Author's Note: A billion apologies for not updating in a long time. Life, you know. Anyway, hope this makes up for my absence. Two chapters for you.

Enjoy :)

Chapter 11

Ibada rarely woke out of a night's sleep and the only time he did was when he couldn't sleep. For a shaman it was a rare occurrence unless something weighed heavily on their minds. Ibada never really had that problem. Now he was surprised to find his eyes open, staring at what looked to be a predawn sky. It was no longer a dark blue almost black color with stars. The moon hadn't even shined. This sky was gray and purple, eerie.

He stretched his arms and yawned. Then, thinking he was going to be up for a while, he rolled out of his grass bed and walked to the opening of his tree. It had been so long since he woke in the very early morning he almost didn't recognize the Western Plains, or what he could see of the kingdom from his high viewpoint. The sight never ceased to amaze him. No matter where he was the home of his birth a beautiful place. He had never been outside the kingdom to compare it to another.

"I'm not sure I'd ever want to, even temporarily," he said to no one. He felt himself smirk. While being in his line of work required sacrifices to avoid distraction, part of him wanted to have what others had – a family. He rubbed the back of his neck, chiding himself, and muttered, "What am I saying? Of course having a family isn't distracting. I don't have one of my own, except Mom."

And Dad, he added as an afterthought. Pain gripped his stomach. He hadn't seen either of his parents in a long time. Every encounter with his dad was the same.

"You could have lived this life, and still honor Rahimu. But instead you chose a life of solitude. You could have had more."

Whenever Ibada heard that he'd cringe. As much as he loved his mother he knew visiting wasn't worth being lectured about how he could have done what his father, grandfather, and any dead past member of the family did before. Yes, he could have and he knew it, but he wanted more, a life of fulfillment. To him that meant sacrificing any happiness he could have had with one of the female monkeys he knew while growing up.

Now and again he thought about what his life could have been. It was a happy thought but when it ended he knew being a shaman and helping others with spiritual or physical injuries was what he was supposed to do. He was called for it by Rahimu, and if his father didn't understand that then he didn't understand Rahimu or His ways.

Emotion filled the shaman's throat, squeezed his heart. His legs buckled. With a weak cry he fell to his knees and put his hands over his face. Tears threatened to come. He managed, with some difficulty to stifle back a sob that nearly strangled him. Lord Rahimu, he prayed. How can I love my father and still obey you? How do I honor him and respect him without turning my back on you? The tears streamed from his eyes. "Help me, God," he said as the pain squeezed his heart, tightening his chest. "Rahimu," he spoke in a strained whisper while shutting his eyes as hard as he could. "Hear me, please, Lord!" The pain hit him like hard rain smacked into the earth during the wet season.

My son, my servant… Ibada, I am with you. And I love you as you love me.

He heard the words in his spirit and swallowed hard.

I love you with an everlasting love. I will never turn from you, nor will I leave you.

The shaman wanted to open his eyes, but wasn't sure he could. Instead, he continued his silent plea. Help me, please. I love my father, but I love you too. You are our Creator! What would we do without you? Where would we be? The pain of each unspoken word made his heart squeeze even tighter, nearly suffocating him.

Ibada, my ways are not your ways, nor are they your father's. But I love you, no matter what, just as I love him.

Slowly the pain began to ease. You are good, Rahimu. Your love never fails. Your mercy is everlasting, unlimited. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed. Thank you, Rahimu. A chuckle escaped him, followed by a soft laugh. This silent talk with the Creator proved helpful.

He waited for a few minutes then stood up, looking out into the lands, and finally up at the sky. Brighter colors were in place of the gray and purple he'd seen earlier. The sun was about to rise.

Ibada put his hands behind his back and breathed a sigh of peace. "You make all things new," he said softly as he sniffed the air and looked about until a thought crossed his mind. He hadn't seen King Dhoruba in over three days. Is that good or bad, he asked himself. Then he shrugged the question off.

