Pehmeä had a pit in the depths of her stomach. One that spent the last few nights slowly growing.
It was the morning before the convening. That’s what she’d taken to calling the meeting that her, Ragnvald, and Vígdís were together calling of their supporters. Gathered through the rumor mill, she imagined it would be a small handful of females – and maybe one or two males, as picked up by Ragn – that all felt similarly about the new Warlord, Ushindi’s, major law changes.
They weren’t so major in that they impacted the pride heavily, but they did impact the female population heavily. While there was a clear path to Reavership and Captainship in the past, these new laws dictated that females could no longer hold those coveted positions, regardless of their strength or passion for fighting and defending the pride. No, instead they would hold other fighting positions that were overseen by Captains. Smaller positions, indeed, that required an even larger amount of duel wins than were previously required for females to hold fighting positions. It was ludicrous.
That was why, just a few nights ago, Pehmeä had gathered with Ragnvald and his friend Vígdís to discuss their options and create a plan. It wasn’t a very structured plan, but a plan nonetheless. They would utilize the already active rumor mill to recruit those who were unsettled by the changes. And they would meet to discuss the possibility of change.
Only, it wasn’t that simple. Ushindi was Warlord. He oversaw the pride. And he wasn’t afraid to kill those who got in his way. He was a fierce and unforgiving lion, and Pehmeä, rightly so, feared for her life.
But that fear wasn’t allowed to take over her heart. Instead, her heart pounded with the truth of injustice. Louder and louder, it pounded.
It was starting to drive her bonkers. She couldn’t get away from the rush of blood in her ears, louder and louder as the convening drew closer.
It didn’t take a genius to conclude what it was that Pehmeä feared. She feared death. She feared Ushindi showing up to the meeting. She feared lions would show that were of Ushindi’s type, who respected him relentlessly and clung to his new ideas about what the pride should be. She feared the group would be too large – it would draw the wrong kind of attention. She feared for Vígdís and Ragnvald. She feared a lot.
But in that same heart, she knew what she was doing to be true to herself and true to the rights of the females within the pride. They deserved better. And if Ushindi could strip titles from others within the pride, what was stopping him from demoting her? She worked damn hard to achieve the rank of Lawspeaker, as did many before her (such as her own mentor, Eir) – and she certainly didn’t deserve to have it taken away, just as the female Reavers within the pride deserved better. It was a worthy fight to have.
Mulling over all of this, Pehmeá could feel her brain starting to ache. She needed a break. She needed something else to think about.
Her mind directed her paws to start moving toward the nearest water source. She meandered along, trying to stop her brain from thinking, when she came upon a small pond. Hungrily, she dipped her head down and took a few long gulps. The water felt refreshing and she could feel it helping to clear her mind of all the worry.
She was a strong lioness, and strong lionesses needn’t worry this much.
Instead, she turned her mind to Ragnvald, her apprentice. He was also a very strong lion, but he fumbled, sometimes. As did they all. But him more than others – he seemed to stick his paw in his mouth at least once per conversation. He was a bit silly in that way, and it was very endearing. She’d come to love having her apprentice around, that crazy red-headed lion. She wasn’t entirely sure of it, but she thought she’d caught herself eyeing him up in a… much different way recently. With him putting his tail on the line for the lionesses of the Stormborn, something about her platonic feelings for him had shifted.
At that thought, Pehmeä’s head shot up from the water. Oh, no. Oh, no no no. She couldn’t like him. That was grossly inappropriate and very inconvenient. She’d rather go back to thinking about her death.
And so, the lioness’ mind swirled, from death to romance and back again. So much so that she felt downright sick. She needed this convening to happen already so she could be free from the massive concern that it caused her. Although, should it concern her this much? After all, Ví and Ragn were two very trustworthy lions. They wouldn’t let word reach folks who wouldn’t agree with their stance, and they wouldn’t risk this convening getting out of hand. It would be stupid and they were damn well aware of that.
Sighing, Pehmeä decided it was time to go back to her den. Maybe she could take a nap and wake up when the convening was to start. That was smart, right? If only her nerves would let her sleep.
She padded back to the den area, found hers, and curled up, nose to tail. She found that the tighter she curled, the more comforted she felt – so she resolved to make herself into a ball. But the more she tried to stop thinking, the harder that became. And so she focused her mind on Ragnvald – at least he wasn’t a source of fear in her life. Ragnvald and his silly mouth and his crazy red mane. He’d become a great comfort to her, and now he was serving that purpose to the fullest in soothing the Lawspeaker’s mind so she could finally get some rest. Right before she was about to shake up the Stormborn’s world. Best to do that on a well-rested mind.
