of birds and small mammals. Going for a mile in all directions, it was like an island in a sea of dry wilderness, hemmed in by desert which could be seen on the surrounding horizon, a pale blur on the skyline.

'It was a miracle we found this place,' nodded Jafiya. 'Here we could regain our strength, the cubs could grow and thrive and we've had little bother from enemies.  Our small safe haven . . . ' Jafiya trailed off with something like a wistful sigh.
'What is is, Jaf?' Jet asked.

Jafiya was quiet for a few seconds, as if choosing his words before he replied.  His voice was heavy with worry. 'Jot will be having his own family in due time, with his betrothed Rin. Sula and Kyra will want to settle down eventually too I'll wager, as well as Kudan's cubs; and then there's Ebon and Gantua and Wafa of course - they've become like family and they plan to end their days with us. Ukula, and Wavivu Saka and his mate Luna also want to join us . . . Jet, I guess what I'm trying to say is our small safe haven will become too small, soon enough. For one thing, the prey won't last - it's not the sort of prey to support a growing group of lions as it is. We need to find another home.'

'Where?' Jet asked; but as she buried her head back into her mate's mane, she was certain she knew the answer.

Jafiya took a regretful glance over his shoulder, towards the south. 'Back,' he said. 'We have to go back. We must return the way we came three years ago. Whether to regain our old lands from Obbler or find a new home, I don't know. There's no other miracle paradise anywhere else in the desert, within reachable distance, that I'm certain. Kudan and I have checked in all directions - Ave, the wanderer, has confirmed it - there is no other place to go, but back.'

After a long moment, Jet nodded sadly. She knew Jafiya was right. Yes, dark worriment crowded her mind as she recalled the days of strife that she and Jafiya and their family, along with their followers, had gone through all that time ago in the battles against Obbler's forces. Yes, she fretted for her cubs, all grown up and strong and happy. 'Not all, though,' she added to herself, a stabbing pain in her heart as she recalled one little daughter she'd lost, not so long ago . . .  No, she didn't want her remaining cubs to fight, get hurt - or killed. But at the same time, yes; deep inside, she knew Jafiya was right. 'When, my love?'

'I don't know when,' said Jafiya. 'When the time is right. We'll feel it - '

'Dad! Momma!'

Jafiya and Jet started at the cheerful shout. A young male lion in his adolescence was bounding up the hill towards them. Jot, their son and eldest of the litter, had inherited his father's  ginger fur and white markings, but a few of his mother's characteristics too; his head and shoulders were black and his eyes deep amber. He also had one most distinguishing feature and this was the great quiff crowning his ginger mane. Somewhat resembling a cone of shame, it usually stuck  up stiff and tall although now, in the bustling wind of the hilltop, it looked more like an overused paintbrush; Jot, laughing, tried to smooth it down with one licked paw as he sat down in front of his parents.

'I hope I'm not bothering you,' the young lion said, with an apologetic smile. 'But Ebon took me on a patrol around the border and we caught a couple of rogue lions trespassing, picking at the skeleton of a hare killed two days ago. Ebon has them trapped in that little rat cave under the palm grove. One lion doesn't seem to want to talk, but the other, Mahiri, he's real funny, and seems to like to chat. I said I'd bring you down for a word.'
  'Oh. Well, we'll come,' nodded Jafiya, looking keenly interested. 'Lead the way.'
  *

Mahiri was a bony, malnourished old lion, blemished with scabs and wrinkles that covered his grey-brown fur. He was lounging contentedly at the entrance of the ''Rat Cave'', sucking the marrow out of a hare bone under the watchful eye of Ebon, a tall, long-faced sandy-and-black lion with alert blue eyes, who was also of mature years (although not quite as many as Mahiri). 

 

'Aaaah!' Mahiri grinned, showing an almost toothless mouth, as Jot approached followed by his parents. ''Ello, your Highnesses! I bow to you, your Royal excellencies!' He began to rise to his feet, but Jafiya motioned him to remained lying down.

'No need for that formality,' Jafiya said with a friendly smile. To him, the elderly rogue seemed harmless enough. 'Please, make yourself comfortable.'

Mahiri lay back down with a sigh and a noise like every joint in his body was cracking.
'My humble thanks! I apologize for wandering onto your land - no clue anyone lived here. Nobody did when I passed through a few years back.'

