Hiba had grown up on stories of the swamp; it was in her blood, as much if not more so than it was for many of the lions and lionesses who had sometimes referred to themselves as 'swampies' rather than as the direct translation of their name, 'Spirit-talkers.' Ultimately, the swamp had defined them more than their culture, it seemed. Regardless of how they thoguht of themselves, however, they were no more: disbanded and scattered to the winds. Hiba had been on her name quest - her long, drawn-out journey from which she actualy had no intentions of returning - when she had heard the news. They had thought themselves safe in their new mountain lands, but they had been wrong, and the spirits of the mountain had turned against them. A massive rockslide had finally spelled the end of the Jini-misemi, and as she heard it, some had been unable to escape and had been buried under the rock.
It was a tragic turn of events by any standard, and yet Hiba felt quite detached from it. It wasn't her home anymore, and perhaps never really had been, so the loss of it didn't strike a chord with her as it maybe should have. She was not heartless, however, and was concerned about what may have become of her family, particularly her full siblings and her mother. She had no idea how many, if any, of her littermates had ever returned to the pride, but her mother would certainly have been there. Piliroho kwa Kwini, once known as Mama Bwawa, revered by the Jini-misemi as their mother goddess. Surely she had had a different name before 'Mama Bwawa' - Mother Swamp - one that her parents had given her, but it was long forgotten by anyone but them and her. Another life, left behind her when she had willingly passed her power on to the mortal Queen Asali'jua upon the lioness' death, to save and raise her up. Thus her third and last name, Piliroho kwa Kwini - 'second life for a queen.' What must it be like for her mother, to have gone from immortal and powerful to mortal and powerless?
Hiba couldn't imagine it, to give all that up and suddenly just be ordinary, with the inevitability of death creeping closer every single day. She knew it affected; it had showed sometimes, in an odd distance and hints of apathy and melancholy that would peek through cracks in her facade from time to time. And it was telling, she thought, that Pili had continued to have litters - such as Hiba's - even after she had separated from her mate, Narindima'moyo. She had had two with the then-King, and after gone on to have two more with outside males. Hiba and her littermates were from the latest, but she would not be surprised if she were to discover that they were not the last. Haunted by the knowledge that she would end one day, Piliroho kwa Kwini was desperate to leave something behind.
Seeking her mother (and siblings), Hiba had returned to the mountain to see if anyone yet lingered, but had found nothing but rock and dust, the broken dreams of a pride that had tried and failed so many times. She hadn't really expected to find anything more than that, but it had seemed wise to begin there, just in case. Afterward, the natural progression had taken her to the swamp in which the pride had originally dwelled; it seemed a much more likely place for the former Goddess of Swamps to go, but she hadn't found her there. Far from empty, however, it had become home to a new sect of 'swampies' - much smaller and less diverse in color and history, and much more...devout. She had come looking for her family, but against all expectations, had found a home where, for the first time in her life, she felt like she could fit. For once, she could belong somewhere, and it only seemed right that it was in the swamp. It was in her blood, after all.
But it wasn't her home. Not yet. To become one of the Tutaamka-jivu, she had to finish her name quest. In all her wanderings, she'd never found a new name for herself. In all honesty, she'd never looked all that hard. She had thought that either it would come to her or not. It never had, and she had more or less given up, but here, apparently, they had a new way of finding names. A better way.
Sitting in the thriving, aptly-named Heart of the Swamp with a sandy-pelted lion dubbed an Anakesha standing beside her, she stared at the shallow tree-bark dish before her. In it was a mysterious, off-color sort of paste mixture that she had been told she was to consume. It was unappetizing, to say the least, as well as intimidating. Eating or drinking unknown substances had never exactly been high on her list of good ideas. She frowned at it and asked dubiously, "I'm really supposed to eat that?"
"Delightful, isn't it?" the lion called Arth-lobhi responded. "I tried telling Ihamutra she needed to work on the color, but she insisted that this is the optimal mixture."
"Great." Her suspicions not allayed at all, she poked at the vessel with her paw.
"If it makes you feel any better, you're not the first," he offered. "That was Ihamutra." He deliberately neglected to mention the unfortunate serval who had actually been first, since it had later died as a result of another experiment of the Anaanga's. "Then it was Siyarin, then I took it, and others since, all with no ill effects."
Hiba sighed, eyes narrowed as she stared at the concoction that promised to help her find her true name, a silent threat to the inanimate mixture that it had better not make her ill...or worse. "Alright then. Here goes nothing."
"See you soon," the Anakesha said with a slight smile, the last he or anyone would speak to her until her pilgriamge was complete.