Makaka slowly and reverently ran his fingers over the body of Uzuri. As his tears splashed on her fur, he remembered many safe and happy times he had spent as a child hugging her strong, soft neck and snuggling to her side to sleep. But most vividly in that moment, he remembered her quiet voice telling him stories under the stars.

“Now you are with Mano and Minshasa,” he whispered. “Now they will be more than stories to you.” He caressed her cheek gently and sniffed back bitter tears. “Oh Momma, my love will find you wherever you are. And someday, I will find you too.”

The lionesses Misha and Swala came solemnly to move the body of their pride sister to its final resting place. Misha gently but firmly gripped one of Uzuri’s front paws, and Swala grasped the back of Uzuri’s neck. At a given signal, they both pulled backwards, and her body lurched forward about half a length. Makaka gasped in horror.

“Oh gods, don’t hurt her!” Makaka fell across the body and clung monkey-like to her neck. “Don’t bite her! Look, there’s blood on her neck! Oh gods, she’s bleeding! She’s bleeding!”

“It’s just her body,” Misha said soothingly. “Her Ka is in Heaven with Aiheu.”

“But there’s blood on her neck! Look, she’s hurt! See??” His hands reached for his throat and he began to gasp for breath. “Oh no!”

“Remember your asthma!” Swala said, nuzzling him softly. “Relax, Honey Tree! Try to relax!”

Makaka stared wide-eyed at the entrance of the cave, struggling for breath. His thin, ineffective gasps could not fan the flames of life, and he began to crawl in torment toward the one person that knew how to help him. He could not even call her name.

“Anasa! Come quickly!” Misha shouted. “He needs you!”

Makaka’s wife rushed in with a pouch she always carried with her for just such an emergency.