The barren wastelands stretch out before me. Nothing around for what looks like miles. No food, no water, no shelter—nothing. Just hard, blackened ground as far as the eye can see.

My eyes are tracking the setting sun. I sit with my back hunched, my head low. I want to lift it higher, to straighten myself out and prove to this terrible world that it can't defeat me. I want to show that I was the one in power here, not the grains of sand beneath my feet.

But I'm just too tired to do so.

When was the last time I had the strength to scream? The last time I could swallow without harsh effort? The last time my eyes didn't feel as heavy as an elephant crushing my chest? I don't know. All I know is that the next time doesn't look like it's going to happen soon.

A rush of pawsteps sounds behind me. Alerted, I turn around and glower at whoever's coming.

"What is it?" I growl.

"Shenzi, come quickly! Athumani is ill!"

My blood freezes. Before I can reply, the hyena in front of me turns tail and dashes back towards the crater below, upon the edge of which I sit and stare at the setting sun. Well, not anymore. I haul myself to my paws with a grunt and hastily make my way after her, skidding with little grace down the steep slope. Stumbling my way forward, I follow her as she pushes her way through a throng of skinny, ragged hyenas. Trying to look away from their weak frames, I continue to pursue the one that had called me.

She comes to a halt in a more open area that the others have intentionally cleared away from. Jogging up to her, I slow down and stop by her side.

"What's happening?" I demand.

The hyena just nods to the earth in front of her paws. Looking where she does, my heart sinks.

A hyena is lying on his side, seemingly not registering the dozens of onlookers around him. His ribs are practically tearing through his near-nonexistent frame. His breath, or what's left of it, is coming in short, weak gasps. His eyes flutter open and closed, darting about feverishly with no direction.

"What in the world is going on with him?" I bark yet again.

The hyena that brought me here shakes her head. "I don't know!" she growls, clearly under duress. "I think he might have eaten something bad."

I snort. "What could he have possibly eaten out here?" I snap.

"A meerkat," a voice croaks.

My head snaps to face the sound. "Huh?"

Atnumani has lifted his head just barely up off the ground and is looking at me with a renewed focus.

"I went… I went out earlier today," he rasps, his voice weak. "I found—"

He breaks off into a coughing fit. Slowly, painfully, he continues, "I found a meerkat. And I… I…"

He looks away from me. "I'm sorry, Shanzi. I know I should have brought it back. I shouldn't have let others starve before me." A grim chuckle. "This is my punishment, I guess."

I shake my head. "No, Athumani, I understand," I reply. "I'm not sure how many of us would be willing to do that right now."

Athumani lets out another weak chuckle. Sighing, he lays his head back on the ground. "Either way, guess this is it, huh?"

I don't reply. I want to believe he's wrong. That it's just a bug. That he'll be fine. That I won't have to add another tally mark to the body count in my head. But I know it's wishful thinking. In this starved state, anything and everything tainted is deadly for us. We need to take our chances.

And Athumani took his.

"Athumani, I…" I trail off with a sigh. I have nothing to say. It's just another death, just another loss to the clan.

Athumani fixes his eyes on me. I can see a new dimly burning shame in them.

"I'm sorry, Shenzi," he breathes. "I failed."

I drop my gaze with a growl, unable to meet the eyes of the dying hyena. "No, Athumani, you didn't," I forcefully say.

His eyes close. His tense, strained body relaxes. His feeble neck goes slack.

Then he takes one more breath, and all is still.

If I wasn't hunching my shoulders before, I am now. Only this time, there's a new reason as to why. A psychological one. Athumani was one of the highest ranking males in my clan, second only to Banzai and Ed. He was one of the most loyal followers I've ever had the privilege of leading. His unparalleled strength and smarts were met only by his desire to see the clan grow. Like me, he wanted the best for the hundreds of hyenas that surrounded him, and every day it seemed he strived a little harder to make that happen.

And now he's gone, just like that. Taken away from the clan because some meerkat was left in the sun for a bit too long.

The hyena that brought me here whimpers. "Athumani?" she pleads. "Can you hear me?"

I don't bother to try and stop the onset of mourning. Several hyenas that were watching trudge up to Athumani's limp form and draw themselves to a seat around him, bowing their head in silence. First the alphas and upper betas, then the lower betas and omegas are given their turn.

I feel a small glow of comfort at their gesture. Even in these terrible times, my clan has remained dignified enough to pay respects to such a valuable member of the clan. If anything, the famine we've gone through has made us more mindful of such a tragedy. Back in the Outlands, times were tough, but we could still manage to survive. Now that famine has truly struck us, we've learned now more than ever to cherish the lives of those we love, for we know that any given second may pass in which we will never see them again—either because they're gone, or because we're gone. We may be dying off, but we'll die with as much honor as we can preserve.

