"The clouds are pretty today," Kael murmured, voice thick with sleep. His eyes remained half-closed, watching the slow drift of white against the vast blue sky.

Fayola didn’t answer. He glanced down to find her already asleep, the lioness curled against him, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

A quiet smile tugged at his lips. She trusted him. Enough to doze off beside him here, on the sun-warmed rocks, miles from the village.

Careful not to disturb her, Kael wrapped one arm around her shoulders in a loose, protective embrace, and soon, he too drifted into sleep.

Weeks ago, he'd planned only to stop for a few days, resting his feet and refilling his supplies before moving on. The lions had been welcoming, directing him to one of the village's spare guest homes - a simple but comfortable dwelling of wood and packed earth. It was more than he needed, and after weeks of roughing it on the road, he'd been grateful.

He hadn’t expected to stay this long.

And he hadn’t expected Fayola.

She had caught his attention on his second day, crouched in her garden, patiently tending to the blossoms and shrubs that thrived under her care. It was a splash of life against the dry, golden expanse of the savannah, an oasis of color and scent.

At first, she had barely acknowledged him beyond the polite greetings shared by all in the village. But when he approached her with a question (how did she manage to coax such green abundance from the arid soil?) something shifted.

She'd studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether he truly cared about the answer, and when she spoke, it was with quiet enthusiasm, explaining the intricacies of soil enrichment, shade management, and watering cycles.

From that moment on, they were nearly inseparable.

Kael helped in her garden when he wasn't off hiking the ridges or photographing the wildlife, and Fayola, when she could step away from her work, followed him on his explorations.

She was clever, with a humor that slipped into conversation when least expected. Beneath her composed exterior was a streak of playfulness she rarely showed in the village. Kael liked that about her. Liked the way she nudged at his ribs with a paw when he teased her, the way her tail flicked against his leg when she thought he wasn’t paying attention.

And that, he realized, was becoming a problem.

He wasn’t meant to stay.

The thought gnawed at him as the weeks passed, as he moved out of the guest house and into Fayola’s spare room, as they settled into an easy routine of shared meals and long conversations.

He should have been planning his next move. Instead, he found himself looking forward to the mornings when she stretched out beside him in the sun, or the nights when they sat outside, watching the stars.

He told himself it was temporary.

But the way he caught himself watching her, when she was laughing, when she was focused on her work, when she was simply there, made him question just how temporary it really was.

A sudden gust of wind ruffled Kael’s fur, pulling him from his thoughts. He cracked one eye open. The sky had changed; clouds had thickened, darkened, swallowing the sun.

Fayola stirred against him, lifting her head.

"That’s not good," she murmured.

Kael sat up. "You get storms like this often?"

"Not often," she said, gaze scanning the horizon, "but when they come, they come fast."

Already, the wind had picked up, rippling through the grass, bending the acacia trees in the distance. A low rumble of thunder rolled through the air.

Fayola was on her feet in an instant. "We should get back."

Kael didn't argue.

The walk turned into a jog as the first droplets of rain spattered against them, quickly growing into a heavy downpour. The wind lashed through the plains, bending trees, sending leaves and dust whipping through the air.

By the time they reached the village, the storm was in full force. Rain hammered against rooftops, water pooling in the dirt paths between houses. Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky in stark white, followed by a clap of thunder that rattled through Kael’s chest.

They had barely made it to Fayola’s garden when she let out a sharp breath.

"The crops."

Kael followed her gaze. Beyond the village, the fields swayed violently under the onslaught of wind and rain.

Fayola was already moving.

Together, they worked quickly, covering her more fragile plants with protective cloths and weights, securing what they could against the elements. The rain soaked through their fur, mud clinging to their legs, but they pressed on, driven by urgency.

Only when the wind became too strong, threatening to knock them off their feet, did they retreat inside, breathless and dripping.

Kael raked a hand through his soaked fur. "Well, that was fun."

Fayola huffed, shaking water from her ears. "Your definition of fun needs work."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

She sighed, padding toward the kitchen. "I'll get towels. You start the fire."

Minutes later, with dry cloth wrapped around his shoulders and a warm meal in front of him, Kael felt the tension in his muscles ease. Fayola sat across from him, fur still slightly damp, eyes flicking toward the window where the rain continued to pour.

"It’ll pass soon," she murmured, as much to herself as to him.

He nodded, watching her. There was something about the way she sat - alert but calm, worry kept carefully beneath the surface. She cared. About this place, about the crops, about the people who depended on them.

Kael looked away, stirring his food absently.

It wasn’t his home.

But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave.

By morning, the storm had passed, leaving behind a sky so clear it was as if the night before had been a dream.

Kael and Fayola were out at first light, checking the crops, the village, her garden.

Amazingly, there was no real damage. The fields were intact, the village untouched.

Fayola exhaled in relief. "We got lucky."

Kael smiled. "I think your plants are tougher than they look."

She gave him a look but didn’t argue, brushing past him as she moved toward a row of blossoms.

Several times that morning, she nudged against his leg; a soft, familiar gesture. Without thinking, he reached down, scratching behind her ears, running his fingers through her fur.

She purred.

Kael chuckled. "You know, you keep saying lions don’t do that."

Fayola flicked her tail. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

That evening, as they prepared for sleep, Kael leaned down and whispered in the lioness' ear. An idea, a suggestion, just a thought, for something they could do together tomorrow at Fayola's favorite warm rocks. Something other than nap and catch the sun. Something neither of them would ever forget.