after the match with the man, she went off to lick her wounds. Zola wandered until her wounds ached, and only then she stopped. the falls were a perfect place to wash grime from the Pit and travel. a pause was all it took for her to decide; she waded into the water, relishing in the subtle stinging that came with battle practice. dirt and debris roamed away from her pelt, the blood washing out and revealing some soft pink scratches along her coat.

they did not need to be checked or wrapped, for Zola knows enough about her own body. she knows that they are not deep - it was just a spar, not a vicious assault. they will heal if she keeps care of them. constant washing and making sure no dirt infects the wounds... it sounded dreadfully boring. and it was. she had to make sure not to get into any more scraps until she was healed, else risk damage she could not recover from. she stands neck-deep in the pool, her eyes closing as she allows peace and quiet to enfold her.

whether she notices the other being, she does not react right away...

Not too far away from the earthen-toned lioness, another nomad was also tending to their wounds. Not battle scars, but rather a hunting mishap, a product of hunger and desperation that had led Kalahari to bite off more than she could chew. The wound left by the zebra's flailing hoof had since closed up, but the bruised muscle was taking its time to heal. She had found herself sticking close to the Peak as of late, finding that while its steep terrain and heavy underbrush were unfamiliar, the small-game hunting was good and the land provided both hiding spots and lookouts. She had been doing her best to lay low while she healed, not wanting another run-in with Vine if she could help it.

Sometimes, though, Kalahari broke cover when the coast seemed clear. The oil palms that grew here, when crushed, could be made into a pulp that coaxed aching muscles to loosen and relax. The day was also proving to be an early-summer scorcher, and after she had treated her sore shoulder, she wanted to slake her thirst. Upon arriving at the base of the falls, however, she found she wasn't alone. The other cat almost-submerged in the pool was facing away from her, but Kalahari didn't want to inadvertently startle her, and let out a quiet, friendly chuff as she made her way down the pebbled bank to the water's edge. "Hot enough for you?" she called, before crouching down to begin lapping at the water.

@Zola

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the arrival of another allows Zola to open her eyes. slowly at first, squinting against the light. her neck angles to stare at a woman with various similar markings but no less lovely. the other calls out, perhaps in amusement, if it was hot enough for her. Zola chuckles lightly. "no" she utters honestly, having been on the savannah's heatwave for long enough of a time. Amaryllis was tame. "have felt hotter."

she keeps her distance from the other, too content and also wary of opening any wounds.

she wants to heal as quickly as possible. "you new to land?" was that her mistake - or did the outside smell fade a bit over a short period of time? Zola sloshes to face the woman, wondering if she should repay the kindness given to her when she first arrived here. "am I too" she says this clearly, slowly, as if trying to communicate better with the stranger. "is Am-a-ril-is... fine for you?" unaware of the other's troubles, she hoped to just make conversation.

@Kalahari

She paused her drinking for a moment, droplets hanging off her whiskers, to tilt her head quizzically at the other nomad's assertion. Her own jungle home had certainly had its fair share of scorchers, but shade and water had always been plentiful. It was hard to judge precisely what kind of environment a lion hailed from, given the wide variety in their coats, but the brown female was smooth-coated, fur short enough to show the faint definition of lean muscling. Almost certainly a hot-climate origin there.

Kalahari sat up and rocked back on her haunches, nodding as the stranger asked a question herself. "I made the Passage crossing just about a week ago," she said. Her formerly-placid expression became somewhat troubled. "To tell the truth," she admitted, "my first encounter with other lions here was...troubling. Some pompous red asshole tried to push me into joining his pride whether I wanted to or not." She snorted, her muzzle briefly wrinkling. "As if I didn't risk my life running away from home to get away from bastards like that. But, he didn't get me. Two other lionesses showed up and gave me just enough of a head start to outpace him. Lost him somewhere in the scrub just north of the Passage and haven't seen him since."

The tawny coated woman gave herself a brief shake, as if attempting to dislodge the memory. "I know you didn't come here to listen to a stranger talk about their troubles, though. What about you? It's a strange place we've found ourselves in, what have you come across?"

@Zola

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Zola's brows furrow as the woman tells her tale. she had been almost claimed into a pride? against her will? the ghost of a snarl curled her lips, her teeth revealed. men she thought viciously. "fuck him" she utters clearly enough for the other woman to understand. she didn't swear a lot, but when she did... well, it was best not to be on the receiving end of it. respect was hard won though. on one hand, she was glad the woman got away. on the other, she could have fought for her freedom.

but the questions directed at her now. "mm" the dark hued woman grumbles, trying to piece together her travels "went to Bluffs after passage, follow man there willingly" but there had been two lionesses as well there "de pride fall part. no leader in sight" she shakes her head "hyena rule over, and man I follow now king" but she still didn't know what to make of that. would Zoticus be worth following? "I leave claim. come to train." she flexes her shoulders, where some wounds were still fresh.

@Kalahari

The stranger's sharp curse caught her by surprise, but her startled blink promptly became a burst of laughter. "Ha! Damn right!" Though she couldn't be sure how much or how little one attempted claim really mattered to the king, a spiteful little part of her hoped he remembered. She hoped he remembered the time a scrawny, solitary, wounded female had given him the slip. She hoped his pride was still stinging for it.

