"Ugh."

Yithemba's movements slowed to a stop. Her pelt, at this point, was covered in dusty dirt. She panted. The sun was in the last portion of its arc through the sky. It was hot, and she was tired. Her muscles were going to be sore in the morning, she could already tell.

"Okay," Yi said, her body relaxing from the offensive position it had taken, "it's time for a break."

Ahlaq raised his eyebrows, moving out from his own defensive position. "Fine," he returned with a shrug. "We heading back to the main pride then?" The lion turned towards the pride before the lioness had a chance to react.

"Nonono," Yithemba returned quickly, pacing over to cut him off. "I'll be ready again in a few. Lets just take a break here? I mean, there's a bit of shade over there Seems like an okay spot to sit for a minute, yeah?"

"…Uh-huh," Ahlaq responded, giving her an apprehensive eye but moving to the spot under a scrubby bush anyway. "Somehow I doubt that's the only reason, hm?"

The lioness clicked her tongue at him, moving towards his side and flopping onto her stomach. "So accusatory, Ahlaq. Maybe I just wanna hang out."

When the sandy lion have only a sarcastic 'Mhm' in reply, Yithemba rolled her eyes. Her paws stretched out in front of her and there was a long pause before she gave a distant "So…"

"Ah. Here we go."

Yithemba was hardly slowed by his remark. Instead, she just continued the barrel the conversation forwards. "So you were the Bey, right? That's what they called it?"

"Mhm," Ahlaq responded distantly. She kept dragging him back into his past. Ahlaq wasn't particularly appreciative of the act.

"I imagine you really had to step up your game to fight for that position. What with everyone being warriors, or whatever." Yithemba set her head onto her paws, brushing her tail back and forth.

Ahlaq shook his head in response. "No," he started, "it's a position I inherited from my father. When he died." His eyes narrowed as he thought back to it. To his father's last days before an infected battle wound ended him. Such was the way of things. At the time, he had just been thankful that he could be with his father in those last moments. It wasn't like he was killed on the battlefield. He wasn't taken from them suddenly and out of nowhere.

Yi raised her eyebrows. "So you didn't… you know. earn it?"

The lion's brows furrowed and he shot her a look. "After a Bey dies it is the duty of his mate, the Hatun, to choose his successor from their children."

"Mm. So you're a momma's boy, huh?" Yithemba grinned, bumping her shoulder against him. "And how did that work out for you? Were you winning? What were you guys fighting over, anyway?"

A sigh left Ahlaq's chest. It didn't seem as though she was going to call it quits anytime soon. As much as the pain of living those past memories was, it didn't seem as though she was going to relent for anything but him spilling every last detail of his life. And besides, there was some part of him—something really deep down—that felt a sort of sweet nostalgia in remembering things about the Butkuteshti that he hadn't thought about for what seemed like lifetimes.

The lion reached out a paw, drawing little circles in the dirt. "We lived in a desert. A little like this one. There were rivers and the sea nearby, though. And these oases," he started, motiong to each of the circles he drew. "They were sanctuaries. And this one," he motioned to one, "was the Baj-jer, where the supply of food was guaranteed. We fought for territory."

An outstretched claw drew a squiggly line around all but one circle. "We managed to push the Qyrhyeshti into just one oasis. Tried to finish them for good but, well. You can imagine how it went. An entire army held up in one area. We were just going to wait them out, but…"

Ahlaq brushed his paw over the dots, smothering them until they were unrecognizable in the dirt.

Yithemba watched him, considering it all. His origins, the story of the prides. But what? Clearly it didn't work out. But she had probably pushed it far enough. "Home is an important thing," was the reply she gave instead, giving a wry smile. "Even if it isn't always kind to you," she continued.

"I mean, it's kind to me. But…" She sighed. "My mother was a Busisa. She wanted a home. Somewhere to feel welcome. Somewhere that was kind to her. But this place has a tendency to be…" her voice trailed off and she motioned to the desert around them with a wave of the paw, "You know. This place wasn't kind to her. She thought family would change that, so she tried to have kids." She itched her face with her paw as she continued, thoughtfully. "But I'm the only one that survived. And she named me Ythemba. It means despair. Isn't that messed up?" The lioness gave a wry laugh. "She died. Not long after that."

Ahlaq narrowed his eyes at her. He was silent for a few thoughtful moments. "I'm sorry to hear it," he started, doing his best to fill his words with kindness.

Yithemba was silent as well, then coughed and shook her head. "Nah, forget it," she said, getting to her feet. "Lets continue, yea?" She called, prancing back towards the sparring pit. Ahlaq had only just gotten to his feet and she had only gotten halfway before a voice called out and interrupted them.

"Well well," it called. Yi and Ahlaq looked up to see a yellow lioness seated not far away. She must have been silent enough to evade their notice, or perhaps they had been caught up in conversation and just weren't paying attention. Yithemba noted the scars she bore. She looked her over, then turned his attention back to Ahlaq.

"Getting soft, Ahlaq sim Sungus?"

Ahlaq gave a snort. Just when he was thinking of home. The world had a way of making things poetic, didn't they? "Evren," he called to her, then looked to Yithemba. "Give us a minute?"

"Uh…" Yithemba looked to him, then to her, and back to him again. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."

(WC: 1071)