In truth, the quiet acknowledgement she got from Rehoboam was the last thing Shenzi had been prepared for. Perhaps it had been a little shortsighted of her to expect the young stallion to rally in defence of his brethren, but how could she have known that, in this one thing (and only this one thing) they were of the same mind? The barb mare could not see the stallion as her son saw him (or perhaps, because of her story and her scars, she did not wish to). For a moment, something flickered in her burnt-gold eyes, and within her, she felt her heart twinge with something like regret.

But before she could soften, before she had a chance to open her mouth and ask why he was here then, if he truly believed what he’d indicated, Shenzi heard in her memory the echo of Rehoboam’s cry as he’d closed in on them fleeing across the Badlands, and recalled the way he’d slunk from the shadows to see Nyimara off. Twice now, he’d stepped into her path, and though ultimately Shenzi had made her own choice both times - to return and to stay (to protect Nyimara and Warduna, to protect Azizi) - the fact that he’d shown up, his very presence a threat to her even if he did not discern or intend it to be. How did he justify his willingness to heed the orders of those he now acknowledged to be cowardly?

It was beyond frustrating for Shenzi.

And then came the snide remark murmured beneath his breath. The savage mare felt her hide prickle with anger, and it only intensified as she simmered in silence while the stallion elaborated. Even before Rehoboam had finished speaking, she was already burning. “Who the hell do you think you are, that something so tenuous as your word is to be trusted, when you choose to coexist with these wretches?” Judgment clouded by rage, and forever coloured by her own traumas, Shenzi wasn’t capable at this moment to consider that maybe Rehoboam hadn’t chosen this.

It was heartbreaking enough to understand that some things hadn’t changed (and maybe they never would), let alone to consider that what she considered terrible had somehow managed to become even worse.

In her ignorance, while she’d hidden herself away from the monsters, Shenzi had not seen how readily they had turned upon one another. It was not only mares who were brought here by force and kept here against their will.

There was no guarantee that when he was grown, Azizi would not suffer the same fate.

“You are nothing to me but a snake that doggedly seeks my shadow,” Shenzi spat in anger. It was strange, really, how words spoken in the heat of a moment could hurt her far more than the wounds that had left the scars across the vulnerable curve of her neck. And try as she might, the brown mare could not keep the sound of her sorrow from creeping into her voice. “I could have abandoned him, but I didn’t, and you will never understand how much it cost me to stay,” she cried, ragged and raw.

A dark figure still hunted and haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. He was long gone, but so long as she remained here, Shenzi would never be free of him. And Nyimara - the betrayal Shenzi had seen in her eyes… Would the silver bay mare find it in her heart to forgive such a thing (as Shenzi had once forgiven her)? If not, then aside from Azizi, the barb mare had nothing, and no-one. Maslakhat was dead. And Sidika. Zahhāk had killed them, and vanished. Kendry was gone, and Corona. No sign of Collision…

Tears threatened to blur her vision as flashes of all these faces raced through her mind. How much suffering she would have been spared from if she had fallen alongside her brother-band on the mainland all those years ago. But she was a survivor, and fighting was all she knew. And in desperation, while struggling with all this grief that she couldn’t let go of, Shenzi had determined that everything she had suffered had led her to Azizi.

“But still I chose him.” And maybe Rehoboam was right. Maybe she was no good for him. But after everything, Shenzi just wasn’t selfless enough to walk away from the one good thing in her life whose love was assured. And so, as Rehoboam’s words rang in her ears, the wounded and warring mare was deaf indeed to the concern that was conveyed by them, concern for her son that was validated by her own emotional instability. (She was deaf the the sound of hoof steps behind her.)

All she heard was a threat - that what precious little she had may yet be taken from her.

“Nitakupa damu!” the enraged mare bellowed, the whole of her body coiling, ready to lunge for the young stallion, to lash out with hooves, to shove, to snap. But before she could spring forwards, there came the scrape of teeth upon the curve of her hip - little more than a soft and desperate nip ( “Stop mama!”) - Shenzi reacted without thinking, whirled about with a furious scream, rushed forward with mouth opened wide.

There was the coppery tang of blood in her mouth, and a squeal of pain and fear so shrill that it made her wince. The moment of silence that followed - when she realised what she’d done, that she could never take it back - broke what was left of Shenzi’s heart.

“Don’t--” Azizi wheezed through shock and pain as he stumbled, trembling, unsure of what he wanted more; to put distance between himself and his mother, or to draw closer to Rehoboam for the protection he believed the older stallion would provide him. “Don’t hurt him,” the brown boy begged, his expression creasing in a strange mixture of hysteria and confusion.

He was hurting, he was hurt, but he couldn’t tell where just yet. (It was his ear, the left one, torn as severely as his heart).

“Please. He’s not… He’s not the one who hurt you!” And there it was - for the first time in his life, no hushed words of comfort to soothe his mother’s wounds, nor quiet acknowledgment of her regrets, or submissive acceptance of her whispered apologies.

It was a prison of her own making, the circle and cycle of anger and aggression that Shenzi lived in, and Azizi would not let such a thing abide any longer.

If she were not so far from him already (had she backed away, or had it been Azizi who’d withdrawn?) Azizi might have set his teeth to her skin a second time, if only to try and make her understand. For all her raging at the world, demanding it listen to her, she herself never heard him. He was afraid for her. And he was afraid of himself. (Of what he might become.)

When backed into a corner, would he lose himself to the fight, as Shenzi had?

Shenzi couldn’t even look at him. “I should have gone, I should have gone,” she intoned, shivering. Azizi felt so far away from her, even though he remained just across from her, near the path that led from the small clearing to the creek. (Had Rehoboam come between them and driven her away - an unspoken fear of her’s that Shenzi herself had made necessary?) Her body had gone numb, she felt no physical pain, and yet there was such an intense heaviness in her chest. “I should have gone, not come back.” Eyes wide, breathing becoming shallow as panic sought to take hold of her, the mare turned towards the tobiano stallion, and stared, unfocused, not really seeing him. Her jaw slackened, and her tongue pressed against her teeth, dry and insistent.

But the words never reached her lips; they were swallowed by the lump of guilt that sat in her throat like a stone. You are right.

“I never - I didn’t...” The brown mare gulped, wavered, took a step forwards and then lurched back, as thoroughly torn by her guilt as Azizi’s ear had been torn by her teeth. She was supposed to be his mother, to protect him, and yet it was she who had hurt him beyond repair. Wounds healed, and scars faded with time, but this, Azizi’s ragged ear, would never be the same. This time, it was the scrape of a branch along her barrel that startled her, as just as before, Shenzi whirled about - not in preparation for a fight, but to take flight.

And she ran with reckless desperation, as though she believed if she were able to put enough distance between herself and her son, maybe then… The monsters of men didn’t matter anymore. There were no hungry lionesses here with claws that caught and cut deep. If only she could run just a little farther. Maybe then Azizi would be safe.

From her.