Autumn had been blessed with a combination of her mother’s spirit and her father’s erratic, yet often hidden, fury. This was a rather volatile mix, and if shaken well, was bound to explode. In fact, it just had.

Pacing the ground with footsteps as heavy as an elephant’s, Autumn growled and muttered incoherent thoughts to herself, kicking up clouds of dust every now and then; inside her, the hot-blooded rage continued to simmer; “What’s he know?” she shouted to the world at large, “He never does anything… except talk. He’s boring… Everyone says he can do great things, but I think he’s lying!” She swung her claw out at a passing shrub and decapitated it; “He’s a big, fat liar! He doesn’t know what fun is!”

There was a pair of red eyes watching the young lioness now. She didn’t notice them. She was too occupied with herself.

“Sam’s right, for once, his dad is cooler.”

“My, my, my… have we got some issues, little Autumn?”

Autumn yelped and spun about on her feet, suddenly as alert as felinely possible. This she had inherited from her sire, too, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of acknowledging it.

Her crystal blue eyes found Wonse, laid out upon an overhanging rock above. His smooth features were curled into a suave grin, his silky, black mane shining gloriously in the afternoon sun.

“Oh, Wonse… it’s just you,” she sighed.

Wonse grinned widely. ’Yes, just me’ he thought; “Are things not good, little one?”

“No!” she growled.

Wonse almost backed up - that was the Hanna in her talking now.

“Would you like to tell Uncle Wonse?”

Autumn’s eyebrow rose - anyone calling themselves your aunt or uncle, when they clearly weren’t, were to be immediately filed under the category ‘very suspicious‘. Her father had taught her that. Autumn, however, paused amidst her thoughts, wrinkling her nose in spite as she reconsidered them - well, if he had taught her that, then she’d make a good job of ignoring him.

She turned back to Wonse and grinned; again, he almost backed up - there was the rapid fire smile, but looking up at him from a child.

“Sure, Uncle Wonse,” she smirked.

He made a nervous laugh, not realising exactly how nervous it sounded until it emerged from his lips. Shaking his head and composing himself, he leapt slickly down from the rock and began to walk by Autumn’s side; “So…” he said, steadying his pace to allow the small cub to keep up with him, “Talk to me, young one.”

“Me and Sam were out playing.”

“I see.”

“We went to the Shades.”

“You what?” Wonse yelled; Autumn gave him one of those glares that could only be called A Look, with the capitals. Seeing that she looked likely to turn tail on him if he didn’t frame his mind like hers, he recovered quickly, “Wow, Autumn, that was brave!”

She seemed fairly satisfied by his comeback, “Yeah, me and Sam thought it’d be fun. But then Drumknott went and told on us.”

“The snitch.”

“Yeah, I know! He’s such a wimp…”

“And he told…?”

“My father.”

“Hang on just a second, Autumn,” Wonse said, hit by a sudden curiosity. He held his paw out before her and halted her in her tracks, “Don’t you ever call you dad… well, ‘dad‘?”

She looked perplexed, “Why should I?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Call him dad?”

“No, call their father’s dad! Or even daddy!”

She chuckled, “Would you call him daddy?”

He grinned cosmetically - the very thought made his skin want to crawl backwards and throw itself over a cliff; “No, Autumn, not me in particular.”

Autumn shrugged and leapt over Wonse’s paw, carrying on, “If it annoys him, I might do it.”

Wonse sighed - Autumn would dare do what all others in this realm wouldn’t dream of. But she had an advantage; besides the robust nature of her mother nestled firmly in her chest, she had the vantage point of the Patrician being her father. Not many would be able to use that against him, he knew.

“So, Drumknott told your dad…”

Autumn got back on track, “Yes. And he came and ruined our fun.” She looked at Wonse and pranced in-between his front legs, “We met hyenas, Wonse! Real hyenas!”

“Did you?”

“Yeah! And they wanted to eat us!”

Wonse choked; the enthusiasm on the cub’s face was disturbing; “Did they, now?” he replied, his voice trying to stretch itself over his discomposure.

“But me and Sam, we had ‘em on the run!” Autumn was now play acting before him, swishing the air with her sharp claws, “I got one of them, right across the face!” Her paw sliced the air as she imitated the moment, with audio backing and all; “There was blood everywhere!”

Wonse found himself unable to remove his stretched grin from his face, “Fascinating,” he said, his rear end dropping onto the floor; he really needed to sit down.