His last conversation with the royal leader hadn't gone as he he'd hoped. But he had been truthful. He couldn't help the lion without putting him at risk or in danger. He refused to do either. Both options meant peril for the ruler, and it was his duty, as the shaman, to help not hinder. Whenever an animal of the lands came to him for one reason or another he had done his best to help them, however he could, as long as it didn't compromise his beliefs in how he should help them or in the way his teacher would have.

The situation with King Dhoruba made him wonder now if he could help him.

Ibada sighed deeply, crossed his arms and hung his head. "Lord, how?" He heard himself chuckle ruefully as he asked, "Give me a sign," in a passive voice. Then he flinched, mentally kicking himself. "I shouldn't have done that," he muttered.

Ibada…

The shaman's ears resounded with the voice of Rahimu. He listened.

Be patient and continue with working. Your King will need you sooner than you think.

Before he could almost utter the question of when, the excitement and anxiousness in his spirit stilled. So he would do what he always did – wait patiently.

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In the royal chamber, King Dhoruba slowly opened his eyes and raised his head, whiskers twitching. The darkness of the cave provided both comfort and fright. He swallowed hard then looked down at his sleeping Queen, who lay on her right side, her face in his direction, forepaws tucked under her cheek. She was perfectly still. She was…

You're so beautiful Kesha, he thought as a smile crossed his face. If Jibade and Mpenzi weren't sleeping in the far back of the cave he would enjoy this rare, quiet morning with his wife. But they are so I can't. That's okay. You need your sleep, beloved. With a paw he gently stroked her cheek, glad and a little sad that his touch didn't wake her.

For the last three nights his nightmares progressed, each worse than the last. It was always the same, in the beginning at least. The echoes and cries of those who lost loved ones, the spine chilling roars of the one responsible. He'd call out and the murderer would challenge him. Dhoruba felt himself shake. The murderer knew his name, but why? And why does he say that I will be judged for my sins? I've never committed any…

Are you sure about that? The guy in your nightmares seems to think you have.

The lion shrugged. No! He's a figment of the dream, that's all. He continued to stare at his sleeping mate and spoke quietly. "You don't deserve this." He would never admit it out loud but her patience since the beginning of his nightmares unnerved him. He knew it was, in part, because of the way she was raised with a father like Amri who never really let anyone see his angry side (now that Dhoruba thought about it, he wasn't sure if his father-in-law had one). The dark brown lion softly smiled. "You concealed it with great control, Amri… Father…" Emotion rose in his throat as he wondered if the last King could have helped him. A moment later he shook his head. No. Amri was a one of a kind lion, someone who loved Rahimu, followed Him and instilled the teachings into his children. But he wasn't a miracle worker, neither was Ibada. He had to figure out the meanings on his own.

Dhoruba shut his eyes and turned his face away from his wife. Another thing he would never admit out loud was that he admired how she and her brother, King Taraji, had been raised by two Rahimu believing parents and because of their rule the Western Plains, the animals and the lion pride flourished. He could never say so of the lands he came from. Their King was a tyrant and wanted his son to be exactly like him, maybe worse. And his mother did nothing while he suffered at his father's claws.

You just stood by while he beat me.

Blow after blow, blood soaked the large claws. Anger, rage, and sorrow grew. The grass was stained crimson, and the nearly unrecognizable body of –

Dhoruba blinked his eyes and shook his mane. Taking one last look at his dear mate, fear gripping him, he got to his paws, exited the chamber and made his way outside where he sat on the stone ledge, his paws almost at the tip. He looked down, swallowed at the site below and faced the lands ahead, watching. The sun's light bathed everything it could reach. Dhoruba smiled, remembering how Amri used to do this – sometimes with his mate, the late Queen Malkia, sometimes with Kesha or Taraji. Sometimes with me, just as I do now with Kesha and our children.

His ears flickered, his gaze dropped as an unbidden thought came. You never did this, did you Father? No, you were too busy… His head snapped forward, eyes unfocused.

A male cub cries out as claws rake across his back. The vicious snarl of the King echo in his ears which slowly move at the sound of a female voice. The King's name is muffled so he can't hear it.

