The king of beasts once came upon a kitten at his den,
a scrawny little wretch who winced at every little sound.
The lion's heart was moved and so he took the young one in,
and offered up his friendship as he nursed the kitten's wounds.

"Chin up, lad," the lion said, "with me you're snug and safe."
His voice was smooth and softened and his smile was warm and kind.
They made a funny pair, these two--this lion and this waif--
but no matter where the lion went, his charge was close behind.

The lion taught him how to smile and laugh and love again.
With every passing day the kitten's strength and spirits grew.
The king looked on and smiled to see his friend so happy then,
but whispered not a word to him of what he planned to do.

Side by side they walked one day, but then the lion slowed.
The path ahead was shadowed--full of suffering and pain.
Without a word he hid his face and took the darkened road.

The kitten stayed behind, alone. Abandoned. Once again.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Scarlatan, in the year 409 AF.