𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚
𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦𝗮𝗻𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗿𝘆
𝘖𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥, 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘯𝘰𝘸
The rocks were whipped with rain the day Agatha staggered into the Acropolis: a rain-riddled lioness, more bones than flesh, spine jutting like a twig in water. She would lurch forward a few steps, then pause, claws digging into the wet rocks, to call out for help.
The sisters Celerity and Vanity found her in a heap at the bottom of a precipice. When they approached, she pinned her ears back and snarled a warning: do not harm us. The sisters were stunned by her ferocity until Celerity noticed a mewling ball of fur nestled against her chest.
In the warmth of a firelit cave, Agatha told them her story. She was part of a band of nomads who roamed the land, snatching prey and wooing away wander-hungry youngsters. They were hunters, swift-footed and quick-witted, who prided themselves on never settling down.
As they roamed through the rugged hilltops, Agatha caught the eye of the young king Ninetales. They shared a flitting romance until the wanderers moved on. When she discovered she was pregnant, Agatha's heart sank. Life as a traveller was fun, but merciless; she had seen her comrades abandon injured and feeble lions to die. There would be no place here for cubs.
So she kept her pregnancy a secret as long as she could, until she could no longer keep up with her companions. Just as she expected, they left her.
In a final, desperate bid for safety, Agatha crept back to Ninetales' territory. However, she found the young king gone, usurped by a leader of the same name. She was forced to give birth alone in the wilderness, with no one to care for them but herself.
𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦,
𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦.
When Achaeus heard her story, his heart leapt in pity. He offered Agatha a home in the Acropolis, which she fervently accepted. However, this tired lioness' battle was far from over. The winter frost had settled into her lungs; she spent six long months recovering her strength. During that time, though, she found herself watching over the other cubs. She is now one of the Acropolis' beloved broodmothers. Her daughter, Pandora, is an accomplished young huntress, and Agatha couldn't be more proud.
When Agatha passed away quietly, on a warm summer evening, Marie and Chryseis were there to help her on the way. They spent some time grooming her, softening the moss under her body, and laying flowers nearby for her to smell. Agatha said very little, but her smile told them she was grateful for their presence. As the evening drew to a close, she asked to be alone, and they left. When they returned, she had slipped away peacefully, with a soft smile on her face. Marie and Chryseis placed flowers over her fur and brought their pridemates in to say their goodbyes.
You ask Agatha if she wants to join in the play tussling, but she politely shakes her head no, for she is quite content just watching.