"Papa," he sniffs only to receive another blow. This time he didn't cry out. A few long heartbeats later he hears the King leave and feels the warm presence of his mother who gently runs her tongue along his body, being mindful of the scars he would carry, scars that would heal over time physically, not emotionally. The damage of his father's cruelty had left another mark on his heart.

Dhoruba's body jerked and he was unaware of his front claws coming out of his paws. A deep, dangerous growl seized his throat. He felt like he was in another place and time. Thoughts raced through his mind, images flashed before his eyes and his heart squeezed.

He and his father patrolled. There was a shiver and his father chastised him, called him a weakling, among other things. He remembered stifling a growl of anger. He'd closed his eyes but couldn't shut out the words his father had spoken to him that chilly, dark cloudy day. I thought I put it out of my head!

"Keep an eye for any intruders… Don't screw up… There will be consequences!"

Dhoruba felt the blood in his body begin to boil. He had done what he was told to do, but then… "What happened next?" he whispered. "Rahimu, help me make sense of this."

He had done as he was told and hated it. He hated the way his father treated him, how he expected him their actions to match – cold, uncaring, cruel and heartless. He didn't want to be like that. The cubs of the pride were afraid of his father, and they were even afraid of him too.

Dhoruba's mind hurt. He thought was going to pass out. As the shaking and trembling increased he forced himself to move from the ledge. But he didn't sit back on his haunches. He stood instead, rooted to the ground, forcing himself to make sense of things he hadn't thought of in years. "No… this isn't how it happened. I-I left. I ran. Didn't I?" His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed. Something's off. Should I continue? With a sigh that filled his whole body he did just that. He closed his eyes, searched his memory.

He remembered comparing his father to a storm that was beginning to brew – violent, unrelenting and merciless. He didn't want to be like the storm or his father and grandfather, who according to the lionesses, was just as bad in the way he treated the pride and his family.

A violent tremor worked through Dhoruba's body. I never wanted to be like that! What happened? The images of the coming storm, the dark clouds intensity and the way his father… He searched for him, found him, was reprimanded for 'not listening'. What he said, the memories of being beaten over innocent, harmless things…

Dhoruba shook, his legs trembling. He wanted to fall down on his stomach and bury his head in his paws. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter but the image remained. His father fell and he attacked, hitting, clawing, growling and snarling. Blood covered his paws; his teeth stained crimson red. Then it was over. The image showed him staring at his father's bloody corpse, but it wasn't enough. Something told him that it wasn't just his father who had to be punished.

Dhoruba gritted his teeth and snarled softly. Mother… You did nothing! Another image flashed, one that made him sit up, but it didn't remove the look in his eyes. The soft snarl became a growl. He shook his head. The claws on all four paws came out and buried themselves into the rocky surface. He licked his lips, his eyes widening. "Blood?" he said in a frightened voice. He licked his lips again. The taste was still there. Everything flooded back.

With a growl he ran straight for the grasses but the heat in his body remained even as he ran to the nearest waterhole. The images continued to play in his head – the bloodied corpse of his mother, the urge to make those who did not help him when his father harmed him pay. "Rahimu… Did I?" But he knew the answer before he uttered the prayer, if it could be called one. "I… sinned. I killed and blocked it."

You're a disgrace!

He tried to shut out the voice he hadn't heard it in so long. Father…

You killed me, your mother and the pride you were supposed to rule. You even killed the shaman.

You forced my paw. If you hadn't beaten me –

The war in his head continued. He growled, snarled and did everything he could not to roar and release his sorrow.

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Akanni's eyes opened, his body shaking a little. Slowly, he raised his head and looked around his cave. Everything appears to be alright, he thought. His whiskers twitched, his ears fell while his gaze dropped to the ground. He stared at his paws musingly as a tremor worked its way through his body and knowing why he woke he closed his eyes. There's a reason, he thought again with absolute certainty.

With a soft grunt he rose to his paws, turned his head just to the right and walked over to the figure that had been sleeping in his chamber with him since he arrived in the Western Plains. He stared down at the young lioness, not ready to go out and contemplate why he woke. Instead he took the time to study her, respectfully. Akanni wasn't the kind of lion to lust after a lioness. He hadn't been around one his age, or even a few moons or years younger than himself in so long he wasn't sure if he was capable of it.