“Yeah!” Autumn continued, “It was so cool!”

“You like blood, Autumn?”

“It’s red!”

“Indeed.”

“We could have taken all them hyenas! Every, single one of them!” She pounded and clawed the dirt, “But no!” Now she kicked a stone, “Father had to come and ruin everything.”

She then flopped onto the ground with such dejection that Wonse almost felt sorry for her. Almost being the key word.

“He said we could have been killed,” she mumbled on, into the earth, “He said we’d been stupid and that I’d put Sam’s life in danger and stuff…”

“Well -” Wonse was about to go on.

Autumn ignored him - she hadn’t finished moping yet; “He’s boring. Just because he’s scared of hyenas and stuff, doesn’t mean we are!”

“Is he scared?” Wonse murmured, more to himself than anything else.

“Of course he is, stupid!” Autumn screamed, the very thought of her being wrong offending her, “Why doesn’t he ever go down there? Why doesn’t he ever do anything?”

Wonse’s lip trembled as, for a second, he contemplated strangling the little brat, but he checked himself in time to allow the superficial smile to return; “Heh… now, Autumn, your father’s not as young as -”

“Everyone says he can do great things, they say he’s the best ruler we’ve ever had!”

“Do they?” Wonse pondered sceptically.

“Yeah… but he’s not! He’s a big, fat fraud!”

“He’s hardly fat, Autumn.”

“Fat enough…”

The cub turned her back on him now and plonked her back side firmly onto the ground, hanging her head; “I hate him…”

Wonse bit down on his tongue, wondering whether Autumn had entered adolescence early, or whether just existing as a combination of an Assassin-come-Patrician and Preener alone could do this to one; “Now, Autumn…”

“He is!” she growled.

Wonse didn’t question the little blighter - she was getting on his nerves now; “I never said he wasn’t!” he whined, pandering to the girl’s needs, “I bet there’s thousands of things you could do better than you father.”

“Yeah, I bet I could even Run The Gorge better than him…”

Wonse’s eyes did a rare thing - they lit up; “Yes,” he gasped, as though lightning had struck and he’d got some long awaited inspiration from the Gods. Run The Gorge!

“I’m glad you agree with me. Even Sam said I was being stupid.”

Wonse looked at Autumn as though she were the most glorious thing in the known universe and thanked Fate for… being fateful; “I think you could do it Autumn! You should! Prove everyone wrong, yes, prove everyone wrong!”

“You really think -?”

“Yes, yes!” Wonse nodded, putting a foreleg about her shoulder and drawing her to him, “Just think of it! The animal kingdom will be begging for your father to step down - think of ‘Autumn, first female Patrician‘!”

“Can you have a female Patrician?”

“Matrician, then?”

Autumn shrugged.

“Well, think of it!” He put his paw up to the heavens, “Think of the glory! And you can turn round and say to your boring old dad -”

“Father.”

“Right, your boring old father, Hah! I did what you couldn’t! Hah!”

“Hah!”

“That’s it, kiddo, Hah!”

“HAH!”

Wonse felt the capitals in that one - that meant he had her.

“How about…?”

“Tonight, let me do it tonight!”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, and you watch me, Wonse, coz everyone believes you!”

“Do they?”

“Well, except for father, but we can ignore him.”

“Ignore him?” he almost gasped.

“Yeah.” Autumn had that determined look in her eyes, seeing her glorious destiny paved out ahead. Her tail swished and her lips drew up into a grin, “Oh, yeah.”

---

The Elucidated Brethren of the Ebon Night were quickly called to a meeting… before the ebony night had even closed in. In the Shades, these were called unsociable hours.

“Brothers!” the Supreme Grand Master called, “I have been hit by blind inspiration!”

“What use is blind inspiration? How do you see it?”

The Supreme Grand Master gave Brother Fingers such a glare that the entire gathering trembled.

“Brothers!” he went on, keeping an eye on Fingers, “The time has come! I ask for your assistance as I, your Supreme Grand Master -!”

“That’s getting a mouthful…” Watchtower murmured.

“Yeah, sir, can we just call you SGM, or summit?” Plasterer added.

“NO!” yelled the Supreme Grand Master, caught in the midst of his proclamation; with a sigh of exasperation, he reverted to his ’talking to infants’ voice and said slowly; “Right, everyone. One, two, three -?”

“Paws on lips,” the hyenas chorused, putting their large, black paws over their mouths.

