It was quiet in the lands of Kitwana'antara. Not the quiet of the grave, but that was because there were no graves, not here. Secret Keepers had a job and it involved leaving no graves.
If the pride was inclined to burying their dead though, there would be a great deal of work lately. It was quiet because there had been many deaths and dispersals of late. Too many voices cut off in recent years, too many who could no longer stand to stay - and were free to leave. For with lions, and lion hybrids, it was often dangerous to let them leave. Not if the world beyond the Kitwana was to avoid becoming a graveyard.
Zeme was closer to the border than the pride's heart, patiently stripping a femur of meat. An observer might note that the bone was larger than a comparable element of his own body might be, though not so outsized as say, an elephant. But what fur or skin had covered the former limb was long enough gone that nothing could be considered recognizable.
The hyena sighed mentally as he chewed. It wasn't that he wasn't hungry - he could always eat. It was that his mind had no appetite. To know how many old friends had fallen...it was hard. He was no longer young and some things became more difficult as one aged. A Secret Keeper's duty was one of those, though he never would have thought it when he was young.
