A/N: Because of the content in this chapter, I am unable to keep this little annoying voice in my head from talking to me. So the rating is being bumped up to T. So you can shut up now.

Also, and I mean this in all seriousness, thank you very much to the nineteen (maybe less) people who have stayed with me to this point. It means a lot to me.

oOo

The next few weeks were fairly uneventful. The only thing that came of that night was Gymara stumbling over to Reen, his head clouded with pain, and asked, "Did I do anything stupid last night?", to which Reen respectfully lied.

Within the next month both of the princes began to accompany their fathers on their rounds around the kingdom. Both of their second birthdays were creeping up slowly, along with their manes creeping out to be shown to the world, Hatari's being darker than his father's, almost black, and Rayan's being pure black on the tips, but then suddenly and abruptly changing to almost pure white as it grew out. Both of them were learning all that they could of the kingdom from their fathers' ways and personalities, and as a result, both were learning to handle problems slightly differently, as could be expected.

There was another member of the kingdom that was learning as well, but in a slightly different sense. Shaka had been thrust into the duty of the animal council representative, without almost any warning at all. He had first approached his new position with enthusiasm, wanting to do everything perfectly. The only thing that had changed at all was Shaka's eagerness had only been influenced slightly by his overwhelming lack of sleep. It seemed that his constant companion was Sudi, the cheetah never letting the hyena out of his sight; more and more it seemed as if the only time Shaka had alone was with his clan.

Shaka couldn't have loved it more.

Granted, he did almost nothing in his job; the only thing he actually did was talk to the other hyenas in Sanctuary, and then reported their needs and wishes to Sudi during their time together, which Sudi then reported to Gymara in a sense that could more or less be described as "completely skewed."

Still, all of the work began to wear him out. He worked effortlessly on behalf of his species, trying to insure that everyone had a chance to let their voice be heard. He lied awake at night after long walks and talks with Sudi, during which Sudi would fill his head with protocol and dealings of the animal council, and would also test Shaka on his knowledge. Shaka's responses were never enough for Sudi, who always insisted that he should pay more attention instead of staring off into space.

That was the reason Shaka laid awake at night, trying to retain all of the knowledge Sudi had forced upon him, trying to find a peaceful, just solution to all of the hyenas' problems he had been confronted with, and trying to find a way to make up to his mate and pups what he was supposed to do with them that day, but had never found the time. He refused to sleep until he had come to a firm conclusion on everything, and still had never had a completely clean conscience about it. It always seemed as if someone was being given less than all the others. He might have slept a little better if he had realized that he was one of the ones on the less receiving end.

He only began to relax at all when he came home late one night and found the clan leader waiting for him. Her body language was more than enough to tell him that she wasn't just here to ask him how his day went. He hung his head and his tail as he walked up to her, showing the proper level of deference. He licked the top of her head and then her throat, the traditional hyenic greeting, then waited for her to speak.

"You've been out awfully late lately, Shaka," the matriarch said.

"I've just been trying to do my job, ma'am," said Shaka.

"And just what is your job?"

"It's animal council delegate, ma'am."

"And you can't very well do that if you're walking around half-asleep all the time. You've been working all day, every day, and you've never even been awake a single night. You've missed out on every single night hunt, and look at you! You're wasting away!"

"Uh, well . . . Teya's been real good about burying some of the kill for me—"

"She shouldn't need to be, Shaka. Ulu managed to find ways to spend time here, why can't you?"

"Ma'am . . . begging your pardon, ma'am, but I really don't know how he did. Between doing all that I have been, and getting home to be able to kiss the little ones goodnight . . . and Teya, too . . . ma'am, I know she's frustrated with the way things are going, me being never home at all, and I know I haven't given her any—attention at all, but ma'am . . . there's just so darn much that needs to get done."

The matriarch smiled at the sight of Shaka staring at the ground guiltily, his head and tail drooping so low that if they went any further, they would fall off. She tilted his head up to look at her with a paw. "I never really understood how Ulu did what he did, either. But Shaka, everyone needs to take time off. You're not a god. You wear out. And you can't do a good job if you're this tired."