“Good boys,” the Grand Master nodded, then returned to his decree of doom, “Now, where was I? Yes… as I, your Supreme Grand Master, overthrow the corruption riddling within this society like a bad infestation of worms!”

“I had worms once…”

“BROTHER WATCHTOWER, GO AND STAND IN THE CORNER!”

The Brethren watched with pity as Watchtower, mumbling to himself at the injustice, got up and tottered into a corner.

“And stare at the wall! I don’t want to see your face!”

Watchtower stared at the wall, which consisted of an elephant femur, and swished his tail angrily.

Wonse huffed, shaking his head. ‘I’ve never thought hyenas essential‘, he thought, his red eyes taking in the motley crew with distaste, ‘They’re crude and unspeakably plain‘. Brother Plasterer was scratching his ears feverishly, dirt, fur and parasites flying everywhere, whilst Brother Fingers was picking his nose from behind his paw. Wonse’s lip rose in disgust, ‘But maybe they’ve a glimmer of potential‘, he prayed, ‘If allied with my vision and brain‘.

Inspiration hit him like a warm, fuzzy feeling in the chest and, leaping into the centre of the circle, he proclaimed, “I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a warthog’s backside, but, thick as you are - BROTHER FINGERS, PAY ATTENTION!”

Fingers rapidly hid the bogey he’d been admiring and tried to look ‘all ears’. He grinned nervously.

Wonse went on, finding himself suddenly caught up in song, “My words are a matter of pride.” He trotted round the circle, his limbs jostling to some nonexistent beat, “It’s clear from your vacant expressions, that the lights are not all on upstairs, but we’re talking kings, and new successions!”

“Sir?”

The rhythm collapsed; Wonse glared at the muffled voice in corner; “Yes, Brother Watchtower, you may rejoin the class,” he sighed.

Watchtower skulked back into the circle, pushing and shoving for the mere necessity. Once the group again seemed settled, Wonse tore back into his melody; “Be prepared for the chance of a lifetime!” he declared, the entire group enraptured by his performance, “Be prepared for sensational news! A shining new era is tiptoeing nearer!”

“And where do we feature?” piped up Plasterer, caught in the trance of blank verse.

Wonse smirked suavely, “Just listen to teacher!” he replied. His eyes caught out an overhang above, created by a lurching elephant shoulder blade. With a leap, the Supreme Grand Master vaulted onto this new platform, adding height and dimension to his illusion, “I know it sounds sordid, but you’ll all be rewarded, when, at last, I am given my dues!”

The hyena circle rose to their feet, wagging their tails like little dogs. This harmonious fever was catchy.

“And in justice deliciously squared, be prepared!”

A few of the hyenas cheered, but, again, all went silent when a lone paw went up and muttered, “Sir?”

Wonse pouted, “Can we leave question time until the end, Brother Dunnykin?”

“I was just wondering,” Dunnykin said, “How do you square justice? Deliciously?”

Wonse rolled his eyes and folded his paws beneath him, laying down upon his calcium dais, “It’s a metaphor, Brother Dunnykin. Give me some poetic license here.”

“Oh…” Dunnykin sighed, “So you can’t really square justice?”

“You can metaphorically,” Wonse rallied.

“But it’s not real --?”

“No, Brother Dunnykin, it’s NOT REAL!” he yelled, “For the Gods’ sakes!”

Dunnykin shrank away, ‘eeping’. Wonse took this as his cue to finally continue; he took a breath when, suddenly -

“Sir?”

Wonse deflated, “What?” he snapped.

The crowd parted around Brother Doorkeeper; “You said be prepared? Prepared for what?” he asked.

Wonse frowned, both inwardly and outwardly; “Why, the death of the Patrician,” he replied.

Doorkeeper blinked, “Why, is he sick?”

Watchtower scoffed by his side, “Don’t be thick,” he said, feeling the need to throw a smart aleck comment in somewhere now he was back in the circle, “He’s never ill…”

The two hyenas looked ready to pounce on one another until Wonse shouted, “No, you fools! We’re going to KILL him!”

The entire room went silent. Even the silence fell silent.

‘Uh-oh‘, Wonse thought, ‘I’ve lost them. The last bit was a tad too much‘.

“Yeah…” Brother Dunnykin suddenly murmured, “Who needs a Patrician?”

Wonse sighed - thank the Gods!

Thinking about the implication of this, the gathering began to come round, until, running round in circles, they all started to chant, “No Patrician! No Patrician! Nyer-ner-nyer-ner-ner-ner!”