'Apology accepted. Where are you from?' 

'Oh, depends what you mean by that,' said the old rogue. 'I've been roaming here and there for a while. But if you mean ''which direction have you come from?'', why, the only place you can come from to get here - Emperor Obbler's lands.' Mahiri made a wry face. 'I didn't want to come out into the desert but with what's kicking off back on the Emperor's patch, I had no choice . . .'

'What is going on there?' asked Jafiya, glancing at Jet with eyebrows raised.

'Well, trouble! And lots of it!' Mahiri took a suck at his hare bone. 'Hoho, Obbler's got his paws full, what with the rogues and the other prides all gnawing at his borders like gut worms - he's got too much land to take care of, you see. And I hear that the troublemakers, they'll all gang up and work together to overthrow old Obbler. He'd better get help from the Pridelanders and his other allies, like he used to, or his pride is done for!'

Jet sensed Jafiya's body go tense. Her mate's expression was both thoughtful and alert, like an idea was growing in his mind, a small flame that had been curbed for ages long but was now being steadily fed, ready to burst into a raging bushfire. 'Jet . . . ' he whispered, turning to her. 'It's what we've been talking about . . .  '   'Yes,' said Jet. 'The time is right.'

'Mahiri . . . ' Jafiya began, ready with a question for the rogue.
'Excuse me, Jafiya old chap,' interrupted Ebon with a cough. 'Do you mind if I just pop into the cave to check on the other rogue? He's not said a peep and I'm starting to wonder whether he's there at all, a-hem . . . '

'Of course, Ebon, I'd forgotten about the other one,' said Jafiya, nodding. 'Fetch him out for a talk. I can't see him being able to get out of the cave - it's a dead end, unless you count the tiny snake hole at the back.  Oh, you're welcome to stay, here, Mahiri,' went on Jafiya to the old rogue, as Ebon crept into the Rat Cave. 'You and your friend.'

'Friend?' Mahiri snorted, smiling in apparent amusement. 'What? That scrawny old Tribal grub? Well, I understand why you'd think he was associated with me. He's even thinner than I am, but he's no friend of mine. He just happened to be around me in time to get captured too!'

'I say!' Ebon's voice echoed from inside the cave, before he emerged from the mouth, teeth bared. 'The little rogue's done a runner! Believe it or not, he's dug that snake hole big enough to get out of!'

'What!' Jot exclaimed. 'No! Really?' The incredulous young male ran into the cave to see for himself the proof of this feat.

Mahiri cackled heartily. 'That's Lagiza's Tribe for you. They can dig like naked mole rats - and are just as hairless, some of them!'

'Who are ''Lagiza's Tribe''?' asked Jafiya, adding, 'Are they the ones giving Obbler trouble?'

'They're some of the ones!' said Mahiri. 'Them and more besides. There are the Goldencraters with their new leader; and only a week ago I was mingling with a huge gang of rogues who hassle old Obbler no end. But anyway . . . Lagiza, he's bad, worse than Obbler ever was, I'd say. His bunch are a wild lot of warriors, real barbaric. Wear tribal paint on their faces. Didn't you see the paw print stamped of the one that got away?'

As Jafiya and Jet shook their heads, Ebon raised an eyebrow and snorted. 'Oh, so that was the red mess on his face! Thought he was just an untidy eater! Well, Jafiya, shall I track the fiend down?'

'No,' Jafiya said. He looked more thoughtful than ever. 'There's no need, we don't have use for him. I don't think Lagiza's lions are the type for the job . . . '

'Job?' Ebon was mystified.

Jet, however, understood what her mate meant. She took a deep breath. 'If you need somebody to go with Mahiri and talk to the rogues, Jafiya,' she said slowly with eyes lowered, 'I think it would be a good practice mission for Jot, and perhaps one of the girls, to ready them for war.' 

When she looked up, Jafiya was smiling at her, glad at her understanding and also proud; proud that she was bravely going along with his idea, despite her huge worry for her cubs - because she trusted him.
  'Yes, Jet,' Jafiya said. 'It will be good for the boy. Mahiri,' he said, turning to the old lion. 'Although I hold no grudge towards you for hunting on our lands, would you be willing to

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