"Ma'am, I just don't see any other way to do this. I have to make sure everyone's doing okay, and I have to try to figure it all out, and I've got to learn so much about the council—"

The matriarch laughed. "You can't learn about the council just from lessons, Shaka. That's absurd. You need experience. I guarantee you that nothing you learn is going to be able to stand up to what you walk away with at the end of a meeting. But that is not the point. The point is that you are not spending any time at home. Shaka, you were chosen because you have wonderful character. You will do anything for anyone with a just cause."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"But this is going too far. You are going to get some rest, and you are going to spend more time at home."

"Ma'am . . ."

"Yes?"

"Ma'am, I don't really see how you can make me do that. I need to do my job."

"This is my order to you, hyena."

"Ma'am, if I can respectfully disagree . . ."

The matriarch rose from her sitting position, snarling. Shaka shrank down to the ground, placing himself flat, then rolling over onto his back.

"Ma'am . . ."

"Disobedience will not be tolerated. You're going to sleep now. And I am going to be there personally to supervise it. There's going to be no staying awake and pacing tonight, or from now on."

"Ma'am, please, I just want to help—"

"And you can't help if you're half-awake all the time. Shaka, this is for your own good." The matriarch stepped back. "Get up." Shaka stood up, his head and tail still hung low. "Now get over to your mate and tell her goodnight. You don't need to tell anyone about this."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Goodnight, Shaka."

And, for that night, it worked. Shaka went to his mate and kissed her lovingly and told her goodnight, went to his already-asleep cubs and kissed them gently on their heads, and went to sleep, trying to stay awake for as long as he could so he could think, only to find the harder he tried to stay awake, the faster he fell asleep. And it worked the next night, and the next, and the next, all the way for the whole week, the matriarch staying with Shaka long enough to ensure that he didn't try to stay awake, or sending someone in her stead.

Then Shaka began to come home much later, usually after everyone had gone to sleep or was out hunting for the night, spending his time thinking away from the clan, where he couldn't be told what to do. His mate would have worried about the implications of her mate never coming home, but Shaka was one of the last animals to ever have an affair.

Instead, she told the matriarch. One night a hunting party went out searching for hyena instead of antelope. A thoroughly docile Shaka was told that he was to report straight home immediately after he was done with politics for the day, and would be fully expected to participate in the night hunts as well, or he would not like the results.

Shaka's protests went unnoted. He realized he was almost betraying the first principle of every clan, loyalty, but he saw no other way to do his job. Yet, despite showing this to the matriarch in every way he could think of, she refused to be any less severe. It all seemed to pile up; the hunting duties he had as a clan member, sorting the needs of all the hyenas he had to cater to, and keeping up with Sudi's lessons on the way that the political system in Sanctuary worked, the lessons seeming to become longer and more demanding every day.

Shaka loved his job, loved his clan, and wanted to do nothing but be the best servant to the kingdom that he could be, but it seemed that even his formerly inexhaustible personality would begin to crumble.

oOo

"You must be joking," said Gymara, his face horrified. "This is heat we're talking about."

"Yes, I know," said Reen. "And I know that this is a sacrifice for you. But I really don't think it should be that way." He smiled. "If anything, this should be more enjoyable for you—"

"Are you nuts?" hissed Gymara. "There is nothing fun about heat. Nothing. Kissing is fun. Cuddling is fun. Sex, even that's fun—but you can't do this to me again, Reen," he pleaded.

"I just want to abstain from heat—"

"There are ten of them that go in two weeks, Reen. Ten. All at once! And then, almost right after that, there's another four. I can't do this again, Reen."

"Gymara, I really don't—"

"Look, last year, you didn't want to do it because of Unir. Fine, great, one year since she passed and all that. But two now. You can't try to tell me you're not over it yet."

Reen looked at the ground. "I am—better. But I simply don't want to have any more cubs—"

"They're their cubs, not our cubs," hissed Gymara. He looked furtively around the den to make sure they were still unheard. The only ones in the den were a few of the elder lionesses who were busy talking amongst themselves. Gymara shuddered as he thought of their tame nature changing in just a short time.

