Morgana was not in a foul mood this evening, though she could not say she was in a particularly good one, either. She was in a strange state, as it were, floating between annoyances but not giving them the heed she usually would. The laughter of happy Toka cubs did not weigh heavily on her, and she did not find herself plotting how to turn those happy sounds to cries of misery. She watched as Toka merchants exchanged words the Druids fool enough to barter with them, and did not feel the icy stab of betrayal in her chest.

She was strangely at peace with it all today.

Maybe that was because the night before she had come up with a new plan. The King was stuck in his ways, and set against the Druids for a crime that they had no part in. Morgana had been an innocent victim, an unintended result of this crime, and yet she was punished for it. Branded a Druid and sent to rot until she had found herself coming of age in a dark and miserable prison. She had been freed shortly after, an adult with an attitude for vengeance released into the pride as it began to flourish.

Her mind started turning the moment her foot touched the first grass it had tasted in months, and soon she found herself moving in one direction. To take the King down. She gathered allies, watched her enemies, found weaknesses. She came to realize the King and Queen could not have a litter of their own, or had not yet and not for lack of trying. She also realized that she was an Heir to the throne, if no legitimate heir could be produced. Or if there were none left. Her blood, her line, would rule.

If not from the castle, then they would have the Druids.

This was what she had come to understand that evening. Now she just needed to find a proper mate. She saw Glaurung in the Mkoani province, skittering around and collecting things, his head bobbing and weaving as he made to slip through the crowd and tried his best not to draw any attention. She did not like the look of him, immediately, but she knew he was Druid. The way no one looked at him was not evidence of his skills as a prowler, but because they thought him unworthy of their time.

She followed him.

He seemed to be excited about something, having recently learned a new trade from a friend and very eager to get himself situated in pursuit of it. He was gathering herds into a pouch, it seemed. Flowers. Dried husks of fruits and other things pulled from the earth. She even saw him stop to collect a bug he thought might be useful. He either had a thousand tricks and knew how to make use of the strangest ingredients or, more likely, he had no idea what he was doing.

It was the latter, certainly.

He did not seem distressed though. She followed him until he returned to a small hut near the castle. She saw guards nodding at him shortly, and gathered that he lived in the castle, served the King perhaps. That was a mark in his favor, being close to the King. She watched him with renewed interest as he unpacked his collection by some rocks, the bug skittering away without him even seeing it. It was like watched a cub playing with its food for the first time. He was focused on what he was doing and never saw the lioness watching him.

Disapprovingly.

She considered.

What would his genes add to hers? Nothing, from what she could see. He had no immediate skills, his body was not built in a way that spoke of strength. His actions did not lend themselves to profound intelligence of any kind. He had mingled with the Toka with an honest sort of acceptance of his place, and without any burning hatred in him that Morgana would need of a true ally. He was liable to pity them, she decided. Perhaps he even had friends that were Toka. That would be a shame. He was already a traitor to her, and they had not even spoken.

He would not be a suitable mate, no. She needed someone who could contribute to her already impressive genetic pool. She held the colors of a Queen in her: she held the blood of royalty. More than that, though, she was intelligent and confident, and she was certain her children would be as well. She would teach them all they needed to know, and make sure they did not make a foolish mistake like this male Druid had. They would not suffer the Toka in any form, save as slaves perhaps.

That would be something to see.

She needed someone who could contribute what she lacked. Strength. Stamina. She needed a male who was hardened and filled with a hatred much like her own, and a penchant for evil. Not crushing flowers between his toes, as Glaurung was currently doing. She was not certain just who she would find for such a role, but she knew where to start looking.

She turned, leaving the Druid to his menial task, not bothering to even say hello to him. She padded off toward the Prison Ravine, her mind set in determination.

Glaurung looked up, hearing a twig break, his eyes scanning the bushes nearby but not seeing anything moving and no lions near him. He hummed thoughtfully, looking at the mess he was making of his ‘potion’, then looked up again and bit his tongue. “Is anyone there?” he called, just in case, feeling a rush of embarrassment rising in him. Not for the things he was doing, perhaps, but because his potion was looking woeful and novice. No one answered him, though, and he relaxed in his privacy.

He returned to work with interest and zeal, crushing a berry that had already been pressed and dried and adding it to the paltry mixture cupped in the curve of a green leaf.

(Word Count: 1,023 in Word)