The last daughter of the guardian Bukua was beautiful; he couldn't deny that, even in his mind. He watched her as she slept, still on her stomach, with one forepaw atop the other, her head resting there. She looked so serene, so at peace. Content, he thought with a small pang of envy that wasn't aimed at her but him. This was the first time he had woken out of a sound sleep and it scared him. He hadn't done that in a long time, not in the early days of Shabihi's death when he would dream he was a cub and they would play. She always tried to make their life outside of a kingdom as fun as possible, given that they'd lost everything near and dear to them.

Akanni's body jerked and he shook his head, blinking hard at the wall in front of him. Then his eyes fell once more to Johari, a smile on his face. If the time ever came he wasn't sure he could thank her for staying with him, especially now. He had been fully healed for some time. He didn't need her to look after him anymore. His ears went back, his curiosity suddenly piqued. Why was she still here?

The lion closed his eyes, imagining his chamber without her. After a few strong beats of his heart he opened his eyes and stared at Johari, feeling a strange peace and comfort. He'd experienced something similar with Shabihi, but she was a mother to him. His heart beat strong in his chest. Bukua's second daughter was unlike any lioness he'd ever known. She was compassionate, loving and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. He knew that as much as she loved her brother, Hadhari, she wasn't going to stand to have him talk badly of a lion he didn't know, and refused to.

Akanni laughed softly. He liked that about her. She respected and loved her friends who were becoming his. He'd lived so long without any. She was the same with her parents because he had seen her interact with them.

If she was flawed in any way he had yet to see it, and if she was… He stopped the thought cold. Don't get ahead, Akanni. Don't ruin this. For years he had been uncertain whether he and Shabihi would find a good pride. But he had, and Shabihi wasn't here experience it. Don't think about that. She's with Rahimu, roaming His kingdom where there is no fear, death, sadness or pain. Isn't that what she taught you? That the kingdom of the Lord is different than any other in this realm of the living?

He shuddered at the thought of Shabihi in the presence of the One that the shaman of their old kingdom praised constantly, the same Lord the inhabitants of the Western Plains praised without ceasing. They saw Rahimu in everything, from the rising sun to its setting. They even prayed for the souls of their kills!

The more he spent time with Prince Jibade, his sister, with Johari and her sister, the more Akanni wished he'd been born here. He would have had the kind of upbringing where praising Rahimu was something to celebrate and be proud of. He would've felt the blessings of the Lord on him every day of his life. He would have been honored to learn more about Him from the King.

As if on cue his thoughts wandered to King Dhoruba. He didn't know much, wasn't sure he wanted to because it wasn't his place, and he didn't know the ruler very well to ask. What he learned was from Prince Jibade who wasn't afraid to inform those closest to him about his father. To Akanni's surprise that included him. Maybe the Prince trusted him, didn't see him as another Hadhari. Or he knows how grateful I am to the King and Queen for letting me stay. Another smile crossed his face and gratitude filled him. I am. More than they'll ever know.

His old home had been brutally spilled in the blood of innocents and his real mother. The pain of losing her had lessened over time, but never fully healed. He didn't expect it to. Had he woken to think about this? The Western Plains, how everyone lived their lives, how worshiping Rahimu was not something to be feared or forbidden – the rulers encouraged it – and how he felt about Johari still staying with him.

He sighed and turned his eyes back to the lioness, emotion filling him. He wasn't sure about his feelings for her, if he had any at all. Do I? It was a strange question to ask, even in thought. He shook his mane; he'd figure it out later.

Trying to stifle a yawn but not succeeding, Akanni walked over to Johari and laid down a paw step away at her side. As he put his head down and closed his eyes a smile crossed his face. In the back of his mind, a saying that Shabihi once told him when he was young returned. Lord you are good. Your mercy and love always endures. Never had truer words been spoken by someone he loved so dearly.