"Gymara, it's not just that. I was faithful to Unir as much as I could be. I—just don't know if I really should participate . . ." He looked back down at the ground, refusing to look at Gymara.

Gymara shook his head slowly as he looked at Reen. "You're scared," he said disgustedly.

"A—a little," admitted Reen.

"You think you can't do it." Reen didn't answer. "You think they'll work you so hard they'll kill you."

"It doesn't need to be said quite that way. I know I won't die—"

"Reen, remember what I was like after last heat? Hmm? I felt like my hind legs were going to fall off. I couldn't walk for a week. I lost half my weight, practically—"

"That's a bit of an exaggeration—"

"The point is," said Gymara, "that I was a complete and total wreck after I was done. And there is no way that you're putting me through that again. You're not standing me up. You're going to be right there, going at it just like me."

"Gymara, I—"

"Fourteen of 'em, Reen. Fourteen. Neither of us likes this, but it has to be done, for some god-unknown reason. You're not standing me up. Out of the question. No."

Reen sighed. "Look, maybe if we let Rayan and Hatari—"

"No!" snarled Gymara. Reen looked down at the ground, almost disgusted with his suggestion. "They will not be doing anything," said Gymara fiercely.

"I don't know why I said that," said Reen.

"Because you're a wuss. Besides, they're almost two years old. What do they know about sex anyway? They didn't even see heat last time; you took them with you."

"Well, we can't keep them away this time," said Reen. "I won't exactly be able to do that if I'm—participating."

Gymara stared out into space. Suddenly he snapped back. "Fine. I mean, look at us. We turned out okay after it, didn't we?"

"I think I'm half-deaf from hearing Dad's roar so many times," said Reen.

"Look, you're not getting out of it, and that's final. The lionesses win. We lose. That's it."

Reen sighed. "Very well. But about this—"

"No buts!"

"—this Shaka. What do you think of him?"

"Shaka?" Gymara thought for a moment. "The—oh, right, the hyena. Too many animals with that name. I thought we were talking about heat," Gymara said, slightly confused.

"What do you think of him?"

"He's, uh . . . you know, yea high, 'bout this long—"

"Gymara."

"He's okay, I guess."

"That's it? 'Okay?'"

"What more do you want? You want his life story, ask his mother."

"You know I meant the famine. Is he doing anything?"

Gymara thought about the endless petitions Shaka had made to Sudi to, in turn, make to him, asking for more food, more carcasses, and more land, the last of which Gymara found amusing. "Eh . . . not really, no."

"Nothing?"

"He's new at this. Maybe he just hasn't gotten used to it yet."

Reen shook his head. "We need to do more about it. They're starving, Gymara."

"I'm well aware of that," said Gymara dryly. "They entertain me with it all day long."

"It's not something to laugh at, Gymara."

"I know; it's more annoying, really . . ."

"And you still haven't let me swear in Shaka."

"Look, there's not really any need. There's going to be no full council meeting any time soon—"

"There's one next week."

"Next week?" asked Gymara, so loudly that some of the lionesses in the den turned and stared.

"Two thirds of my species have requested one. That's enough to constitute one—"

"Couldn't you have scheduled it during heat?" Gymara groaned.

"We'd miss it," pointed out Reen.

"Exactly. I'd rather go through hell with them than the council," said Gymara, waving a foreleg toward the lionesses.

"Gymara, you're a king. And a king must uphold the honor and integrity of his position in order to—"

"Reen, just shut up," groaned Gymara. "I don't need you shoving any of your little proverbial bits of wisdom down my throat. You're not Dad."

"I wasn't trying to be—"

"Then stop telling me how to behave. So I'm relaxed. That's not a crime yet. Might be after the meeting."

"You don't act regally."

"Screw regally," said Gymara, annoyed with the way the conversation was headed. "Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"No."

"Great. Then I do." Gymara stood up and stretched, vertebrae popping.

"Could you at least bring Shaka by the den tomorrow night?"

"I'll bring him when it's good for me."

