignored it. “I will, however, give you this piece of advice… Don’t let the aggressive leaders walk over you. You’re king. They have to respect you. If they don’t, then they show no respect for others, or themselves. Take charge, if need be.”

            He barely had time to respond to this advice before she gave him a kind lick on the cheek and strode past him. He was stunned, frozen, and shaking. He managed to turn his head around to see her walk from the waterhole and him. He hoped she would change her mind and come but she’d already decided. Respect and deep admiration filled him again, and he felt his heart beat increase in his chest.

            “Baraka…”

            The royal advisor’s voice caught his attention. He forced himself out of his trance, shook his head and cleared his throat. Now, his voice had to be one of a king and not of a lion who was experiencing an unusual and wonderful feeling in his soul and heart.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Arif was in a daze. For the first time in nearly three months he was confused, but the confusion didn’t revolve around him, his children, or his conflicting feelings for Saada. This time the concern was for his brother. He didn’t mean to look inside the king’s chambers, but Baraka was his brother, the only one he’d ever have, at least by blood. Arif only looked inside because when he retired to sleep, Baraka wasn’t there, and Etana had not been in the place she vacated outside the den.

            What he had seen early this morning had amazed, stunned and slightly terrified him. Baraka was in his cave with Etana. They were laying side-by-side… Did Baraka need healing? Was he ill, didn’t want anyone to know, and asked Etana to help, inviting her inside his chamber during the late night when everyone was in deep sleep? Whatever the reason, Arif could find no one better to take care of an illness his brother could have bore deep inside than a lioness who had healed a childhood friend from fever, his own daughter from heartache, and a lioness he felt a deep love for.

            Thinking on it long and hard, Arif wouldn’t be surprised if in fact, Baraka was in love with the blind lioness. It would make sense. He’d seen something in his twin glow whenever Etana was around. And Baraka always said more than one word to her. He even went to her for advice and counsel more than anyone else. There just had to be something between them, something no one else could see, except him and Kiara and Kovu.

            Arif was so into his brother’s probable feelings for Etana, and his own still lingering feelings for Saada that he failed to hear Rafiki call his name. It struck Arif that his and Baraka’s problem probably wasn’t natural. At one time in their lives, they were the Princes’ of the Pridelands. Now, one was king, the other a shaman, but they were the sons of a legacy and a legend. When it came to matters of the heart, problems like this shouldn’t happen. But Arif reasoned in his mind that he and his brother were mortal and not everyone could find their lifetime love as quickly as their parents, grandparents on both sides of the family, or even great-grandparents.

            “Prince Arif!”

            He snapped out of his thinking, his eyes blinking quickly to see a waving dark brown grayed hand in his face. He shook his head. “Yes, Rafiki,” he asked, as if the monkey’s insistence to get his