It’s strange here.  The air isn’t dry and arid as she’s been accustomed to her entire life.  The earth doesn’t kick up into clouds of dust with each and every step.  It’s strangely damp.  Not just the earth, but everything.  The air is humid and feels heavy in her lungs. The earth itself clings to her hooves when she walks.  Everything about this place seems oppressive in the most literal sense – pressing down upon her like a giant weight, clinging to her body and refusing to let go.  Not to mention the fact that it was dark.  The thick trees did a good job of stamping out all but the most stubborn of sunrays. This was decidedly not Dorobo.  Under normal circumstances, this may have unsettled the lioness.  But even though this place was dark and oppressive in comparison to the wide, dry savannas of her homeland, Tsavo was not deterred. 

Quite the opposite, really. 

The lioness had found deliverance.  She could feel the weight of the chains and shackles that had kept her bound to Dorobo and all of its politics and traditions – those overt and thos that had only ever been implied – begin to loosen their stranglehold.  She could be free here.  She could be anything here.  The very thought tore through her like an infection, burning away reason and decorum and leaving only passion and want in its place. 

The flood of emotions – of possibilities – was overwhelming.  Everything here was overwhelming.  As a function, the lioness remained rooted to the spot, equal parts excited and uncertain but still unable to move. 

It would have been easy for Tsavo to simply disappear into these strange shadows and begin her life anew in this place with none the wiser.  It was a tempting prospect after the months of ridicule that had word down the defenses that had taken her a lifetime to build.  The lioness was well in control of a great many things.  Fate, as it turned out, was not one of them. 

Before any decision could be made – before she could even begin to soothe the angry ocean of thoughts churning inside her skull – her attentions were diverted entirely.  The rustling branches and the unmistakable sound of footfalls were more than enough to drag her from her own mind.  She immediately drew herself up to her full height and hardened her gaze, unwilling to appear weak before a stranger.  But when the figure broke the shelter of the trees, her decorum uncharacteristically broke.  Surprise flickered across her features completely unchecked. 

She held his gaze for a heartbeat.  Then another.   She tore her gaze away, staring at her own hooves for a moment, frustrated at herself for not even considering the possibility that Kiuaji would seek out Tembovu.  How could I have been so foolish. The thoughts came hot and fast.  Had she made a mistake in coming here?  Or perhaps this was an opportunity to finally put to rest some of the questions that kept her awake at night.  She was so distracted by the new wave of emotion that had all but buried her. 

She looked back to Tembovu when she heard her name hanging in the air.  She didn’t speak though.  Not yet.  “Well.  I certainly didn’t fly,” she said, with a small, humorless smile.  “I walked.  Same as you I presume.” Walked.  Fled. Followed.  Same thing, right?

And as expected, Kiuaji was there too.  There was some comfort in familiar faces, but Tsavo didn’t have words for everything bubbling inside at this moment.  “Kiuaji,” she said simply, in greeting to the infamous stallion, with a little bob of her sculpted head.  “Well, you would be intimately familiar with the perfume markets, wouldn’t you Kiuaji?” she said, dryly, with her lips forming the hint of a smirk. 

She allowed the silence to creep back for a few moments before trying to formulate how best to continue.  ”What is this place? Have you been here …ever since?” she posed, to no one in particular.  She knew they both would answer.