It was the morning before the convening. That’s what she’d taken to calling the meeting that her, Ragnvald, and Vígdís were together calling of their supporters. Gathered through the rumor mill, she imagined it would be a small handful of females – and maybe one or two males, as picked up by Ragn – that all felt similarly about the new Warlord, Ushindi’s, major law changes.
They weren’t so major in that they impacted the pride heavily, but they did impact the female population heavily. While there was a clear path to Reavership and Captainship in the past, these new laws dictated that females could no longer hold those coveted positions, regardless of their strength or passion for fighting and defending the pride. No, instead they would hold other fighting positions that were overseen by Captains. Smaller positions, indeed, that required an even larger amount of duel wins than were previously required for females to hold fighting positions. It was ludicrous.
That was why, just a few nights ago, Pehmeä had gathered with Ragnvald and his friend Vígdís to discuss their options and create a plan. It wasn’t a very structured plan, but a plan nonetheless. They would utilize the already active rumor mill to recruit those who were unsettled by the changes. And they would meet to discuss the possibility of change.
Only, it wasn’t that simple. Ushindi was Warlord. He oversaw the pride. And he wasn’t afraid to kill those who got in his way. He was a fierce and unforgiving lion, and Pehmeä, rightly so, feared for her life.
But that fear wasn’t allowed to take over her heart. Instead, her heart pounded with the truth of injustice. Louder and louder, it pounded.
It was starting to drive her bonkers. She couldn’t get away from the rush of blood in her ears, louder and louder as the convening drew closer.
It didn’t take a genius to conclude what it was that Pehmeä feared. She feared death. She feared Ushindi showing up to the meeting. She feared lions would show that were of Ushindi’s type, who respected him relentlessly and clung to his new ideas about what the pride should be. She feared the group would be too large – it would draw the wrong kind of attention. She feared for Vígdís and Ragnvald. She feared a lot.
But in that same heart, she knew what she was doing to be true to herself and true to the rights of the females within the pride. They deserved better. And if Ushindi could strip titles from others within the pride, what was stopping him from demoting her? She worked damn hard to achieve the rank of Lawspeaker, as did many before her (such as her own mentor, Eir) – and she certainly didn’t deserve to have it taken away, just as the female Reavers within the pride deserved better. It was a worthy fight to have.
Mulling over all of this, Pehmeá could feel her brain starting to ache. She needed a break. She needed something else to think about.
Her mind directed her paws to start moving toward the nearest water source. She meandered along, trying to stop her brain from thinking, when she came upon a small pond. Hungrily, she dipped her head down and took a few long gulps. The water felt refreshing and she could feel it helping to clear her mind of all the worry.
She was a strong lioness, and strong lionesses needn’t worry this much.
Instead, she turned her mind to Ragnvald, her apprentice. He was also a very strong lion, but he fumbled, sometimes. As did they all. But him more than others – he seemed to stick his paw in his mouth at least once per conversation. He was a bit silly in that way, and it was very endearing. She’d come to love having her apprentice around, that crazy red-headed lion. She wasn’t entirely sure of it, but she thought she’d caught herself eyeing him up in a… much different way recently. With him putting his tail on the line for the lionesses of the Stormborn, something about her platonic feelings for him had shifted.
At that thought, Pehmeä’s head shot up from the water. Oh, no. Oh, no no no. She couldn’t like him. That was grossly inappropriate and very inconvenient. She’d rather go back to thinking about her death.
And so, the lioness’ mind swirled, from death to romance and back again. So much so that she felt downright sick. She needed this convening to happen already so she could be free from the massive concern that it caused her. Although, should it concern her this much? After all, Ví and Ragn were two very trustworthy lions. They wouldn’t let word reach folks who wouldn’t agree with their stance, and they wouldn’t risk this convening getting out of hand. It would be stupid and they were damn well aware of that.
Sighing, Pehmeä decided it was time to go back to her den. Maybe she could take a nap and wake up when the convening was to start. That was smart, right? If only her nerves would let her sleep.
She padded back to the den area, found hers, and curled up, nose to tail. She found that the tighter she curled, the more comforted she felt – so she resolved to make herself into a ball. But the more she tried to stop thinking, the harder that became. And so she focused her mind on Ragnvald – at least he wasn’t a source of fear in her life. Ragnvald and his silly mouth and his crazy red mane. He’d become a great comfort to her, and now he was serving that purpose to the fullest in soothing the Lawspeaker’s mind so she could finally get some rest. Right before she was about to shake up the Stormborn’s world. Best to do that on a well-rested mind.
