There had been a rogue male here not too long ago, on the outskirts of the Bonelands. Sorin had smelt his musk on the wind and come to remark their border, after making sure that who ever he was he was gone. It was a task that didn’t take very long. It didn’t seem that the rogue had come very far in. Almost a pity, really. Sorin could have done with a fight or something just to wile away some time. He was sure that he could have beaten the rogue male so it would have just been entertainment. He yawned widely as he walked along the border.
Maybe he should go see if any of the females were interested….
*
There was the fresh smell of testosterone, telling her plenty both of the male that had done the marking and the exact area that marked his territory. What she found odd was more that there was more than just his scent. Five males, as far as she could tell, in one area, with at least a dozen or so females. She imagined she'd just stumbled upon either a small pride or possibly a pride with a more old fashioned set up. Her travels had taught her plenty in time after all.
She let curiosity bring her closer. The worst that could likely happen was her being confronted and chased off, not that she'd just back down so easily, but still.
Kiamba, for as natural as her colors were, didn't exactly blend in with the bleak environment. She'd be easy to spot to anyone who wasn't seeing in prey beast's atypical grayscale vision (Which more than made up for her standing out in most places).
*
The wind had been changeable all day but it carried Kiamba’s scent as easily as it had the rogue males. In it’s own way it was as interesting, perhaps more so, than the rogue male. An outside rival was just a fight. A rogue female was an opportunity to add to the busisa, perhaps, someone to entice into the pride. Assuming she had the qualities one looked for in a busisa and an umama would take her in. Maybe he’d just end up meeting her briefly, see a new (hopefully pretty) face for a while. Either way, it’d be more fun than wandering aimlessly and she was closer than the pride females were right now.
Sorin turned around and followed his nose. Kiamba wasn’t hard to spot. He sat himself down on the border and waited for her to come to him, the large lion watching her every move with golden eyes.
*
By the time Kiamba realized she'd been noticed she didn't slow her gait by much, simply moving with a bit more caution, but her steps were still extremely confident. The male was large, but so was she, born and bred of mountain lineage, though not quite near the size of the infamous Firekin, either, a few of whom she'd had the pleasure of meeting. She did, however, carry a bit of their blood on her grandfather's side.
She only stopped when she was close enough to speak without yelling nor being close enough to have to keep her voice down to avoid blowing out his ears.
"... Am I the unwanted sort of tresspasser, or just the curious sort?" She asked of his watchful gaze, her own brown eyes taking him in briefly, sizing him up even, because she did need to know what chance she stood if she had to fight him.
*
“A welcome visitor for now, if you’d like.” He called back.
She was keeping her distance and had been wary of approaching him, but Sorin couldn’t fault her for that. He was Asali’s son and that made him admire a bit of good old-fashioned caution. Maybe he was just an old-fashioned guy; maybe that was why he’d felt at home in the Bonelands so fast. But it seemed to him that so many silly lions these days ran into situations before sizing them up and so many silly lions ended up injured or worse for it. Too many lions about without any sense.
The stranger looked a fine female too. Well built and with handsome markings. There was good potential here.
“What do they call you?”
*
"Suits me just fine."
Was her answer, relaxing only a hair, keeping her ears open for any possible ambush or signs of trouble, almost straining her senses to be sure they remained alone.
"They don't call me anything," The female shot back impishly. "I'm not in the habit of giving my name out to strangers without a name first as payment."
She replied with a slight bit of a lazy drawl, tail flicking behind her. It had been a while since she'd even bothered to stop to talk to another, but the scents here had her curious, and granted she was tresspassing, so call her bold (she was), but Kiamba was fairly certain that if she was the welcomed sort of tresspasser he'd be willing to oblige for his own sake of curiosity. She reached up to rub a paw over the warm patch of black fur atop her head, the hottest parts of her body being where the black fur rested in clumps or bunches under the hot sun.
"So what do they call you?"
*
“Now, perhaps I don’t give out my name either, what a shame…” Sorin smirked, drawling right back playfully. She seemed like she might be a bit of a handful. Not entirely prohibitive of seeing if she’d be interested in staying in the pride.
Hmm. Well, it wasn’t like Msimbo’Sorin was his real name anyway but if she wanted to play around with names….he had a name she could call him.
“You can call me Shakil.”
*
"......" After the pause her stiff, serious demeanor cracked. The natural marked female laughed, shaking her head. "Fine, they used to call me Kiamba, so I guess you might as well too."
They, her birth pride, but she'd left that behind.
She flashed a smirk at the male. "So, 'handsome', what pride is it making it's home out here in this quiet little strip of land?"
*
“Oh I like you.” Sorin said after a laugh. Only one in many ever seemed to pay attention to name meanings and she seemed to be that one. Was it bad that his first thought was to introduce her to his mother? Not in a romantic ‘meet the parents’ kind of way (not because she wasn’t attractive, she was hot enough and Sorin wouldn’t say no, but because he’d never introduce a mate to his mother like that).
Kiamba huh?
“Welcome to the Ithambo’hlabathi, the land of bones, strong one. We have matriarchal groups of females, while a little coalition of males keep out marauding rogues. Of which there are quite a few.”
*
She certainly appreciated the reference to her own name's meaning, deciding that she returned the favor of liking this male's attitude as well so far. She resisted the urge, somewhat, to puff up a little with pride.
"And your girls, just what purpose or role do they fill?" She came from a pride of warriors as her name and large-for-her-gender appearance might imply. She was curious, though, true enough, but wary. She'd heard of prides known to collect females both for the sole purpose of producing male heirs and to be used as currency among males. They had matriarchal groups known more frequently as harems. She'd encountered a lioness she'd swapped stories with once that claimed to have seen this place for herself. Was this one like it? Perhaps even that pride itself?
*
“They follow their own leaders, the Omama. They’re all hunters but so long as the hunting gets done they are free to have other pursuits.” He shrugged, explaining. Sorin didn’t much mind what the ladies did amongst themselves really. Tell him you’re all about healing or about singing or fighting and it was all good, honey, it was all good.
“If you’re worried about their being kept as breeders, you’ll be glad to hear they choose their mates from amongst us, their Abaholi. Then they raise their cubs together, in their cosy little groups.” Getting bored of talking but he knew that was probably best to explain it well and hopefully he’d be explaining it just once.
“The girls all seem happy enough and if they weren’t, I’m quite sure there’s enough of them to run an offending Umholi out.”
*
Kiamba seemed to be mulling over this, clearly, flicking an ear as she stood there. It sounded like a nice set up, freedom to do what one wanted.... and not being stuck separated from each other? Oh yes, that sounded quite nice.
"Well, you guys have room for one more?" She lifted a feline eyebrow at him, under her mop of black fur. "Sounds like an interesting place. Definitely more interesting than the one I left."
*
“Come on. I’ll show you where you need to go.” He got up and as he turned to walk into the lands again gestured she should walk with him. This grin? Very pleased ‘cat that got the cream’ grin. Though admittedly he didn’t get to keep her for himself, for as he’d told Kiamba, the females picked their Umholi. But he’d added another and hey, maybe she’d remember this meeting fondly and pick him.
“All goes well, you’ll be a busisa in no time.”
