"Umeka, right?"

Ahlaq meandered towards the lioness that lay in the shade. It was a hot day and the sun was at its peak. A good time to lay low and cool off. And, he supposed, it was a good time to meet some of the locals that he had yet to introduce himself to. He had gotten the hang of how things seemed to go, around here. The different 'groups' within the lionesses. Those that were more conservative. Those that were more progressive. Those who had blood in the family that went back a long ways. From what he knew, this lioness was one of them. One of the only Imbiza. He had heard she was one of those related to Umkhombo. With the dark coloration, he wasn't surprised.

"Emeka, actually." The dark spotted lioness smiled up at the Umholi. She hadn't spoken to him personally yet, though she trusted any that Umkhombo did. He had done is part in aiding the other Abaholi in taking their toles and keeping the pride safe. That's all that mattered to her. Even is his pelt was paler than that of the others. "What can I do for you, Umholi Ahlaq?" Emeka moved to stand and move, making some room in her little spot of shade for the lion to share. It was a bit of a hassle with her missing hind limb, but she had gotten more proficient in her maneuvering since the injury.

Ahlaq frowned. "No, you don't have t-"

"Please, Ahlaq," Emeka cut him off curtly, "I know we aren't all grizzled warriors like those with which you may be accustomed, but you can at least give us some credit." The lioness gave him a gentle smile and settled back down at the edge of the shrubby bush's shadow. "Now please. Sit."

Ahlaq snorted, but smiled back at her nonetheless. It had been multiple times now that he had failed to give the lionesses here the credit they deserved. Silently, he scolded himself for it. He sat.

"Now. What can I do for you? Any aches that need tending to? I have some stuff mixed up, just for the occasion." The Imbiza glanced back towards the hollowed out shell that she had been using as a makeshift mixing bowl for her herbs.

"No." The Umholi shook his head, following her gaze then looking back towards the dark lioness. "Just," he started, looking then outwards towards the rest of the pride. There were some lionesses here and there. Everyone seemed to be getting comfortable now that the migration was completed. There even seemed to be cubs popping up here and there. "Wanted to talk."

"Still getting to know the locals, hm?" Emeka returned with a smile. "What is it that you'd like to talk about?"

Ahlaq settled, his paws folding before him and his chin settling atop them. "Your family goes back a long ways, right? In the Ithambo-hlabathi?"

Emeka settled down beside him, perking her ears and giving him a tilt of the head. "Looking for a history lesson? I would have thought Umkhombo would have filled you in on all of that before you came."

"He did," The sandy lion replied. "I'm looking for another perspective. It's important for a leader to know the lands he leads. From all views."

"Mm, I suppose you're right," Emeka responded, giving another smile. Her front legs stretched as she rolled onto her side, watching him. "I'm the daughter of Umama Buna and Umholi Surtak, Umkhombo's grandfather. He led alongside Gakere, Umkhombo's father. Gakere took rule after overthrowing his father, Matifu. Obviously this was all before my time, but Matifu was ruthless in his treatment of males. Even his own sons. Didn't work out for him in the end, though."

The lioness shrugged her shoulders, a yawn escaping her maw. It was warm. She was comfortable. "But, anyway. Gakere and Surtak. Things were stable beneath them, but you know. Things happen. Andhaka was an Inselelo before becoming Umholi. Bangizwe joined him after. We prospered beneath them. But you can't stay at your peak forever."

Emeka turned her attention towards Ahlaq once more. "There hasn't been three Abaholi before. Though some might criticize and think less of you for it, it hopefully means stability under the three of you."

Ahlaq narrowed his eyes, considering her words. He knew what she meant. It took three of them to overthrow Andhaka and Bangizwe, and even then there were rumors that they hadn't been fighting at their fullest. He didn't think much of the gossip. Some individuals didn't like change and would find any way they could to criticize the new while remaining nostalgic over what was gone.

"And you? What do you think?"

Emeka couldn't help but smile. "You're trying to integrate. That's a good sign. But what does it matter what a three-legged, childless Imbiza thinks?"

He furrowed his brow. "Why wouldn't it matter what you think?" Ahalq returned, shifting his position and sitting up. "I've seen plenty of lions and lionesses in your position filling an important role. You're not useless around here." The lion motioned towards the herbs and medicines she had gathered. "And you could still be a mother. If you wanted."

A breath left Emeka's nostrils. Her ambitions had dwindled as soon as she had lost her leg in that hunting accident. She couldn't stand the way other looked at her, then. The pity. The uselessness. She was half-ready to take her Ukufahamba, had the prospect of medicine not given her new life. Still, the idea of motherhood seemed a distant dream. It was this thought that pulled the smile away from Emeka's face for the first time in the conversation.

Ahlaq saw the change in her demeanor and tore his eyes away from her. He sighed, watching some cubs wrestle in the distance under the watchful eye of their caretaker. It was one of the values around here, he reminded himself. Motherhood. The Abaholi might had been the leaders, but even they could be driven out if they got on the wrong side of the wrong lionesses. Blood and family were everything, and in a land where the males were transient and could be gone without notice, it was the mothers who were the true cornerstones. "Have a good afternoon, Emeka," he said finally, getting to his feet and moving away. There was nothing more that needed to be said. Nothing that he could think of to say.

Emeka watched him leave. Though the Umholi might not have realized it, his words had made her think. Perhaps he was right.

(WC: 1101)