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8/11.

The grass of the valley, once so lively and green, has shriveled under the relentless heat of the drought. The pride spends more and more time within the cool confines of their dens, watching the skies for any sign of much-needed rain.

But as much as they wish and wish for the wet season to come, their hopes are cast out to die, as is their home.

Today, a mysterious lion wandered in from the west.

Her muzzle ticked with silver, her eyes worn with age. She stumbled in upon brittle bones, looking all around in confusion. When approached by Memories of Winter, her tired expression suddenly went alight with joy.

"It's you! You're the-!"

Her voice cracked into a raspy cough -- it must've been days since her last drink.

Winter has chosen to shelter her within the pride for now, as it seems she has wandered a very long way from home. He hopes that a search party will come for her soon, as she seems to be very ill and... not completely there.

Nonetheless, something continues to nibble at his mind...

-

8/26.

Even with all eyes on the distant horizons, no other lions came.

The wanderer lioness seems to only get sicker as the days drag by. Even with the other lions of Agate to keep her company, she is often seen roaming aimlessly around the territory, occasionally bending her head to scent for something unknown.

Today, Memories of Winter approached her spot in the cavern, only to find her conspicuously missing. He heaves a long sigh, wishing that this troubling time would come to an end, and follows the lead that Broken Sky offers to him.

He finds the old lioness in the midst of the pride's graveyard. She wanders between the buried mounds with a low, muttering voice, not reacting to his presence until he comes to stand beside her. She tilts her head toward the oldest of the graves.

"...Frosted Stone?" Winter whispers, confused about the significance.

The lioness nods, a faraway look in her cloudy eyes.

"An old friend."

Feeling a sense of dread pool in his stomach, Winter gently nudges the elder in the direction of the mountain spring. She reluctantly follows, but not before dipping her head to the mound and uttering a few words of goodbye. She continues to speak to him on the way back, spouting bits and pieces of sentences that he can barely even comprehend. He continues to feel increasingly unsettled by her, up until the moment that they return to Agate and the old lioness settles down for a nap.

"...Something about her seems... off," Seatherny whispers, eyeing the slumbering figure with a glint of worry.

To that, Winter can only nod.

-

9/1.

"There is another storm coming in from the north. I... I am unsure if it will bring rain, or only more locusts."

"There cannot be one without the other."

Winter pins his ears back, anxious at the thought of more rainfall. The wet season that they had once hoped and begged for, had now turned against them. Much of the pride was sick, and more water would only lead to more disease. The price to pay for hydration was merely another source of death.

The few days of green grass had passed them quickly. Now, with the locusts upon them, their land was just as dead and barren as the drought had left it -- perhaps worse. The king spent his days chasing the pests from their dens and immediate territory, however there was little he could do against their numbers. No matter how far back he drove them, they only seemed to encroach deeper into their home.

Gunmetal, one of his newly-appointed subordinates, nudges him gently.

"Do not stress, my king. There is only so much that one lion can do."

He nuzzles her with gratitude, but his worries persist. His eyes travel back to Billowing Smoke, who is troublingly ill and lying almost motionless on the cave floor. Every now and then, he questions if she is still breathing.

Behind him, the wanderer lioness stirs from her afternoon nap. He feels a familiar sense of dread spreading outward from his chest, tingling the tips of his claws by the time she begins to speak.

"It sure is hot around here, ain't it? Couldn't he have picked a better territory?"

There she goes again. Her and that mystery lion that she talks about.

She was constantly comparing Winter to him, saying that he shared several of his characteristics -- a compliment or an insult, he did not know. Lately, however, she has begun to complain more about the weather, saying that the rains have done nothing to cool the air. He continues to suspect that she is plagued by a fever, much like the lioness resting in front of him, and has lost her ability to differentiate... all the more reason to keep a close eye on her.

Winter breathes a sigh, getting to his paws and attempting to exit the cave unnoticed. The lioness addresses him almost immediately, stepping into his path to stare him dead in the eyes.

"You... you don't feel it? The heat?"

Winter shakes his head, knowing that any words from his mouth will only make the interaction longer than it needs to be. The lioness sneezes, then takes a step closer to him.

"You know... we're not built for this. You and I."

He tilts his head very slightly to the left, confused. The lioness gives him a grin, revealing her rows of crooked and yellowed teeth.

"We have thick pelts for a reason."

She laughs as if she's just told the funniest joke in the world, the sound crackling and echoing off the walls. She turns and wanders away from him, leaving him with more questions than answers.

Well... at least she's consistent with that.

-

9/4.

Today, the lioness was gone.

The burden of sickness and age continued to weigh on her brittle body, heavier and heavier, until she could bear it no longer.

She died peacefully in her corner of Agate, far away from home and any lion she knew.

Just before her time was up, she had a rally; a final moment of clarity. She called to the only other lion awake -- Skyrr, a young adolescent who was visiting the cave out of boredom. She beckoned her close, whispering through a failing voice, passing on the message to the only soul that could listen.

"Tell the king... tell the king that this is not home. Tell him that home lies in the far, far distance, beyond meadows and rivers and deserts. Tell him that I ---that 𝘸𝘦--- never forgot that night. The night that we were attacked by our own. The night that we lost... him... your ancestor. Tell him to follow the herd of white horses; tell him that they will lead you. But you have to go... quickly. They only migrate once a year. If you do not follow them, there will be no chance... of your pride's survival... find them. Find your ancestral pride."

With her message passed and purpose fulfilled, the nameless lioness took her final breath, and passed into the far beyond.