Not long after, his eyes opened again. He raised his head and gently stroked Johari's back with a paw. He wasn't sure if he admired her or if he was falling in love with her. All he knew was that he cared deeply for Johari and hoped that would be enough.

Akanni ran his tongue along his lips, quick to taste the dryness. Getting up he walked to the entrance of his chamber, then stopped and turned, looking back at Johari. She'll be alright without me.

With a fond smile he made his way out of his cave, and out of the main den into the morning. He yawned loudly, tongue hanging out of his mouth, stretched his body and arched his back, feeling the strain from lying down for so long.

He shook his mane, walked up to the stone ledge and stared. "You have blessed these lands with everything it needs, haven't you Rahimu?" His heart beat at the realization of his words. He hadn't spoken to the Creator since he stumbled upon these lands. Then he had prayed for relief from his wanderings, and now…

He sighed deeply, contently and for a moment he wished Johari was here, to bask in what he now perceived as morning worship. "No… maybe this only supposed to be for me. Just me and you, huh, Lord?" He chuckled softly and breathed in the crisp air. He bowed his head, moved his paws and closed his eyes. "Thank you," he said quietly. "Thank you for saving me. For letting Shabihi raise me… for taking her peacefully." His prayer went on, every word meaningful. He prayed for the King and Queen, for Prince Jibade, Princess Mpenzi and for those he met since he decided to stay.

When it was over tears seeped from his eyes. He sighed and sniffed, feeling better in this one moment than he felt in all the time he'd been here or in the early days of Shabihi's passing. He decided to walk and soon found himself in the grass, the sun's gentle warmth on his back. The grass was soft under his paws, the blades brushing the lower parts of his legs. His walk soon turned into a sprint and nearing a waterhole he stopped in his tracks, head tilted in confusion.

"King Dhoruba," he asked in a quiet voice. From his position he couldn't be sure if the King was aware of anyone else in the area. What Akanni could be sure of was the ruler's pacing, his tail angrily switching. He managed to hear something that instantly caught his attention.

"I blocked all of it! Why? I d- I didn't mean to do it. I… I just snapped!"

What are you talking about, sire?

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Dhoruba had no idea that the pride's newest member was watching him. He continued to pace, his anger rising.

Come on, Dhoruba! Admit what you did and I'll leave you alone. Maybe Rahimu will forgive your transgressions! Of course, with as many as you have, forgiveness is unlikely.

He snarled. Stop it! His eyes grew unfocused as another image flashed in his mind – blood everywhere, the bodies of some lionesses and cubs. As he continued to look, he licked his lips, suddenly feeling the taste of blood in his mouth. It made him shudder, made him sick, but it also brought back a feeling he thought had died. It filled his body, made his heart pound with hard beats.

What he saw next made his jaw drop as he noticed the face of a lion that looked… The same gray eyes, dark brown body, pitch black mane… As quick as a strike of lightning in the sky, as if it struck him right in the chest, it all came flooding back. He shut his eyes, shook his head and felt the claws on all four paws come out. They scratched the grass blades, gripping them, and when he opened his eyes he thought he was back there in the place he thought he had buried. His eyes narrowed and he snarled viciously.

Come on now! Admit it! You killed them all, even that cub's mother. It would've been right in front of him if that other lioness hadn't shown up and taken him. Remember what he looks like? The new male in your pride certainly resembles him. He's here right now, watching.

Dhoruba growled again, felt the blood in his body course through him while his head pounded. He shut his eyes for a moment, reopened them and saw the lion still standing there and under his paws…

A lioness!

He heard echoes in his ears.

"You will pay for not helping me!"

"No, no, please!"

"It's too late for begging."

He heard claws tear through flesh, the last gasps of a struggle to live.

Rahimu, Dhoruba prayed desperately. I need you!

Truth will free you.

The King's eyes widened and a soft snarl emitted from his mouth under the pressuring strain in his head and the echoes of pleading in his ears. What truth? The lion looked down at the lioness viciously. Then the soft, frightened voice of a cub nearby made all three look in its direction. Dhoruba shook his head; mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. The cub, a male… He looks exactly like –

Admit, sire… you killed all of them!

