The sun was setting over the savannah. A pair of young felines slunk through the grass, glancing about constantly. They appeared suspicious of every shadow, jumping at every scuffle. They two were nervous, that was for sure. The female sniffed about. "This way," she said, heading northeast. Her male companion followed. The two looked exactly the same age. Which was the case, since they were brother and sister, of course. Both were just reaching their prime, growing into their legs and walking with all the grace of their kind.

The two cheetahs eventually found themselves at a pond that was surprisingly clear. Old Amali's Pond. Their grandmother. "Grandmother?" called the male, his tone filled with worry. Through a bush, there came the old cat. She was certainly getting on in age. Even now, the young pair could see that she had once been very beautiful, even for a cheetah. Aside from the usual 'tear marks' that came down from the inside of her eyes, there was a black image of a monarch butterfly, one eye in the middle of each wing. Of course, it was just vaguely shaped like a butterfly. These days, some even referred to her as "The Monarch", for how everyone seemed to respect her and her opinion - despite the fact she never told anyone what to do.

"Grandmother," the two exclaimed, rushing forward, their faces serious and eager all at once.
"Zambili? Morus? What are you two doing here?" questioned Amali gently. Her whiskers drooped with age, and her once dark gold muzzle was splashed with silver. Her coat looked rough and shaggy, and she was getting a bit bowlegged. However, her brilliant sapphire eyes were gentle and wise as ever. Old Amali was one of the oldest cheetahs alive, and she had always been one to turn to when in need of a shoulder to lean on that had a good head attached to it.

"Grandmother, you are in great danger!" cried Zambili urgently, her own eyes just as pretty a blue as her grandmother's. "The lions are on the rise. The Rebellion plans to fight back, of course, but..." Her gaze clouded with grief.
"Child, the fight will be pointless," sighed Amali. "We are but cheetahs. We have always lived alone. We have no idea how to organize ourselves like lions do."
"But we can change!" argued Morus, his brown eyes ablaze, his jaw set. Amali smiled. Her grandson reminded her of her mate... rest his soul. She couldn't believe Morus. She couldn't believe a whole race could change. Not in a few days. Not in a few years. "No, really, we can! We can learn to be together, to work together. We can learn... we can..." His protests grew quieter as he squeezed his eyes shut, looking angry and despairing all at once.

The Rebellion was fighting a losing battle.

Shaking her head, Zambili looked at her grandmother in earnest. "Regardless, Grandmother, you have to leave. You'll be in great danger. You're right in the middle of the warpath." She appeared very worried for the elder cheetah. "They'll be coming through here by noon tomorrow. We know you're not... as fast as you used to be, so we wanted to move you early."

Instead of complying, slowly the old cheetah lay down, putting her head in her paws and sighing. She looked very, very tired. "Child... I cannot go. Not tonight. Not any night. I am too old to move far anymore. My time will be here in days." She spoke very gently, with no bitterness in her voice. However, her grandchildren appeared horrified, and immediately started mewling protests.
"No Grandmother -!"
"It can't be -!"

"Hush, my darlings," whispered Old Amali. Immediately they fell silent, their gazes filled with sadness and concern. "Please... this is the truth. Whether I die of old age, or perhaps a bit sooner in the jaws of a lion, it doesn't matter. However, before I go, will you do me one last favor? Fulfill the last wish of an old woman?" She smiled quietly. The two nodded solemnly. Anything for their grandmother. She had been one of the mildest cheetahs they ever knew. Once she passed her days for youth, living into an age that very few reached, she had become very open to visits.

"You know, my sweetlings, that I am not one much for talking in my old age. Although, you'd think the contrary when I was young." She chuckled sadly. "In these past years, I have enjoyed listen to the problems of my children and my friends, and my grandchildren as well. But now, I want you to do me a favor and lend me your ear. You two will be the only to hear my last story. And you'll be the only ones to hear this very special one." They lay down near Amali, watching her with sorrow. "Now wipe off those long faces. I want you to hear my life story, and I want you to be good listeners, my darling grandchildren. And when I am done, I want you to pass on the wisdom of all my experiences to your own children, so our people can grow better."

Pausing, she glanced at Morus. "Perhaps, in the future, our people can live together in harmony, as the lions can do," she acknowledged. "But first, they must learn from the past mistakes. And I want you to listen, and learn, and teach."

After taking a long drink from the pond, one of the last she'd ever have, she was silent for a moment. And then, Old Amali began to recount her life.

A/N: A new story! I'm very excited about this one. Ignore the whole talk about the Rebellion in this. Obviously, that's fodder for another tale.