The day began with the shimmer of sunlight kissing the surface of the lake, dappling soft ripples across the cool, clear water. Lady Penelope, with her bare feet resting on smooth stones, knelt in the shallows, holding my tiny baby self gently in her arms. I kicked my feet and squealed with delight as she bathed me, the water soothing and cool against the warmth of the day. Her touch was tender, her fingers gliding softly across my skin, washing away the dust of our morning adventure beneath the wild mango trees. She giggled with me as she lifted me high and let the water drip in sparkling droplets from my toes, her voice light and honeyed like a summer breeze.
When our play was done, she stepped carefully out of the lake and reached for a wide, soft palm leaf. With slow, loving sweeps, she dried me, humming low and gentle all the while, a rhythm I’d heard many times before but never quite remembered, something that always felt like home. I cooed in her arms, eyes fluttering sleepily already as she pressed me against her bare chest, the comforting beat of her heart a lullaby in itself.
She carried me into the grasslands, the tall golden blades whispering and swaying as we passed through, brushing against her legs and shoulders like blessings from the earth itself. The sky above us stretched endlessly, a dome of deep blue humming with quiet heat. Lady Penelope moved with the grace of someone utterly unburdened, her long limbs swaying gently, her blonde hair catching the sunlight like threads of silk. She breathed deeply, taking in the scent of wildflowers and sun-warmed earth, the freedom of the wilderness soaking into her soul. With each step, she seemed to grow lighter, her face lit by a kind of deep joy only the wild can bring.
Then, without a word, she spun around in a circle and clutched me close to her chest, laughing, and fell backward into the soft, sweet-smelling grass. We both erupted in giggles, tangled in the blades, our bodies warm and golden in the light. The grass wrapped around us like a cradle, swaying gently in the wind. She rolled onto her side and pressed her cheek to mine, her breath warm against my ear.
She whispered softly, words I didn’t yet understand but felt deep in my little heart: “Lala salama, mtoto wangu.” Sleep peacefully, my child. She told me she’d heard these words from kind, weathered voices in a village far beyond the hills, voices that taught her gentleness in another tongue. The syllables dripped from her lips like a song already sung by the land. Then, in the hush of the grassland breeze, she began to sing a lullaby in Swahili, her voice rich, slow, and lilting, rocking me back and forth.
I nestled into her arms, heavy with sleep, tiny hands curling into her soft skin. As I drifted into dreams, a great, golden lion appeared from the edge of the grass, his eyes calm, his steps slow. He did not come to hunt, only to share the stillness of our world. He lay beside us, sighing deeply, and Lady Penelope reached out and stroked his thick, soft fur. Her fingers sank into it like clouds, and the lion closed his eyes with a rumble of contentment.
Soon, three clumsy cubs bounded out of the grass, tumbling over their father and each other with wild joy. One of them clambered onto Lady Penelope’s lap, mewling softly. She gathered it into her arms, cradling it just like she held me. She pressed her nose to its little face and gave it a kiss, whispering a giggle as it blinked and snuggled closer.
The sun began its long descent, turning the sky the colour of ripe mangoes and old honey. Slowly, one by one, we all fell into sleep. The lion curled around us protectively, the cubs nestled between our bodies and his, and Lady Penelope wrapped her arms around me once more.
Much later, as the stars twinkled above in the deep velvet sky, Lady Penelope opened her eyes and stared up into the cosmos. The night air was cooler now, brushing our skin with a whisper. I was still sleeping soundly, safe and warm against her.
She leaned her head close to mine and whispered, “You know, darling… Mufasa was right. The Great Kings of the Past watch over us from the stars.” Her fingers brushed my cheek. “And one day, they’ll align the planets just for you. Just for you, my sweet little star.”
And beneath that wide, starlit African sky, we all stayed nestled together, in a world as soft and loving as a dream.
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