In the oppressive afternoon heat, Sinir bint Nesf found herself almost missing the unseasonable rain they'd been having during the pride's aborted attempt to migrate. Yeah, she'd been soaked to the bone and miserable about it, but at least the temperature had been pleasant. Reaching the meager shade of a scraggly tree, she threw herself down, rather more dramatically than was absolutely necessary, and heaved out a sigh. She was still for only a moment before she grimaced and wriggled into a more comfortable position not on a tree root. She really should have aimed that flop a little better, now her shoulder was going to be sore. She sighed again, long-suffering and loud, and peered sideways at the world.
No one was ever up to much at this time of day in this kind of weather, and some - like her - had chosen to spread out rather than all cluster together. While she appreciated the company of her family, Sinir did not currently appreciate their body heat, so she'd separated herself out from the other Qyrhyeshti and sought a bit of personal space. Alone time held great appeal, especially when there were cubs around, and more often than not, the ambassador from the Firekin seemed to prefer the company of their little subgroup, which usually meant her brood of five as well.
They were in that middle ground now where they didn't quite qualify as cubs anymore, but weren't quite into adolescence, either, which meant they were into everything and full of trouble. Sinir remembered it well enough from her nieces and nephews, and while it was entertaining when they were bothering someone else, the appeal was limited once you became the target. Still, the little monsters were her cousins, in a convoluted but not blood-related sort of way, and if there were any subgroup they belonged in, it was absolutely with the Qyrhyeshti. This litter, more than any of the rest, felt like it was Umkhombo's, and therefore part of the family.
She could tell that her cousin, Khazine, felt much the same way, as she had actively engaged with these new half-siblings of hers from the beginning. One of them in particular fit perfectly, visually speaking, with the same dark browns as her father and half-sister, and even the same little white marks in the same places. Of the ones that were more red, Sinir wondered if they would go to the Firekin when they were older, or if they would stay. The green one...nobody really talked about the green one anymore. The prevailing guess was that he'd made good on his threat to run away; he'd not been a happy cub, and she could hardly blame him. While the Qyrhyeshti didn't give much thought to color, the rest of the pride did, and he'd been born to a harsh lot in life: male and green. But cubs weren't meant to be alone, and so he was almost certainly dead. And life just went on for the rest of them, because s**t happened.
Sinir rolled over onto her back with yet another sigh, and as a result, when someone strolled by, she was looking at them upside-down. Even upside-down, though, they were unmistakable - the pride only had so many males, so each one stood out. This was their newer Inselelo, the one who'd come from the Firekin. Consequently, he was very much their most interesting Inselelo. The desert-dwelling pride of warriors was, for obvious reasons, deeply fascinating to no few of the refugee Qyrhyeshti, and Sinir was no exception.
"Yo," she hailed him in a lazily rough voice, not even bothering to turn herself upright.
Brief as the 'greeting' was, it would have been easy enough to miss, but Mot just caught it, and paused to consider the lioness who'd spoken. She was evidently quite comfortable, as she continued to regard him upside-down from where she lay on her back in the shade. It was hardly dignified, but there was something rather charming about that. "Good afternoon," he returned, tilting his head just slightly as he looked her over. She had some scars, which were somewhat uncommon among the females here, and wore a necklace of what looked to be fangs and claws. Interesting. "Did you need something?"
"Not really," she admitted, "I'm just bored. Hot and bored."
The red-maned male chuckled. So he was to be the entertainment, then? Well, alright. "I think that's almost everyone, this time of day."
"That doesn't make it any less hot or boring," she groaned, finally rolling over and pushing herself up into a sit before exhaling another sigh.
"I don't know what to tell you," he said, bemused. "Except be careful what you wish for, maybe. As strange as things have been, the weather might change any moment, or rocks could fall out of the sky." Which had apparently happened to a hunting party the other day. No one had been seriously hurt, but that didn't make it any less strange.
"At this point, I'd take it. At least it would be something." She was quiet for a few moments before she focused pale eyes on him again. "Hey, you're a redpelt. Or were. Sort of. Whatever." Okay, so he wasn't really red, and he'd had to leave, but he'd been Firekin, so he was basically a redpelt. Close enough.
"You could...put it that way, I suppose." If she really wanted to. "What about it?"
"That means you actually know how to fight. Most everyone else around here doesn't, and I'm bored with fighting my sisters all the time." And her nieces, and aunts, and Sabit and her daughters, and even Turiya. "Fight me."
"You- What?" The unexpected request had him open-mouthed.
"You heard me! Fight me."
"I- Am I even allowed to do that?"
"Far as I know," she answered with a shrug, not really caring if it was counter to proper Ithambo behavior in some way. "You asked earlier if I needed something, so. There you go."
Mot frowned, but after a long moment to consider the insistent request, he acquiesced with a nod. "Alright then, if that's what you really want."
Sinir's expression split into an eager grin, and there was a wriggle in her movements before she settled into a fighting stance. This was as good a cure for boredom as she was ever going to find.