It had always been rare to find the siblings together. Full siblings not so much but the half siblings? Ranzima could think of only a few occassions when she had stopped to have a conversation with the children her mother had born to a dead general. Nokhoi was the least conversational of all and had settled himself into an almost brutal training regime that had left the lion looking broken. Well...broken to the unknowing eye, perhaps. Ranzima may have been perhaps a tad cautious, but she felt on edge around him these days. He felt dangerous. Unpredictable. And it was for that reason that she was glad she had her brother, Krork, at her side when they met that grey, dreary morning. It was the type of weather she missed, in fact. Grey and dreary had suited the Nergui. Not the almost unbearable heat and open skies of this wretched place. It was still early, some storm clouds blowing in to hang low over the dunes and cast an almost chilly edge to the time of day when the sun wasbeginning to chase night's cold away.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" Krork rumbled sleepily, lifting his head as Nokhoi lumbered towards them and eased himself into a sit. The action seemed to pain him slightly, as if suffering from some unseen wound.

"I came to see how my mother's fully grown cubs have fared."

"Better than you, judging by appearance," Krork teased, though Nokhoi's threatening growl took any further jest from his throat. The pale lion bit down hard - the muscles in his jaw tightening - and looked away in an attempt to calm the sudden tension. He liked to throw a joke out or two but in the Nergui they were not always so well received.

"Father says you have been training hard," Ranzima piped in helpfully, keeping her voice as level as she possibly could. "You wish to become a general?"

"Not just that," Nokhoi replied with a cruel smile,clawing at the sand as if he were pawing at a fresh kill.

"Something more?" she tilted her ears towards her brother, allowing her eyes to trace over his mangled face and scarred body. Some wounds were old -
like the one across his muzzle - but others smelt fresher. One of his ears was nearly gone and there was a wicked scar that looked like it could have taken his eye if he'd been a touch closer to his attacker. His back was scored and his flank was bare of fur from previous fights. He looked a monster. A perfect Nergui, yes, but a frightening brother. He seemed to sense her fear and got back to his paws, moving closer to her with an almost taunting air.

"Soon. Soon I will be ready to show all the doubters what I am made of."

"I hope I will be there to witness it," Ranzima offered carefully.

"You think so many doubt you, Nokhoi? Stories of failure are no longer whispered on the tongues of Nergui. I think they already look at you with respect if you took the chance to look." Krork replied, yawned, then pulled himself up into a casual sit. Ranzima could sense he was equally as nervous as she - perhaps more so - which likely meant their brother could sense it, too.

"That may well be, but I still have my ambitions. I have my father's honour to uphold."

"I wish we could have met him." Ranzima replied, though that was far from truth.

"No you don't," her half-brother retorted. "If father still lived, you would not exist."

"He died upon a glorious battlefield," Krork replied, "facing an enemy that vastly outnumbered him with strength and courage. We can only wish for a death as beautiful."

"Yes," Nokhoi agreed and said no more on the matter. "I heard you have becomebraak."

"Yes," Krork replied, "still with much to learn. Perhaps I shall serve under you in the next battle, brother."

"Perhaps," he replied with a smile, "and you, dear sister?"

"Emkurcar," she returned, "like mother."

"I imagine the males will be fighting for you, soon," he grinned, "dear sister with her unusual eyes - eyes to charm even the most intelligent of Nergui. I hope they do not prove a curse. Sometimes too much attention is a bad thing. A very bad thing, indeed. Worse for a female who faces new challengers every time she becomes available."

"No one has shown interest yet," she replied carefully, glad of it. She was not ready to become a mother yet. Not until she had found a stronger place within the pride. She had some friends, yes, but the ideaof raising a cubs with one of the pride's current males did not suit well with her. She hoped, dearly, that she'd find a rogue male with whom to bear cubs. Someone strong and handsome who would make fine sons and intelligent daughters. Someone like her very own father, Zizima. She had seen how much in love her mother was with her father and how kindly he treated her despite being a fierce warrior. That was what she wanted. Not someone rough and cruel as many of the Nergui males tended (or pretended) to be.

Was it foolish of her to think of finding someone like that all the way out here?

Krork, who had been quietly watching her, gave her a comforting smile when their eyes met - a gesture not gone unnoticed by Nokhoi who growled and sank his claws into the sand.

"You are both so young and foolish. Life has been kind and gentle to you. Mother and Zizima have not helped that. Soon you will both learn that life is rarely fair. Life is cruel. Life will spit in your face and kick you when you're down until, at last, you fight back in blood and fury."

"Nokhoi..." Ranzima whispered softly. Sadly. "Life has been cruel to you. Just as it has been to others. But it doesn't always have to be so."

"Spoken with the naivity of a child," Nokhoi retorted.

"No. Spoken with hope and belief. Life can offer happiness too, if one knows where to look."

"My happiness awaits in battle and in climbing the ranks. Soon I shall learn the taste of sweet victory and the delight in my success."

"I hope it brings you happiness, brother," Krork replied, moving slowly to sit beside Ranzima. The brown-pelted lion was growling quietly under his breath now, turning his head to glance out across the desert. For a moment, with his angry gaze diverted, the sister felt her heart wrench with pity for all that he had suffered. She had heard the stories of a son battling in his father's shadow. Heard of his shame and failure. Now he was a scarred, vicious thing with no love in his heart at all. She wanted to weep at the unfairness of it. The Nergui had created him. Had nurtered his shame and hate until he became the twisted thing he was now.

"I have learned some warpaint designs," she replied suddenly, not sure where the words had come from, "if you like, I can draw their designs upon your pelt. To enhance the scars. Enhance your power."

She felt Krork nudge her, warning, but she had eyes only for Nokhoi has he turned to stare at her. There was suspicion in his face first, than wary acceptance that seemed to be tinged with...gratitude?

"Perhaps.I should see them first."

She doubted he would have accepted if he'd had another willing to do the job, but she knew most gave him a wide berth these days - her included. But they were siblings and he had not always been so cruel. Perhaps, one day, he would rediscover that lost part of himself. The part he had trampled and buried away. The part he was ashamed of but made him wholesome.

"I shall collect my things and find you later?"

Nokhoi nodded, the gratitude returning to suspicion again, though he did not change his mind. "I shall be at my den. I have a day's rest today." He looked like he needed it, too. More than a day, in fact, but Ranzima would say nothing and when, after a moment, the older brother padded stiffly away, she turned to look at her pale sibling andgavehim an apologetic smile.

"What were you thinking?! He's dangerous and unpredictable. If he doesn't like the warpaint you'll be lucky to get away unscathed." Krork smacked her across the shoulder with a paw.

"I was thinking that he was our brother and that no one has ever shown him an ounce of kindness. Even mother."

It was hard to talk badly of their mother. Sarangerel had always been particularly good to her daughters but to the cubs of her union with Zizima, she had been more motherly than she ever had with her previous litter. She had been unhappy too and her unhappiness had fed into that of her children. A never-ending cycle. It had to end at some point, didn't it? Why not take that job on herself?

"I hope you don't live to regret it, "Krork mumbled under his breath, "whatever he's got planned...it's not good."

/fin