***Trodden Flowers

"I am getting old," she told her king one day. The two were laying together, watching the cubs play. It had been her favorite thing about coming to this pride, watching the cubs grow.

"You are," he replied gently, leaning against her.

"And... I am dying..."

"You will be remembered."

She remembered coming to the pride. There had been a celebration upon her arrival. Singing, dancing, introductions, and flowers and colored dust flying into the wind. Trodden received her gifts then; a flower in her hair and chains that complemented her colorful fur. But as the days passed to months, and months to years, those chains became heavier and heavier. She raised many cubs, some of her own but most belonging to the other lionesses, and saw them safely to adolescence, when they were judged before the king. Many never returned, but the king never stank of death when he returned alone. Saying good-bye was part of the judgement ceremony.

"Will... there be a ceremony?"

"There can be, if you'd like one."

"No," she replied quickly. Too quickly. The lioness sighed and relaxed. "Thank you, but no... I only wish... to say good-bye to everyone before the time comes." She chuffed, watching a pair of cubs play-fight. "And, if you permit it, I wish to choose the broodmother to replace me. So that I may teach her myself."

The king laughed a little and nodded. "That can be arranged. In the meantime, rest. You've earned it."