Now if only we didn't have to preserve it in the first place.

I let everyone else get their few seconds to mourn before I step up, as does the other female.

"You did your best, Athu," I murmur solemnly. "We wouldn't have gotten this far without you. Never forget that."

I lean down to touch my nose to his stiff fur. His body is already losing heat.

I grit my teeth. "Sleep tight," I choke out before pulling myself away and stepping back from his body. The other female does the same.

I force back the tears I can feel building up. "Dawa…" I mutter.

The female hyena turns to face me. "Yes, Shenzi?"

"From now on, no hyena is allowed to eat carrion unless we can prove it is fresh and untainted." Squaring up to the best of my abilities, I look her in the eye and continue, "As the second female in command, and as our Dawa, you will help me to enforce this rule. Understand?"

Dawa nods solemnly. "Of course, Shenzi."

I nod, looking forlornly at Athumani. "Do you think any of us have the strength to bury him?" I inquire.

"No, Matriarch, I do not."

I sigh. "Me neither. Let's just make sure everyone steers clear of the body for now, alright?"

Another nod. "As you wish." Looking at me, Dawa smiles softly.

"I'll handle it from here, Shenzi," she offers. "You need your rest."

I shake my head. "As the Matriarch, it is my duty to—"

"I know what your duty is," Dawa interrupts me. "But I can see it in your eyes. You're running out of strength. As Matriarch, it is one duty to be a noble and courageous leader, but to do that, first you need to lead the clan in the first place. You need strength to do that. So go get some rest."

"Are you sure?" I press hesitantly.

Another reassuring smile. "Of course. Now go sleep."

I chuckle. "This is why I'm Matriarch and you're not, Dawa," I joke. "You're too nice to lead a clan of hyenas."

A soft giggle. "Maybe so," she agrees. "Now go on."

Without another word, I turn away from Dawa and Athumani and make my way to the edge of the crater we've taken shelter in for now. I trudge my way up the slope, back to the top of the crater. By the time I'm up there, my legs are wobbly and I'm panting heavily, my stomach screaming for food louder than normal. I flop onto the earth without hesitation, staring up at the moon that has replaced the setting sun.

I can't believe we've lost Athumani. He was so strong, so loyal, so brave, so… so unstoppable. But all it took was one bad meal to send him on his way to whatever awaits us in the next life. It really sells the point that anyone can be taken. This famine is an absolute crisis. We're going to need a miracle to make it out of here alive. A bloody miracle.

I feel a whimper rise in my throat. I choke it down. Our situation has never seemed so hopeless. Nothing around for miles, nowhere to go, no hope to hold on to except the fear of death. Whatever could we do? Ever since we'd left the Elephant Graveyard, things have only gone downhill. But we can't go back, not with those Outsider lions stinking up the place, ready to kill us at a moment's notice. Besides, even if we wanted to, it was months behind us now. There was no way, unless the will of our ancestors beamed down to intervene, that we were making it back there alive.

Where am I taking my clan? What am I doing? What can I do? I don't know. I'm growing desperate to find us a way out of this mess before everyone is gone forever.

I keep my eyes trained on the moon, a small claw scratch hanging low in the sky. I remember stories my mother told me as a pup about how the moon was really our ancestors looking down at us with one collective eye. Back then, I never believed her. Now, I so desperately want to think my ancestors are watching over me, monitoring me, waiting to make their move and save us all from certain death.

Suddenly, without thinking, I place my paws over my muzzle and close my eyes. Not even fully realizing the actions I'm taking, I begin to do something I've never done before in my life.

"Oh, heavenly ancestors," I whisper, "If you can hear me at all—if the tiniest hair on your ear picks up my voice—please, I beg of you, send a sign that there is hope. My clan is lost, wandering, going nowhere except towards certain death. We cannot save ourselves without you."

My voice starts to shake. "I know I have been a foolish leader. I know I led these hyenas here. I know it is my fault they are where they are now. But I implore you—I am but one hyena. These are hundreds I have inside my ranks. Do not punish them for my mistakes. Save us from our extinction, and I will pay whatever price I must so long as I can see these hyenas brought somewhere they can live. Amina."

I slide my paws onto the ground, heaving a sigh of unease. I can only hope that a prayer will convince my ancestors to pardon me in favor of the hundreds of lives that can yet be lost. Until then, I'll have to do my best to save this clan.

But I'm not sure if I can.

I close my eyes, letting sleep take my starving body over. No point staying awake all night over it. Like Dawa said, I'll need my strength.

If only said strength was enough.