"Sudi can do—"

"Sudi's got his mouth full. He doesn't need anything else."

"Nyota, then—"

Gymara turned angrily. "Look, Reen, this is my territory. You'll see Shaka when I can get him to you. But don't go stepping out of line."

"'Stepping out of line?' Gymara, I'm just seeing what I can do to help. The kingdom's not divided into your animals and my animals; it never has been."

Gymara heaved an annoyed sigh. "Look, you'll see him when you see him. But don't try to run my part of the kingdom. I don't run yours."

"I ask for your advice, Gymara—"

"I'm not asking for yours. So please, just let me deal with it. My way."

"Is this a touchy subject—"

"You have no idea."

"I only want to help," said Reen. "You know I wouldn't try to do anything else."

"Look, I'm just having a lot of problems." Gymara looked back at the den entrance. "Look, I gotta go. There's stuff I have to take care of." He walked out of the den.

Reen watched his brother leave, then looked over at the lionesses in the corner. One of them shrugged, and a few moments later, they were back to their conversations. Reen lowered his head in thought. What had he done to make Gymara that annoyed?

oOo

"Really, sire" said Sudi, "there are some times I want to give him a good smack right up the . . ."

"Yes?" asked Gymara. "Right up the where?"

"Dad?"

Gymara turned to look at Hatari. "Yes?"

"I'm bored."

Gymara sighed. "Cubs these days. So desensitized by hunting and war." He looked back around at Hatari. "And just what do you want me to do?"

"I dunno. Let me play."

"Hatari, you're—learning valuable life lessons here," Gymara said, trying to come up with something different than the other things he'd said the last few times Hatari had brought up that fact that he'd rather be anywhere else.

"It's still boring," he grumbled.

"You'll survive." Gymara turned back to Sudi. "So you were saying you wanted to stick your paw where?"

"Sire . . ."

"Okay, fine. No more bad jokes."

"Basically, he's becoming more of a nuisance than he's worth."

"Well, just keep the pressure on him. Sooner or later he'll figure out that we're trying to get him to cave."

"He's a hyena, sire. And an outstandingly stupid one."

"I've realized that."

"And the most sickening thing of all is his patriotism."

"I think his morals are cute," said Gymara. "How he thinks they're everything. Ugh."

"I don't think that we can do anything to him to make him do what we want, sire. He's completely honest, he only wants to please everyone—he's frustrating beyond belief."

Gymara sighed. "Fine. But keep trying."

Sudi was outraged. "Sire! After everything I've told—"

"Keep trying," said Gymara. "We'll find something on this guy."

"Sire, there is nothing—"

Gymara glared at Sudi. Sudi fell silent. "My word is law," said Gymara quietly. "And that means that you obey me. Or do we have to go over this again?"

"No, sire," said Sudi, his tone repressed.

"And why, Hatari, is it important that he obey me?" asked Gymara, turning around to look at his son.

"Because the world will end if he doesn't," said Hatari in annoyance, playing idly with a few stalks of grass.

"Exactl—wait."

Hatari sniggered. Sudi smiled.

"Hatari, you really do need to pay attention."

"Dad, it's boring," complained Hatari.

"Hatari, you're going to be king. And in order to be a good king—"

"The only thing I've seen you doing is think how to get rid of that hyena. Why don't you just kill him and shut up?"

"Why, that's a brilliant idea," said Gymara. "And while I'm at it, I can go on a whole killing spree, just getting rid of everyone that bugs me. There's a thing called subtlety, Hatari."

"It's boring. I don't want to be here. It's no fun."

"Sire, if I may," asked Sudi politely.

"Sure, why the hell not?" asked Gymara in annoyance. He walked away from a pair to get a drink of water from the nearby pond.

"Sire," Sudi said to Hatari, "as a future king, you need to be able to understand animals. It's a necessity. Manipulation is one thing that is necessary for every ruler. The animals don't know what's best for them. Therefore you must act on their behalf. That reason is the entire basis of monarchy."

"I'm two years old," said Hatari. "I don't want to learn about monarchy."

