Msala said, rising from her position with a soft grunt, “now, you should run along home. Your mother will be concerned.” Nala got up and passed her body against the elder lioness’s legs.

“Thank you, I’m sorry we were so mean before.” Msala chuckled in a grandmotherly kind of way.

“All is forgiven,” she said, “as long as you remember what I told you.” The little lioness nodded quickly and started down the kopje. No sooner had she hit the surrounding grass than a thought popped into her mind.

“Oh! Msala, I forgot to ask you- Msala?” Nala turned her eyes up to the small kopje and looked around. The gentle sweep of a feathery wind tickled through the fur in her ears, carrying with it the sound of silence. The lioness had disappeared.

Nala returned home in silence, though with a mild hop in her step. The little adventure had proven quite fruitful, and she felt much better now than before. A few days later, the mourning roars lifted to the sky to mark the passing of Msala. For some, it was a blessing. For Nala, it was another moment of sadness. Yet this loss was different than before. Msala’s words echoed in her mind like the disembodied shadow of hope… and Nala repeated the words softly to herself.

“And where my journeys may lead me, I’ll always remember my pride…”