"Just a little further," she soothed her aching joints, the anticipation of reuniting with her cub lending her strength. The thought of curling around little Safiri, offering her warm, fresh milk, filled her heart with a deep sense of purpose. She trotted over the final hill, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape. The small nook she had made their home many sunrises ago nestled among the tangled stilt roots of an acacia tree, reinforced with shrubbery to protect against prying eyes. As she slid down the slight hill leading to their sanctuary, her heart light with the promise of seeing her cub again, her smile instantly fell. The clearing was eerily silent, the usual signs of Safiri's playful presence conspicuously absent,
"Safiri?" she called, her voice tinged with a mixture of hope and rising anxiety. Perhaps Safiri had hidden herself just outside the den, as she had been taught. Her ears pricked forward, straining to catch any sound. But as she took another step, the pungent scent of Walkers hit her nose, and her eyes widened with horror, "Safiri!?" she attempted to chirp out her cub's name, but it came out as more of a distressed, explosive yelp. Panic surged through her veins as she tore into the den, her movements frantic. She trashed around the bedding and walls, clawing at the earth and foliage, desperate to find some trace of her cub. The comforting scent of Safiri was overpowered by the overwhelming, invasive odor of Walkers.
Fury and terror burned in her chest as she realized what had happened. The Walkers had taken her precious cub. She tore out of the den, her heart breaking with every step. Her cries echoed through the air, a mournful, heart-shattering symphony of loss and desperation. She circled the den, her vision blurred by tears, calling out for her cub with a voice filled with pain and longing. Her mind raced with memories of Safiri, her playful antics, her innocent eyes filled with trust and love. The world seemed to close in around her, the weight of her loss pressing down with unbearable force. She could still feel the warmth of Safiri's small body against hers, the gentle purrs as she nursed, the way her little paws would knead her fur in contentment. But now, all that remained was emptiness and the haunting scent of the Walkers. She knew she couldn't give in to despair. Her cub needed her, and she would do whatever it took to find her. With a final, anguished cry, she set off, her heart torn but her resolve unbreakable. The savannah stretched out before her, vast and unforgiving, but she would not rest until she had brought Safiri home.

As her paws thundered against the land, she narrowed her eyes against the setting sun over the hills beyond, turning them towards a familiar stretch of territory. In a time like this, she knew of only one cat who could offer any sort of comfort. She wasn't sneaking up; her presence was meant to be known. She raced towards an old, fallen acacia tree, its upturned star-roots stretching towards the sky like skeletal fingers. As she neared, a yowl caught her attention, and a solid mass slammed into her, knocking her off balance. She rolled with the blow, quickly regaining her footing, and looked up to see another cheetah pinning her down. Dark brown eyes, filled with protective anger, stared down at her, before they melted into confusion,
"Nia?" the cheetah, Jenga, questioned, his voice a mix of surprise and concern,
"Jenga! Safiri is missing! The Walkers took her!" Nia's words tumbled out in a frantic rush. She shoved Jenga off and scrambled to her paws, her heart pounding. "My den reeks of them, and I can't find her," she panted, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Jenga's ears flattened, his expression darkening,
"They took her?" he growled, a low, menacing sound that reverberated in his chest. His tail lashed in agitation as he looked around them, trying to make sense of the situation. "They could have taken the Roller in any direction. Why would they take her? They don't interfere with our lives unless necessary," he said, his voice choked with worry. "What happened?" Nia bared her teeth, her frustration and fear bubbling over,
"I went for a hunt, leaving her in a well-protected den from predators. I went over and around Akida's Pride lands to the warthogs," she explained, her voice trembling. "I caught what I needed, slept, and started home at first light this morning. You can't blame this on me! I did everything how our mother did it. She taught me how to raise Safiri. Don't spin this on me." Jenga lashed his tail, but then dipped his head in acknowledgment, his anger giving way to empathy,
"Akida and his pride watch the lands for the Walkers. We can ask them. First light. For now, rest, sister," he said, his voice softening. He head-butted her shoulder gently and sighed deeply. "We'll find her." Nia's legs trembled with exhaustion, the weight of her grief and fear pressing down on her. She knew Jenga was right; they needed help, and they needed to be at their best. With a reluctant nod, she sank to the ground, her body heavy with fatigue. Her mind, however, raced with images of Safiri, lost and alone, scared and calling out for her mother.
Jenga settled beside her, a solid and reassuring presence,
"We'll start at first light," he promised, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll find Akida and his pride. They will help us track the Walkers." As the night closed in around them, the stars began to emerge, twinkling like distant jewels in the dark sky. Nia looked up, her eyes searching the heavens. Somewhere up there, she believed, Johari was watching over them, her celestial mane shimmering with the light of countless stars. She sent a silent plea to the great beast of the skies, asking for strength and guidance. The night was long and restless, filled with anxious thoughts and fleeting moments of fitful sleep. Nia's heart ached with every beat, her mind replaying the moment she found the den empty, the scent of the Walkers still fresh. She would find her, at any cost.