"Sire, you are a prince. You have no choice. You're going to be king someday, and its needed to—"

"I don't wanna learn," complained Hatari. "It's no fun."

"Sire, if you don't learn—"

"Who cares if I learn? I'm just two years old!"

"Okay, you know what?" burst out Gymara angrily, whirling around. "Fine! Go off, go play with the girls, do what you want! See if I care! I just hope that when you're king, you have to go through the same crap I am!"

"Finally," muttered Hatari. He got up and headed through the savannah, never looking back.

"Goddamn ingrate," muttered Gymara. He glanced over at Sudi. "What? Going to say I'm a bad father now?"

"Well, sire," said Sudi, "I don't think you'll have to worry about him being able to manipulate others. You've succeeded in that part. Now if you'll excuse me, there are a few matters I need to attend to before the council meeting tomorrow."

Gymara growled at the sight of Sudi walking away. "Arrogant ass," he muttered. What did he know about raising cubs?

oOo

It was late again. So much had to be prepared for the council meeting the next day, so many little details ironed out. Gymara cursed whichever one of his ancestors had decided to make the council. It was nothing more than a pain in his royal behind. Every law went through the council at some point, and thankfully, most of the time there was never a majority to contradict a law. It was a group of talking heads at best.

Gymara walked into the den, noticing that several of the lionesses were gone. Another night hunt, he supposed. He saw Adhima lying down in the den, her son next to her. He walked over to her and nuzzled her gently, receiving only a mild groan. She was asleep.

"Adhima," he whispered into her ear. No response. He poked her gently in the neck, then again.

"Whaz . . . Gymara?" she asked sleepily.

"Come on," he said. "Outside."

"You have the council tomorrow," she said. "You need sleep."

"Please, Adhima—"

Adhima finally brought her head up to look at him. "No," she said firmly.

"I just want to talk."

"That's it? Just talk?"

"I swear," promised Gymara.

Adhima heaved her sigh, then got to her paws and followed Gymara outside. "What is it?" she asked.

"It's—Hatari. He's not being—cooperative."

"And?" asked Adhima.

"He's disobeying me," said Gymara.

"And?"

"And it's not right, is what I keep hoping you'll pick up on!"

Adhima smiled. "You're cute when you're stressed out."

"Adhima, I'm being serious."

"Gymara, Hatari's a cub. Cubs disobey. It's just a fact of nature."

"It's rude, it's disrespectful, it's—"

"It's what's expected. So do you know what you do?"

"Tell me," said Gymara sarcastically.

"You punish him."

"And how am I supposed to do that? Half the time he manages to wriggle away when he's with me, and the other half he's wishing he was anywhere else. You'd think that'd be punishment enough—"

"Gymara, he just doesn't think too highly of you anymore."

Gymara looked as if she'd slapped him. "What?"

"You used to spend so much time with him, and I know you still try, but there's just other things he wants to do. He wants to play with his friends, and the only time he can really do it is when you're trying to teach him. He doesn't understand half of what he's learning yet, and he doesn't see why he should."

"And he told you this?"

Adhima smiled. "It doesn't take a genius, Gymara. Look, I know you love him, but you have to remember to try to keep his feelings in consideration."

"You're saying I shouldn't punish him."

"I'm saying you should. But give him a day off every now and then. But you can't tolerate his talking back to you. He's even picked up a little bit of sass with me."

"So what am I supposed to do? Ground him?"

"I was thinking more like making him hunt. Get his own food for a change. Maybe spend some time tending to the older lionesses." Adhima smiled, a sort of sadness behind it. "You just have to try, Gymara."

"I don't have enough time to try. Cubs are for lionesses."

"He needs to respect what you're trying to do Gymara. He just hasn't had a chance to see just what it is. He's just turned two. Just . . . I don't know. But you need to let him know that you can be a good father for him. That you care about him. Love him."

"He just seems like such a pain in the ass sometimes."

"I know."

"And it seems like he's trying."

"He probably is," admitted Adhima. "He knows that if he pushes hard enough, he gets his way. So don't let him. You need to be firm, Gymara."

"I am firm."

