John Burkitt - Chronicles of the Pride Lands

Her mother Ajenti asked, "What are you looking for so intently?"

"Grandmother is coming. It's time for our walk."

"Come in, Misha. She's not feeling up to it today. I'm sorry."

"But she promised. She was sick yesterday and the day before."

"If you love her, let her break the promise. That's what happens to you when you get to be her age, " her mother Ajenti explained.

"Will I be like that someday?"

"Yes, but it will be a long, long time."

Misha sulked. She had grown to love those walks to the water hole with Yolanda in the early morning hours. Her grandmother was an encyclopedia of great stories of the old kings, of the gods, and even the latest gossip. And while they were supposed to take these walks for their exercise, Yolanda would always end up seeing something that brought back a memory, and the walk would become a talk.

Misha was bright, and it didn't take her long to figure out that her grandmother would only get older with time. 'That age' was keeping them apart more and more, but never for three days in a row. She tried to imagine life without her grandmother--even the thought depressed her.

Ajenti nuzzled her affectionately. "Why don't you go play with Tanabi? He really likes you."

"He's OK, " she answered half-heartedly. Misha was really crazy about Tanabi, but it was just not the same. That was Grandmother's special time, and it was for no one else. If Grandmother couldn't come to her, she would go to Yolanda. It would be a pleasant surprise.

There were several places Yolanda loved to go. Some of the more challenging ones, like her favorite branch in a low-hanging tree, had been neglected lately. She was more apt to be dozing on one of the large rocks that caught the morning sun. Misha went to the rocks, but no one was there. She wasn't at the tree, either. And the small cistern where rainwater filled a cave in the rock was visited by two lionesses, neither one of which had seen her.

Simba wished Misha a cheerful good morning. "Tanabi was looking for you. That is, if you're not taking your morning walk."

"But I am, Your Majesty, if I can find my Grandmother. You haven't seen Yolanda, have you?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I thought you were supposed to know where everyone is. You're king, aren't you?"

Simba smiled pleasantly. "Indeed I am. But I'm not a miracle worker. If I see her before you do, I'll tell her you're looking for her. She's been kind of sick lately. Maybe she's still asleep."

"I checked, " Misha said, distracted.

Without saying good bye, Misha hurried on, but she had no idea where she was going. Everywhere her Grandmother usually stayed was deserted. So she must be somewhere unusual. On a whim, she took the path down to the savanna that stretched out before Pride Rock. The grass was tall, and it was easy for a lioness to disappear completely, a thought that was most upsetting to the antelopes and zebras. "Grandmother! Yolanda! Are you out there?" She hunted everywhere, which was not easy for a fully grown lioness, much less a cub. "Grandmother! It's me, Misha! "

Just when she was about to give up, she saw Yolanda walking alone into the distance.

"Grandmother! It's me! " Misha hurried over to her in the tall grass. "Wait up, will you! I've looked everywhere for you! Couldn't you hear me calling you?"

Yolanda stopped for a moment to let Misha catch up, then resumed her slow, steady tread. "I'm sorry I didn't come by for our walk. I haven't felt well."

"But you feel well now, don't you? I mean, you're walking now."

"Honey tree, I'm walking now because I don't feel well. I don't want to be at home when something happens to me. They would either have to move me to a more suitable place, or let the hyenas desecrate my den. Either way, I don't want the ones I love to remember my death, but my life."

"Are you going to die?"

"Someday we all have to die. It's part of life."

"I wish you wouldn't say that. You know I'd be sad if you died." She ran a few steps out front, which was not difficult at the rate Yolanda walked. "Can I walk with you?"

"I suppose I have no choice, and I could use someone to talk to."

"Maybe you'll tell me a story. Where are you going?"

"I'm going to be with my husband. Your grandfather. You never knew him. His name was Simba, too. Just like the King. He was a good mate. Seeing him will make me young again."

"Not really. I mean you just mean feel young, don't you? I thought he was dead."

Yolanda smiled, indulgently.

"Can I see him too?"

"Someday, Misha. Not now." She walked across the plain slowly, painfully. Her joints had been stiff in the morning, but there was something more akin to lameness that was obvious even to Misha.

"Are you all right?"

"That doesn't matter now. I'm tired. I'm just so tired."

"Then let's rest for a minute."

"There will be time for rest later, " she said, determined. "We are not far enough yet."

"Far enough from what? When is far enough?"

"I'll tell you."

She walked on. The exertion made her perspire, and her breath was labored. She stumbled over a small rock the way Misha might fall in a gopher hole. "What are you trying to find?" Misha asked. "There's nothing out here but grass."

“That's the point, " she said. "It is the sort of place no one would go without a good reason."

"Why don't you rest now?"

"Are you tired, Misha? you're so young and strong. I'm so..." Yolanda stopped. Her teeth bared in a grimace of pain. "Oh gods! "

"Grandmother! "

Summoning all her reserve, she calmly said, "You were right, Misha. This is the place. We will rest here." She collapsed into a heap and moaned. "I'm so tired, Honey Tree. I could use

some sleep. Why don't you go play someplace else right now and let me rest. I'll be all right."

"Grandmother?" Misha said in a trembly voice. "Should I call Rafiki now? He's just over there."

"No, honey tree. I'll be all right." Saying that, she lay her head in the grass. "Oh, can you feel the cool breeze, Misha?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She closed her eyes. "Isn't it wonderful? It's been so hot recently with no rains to freshen the air. But it may be a fine day after all. Nice and cool." Yolanda took in a deep breath, and let it out in a long, slow sigh. Misha anxiously watched her chest for a long time, waiting to see it rise and fall. She waited for a long time.

"Wake up, Grandma! You can't sleep here! " She ran nervously around the body, nipping her on the paws and licking her on the cheek. "Don't leave me, Grandma. You can't die. You just

can't! "

Backing back from the body, Misha looked about for someone, anyone who could help. Why did she have to go so far away into the brush? Maybe Rafiki could help. Oh that the gods would let him be at home! "Is anybody out there?"

Finally she spotted a lioness in the tall grass and ran toward her. "Help! Help! It's Yolanda! "

"It's not safe here, " the lioness said. "You must go."

The voice galvanized her. Misha stood frozen to the spot and stared at the sad, kindly face. It seemed to shine with its own inner light, and she didn't know whether to be happy or terrified. "Please don't leave me. I don't want you to go. I'll do anything. Just stay a little longer, please! "

"It's not safe, " the lioness said firmly. "The vultures are here and the hyenas are not far behind. Run, honey tree. Run home now!"

Misha was grief stricken, but she had to flee before the ghastly funeral took place. She couldn't hope to face off the scavengers at her age. And so she ran toward Pride Rock. She ran and ran like a mad thing and did not stop until she found her mother.

When Misha found her mother and told her what had happened, Ajenti moaned as if from a wound. She ran up the side of Pride Rock and out onto the peak and roared one heart-rending roar. The other lions didn't have to ask what happened, for Yolanda had been expected to die. They roared as well, setting off a wave of sound that washed over the Pride Lands the sorrowful message. It may have lasted a few seconds, or a few minutes--time seemed to stand still. But when Ajenti lithely slinked back off the pinnacle and disappeared into the grass, so did her public grief. From now on, she would discuss it only with friends and family, and only when asked about it. They all understood that she loved her mother--there was no need to keep proving it to everyone. Indeed, if anyone asked her if she was heartbroken, and no one would, they would likely catch an indignant rake of her claws.