be two prides on these lands; it was more than big enough to support three or four; it was very odd that they had never met. But then Shaha had been there below the bluff with them, hadn’t she? He wondered why he had never smelt, seen or even heard Yali’s parents nor her siblings and cousins. She was still a cub and though she was seemingly capable of looking after herself, far beyond her age, she could hardly be living alone. So, where and who were her parents? Why did neither Falana nor Shaha know of them? Or was it that they didn’t want to tell Nengwe of them?

He turned his head, slowly opening one eye to where Yali had been standing. She was still there, standing intensely as if she had all the energy in the world. “Haven’t you got a home to go to? Come on, where are your parents?”

“My parents? You want to know where my parents are?” She giggled and turned as if to leave. Before she moved off she turned her head back to Nengwe and smiled, pulling her upper lip up slightly to let her teeth, still new, as witnessed by a gap low down to one side, shine in the thin pre-dawn light. She then turned and ran forward a few paces but, hearing no sounds from Nengwe, stopped at the bottom of the slope of the knoll and turned her head back once more, this time she did not smile quite so broadly.

“Come on! What are you lying there for? Come on, let’s go!” Now she ran off without waiting further. Nengwe rose stiffly and watched the cub run, knowing that he would have no trouble catching her. He could not stay around all day however, and he wished he had a little more time to stretch. The earth of the knoll was hard and not entirely comfortable. He called after the running cub in an attempt to gain a little time. Not for a moment did he doubt what he was about to do. He was going after her and that was all there was to it. He was going to meet her parents, what harm could there be in that? Yet somehow his instincts had been set aside; for an adult lion to meet a pride male, particularly after running after his young daughter, was likely to have only one outcome: Nengwalamwe would have to fight. Yet all this did not even enter his thoughts

“But Yali? Where are we going?” Then in a lower voice, so as not to be heard, “as if I even cared.”  Nengwalamwe however did care. He really did care about this young lioness who wandered so casually in and out of his life. He tried to reassure himself, saying that it didn’t really matter: “Why am I chasing after some cub anyway? It’s Falana I should be chasing, if only she’d lie still and let me catch her.”

“To meet my parents of course,” came the clear unwavering reply. Nengwalamwe casually noted that her voice carried no hint that she was running, no tremor of exertion, yet running she was and Nengwe felt as though he might as well get on with it and run after her, perhaps the rush of the grass along his flanks would do him some good. In her current mood Falana was perhaps best avoided. Nengwalamwe did not like the idea of being scratched or worse by a moody and confused lioness.

He moved off and quickly drew his weight forwards, accelerating powerfully. Yet just where was Yali running to? As he had predicted he was closing on the cub with every stride, every pawfall: every press of his pads on the ground. Yet no matter how he tried, she somehow managed to keep ten or more lengths ahead. The going was easy and familiar enough, nothing but the gentlest of downhill slopes. The well grazed paw-high fine grass was interspersed by occasional tussocks of tougher and thicker grass that might have brushed his fur heavily had he not avoided it with supple mid-stride twists of his back and subtle sideways flicks of his tail. The soil felt warm and slightly yielding under paw.

 The dawn overtook them both, bursting over the rock ahead, bathing it in dazzling gold. It enveloped Yali, Nengwe lost her as she approached the rock. He slowed for a few paces before stopping to stand, drawing his forepaws together. Yali had entered the deep shadows at the base of the rock where the dawn had not yet penetrated. He waited for any sign of the cub.

‘Where’d she go? What a time for games!’ He waited again then dropped his head and raised it again calling in a restrained voice, “Yali?” No answer came through the rising air of evening. ‘Where did she go? Cubs can’t just disappear.’ Any of the caves, overhangs and ledges could hide a cub of Yali’s age. It was a perfect playground for cubs, it was the perfect place for a family of lions yet, apart for Nengwe it was empty.

