The hiss quickly turned into a strangled sound of relief wrapped in anguish. “No, no,” Shenzi intoned, not believing Nyimara was really there. This was the last place the barb mare wanted the silver bay to set foot, because it was dangerous - Nyimara had stirred their ire, and already they had beaten her back once. Shenzi could not bear to think what they might do if they caught her again. Prayed she didn’t have to find out.

Snapping teeth pinched at the skin of her shoulder, and dispelled the doubt. With a harsh snort, Shenzi leaned into Nyimara’s graceful form, drawing comfort from her presence, and instinctively took a few hasty steps alongside her. But her heart wrenched painfully in her chest, condemning her. So long as her son remained here, she would never be truly free. With a muffled sob that she failed to suppress, the barb mare jolted away from the one who’d come to save her, shaking her head at the promise, feeling her heart tearing in two.

“I cannot leave him!” Shenzi snarled, her throat tight and her voice wavering. How could she - how could she make Nyimara understand? Truth was, no-one could understand. For all she knew, Shenzi was one of a very small few that was all that remained of her kind. Blood mattered to her. Azizi matterered. Nyimara did too, and Shenzi was desperate to be free of this place. But not if it meant losing Azizi.

Because no matter the integrity of Nyimara’s promise, as soon as they were beyond the reach of the Bachelors, Shenzi knew her son would be at the mercy of those she’d perceived as monsters, and she dreaded to think what would happen to Azizi without her here to protect him.

Turning in a frantic circle, aware of Nyimara just behind her, urging her to leave, now! Shenzi scanned the trees with renewed desperation, praying that her son would appear, not daring to call for him again, lest she invite the whole pack of beasts to descend upon her and her silver-haired Queen. Despite everything, and despite herself, the scarred barb mare stood frozen by indecision, knowing that this might be her only chance to escape.

And yet if she ran, and left Azizi behind, there were no guarantees. What would it say about her, to abandon him like that, even if the price she had to pay for his happiness was her own? What would he think of her? It was such a weight to bear, because either way, she would lose. Either way she would hurt someone that she loved, maybe even lose them entirely

A low moan of despair trembled in the bones of her chest, and Shenzi shook her head, holding back tears as she turned to look back at Nyimara. “I’m not as strong as you think I am,” came the husky, hushed confession, ringing with anguish. I’m so sorry. The words caught in her throat. Forgive me, my Queen. Threatened to choke her, unless she swallowed them down, or set them free. Please, please, don’t think less of me. I am breaking. I am broken.

“How can I leave him?” The words were breathy and brittle, grappling with guilt and sorrow and wrath, and a great many other things besides. Despite all that, Shenzi’s copper eyes, bright with unshed tears, blazed with a dark sort of hunger when she met Nyimara’s gaze. She had promises to keep, for the silver haired mare, and for her son. And Shenzi would be damned if she let anything stop her.

“Nyimara,” the barb mare growled, conviction helping her hold her ground, a sudden, startling realisation granting her strength beyond what she’d possessed in a long time. “You must know that I -” But the words remained trapped behind her gritted teeth, burning her tongue, tears spilling down her cheeks because it hurt so much to hold them in. (But she was afraid that it would only hurt more if she dared say them out loud, in this place, in this moment.)

She knew Nyimara did not like to see her cry, and she held back the twisted smile that tingled at her lips. Weakness, yes, she would convince Nyimara of her earlier words. It would make the parting easier. (A lie. It was never easy.) The world was so determined to keep them apart. Maybe that’s why they were driven ever more fiercely toward each other. Because they were fighters. They were wildfires, destined to blaze together until they burnt each other out.

Maybe they were to be deprived of one another a little longer, if one of the wretched men showed up before her wayward son did. But even if they were…

Ahadi ni deni.

“I am with you, always.”