Na'resh had wanted to leave these lands after the catastrophic meteor shower. It had been made clear to him that these lands were no longer safe. Not unlike multiple times before, he felt the need to move on. That had always been the best option for his daughter and himself. Amaryllis had always been his only priority, and the memory of her face twisted by fear would not fade from his consciousness for some time yet. That night had been horrific. Stars had crashed into the ground from the sky above, and a beast had soared above them.

He was not as naive as these Pridelanders - Na'resh was aware of the dark things that lurked throughout the world. He could not define what the creature was that they had all seen, but he knew it to be a sign of trouble ahead. It had not even been alone, acting as a beacon for more of its kind. Soon these lands would be thrown into more turmoil, and he did not want to be here to witness it.

Yet, in his short time here he had made genuine connections with the lions in this pride. An aging couple had invited him and his daughter to dine with them, and from that moment on the families had been relatively close. Na'resh had never been given cause to fear for himself or his child around them, after all they had young cubs of their own to raise. They were parents, living their golden years surrounded by family and friends.

Now they were gone. Both lives had been lost that night of the meteor shower. It had revealed to Na'resh his greatest fear, leaving his child behind before she was ready to face the world alone. Uzalishaji and Kiasi'Nyota had been good lions, kind and gracious, everything he had wished for himself to be. The children they had left behind were younger than even his own, and their plight was something he found that he could not ignore.

The boy had been holed up in his family's den for a few days now. It had been a decision at one point to just let him be. Perhaps he had needed the time to recover from the trauma of losing his parents. But, as time passed Na'resh suspected that the boy would not recover. He refused to sit by and watch as a child mourned the death of his parents to the point where death came for him as well. Na'resh knew the grip grief could seize on one's heart. There had been times when he thought that the world was better off without him.

But he had his daughter. He had Amaryllis to survive for, Amaryllis to protect. Losing his mate had never been easy, and though the pain of her loss faded with time... he still felt it. Na'resh lived with it, because he simply had to.

With his expression set by determination, he climbed up to the den. By the gods, he did hope the boy was still alive. None had heard a peep out of him for a day or two. "Kayode?" His voice was soft with inquiry. When he did not get an answer he sighed, and stepped into the den to find the boy towards the back. In the dark, he could see the reflection of a single eye peering over to him.

He had to resist calling the child a 'brat' for not answering him. "It's Na'resh..."

"Uncle?" the voice was small and worn. Grief had certainly taken its toll on the adolescent male.

It was weird for Na'resh to be called that, but the blue lion went along with it in hopes that it provided some comfort to the boy. "It is time to get up. Amaryllis has caught us something for lunch, she was hoping to see you?" May the gods have mercy upon his soul for using his daughter as bait, but he could practically see the boy blushing in the dark. At least he seemed to be in a condition that he could recover from.

"I'm okay, I'm not that -"

"Don't be rude, Kayode." Sometimes, a hard nudge was necessary. They had left Kayode alone to recover on his own terms, but it was clear the boy was incapable of that. If they let him be any longer, he would simply waste away.

"I'm not trying to be rude, Uncle. I just don't really feel like going out today." Kayode was very nearly traumatized by the idea of offending Na'resh and his daughter. Amaryllis had always been beautiful, and it felt good to be in her presence. He just didn't think he deserved to feel good. Both of his parents were dead, and all he really wanted was to be alone and to grieve on his own terms. He had expected someone to check up on him, though Uncle Na'resh was probably the last lion on his list of whom was most likely to show up.

"Well, you are." Kayode's eyes were as wide as saucers as Na'resh approached him. Feeling ashamed of himself, he curled up tighter into a ball to hide how weak he had become. Even his voice hurt talking since it had been days since he'd done anything other than cry.

"I'm really sorry..."

"Then get up." The words came out harsher than he had intended, and seeing the boy wilt a little broke his heart. Na'resh sighed, and leaned down to gently nudge his forehead against the younger male's shoulder. Kayode was still very much a cub, with a gentle and kind soul. It was those types of lions that usually suffered the most when losing someone close to them. Empathy was a double-edged sword.

"All right, it's fine, Kayode," he assured the adolescent with a smile as he sat down next to him. "Do you mind if I stay here a while with you?"

Kayode looked away from Na'resh, feeling the invasion of his space just as much as he felt the interruption to his grief. "I don't want to talk about anything," he mumbled softly. It was a feeble attempt to push Na'resh away with words alone.

"That is fine. You do not have to say anything." Na'resh stood back up nearly as quickly as he had sat down, and moved to the other end of the den. There he laid down, his face turned away from Kayode as if to let the boy have the privacy he so desired. Na'resh would give him that, but he wasn't going to let the young male out of his sight until he started to turn around.

Unfortunately, he would be very late to dinner with his daughter.

Kayode looked at the blue male with a curious stare, bewildered by the lion's actions when he had always felt like Na'resh was... distant from them all. The lion had never spoken to him so much before, and had never seemed to care that deeply for him. His ears flicked back against his head, uncertainty weighing down the tone of his voice, "O-oh, okay."

(WC: 1186)