"To be honest . . . you're spoiling him just a little."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

Adhima smiled and kissed Gymara on the cheek. "Just try to be a little more—I don't know. Like your father."

"What, dead?"

Adhima laughed. "I still want you nice and warm."

Gymara smiled. "Are you trying to say what I think you are?"

"Most definitely no. Now come on, you need to get to sleep. Long day tomorrow."

Adhima headed back into the den. She stretched as she lied down, and her eyes opened wide as she felt Gymara deliberately nose her rump. She looked up at him in mock reproach and saw his smile. She laid her head down and saw Gymara looking at Hatari. The lion took one long look at his son before finally lying down to sleep.

Adhima closed her eyes and whispered, "Are too."

oOo

Shaka padded toward the circle of animals outside the lions' den, all of them sitting so that it seemed as if the Throne was actually a member of the circle. "Now, as the most junior of all the animals on the council, you will be the last to be given the opportunity to speak," said Sudi. "You must remember that by the time you are reached, all of us will be completely annoyed with how things are going. I advise you speak your part fairly quickly."

"But I've got a lot to say—" protested Shaka.

"Then you'd better say it quickly. None of us like these meetings, but they're an evil that must happen."

"Did you tell King Gymara about—"

"Yes, I've told him everything," said Sudi in annoyance.

"Then why hasn't he—"

"The king is a very busy lion. He has other things on his mind than hyena trifles."

"Trifles?"

"Minor things."

"I know what the word means. But I—I know he can't think of it that way. Is there any chance I could talk to him before—"

"No," said Sudi coldly. "Now don't make a fool of yourself. You sit between Erevu and Katili."

"Who?"

Sudi sighed. "The leopard and the wildebeest."

"Oh. Okay." The hyena trotted over to his spot, and sat down. He looked over at the leopard on his left and smiled. "Hi."

"Hi. You're Shaka?"

"Yep."

"I'm Erevu. And that's Akida," he said, nodding to the wildebeest on the other side of Shaka.

"I thought his name was Katili," said Shaka.

The wildebeest glared down at Shaka. Erevu whispered to Shaka, "Katili got eaten yesterday."

"Oh."

"Try to be a little more subtle around here, okay?" said Erevu. "It'll make it a lot easier on you."

Shaka saw Sudi lie down behind him, a short distance away. "What do—"

"All rise!"

Shaka turned to see the shaman backing out of the circle of animals, the cheetah being replaced by King Reen and King Gymara. All of the animals rose, Shaka just a pause behind them. The two lions took their place in the circle, neither one of them sitting on the Throne, instead standing on the ground in front of it.

"You may be seated," said the shaman. All of the animals did so.

"First," said King Reen, "there is one thing that must be taken care of. I don't know how many of you know Shaka," he said, gesturing at the hyena, "but he still has yet to become a member of the council. Shaka, would you please step forward," said King Reen, smiling kindly.

Shaka stepped into the middle of the circle, before the king. "Yes, sire?"

"I assume you remember your swearing in by my brother? It's just something for both of us." King Reen turned. "Nyota, come here." A female cheetah stepped into the circle. "If you'd be so kind . . ."

Nyota smiled at Reen, then turned to Shaka. "Repeat after me. I, your name here . . ."

"I, Shaka . . ."

The pair went through the whole ritual for Shaka's second time. "May the gods ensure your long and helpful contribution to the kingdom," finished Nyota.

"Thank you very much, ma'am."

"We hope you'll live up to the examples of your predecessors," said King Reen. "Both of you may return to your places."

Shaka did, uncomfortably feeling all of the council's eyes on him. He sat down in his place and heard the shaman declare, "The first to speak—the lions."

King Gymara said loudly, "We have no complaints to lodge for the council."

The shaman nodded. "The next to speak—the cheetahs."

"The only thing that we have to say," said a cheetah, stepping forward, "is that we would like the leopard scum to stay off our land!"

Shaka heard Sudi mutter behind him, "Oh, here we go." Shaka could practically feel Erevu bristle next to him. "We have done no such thing!" the leopard insisted.