There was still no sound or scent of the cub. ‘Just why don’t Shaha and Falana live here?’ He looked about, but realised he would be much better able to search from above, on the rock. He looked up to the long promontory of the rock. His instincts began gnaw at him, ‘if her parents are here then I would know it. Yali’s just playing cub games: “See me, Hunt me” I reckon. And where’s Mtundu?’

Nengwe set off again, leaping over every boulder to the rock platform. No lion would dare to show himself around here, Nengwalamwe’s scent marks bore silent witness to that. He slowed as he reached the tip of the promontory and looked all about him, even, as unnatural as it felt, below to each side. He padded tentatively forward to reach the tip. Once more he looked back to the north of the outcrop, shrouded in trees, past the ledge and the empty, draughty cave that lay beyond the branches of the ancient, blackened acacia, past the saddle between the tower and on to the northern mass beyond that lead to the boulders of the western fields. He looked to the rock pile that covered what he presumed to be the greatest of the rock’s secrets. Neither a cub nor any living creature larger than a lizard met his gaze: Mtundu had indeed not returned. In frustration he filled his chest with the full warmth of the savannah and called out as loudly as he could over the plains below:

“Yali! Where are you?” His voice filled the rock and overflowed like the opening of the rains. He was about to roar again when, from far off to the east, came a returning call of a lioness. It was not full, complex and resonant like Falana’s. It was strong yet broken and rough: Shaha’s. He roared back with his eyes closed and head raised majestically. After, he paused again. Again he heard Shaha’s response, caught and magnified by the rock face that towered behind him. He smiled wryly. ‘Well Yali, I’m not that sure I wanted to meet your father anyway.’

He backed up gingerly, opening his eyes to look down to his forepaws. A couple of lengths back from the edge he turned carefully, swinging his great forepaws round, placing them precisely. If the dogs didn’t know already, they could have no doubt at all: Nengwalamwe was back.

***

Nengwe woke to sounds of soft approach. Someone was close. The breezes of earlier had abated and now an unmistakable scent drifted on the still air. He felt no need to rise, or even to look back to see who or what it was, the scent told it all. He felt a paw land at his near flank. It held for a moment and Nengwe was sure he could just feel breath on his shoulders. This time he was sure. Falana laid down beside him, pressing herself to him, laying her tail over his.

"You know, love's like that."

"Love's like what, Nengwalamwe?"

"Like all that out there. It’s beautiful and has everything that keeps us alive."

She looked at Nengwe then raised her off forepaw, stretched it in front of her and brought it down, claws exposed, with a thud, lifting the dust into the air.

"No, Nengwalamwe, love's like my paw. It's strong, it tears and rips, and it can kill you if you're on the wrong side of it. It raises the dust around us and clouds our way."

Nengwe turned to Falana and stared at her. Was that what she really thought? Maybe Shaha was right.

She smiled at his discomfort then raised her paw and held it hovering above his head, her claws still glaringly exposed. He looked up uneasily, his unease began to turn to fear and he pulled his ear down. She smiled at him and said: "And yet, it brings..." she carefully lowered her paw so that it rested gently on his mane just behind his flattened ear. She drew her paw slowly and delicately down his mane and onto his neck sending shivers down his back. "... joy and pleasure in that pain. It gives us the will to live, and die, for others."

Nengwalamwe closed his eyes and could not help but enjoy the feelings of shimmering pleasure that welled up within him. Falana laughed and drew back her paw. “That's enough Nengwe. I wouldn't want you to think I was leading you on." She withdrew her paw, tucking it neatly under her. “What’s all the noise about?”

“Elizabeth and the dogs. The dogs are coming for me. Not today most likely, nor tomorrow, but soon. You mustn’t be here when they do.”

“I can look after myself. I don’t need any warnings from you.”

“I’m serious. Can’t you drop this ‘Miss Independent’ thing for just one day? A storm’s coming, and I just don’t want you to get caught up in it. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No Nengwe. I just don’t need rescuing, that’s all.” Nengwe got up and paced about. “Nengwe, what happened to you?”

“What? Oh this? It’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.” Falana watched him anxiously. His ripped mane could not hide the still