“You honor me.” She looked a little worried. “Please don’t tell the hyenas just yet.”

When he asked why, she said, “If their seer is so good, let her come tell you.”

He chuckled, amused. “Yes. Let her. But aren’t you a little curious what the future holds for him?”

“Yes. That’s why I plan to be there when it happens. We all have to suffer thorns and bruises, and we all have to die, but isn’t it really better not knowing how and when?”

Taka looked at her strangely. “Why Isha, you’re a philosopher.”

“All mothers are philosophers.”

Watching him leave, Isha thought back on her sister, Beesa. She had once been a philosopher. Fortunately, she had only had one cub to worry about feeding, a daughter named Lisani. Adopted by Isha upon Beesa’s death, the lioness cared for her niece as if she was one of her own; like Uzuri, she made no distinctions where children were concerned. Perhaps someday Lisani would grow to love Habusu. Perhaps Aiheu in his mercy will provide some future for them all. Then again, Isha kept her mind almost solely on the present. It was her way of keeping her sanity.

When Isha’s cubs were old enough to stray away from Mom, they found that there were other cubs with other mothers. But while other cubs were free to make friends at will, there were strange difficulties for Isha’s children as they sought to be accepted by the parents.

Usually, there was polite avoidance. Gobiso came out and said, “My mother told me I couldn’t play with you.”

Therefore Isha’s children grew up thinking all cubs pretty much stayed only with their mother. It was a fiction that helped keep the hurt of rejection from stinging so badly.

But Uzuri was always there to see them, chatting amiably with Isha and doting over little Lisani. Miss Liss, as she was known, often was called Miss Priss by the others because she was so proper and erudite. Habusu was so polite and gentle, he and Miss Priss got along fine. They were not only cousins but milk brother and sister. Uzuri always made Habusu feel welcome and loved. While his sisters liked to play together, Habusu would fawn on Uzuri like a second mother, and followed Lisani around like a puppy.

But eventually Habusu wanted another male to play with. He turned to Uzuri’s twin sons Togo and Kombi. Here it was Isha’s turn to be apprehensive, for Togo and Kombi had a reputation for mischief. Everyone knew that except, loyally, their mother.

Still, despite all the difficulties he faced, Habusu was loved unconditionally by his mother, Uzuri, and a few special friends. Even the King and his Queen loved him.

His first experience with death came when he was two months old. His sister Minshasa, always frail, began to develop symptoms of Dol Sani, a condition that would have been survivable if she had not been malnourished. Helplessly, Isha watched her decline. Finally after a week of suffering, Minshasa died peacefully in her sleep.

After the death of the first, public sympathy begins to turn, though stubborn Tameka said, “Yes, it’s too bad. But she asked for it.”

One moon later, when pneumonia claimed Jona, it was Tameka who was upbraided. The outpouring of sympathy and grief was spontaneous and heartfelt as they saw how Isha suffered. If anything, grief made her already beautiful features almost godlike. Her son that was left she treasured, and her care of him was seen by all as a sign that something wonderful had escaped their attention all along.

Finally, he became weak in turn. Taka began to panic. He felt some evil curse had come to take what little he owned and smash it. Some lionesses helped Isha smuggle herbs from Rafiki to build his blood and heal his infection. Even Taka let Isha eat from the King’s share to enrich her milk.

Still, though, Habusu had few friends to play with. Though he was polite and soft-spoken, there was the black mark that Taka and Elanna spent time with him. It was hard on Isha to know what to say or do on this matter, for she did not like Taka any more than Uzuri or Sarafina did.

Uzuri’s older kids Togo and Kombi played with Habusu, for their mother’s friendship with Isha would allow no prejudice to turn her head. With Habusu’s sisters dead, this contact with them and with Miss Priss became much more important.

From an early age, the older Togo and Kombi were rough with Habusu, but he put up with it. He picked up bad habits that had to be patiently broken one by one with Isha’s firm but gentle parenting. The only thing that jeopardized their friendship was the awful time Togo and Kombi told Habusu that he was born out of wedlock.

Habusu did not know what wedlock was. That’s when they told him his father was a mere youth that skipped out on their mother. “Ask anyone.”

Habusu cried. Isha took him aside and explained to him in gentle terms what had happened. That she loved his father, married him, and that he promised he would be coming back for them someday. That he would love his son, and tend to him. She did not know if Mabatu was alive or dead, but she did not express this to Habusu.

That night she watched the skies for his star. She wondered if she had seen him or not.

She could not reach Rafiki to ask his help, and in her desperation, she went to see Makhpil.

“Please be truthful with me. Please. I know we have been enemies in the past, but the gods have given you this talent for a reason. Please use it for good. Do not lie to me.”

“Lies cost me my best friend, ” Makhpil said. “She was my only friend. I will not lie as she did.”

“I will be your friend, ” Isha says.

Skeptical but willing, Makhpil looked into Isha’s eyes. “Yes, there is truth in you. Goodness that I did not expect to see. Your friendship honors me.”

Makhpil did not get a scrying bowl. She merely closed her eyes and let out a mild, high-pitched whine. “It comes to me. Yes, your husband is alive. But how he fares, I do not know.”

In her hope and joy, Isha fondled Makhpil with a paw. “Perhaps he will come back to me. Perhaps he will claim what is his.”

After two years as King, Taka’s Drought, as it had come to be known, had dried up the very lifeblood of the Pride Lands. It was another hot, dry day on the scorched savanna as the lionesses turned over rocks and dug at promising burrows trying to find something, anything. No one else would be foolish enough to attack an elephant calf—Uzuri had seen to that. Any lioness caught breaking the rules would be suspended from the hunt for one moon, and have to rely on the generosity of others.

Nala could remember better days, but since she had been an adult, there was no large game to hunt. Somehow she held out hope that rain would come, and there would be a future where all her mother taught her about wildebeests and antelopes would be useful.

The heat made shimmering blue patches of the sky look like cool lakes on the dry savanna. Waves of heat made the trees dance and soaked her fur with sweat. She panted.

“Nala, you rest in the shade, ” Uzuri said. It was not a request, but an order. Uzuri was strict, but only out of genuine care for her. On hunt, she was everyone’s mother and exercised her parental authority to the letter.

Nala was half relieved to get a break. She curled up in the shade of an acacia and thought to take a short nap. The heat had literally drained her.

A large grasshopper climbed to the top of a stalk of grass. In her desperation, Nala started to swat at it.

“No time to rest, Nala, ” a voice said. With a start, Nala looked around.

A lioness looked at her, smiling pleasantly. “My little Nala, how tall you’ve grown.”

The face was familiar, but Nala sniffed the air to no avail—the stranger had no smell. “Who are you?”