The Auric Pride delegation arrived on the afternoon of the third day.
Owen was in the compound's courtyard when the gates opened.
He heard the delegation before he saw it. A particular rhythm to the approaching footsteps that suggested a formal procession, a march, rather than an informal group traveling together. Measured. Deliberate. Each footfall placed with intention.
Then Leah's voice from the compound's entrance as the gates opened, rising in a way Owen hadn't heard from her before. Something unguarded in it.
The Pride-Mother of the Auric Pride was not what he had been expecting.
He had built an expectation from Leah: from Leah's age, from what Leah had said about her, from the general cultural information he had assembled about the lion-folk clans. He had expected someone massive and impressive. Authoritative. The weight of leadership carried in posture and bearing.
All of that was true. But none of it was sufficient preparation.