Granted, if he did still have his tail in a twist over it, that meant he could very well come after her for revenge. Ah, well. She kept far enough away from the Mire, with any luck they would never cross paths again.

She dabbled her front toes in the cool water as the stranger recounted her own experience in the Passage, an encounter that had thankfully gone much more peacefully. It was reassuring to know that not every pride in this land was the type to claim new members against their will, but a shame that her new home had disbanded almost as soon as she joined. Kalahari's pleasant expression faded. "I'm sorry." As ridiculous as it felt, perhaps part of the reason she was reluctant to join a pride of her own was the lingering fear that something would happen to upset the status quo. Whether that was hyenas pushing them from their lands, or a usurper stealing the crown. It had happened before, after all. Ironic then that she clung to a nomad's life when it was anything but static, but in a way, fending for herself made her feel more stable than entrusting herself to another.

She had noticed the fresh, yet shallow marks scoring the woman's hide, and though she was of course curious about their origin she hadn't wanted to pry. "Looks like you found a worthy opponent, then--how did it go?" Though they clearly weren't life-threatening marks, she nevertheless found herself appraising them regardless--old habits died hard.

@Zola

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"it not yet home" Zola waves off the other's apologizes. the Bluffs were foreign to her, even if she remained. she didn't tell the lioness she had planned to return once amble time to heal was given to Zoticus. but whether she'd remain there was beyond her. she didn't know what sort of king he was. then again, she hadn't even known Faust either. she flexes her shoulders tenderly, a laugh echoing through her body. "good enough - though not for me."

she had lost, after all.

but the experience would remain with the woman. she would learn from her mistakes. it had been a close match, and only a tie-breaker had resulted in Zola losing. she gave that a bit of hope. "you fight?" or did she run? one could tell a lot about a woman or a man in their actions. would the man who tried to claim the lioness come back? there was fleeting worry about it. "I teach..." she goes on, wondering if she was overstepping her boundaries "moves, if you want?" at least the other would put up a fight when running was not an option.

@Kalahari

Even if she hadn't come out the victor, she certainly seemed satisfied enough by her spar. It was true that even a defeat provided valuable experience, although Kalahari wasn't the type to frequently go looking for fights, and when the earthen-toned woman asked just that, Kalahari shrugged. "I haven't really sparred since I was a cub playing with my littermates," she admitted, feeling a sudden, sharp pang that might have shown on her face for a moment before she could conceal it behind her usual reserved mask. It had been a year now since she and her siblings had fled their homeland, a year since their wild fugue had sent them all running in different directions. She had tried to pick up their scents, with no success, and to this day she still didn't know if Sahara and Sahel were alive or dead. She missed them, and their mother, so deeply that her heart ached if she ever dwelled upon it.

She pushed the regret and uncertainty back into their dark little corner of her mind for the time being. "I can defend myself when I'm backed into a corner, of course, but when I can, I try to avoid a conflict of tooth and claw." This was a matter of pragmatism to her, rather than martial honor. Injury was dangerous enough for any animal, but a lone predator became an even bigger target when they were wounded. Not only would it impact their ability to hunt, but the scent of lion-blood would often draw in opportunists of other species, eager to remove a potential competitor.

She was visibly surprised, then, when the other lioness offered to give her a training session then and there. "Oh--yes, thank you!" She might have been able to outrun one angry lion, but she knew she couldn't count on the assistance of strangers every time she was in trouble. It was becoming clear that if she was going to be on her own here, she needed to be able to hold her own.

@Zola

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"then" Zola decides to exit the waters, sloshing toward the other woman and gripping the edge. she pulls herself onto the grass, huffing a sigh. the cool water really did a good job with the stinging. she suspects the dirt from the Pit would be washed away as well. "what you do know?" she asks the other lioness.

mentioning tussling with her littermates, Zola suspects she has some basics down. "my tribe - we train different, I think" she goes on "build endurance for long battle. run and dodge" but that was just the beginning "then jab and dodge" she looks Kalahari over, noticing she was smaller. more balanced. a healthy medium "it hit and run tactic" she adds, dipping her head into a nod.

"you are smaller than me" she goes on "but you faster." use it to your advantage, even in a fight.

@Kalahari

Kalahari stepped back to make room for Zola as she pulled herself from the lagoon and up the banks, water trailing off her body. "Just the basics," was Kala's reply, as she took a moment to lower her front half down and do a nice, long stretch, briefly extending her claws to dig them into the red-clay soil before straightening up once more. "The...rulers of my natal pride disliked the idea of women learning to fight properly." A very different upbringing from Zola's, but now, she had the opportunity to make up for lost time. Kala couldn't deny she was a little bit excited, not just to be better able to defend herself, but to learn something new in general. If her mother had taught her anything, it was that a wise lion absorbed every bit of information they could, whether or not it seemed immediately useful.

Kalahari nodded at the other's assessment, finding it fair. She was about as average as it came for lionesses, but though most males might have been stronger, she was still quicker on her feet. "Better to wear them down, then, rather than try to overpower them directly?" That made sense. Lions were not naturally built for endurance the way hyenas or painted dogs were, but if she could develop that on her own, it could only benefit her.

@Zola

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