”Ni machungu si kuwa naye karibu.”

His daughter’s quiet voice, in his native tongue, sank like a stone in his gut. And it settled among the darkness, adding to the guilt and worry that had begun to grow there, like it would with any father that lost his son. Only, to Tembovu, the pit was larger and deeper, as it already held the grave of one son.

So his head dropped to Kia’s gently ruffling her forelock as she chocked around stones and leaves. “Sisi kumpata, maua,” his murmur was low, warm, and filled with promise. And then he hummed in agreement to her request of beginning their searc for his brother where the serval last was.

But the King was not left long, for suddenly Zubari, his testy and headstrong son (it seemed that the Elephant’s loins bred both testiness and surliness) slammed from a full-tilt run to a stop near them. And his bright yellow eyes (a gift from his mother) narrowed into suspicious slits on his father. Tembovu’s thick lips pursed slightly at the accusing tone in the Dorobian tongue.

But before he could answer his son’s questions (or chide his tone), a squirrel was running up his thick, black and white leg. Though his limbs were as massive as small trees, it still caught the elephant off guard. He snorted as its claws tickled his thick hide, navy eyes widening and neck craning to attempt to see the rodent—but then Tutti was there and his great skull whipped back towards his spotted daughter.

“Tutti,” was his low, warm rumble in reply, a grin crossing his face as she dashed away after the small, furry rodent. A chuckle rolled around in his throat because, despite all his worry and sadness at losing Kianzo, his speckled and spitfire daughter could forever make him laugh.

He needn’t worry about reprimanding his precocious son, either, for Ada was not far behind their twin cubs. And, just as Rexanna forever reprimanded Kianzo about manners, Ada did so with Zubari. “Hello Ada,” the King instinctively reached his muzzle out towards the spotted woman in greeting—after all he did have children by her.

But then his navy gaze flickered towards Rexanna as Ada extended her muzzle towards the gilded mare. So the King retracted his muzzle, shifting slightly uneasily as he looked between the two women. He knew they had met before—and now he had (nearly) his entire family in one place. Deep breaths expanded his barrel, the slight adrenaline rush of this moment keeping his exhaustion at bay.

Introductions were made, Rexanna revealed that Kianzo was missing, and Kiada glared at Tutti before fixing him with a sharp stare and angry questions. The Elephant sighed heavily, realizing only now his mistake in focusing on finding his son rather than explaining things to his Kiada.

“Yes, they are, Kiada. Not all are as lucky to meet all of their family,” there was only a gentle rebuke in his words, because he knew that the filly was hurting without her twin. And, before he could continue to assuage Kiada’s angry concerns, another foal bounded into the clearing.

Mbwene chortled at the words that crossed through the King’s exhausted mind. But his eyes warmed at hearing Maude’s bright giggles, “Hello Maude. This is—“ but she is gone after Tutti before he can introduce Rexanna or Kiada to her.

With a gentle shake of his massive head, his navy eyes turn to Ada and Zubari, “We have spent a long time searching for Kianzo, and it has taken its toll. We need to rest, but I will find you after.” And with gentle reach of his muzzle, he brushed it across Ada’s withers and reached to ruffle Zubi’s mane (should his temperamental son allow it).

And then he began to head after Mbwene.

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Sisi kumpata, maua = We will find him, my flower.