"You constantly invade the Plains of Lea, infringing on our domain!"

"The Plains are sacred ground!"

"To the leopards," dismissed the cheetah.

"And I am one!"

"I know," said the cheetah disgustedly.

"I take offense—"

"You don't just take that! You take our prey, our water—"

"You have an abundance of all those things, except for, apparently, honor—"

And they were off. Shaka looked around at the other animals. Surely one of them would step in and do something to give the animals a logical compromise. None of them did so. If anything, they ignored the yelling match in front of them, instead talking to their neighbors. Many of them began to lie down and make themselves comfortable.

And this was supposed to be the body of animals that brought order to the kingdom?

Finally, after almost twenty minutes of arguing, when the two delegates were at the point of blows, King Gymara nodded to King Reen. Reen's voice cut through the yelling: "The Lands Accord of Marin, on the fourth year, the sixth month, and . . ." The king looked over at his advisor.

"Twenty-fifth day of his reign," finished Nyota.

King Reen nodded. "And what of it?" asked the cheetah.

"It was decided that no species would be able to declare any part of Sanctuary as their own land, unless they declared war on another species," said the king. "And if so, they must clearly state where the boundaries of their territory are, and are not allowed to pass out of their territory."

"The Plains of Lea have been inhabited by the cheetahs for two generations! It is ours and ours alone!"

"It's ours, if it's anyone's!" yelled Erevu.

"Enough!" said King Reen. "Unless the cheetahs are willing to fully commit their entire species to war over a simple feud between two families, the cheetahs have as much right to the Plains as you do. And if you do declare war, it is only then that you may draw your boundaries and keep them out. Any intrusions into the Plains previous to the declaration will have no retribution. The Accords will stand."

"But—" protested the cheetah.

"The Accords will stand," insisted the king. "If the cheetahs have no further matters to discuss, we may move on to the next species."

The cheetah glared at the king. "We have nothing else to say," he said. Shaka could hear the repressed anger in his voice.

King Reen nodded to the shaman. The shaman stepped forward again and said, "The next animal to speak will be the gazelles."

And the meeting went on. King Gymara took the next dispute, and then King Reen took the one after that, then King Gymara again, the two of them alternating being the negotiator. It was a rare occasion that an animal passed without having some outburst to be heard on, usually involving another species and yet another argument.

Shaka could see why most of the other animals paid little attention; they were almost not needed. He continued to sit up and pay close attention to every debate, trying to make sure that his terms of office were fulfilled, and that he was the best representative that he could be. Despite all of his effort, he still felt a shiver of excitement run through his body as he heard the words, "And, lastly, the hyenas will speak."

Shaka hesitated, then stepped forward. "Uh . . . I'm really not used to this but, uh . . . I got a problem that needs to be noticed. We hyenas, we're simple animals, and we don't ask for all that much. But there's one thing we need pretty bad, and its food. I know it's kind of irregular for us to be asking for it, but we're hurting real bad. We're starving, and there's no—"

"Sire, motion to adjourn!" Shaka looked over to see the cheetah who had spoken. The cheetah pointedly looked away from Shaka, instead staring at King Gymara.

"But—but I—"

"Second the motion!" said the antelope delegate.

"Now hold on one second!" protested Shaka. "I need to get my chance to speak!"

"A motion to adjourn is never out of order, and takes precedent for all motions," said King Gymara tonelessly. "Alright, the vote. All in favor, aye."

"Aye!" came almost unanimously from the council.

"Against, nay."

Shaka stared, then suddenly blurted out "No!"

"The yes's have it," said King Gymara. "Adjourned."

The animals began to leave. "Hey!" yelled Shaka. "Hey! Hey! You need to listen to me! We need help! Please, just . . . just listen."

None of them turned back.

Shaka watched them go in disbelief. "We need help," he said quietly. He looked over at the kings. King Gymara had already left, heading into the den. King Reen met his gaze and smiled kindly before he, too headed into the den. Shaka turned to look at Sudi for help, but he, too had gone. He hesitated one last moment, then walked sadly into the grass, his head and tail low.