There were lions in these mountains, the she-lion could hear them. This is my land! Mine! roared an unknown female.

That female was too far off to be dangerous, but there was another lion that smelt much nearer. Earlier, the she-lion had come upon the remains of a kill, picked clean by vultures. She’d passed bushes that had been scent-marked only a few Lights ago; and just now, as she was plodding through the Dark, she’d paused at a tree to do some scratching, and when she’d risen on her hindlegs, she’d found that its bark was already claw-marked: another lion had got there before her.

She’d smelt that he was barely full-grown, and not very sure of himself; but his claw-marks were higher than hers, which told her that he was bigger.

The she-lion was too miserable to care. With every Light and Dark, she missed the boy more. She missed his foresty scent and his yowling calls when he wanted her to come. She missed their games with the ball of sticks, when he would throw it and she would race after it, batting it between her forepaws while he tried to get it back.

She even missed him telling her off. Like that time when she’d taken his head affectionately in her jaws, and he’d given a muffled shout and punched her in the chest. She’d hardly felt the punch, it was like being tickled by a moth, but the boy had seemed to think he’d overdone it, he’d kept saying sorry. She’d found that very funny.

In all the time they’d been together, they’d never had a real fight. So why had he sent her away? Why didn’t he want her any more?

Since he’d left, everything was chewed up and wrong. The girl was miserable. The two muddy little humans had left just when the she-lion was getting to like them, especially the younger one, who used to stroke the she-lion when the girl wasn’t around. There’d been something odd about that little human; something the she-lion couldn’t put her paw on, but which had made her curious.

And now there was something badly amiss with the falcon. She was too weak to hunt, and she sat shivering on her branch. The she-lion sensed that the girl was really worried about her.

The she-lion was worried too, which was actually quite surprising, because at times the falcon could be extremely scornful, and looked down on the she-lion because she couldn’t fly. But the falcon did have her uses. She was good at picking ticks out of the she-lion’s fur in hard-to-reach places, and she hated the crow-humans as much as the she-lion did, and was brilliant at spotting them from very far away.

If only she would get better. If only the boy would come back, and the pride could be together. These were good mountains, with plenty of prey and only a few humans. They could find somewhere without lions, and stay here for ever, instead of always moving on …

The wind growled at the pine trees, and in the bracken, a boar jerked up its head at the she-lion’s scent. Ignoring him, she leapt on to a rock to snuff the smells.

That was when she heard the falcon’s ek-ek-ek alarm calls. The she-lion’s pelt tightened. Something told her this wasn’t about ants.

The next moment, she heard the girl shouting. She sounded frightened and fierce. The she-lion leapt off the rock and sped through the forest.

As she drew near the lair, she caught a new smell on the wind: lion. She smelt that he was male, full-grown and big. It was the same lion who’d claw-marked that tree.

The falcon was in her tree, shrieking with alarm. The girl was on one side of the wet, the male lion on the other. The girl was clutching a stick that glimmered faintly, while in the other forepaw she gripped her big shiny claw. But against that lion, it would be as much use as a twig.

The she-lion took in the male’s heavy mane and his massive shoulders. He didn’t sense her: she’d made sure that she was downwind, and he was intent on his prey.

Noiselessly, the male retreated into the reeds, so that the girl couldn’t see him. He began sidling around the edge of the wet. The girl cast about her, trying to spot him; but like all humans, she was nearly blind in the Dark, and she couldn’t smell at all. She was looking the wrong way.

The she-lion dropped to her belly and lowered her tail, so that the male wouldn’t spot her tailtuft.

The girl was still looking the wrong way, oblivious of the male lion belly-crawling closer. He was preparing to leap from behind and snap her spine with one shake of his jaws. And still he didn’t smell the she-lion stalking him.

She slunk nearer, placing each paw with silent stealth. She saw his haunches bunch as he got ready to spring. She charged.

She landed on his back and sank her claws into his flanks. With a startled roar he whipped round and bit her shoulder. Snarling and raking his muzzle with her claws, she wrenched herself free. She was aware of the falcon shrieking, the girl yowling and waving her burning stick; then the male was on her again and they were locked together, a snarling, snapping frenzy of teeth and claws. The male was stronger but she was faster, and she was fighting for her pride. She dodged most of his paw-swipes, he couldn’t escape hers.

At last they sprang apart, panting and gnashing their fangs. The she-lion’s shoulder was on fire, but the male had come off worse: his muzzle was pouring blood, and she’d bitten off his ear. She roared at him. He roared back. But she knew the fight had gone out of him, and he turned tail and fled.

She bounded a few paces after him, then roared again. This is my pride! Mine! she roared. Don’t come back!

The falcon stopped shrieking and folded her wings; she looked utterly spent. The girl sheathed her great claw and rushed to the she-lion, patting her with her little furless paws and talking fervently in human talk. Then she fetched some wet and poured it over the gash on the she-lion’s shoulder – even though it was nothing a good lick wouldn’t sort out.

Together, they padded back to the fire, where the girl gave the she-lion meat: a partridge, very burnt, but with the feathers taken off, which helped. On her branch, the falcon peered down at them and sneezed. The girl fed the fire more sticks, and sat watching the she-lion crunching up the bird.

When the she-lion had finished, she stretched out beside the girl and started licking the gash on her shoulder clean. She smelt that the male lion was already far away. Good. She didn’t think he would return.

Better even than that, she finally understood why the boy had sent her away. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and he wasn’t angry with her. He wanted her to protect the girl and the falcon. He wanted her to look after the pride until he came back.

This made the she-lion feel extremely proud and much, much better.