"You're a failure! Your mother produced a weak heir! I should've mated with one of the stronger lionesses. Perhaps then I would have the heir I deserve, but instead I'm stuck with you, a reminder of my own foolishness! You're nothing and never will be. You'll never amount to anything!"

The taste of blood in King Dhoruba's mouth intensified. It was the final breaking point. "All right!" he shouted, raising his head to the skies. His gray eyes flashed. "I killed them, all of them! Come for me now, Rahimu, for you judge the wicked as well as the good! Come on! I deserve it!" He paused and shook his head aggressively. "I put it out of my mind when it was over, but I was haunted every time I looked at my reflection in the water. I didn't want to remember so I buried it." Deeply, he thought. "Strike me, Lord! I deserve it! Judgment is yours! I spilled so much innocent blood. I murdered my parents, and an entire pride of lionesses and cubs!"

Finally he stopped, breathing heavily while the weight and emotion of his words fell like large rocks onto his body which caused him to fall to the grass in a heap. He shut his eyes as hard, hot tears filled them and ran like a hard rain down his cheeks, his sides racking with heart choking sobs.

Then, searching the deepest parts of his mind, he began to recall and speak the names of those he slaughtered. Or those he could remember.

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Akanni wasn't certain if he could believe what his eyes were seeing. But he could believe what his ears were hearing. It confused and for a slight moment fascinated him. From what he could understand King Dhoruba had come from a very troubled past, one he'd chosen to forget.

As he watched the ruler's strange display it made him wonder if those strange nightmares were memories of his old life. The young lion continued to remain silent, and told himself not to speak or risk alerting the King of his presence. He wasn't spying, simply curious. He had no idea the Western Plains' monarch would be awake at this time of day! But he was here. He couldn't leave now, even if he left the way he'd come – not even making a sound. King Dhoruba would sniff the air, discover his scent. He would be caught and would have to explain why he was awake and why he had stood watching him, listening to him.

If Akanni was honest with himself – and he knew he could be – the way in which the King was behaving stirred some old memories for him. He was a cub, lying next to his mother, the pride near one another, avoiding their ruler who was in a foul mood, pacing, muttering, his tail twitching, eyes darting back and forth looking angry, frustrated, like he was ready to strike at one of them at any given moment if they so much as glanced his way.

As Akanni continued to watch he was able to pick up some of what Dhoruba was saying. It made no sense, like he was talking in riddles. But it was the site of the Western Plain's leader raising his head to the sky above and shouting. Akanni felt himself flinch, remembering a time when the King of his home pride spoke in an angry voice. He shook his head and battled with the idea of whether to leave or stay, until Dhoruba's next words compelled him to do the latter. His eyes widened, his mouth fell open a little. Fear gripped him. Dhoruba wanted judgment from Rahimu.

Before the question of, 'What sin?' could enter his mind, he heard, clear as the birds of the lands chirping, "I murdered my parents… an entire pride of lionesses and cubs!"

At that, the gold tanned lion's red hazel eyes widened in sheer horror. In that moment he did want to flee, to pretend he had never heard, to return to his chambers and sleep beside Johari once more. But he still wanted to stay; wanted to learn more, even if he was spying now to do it. You've killed, sire? His eyes were still on Dhoruba as the older lion fell on his stomach, almost dejectedly, his form shaking.

Shock, dismay, sadness and every other emotion tugged Akanni's heart. He strained to hear, but he could just make sense of whatever the distraught ruler was saying next. They sound like names, but whose? His whiskers twitched, his tail flickered then his eyes narrowed. They were names he recognized, some lionesses, some cubs, but how would – Then, to the younger male's astonishment the next name that came was that of Akanni's own mother.

