She stood there, in her little hollow close to the heart of this hellscape where she could pretend she felt safe. She stood there alone, the small, close space amplifying the raggedness of her breathing, until it became deafening to her in the dreadful silence. But even this awful clamour of loneliness was drowned out by the thundering beat of her heart. The trembling brown mare gasped for air, felt her lungs burning for it, starved for oxygen, and hastily backed out of the shelter of the spindly copse of trees, overwhelmed by the scent of her absent son.

Had she made a dreadful mistake in leaving him behind, while she risked everything to see if Nyimara was okay?

“Azizi!” The cry split the air, a desperate, dreadful sound that carried the threat of violence underneath the shrill of bone-deep fear. And the silence that followed was eerie, and stirred at the terror buried deep inside her.

Shenzi ran, crashing through the undergrowth, splashing through pools of water that gathered in the low-lying part of the Lagoon. With wide, wild eyes, she scanned frantically for any sign of her son, but with each moment that passed without catching sight of him, or hearing his answering call, Shenzi’s ruined heart crept further and further up her throat.

The young, spindly legged brown boy did not return to her, but Shenzi knew she was no longer alone. She was never alone in this terrible place. Staggering and sliding to a clumsily halt, sides heaving, legs caked with muck, the fierce, scarred mare whirled about, face contorted, driven half-mad (by something harsh and heartbreaking that masqueraded as anger) and definitely dangerous. There were sounds amongst the mangroves, footsteps shadowing her through the bog.With a hoarse, savage hiss, Shenzi called them out. “What do you want from me?”