Malaika looked back out over the lands and to the north east.

"About a days journey." He said with a slight sigh. His frame seem to drop with a feeling of to much weight. The weight of the world seem to prees down on him as his thoughts raced thrugh his mind. A voice he had thought he heard on Mt Kilimanjaro that night. A nightmareish voice that seemed filled with glee. 'It is done.' What was done? The pride being finished off? All the prides of East Africa? Or just simply the thought that Malaika himself was dead. Malaika was far from dead and it soon grew into anger and hate for the dark voice.

Malaika sighed heavily trying to force the dark thoughts from his mind. the last thing he wanted was to be consumed again by the darkness. No matter how hard he tried to rid himself of the darkness the scar on his face would remind him everyday that it would never leave. His fear and anger sealed with-in him it had started with the anger of loosing his family one by one to the humans and soon his anger had grown enough to consume him as he had faced the human who seeled it in him.