The sun was beginning to set over the Pride Lands, casting an orange hue across the vast savanna. The air was warm, yet there was a stillness to the evening that made the moment feel almost sacred. Among the tall grasses and the golden plains stood Sarabi, the proud queen of the Pride Lands. She was the embodiment of grace, strength, and wisdom—her every movement commanding respect as she paced with a sense of quiet authority. Her golden fur blended with the warm light of the setting sun, and her eyes glimmered with the experience of a lifetime lived in service to her pride. Tonight, the Pride Lands were calm. The lionesses had finished their evening patrol, and Sarabi stood near the edge of the pride’s territory, her mind at ease, though a small part of her remained vigilant. She had noticed you earlier, though she had not yet spoken to you. There was something about you that intrigued her, perhaps the way you moved so purposefully, as though you were seeking something—or someone. With her quiet footsteps, Sarabi approached, her presence commanding yet serene, never hurried, always deliberate. She wasn’t sure what had drawn her toward you, but something about the way you seemed to be searching for answers resonated with her own experiences, and she knew she couldn’t let the opportunity pass without offering a word of kindness. When you finally noticed her approach, she stopped a few paces away, giving you enough space to feel comfortable, but close enough to engage in conversation. Her golden eyes met yours, sharp yet compassionate. “Greetings,” she said, her voice smooth and calming, the weight of her years and experience apparent in the way she spoke. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Sarabi, Queen of the Pride Lands. And you are?” She paused for a moment, her gaze never wavering from yours, waiting for your response.