Without warning, a growl rose from deep within his throat and it took every ounce of his strength to compose himself. No. He needed more than that. Rahimu… this can't be true. He's not the one! His brow furrowed. "Sire… how do you know her name?" he asked in a quiet voice that shook as each word came out. A painful beat of his heart nearly caused him to choke. He shook his head. "It… It can't be. Lord, no, please!" But the name of his mother… he'd heard spoken on the lionesses' lips, including Shabihi's, resonated and twirled in his mind. He felt his heart sink and shut his eyes, feeling another growl in his throat. Dhoruba knew. By Rahimu, the Western Plains' King knew!

Then he opened his eyes again to see the older lion staring straight at him. Their eyes bore into each other's and the memories of a long ago massacre flooded back for both. No, this can't be happening! I finally have a place to call home, a group of lions and lionesses I can call friends. Rahimu, don't let this ruin everything!

As much as he tried to reason with himself the color of the King's eyes shook him to the core. They were the same eyes that haunted his dreams as a cub, eyes he often swore, as an adult, he would remove with his claws, if given or blessed with the opportunity. How many times had he told himself it would never happen? That he would never see the one who murdered his mother, his friends? Yet it wasn't just the eyes, it was the look, the color of his body, his mane… How many lions had such colors? They were the eyes Prince Jibade inherited, that and the black mane were all the similarities the Western Plains' current and future ruler shared. The face was the same as the one from his nightmares, only older.

Nearly hesitating, reluctant, he raised a foreleg and set it down. As much as he wanted to deny it, he just couldn't. His mother's name and an image of her he thought he'd forgotten flashed in his mind. You know her name, sire, he thought, feeling as though his heart was going to come out of his chest. If you do, then – His anger rose and another image, this one of the day his mother had been slaughtered, returned. It was all he could see, her lying on the ground and the Prince look down at her then at him for a brief moment. The Prince's stormy gray eyes and face were the same as King Dhoruba. The looks, knowing Mother's name… It all fits! His own eyes snapped and the claws on his forepaws slowly unsheathed.

"Akanni," the King asked, his voice shaken and surprised. How long have you been there and how much did you hear? "What brings you here?"

"I could ask you the same, sire," the young lion replied, his voice cold, clipped. He would have to approach this matter carefully though his whole inner being was crying out to attack.

Dhoruba lifted a paw up then put it down. He barely knew this lion.

Oh you know him alright. You just put it out of your memory all this time, but it's been there trying to burst forth!

He growled softly. "I was unable to sleep, and you?"

"The same is true for me, sire." He took a step up, slow, deliberate. "What woke you?"

Could he tell him? Akanni was still a stranger. He'd never spent any time with him since he arrived in the Western Plains. At the young male's question, Dhoruba looked to the side, saying, "It was a nightmare." He wasn't sure what bothered him more. The fact that he blurted out his buried crime to the sky, or that Akanni had probably heard it.

"I see. Was it random or reoccurring?"

The redmaned lion was either very curious or hiding the fact that he'd heard. "With all due respect Akanni, I think you've –"

"You don't remember me, do you?"

Stormy gray eyes met red hazel. "Should I?"

"Take a good, long look."

Unbidden, the image of the male cub from his nightmares flashed in his mind. He compared it to the lion standing in front of him. He closed his eyes, putting both faces side by side. The color of their eyes, the head tuft color was the same as Akanni's mane. Their pelt color… Lord!

"I'm surprised you never asked me where I came from, who my parents were, if I was born a rogue."

"Akanni…"

"To fill you in, I had a mother. But she died, killed by the Prince of my homeland." He looked down at his claws, soon continuing. "In fact, the entire pride was slaughtered, so were the cubs, even the Prince's parents." He paused, a lump in his throat. "I was about to watch my mother die when one of the lionesses snatched me up in her jaws. We survived, thank Rahimu, and she raised me as her own. I called her mom as a cub, then by her name as I grew up." A small, pained but fond smile crossed his face. "She'd have loved it here." Then the smile left, and a cold hardness filled his eyes as he walked up to the King, staring straight into his eyes while hoping the look in his own would force the ruler to step back. "It took me coming out here and watching you, really looking at you. You may not remember me, but I remember you, Prince Dhoruba."

The older lion's eyes widened a little. "Akanni, I –" He paused as another image of the cub and the lion in front of him entered his mind, the calls of the cub's mother as she died. The taste of blood filled the inside of his mouth. It made him shake and tremble. You're the cub… Nervously, he swallowed. "I was a different lion then," he heard himself say.

"So you do remember!"

"I'm… beginning to. I blocked it out, forgot it, but the nightmares…"

"Are reminding you, all the while you thought you could escape the past. Guess not." The young lion paused for a moment, his heart pounding. His fore claws were still out, and even though this King said he could stay it didn't change what they both knew. He walked up to the King with deliberate steps. "You killed my mother, and you would have killed me if Shabihi hadn't saved me. You probably would have killed her too, am I right? We all had to pay."

"It's complicated," Dhoruba whispered in a strained voice.

"You have no idea what I endured. You killed an entire pride because of what your father did. I was a cub, yes, but I wasn't stupid."

"Akanni –"

"Admit it to me, sire, here and now. You killed the lions and lionesses of the pride we were born in."

The dark brown lion shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "I was angry with my father. I lost control and I –" He was unable to finish as the younger lion let out a loud, fierce roar and slammed into him. He fell on his back, his head landing with a thud in the grass. Staring into what appeared to be angry red hazel eyes, he was reminded of how his own feelings so long ago.

Akanni looked down at him with bared teeth, his claws only inches from the King's throat. He pressed his full weight down as hard as he could to prevent Dhoruba from getting up. "Admit it, Your Highness!" he snarled. "You murdered your parents, you killed the lionesses, their cubs, and you killed my mother!" Blood ran hot through his body and for a moment all he could see was the agony he'd kept inside for several years. "No matter how badly your father treated you –"

Dhoruba gave a snarl of his own. "You have no idea!"

"It doesn't excuse the slaughter of innocents!"

"So you want revenge."

At that, the redmaned lion laughed ruefully. "Oh, I thought and dreamed about it for years. But I never imagined I would actually meet you after so long." For a brief moment he was surprised that the King didn't flip him. His hind legs were free. Did he not want to?

"Or I you, yet here we are," the ruler grunted. "Let me up and we can figure this out."

It was tempting, but could they talk? How many of his dreams were about finding this lion and killing him? Could Akanni resolve this peacefully? His adopted mother's words rang in his mind but they were overshadowed by mental words of vengeance for his blood mother, his friends, their mothers and Shabihi's sister. He growled and wanted more than anything to tear out the King's throat. Was his blood mother killed the same way?

It won't bring you back, but he has to pay!

No matter the sin of his past, he let you stay. Hear what he has to say.

The young male closed his eyes, but before he could make up his mind something slammed into his side, knocking him away from the King. He rolled on the ground and found himself directly on his back, claws close to his throat. He looked up at his assailant, expecting it to be Dhoruba. Instead he stared into the light teal colored bloodshot eyes of a lion who hated that him, Johari's brother.

"I knew you couldn't be trusted!"

"Let him up, Hadhari," said the King as he rose to his paws. "He has a reason."

"And what might that be, sire?"

The next voice to speak wasn't Dhoruba's. "First, let Akanni up, then I'm sure my father will explain."

Both the young guard and the King turned their heads to see Prince Jibade, his sister and their mother coming toward them. But they weren't alone. Behind them were Hadhari's parents and sisters. Everyone had curious looks on their faces, and Hadhari could feel his father's angry eyes on him as he got off Akanni.

Dhoruba was more surprised and wanted to ask what they were doing here. But he had no words. Rahimu does this mean… His heart pounded again. His family, two of his closest friends and their daughters were here. Quickly, he glanced to Hadhari and Akanni, seeing caution on the young guard's face as he eyed the red maned lion with renewed suspicion. His ears flickered. There was no choice. He had to tell all of them.

Truth will set you free, Dhoruba. You need to do this.

He swallowed a large lump in his throat. Be with me, Rahimu. Give me strength. "It's good you came and that you're all here," Dhoruba began, trying to make eye contact with his mate and failing. He pawed the grass. "There's… something I need to tell you. It's about me."