After the tenth repeat, it began to annoy Wonse, “Yes, no Patrician! Instead, we’ll return to the monarchy!”

The hyenas looked perplexed again, “Huh?” they asked.

“A king, you idiots, a king!”

The hyenas looked at one another; “What do we need a king for?” Plasterer asked.

“And who’ll be the king?”

“Do we have to find the king?”

“Does it have to be a lion?”

“I want to be king!”

“No, I do!”

Wonse erupted, “I will be king!” he yelled, and, to sweeten the deal, added, “Stick with me, and you’ll be allowed back into the Pridelands, and you’ll never go hungry again!”

Food was a hyena’s life - at least it came in at a close second after the obligatory laugh; “Yay!” they cheered, “Long live the king, long live the king!”

And the song reinstated itself:

“It’s great that we’ll soon be connected with a king who’ll be all time adored!”

Wonse lapped it up, “Yes… but of course, quid pro quo, you’re expected to take certain duties on board.”

The hyenas weren’t listening - they were drunk on happiness and hope. That was the best time to mutter the small print and bag support.

“The future is littered with prizes,” he continued, “And, though I’m the main addressee, the point that I must emphasise is you won’t get a SNIFF without me!”

The collective looked convinced.

“So prepare for the coup of the century!” Wonse tore on, “Be prepare for the murkiest scam!”

He heard a few hyenas take up posts as backing singers - well, if you were gonna do the evil-plan-song-and-dance routine, you may as well do it properly…

“Meticulous planning,

tenacity spanning

decades of denial,

is simply why I’ll

be king undisputed,

respected,

saluted!

and seen for the wonder I am!

Yes my teeth and ambitions are bared, be prepared!”

He handed it to the class; “Yes our teeth and ambitions are bared!“ they repeated, “Be prepared!”

Wonse threw in an evil laugh to top off the moment.

It would have all been perfect… if it wasn’t for the paw in the air; “Sir?” asked Brother Dunnykin, “How do you bare ambition?”

Wonse sighed… He bet Havelock never had this problem.

---

“Cheetahs never prosper,” Havelock announced to the world at large as he entered the cavern beneath Pride Rock, “Why is that?”

Hanna, feeling his gaze on her, looked up, “Are you asking me?”

Havelock glanced about himself, “I’m sorry, is there anyone else here?”

She pursed her lips, “Very funny.”

He cocked his eyebrows and walked to her side, folding his thin legs to his body and laying down.

“Are the cheetahs bothering you?” Hanna pushed on, relaxing back into her sprawled position on the floor.

He rested his head upon his forelegs, “No, not really. They’re not ‘prospering‘, as such, but I’d be… concerned if they were.”

Hanna laughed gently and leant across to him so she could nuzzle his mane, “You’re impossible.”

“I hope not.”

Havelock had a large mane, a full, black one, that had grown grand with time, and Hanna felt lucky for this alone - there weren’t many lionesses who had this kind of mane at their disposal. She was about to nestle into him a bit more, ready for a nap, but the aura about him seemed to change; she’d been around him long enough to know when he was ill at ease.

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, “What is it?”

“Autumn had a… little moment.”

“Just a little one?”

“I want to ask you something, Hanna, and I implore you not to laugh.”

She drew back as he turned his eyes on her; “Laugh?” she said, “When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Hmm, well, let me see, there was the time…”

She placed a paw over his, “Okay, you have my word.”

“Am I a bad father?”

Hanna wondered why he’d told her not to laugh; on the contrary, she felt her smile slacken; “Why are you asking me that?”

“Am I?”

She shook her head, “Well, though I have no other personal fathers to compare you to, I can’t think that you are.”

“Are you certain?”

“Havelock…” She gave him a warning glare.

He flashed her a quick smile, mirthless as it was, “Autumn seems to think I’m… quite a failure. Boring, in fact, was the word she used.”

Hanna looked at the floor for a second, half smiling.

“Am I boring?”

“You do work all the time.”

“I asked you not to laugh, Hanna.”

“I’m not!” she protested.

“But you’re laughing within, I can tell.”

She nuzzled him hard beneath the chin, knocking his head upward, “I’d ask you to chill out, but I’m not sure you’re ‘hip’ enough to understand the phrase.”

“That’s quite enough, Hanna,” he said, “I am trying to be serious.”

“She’s a child,” Hanna reminded him, “Kids like to think of their parents as exciting, dashing figures.”

“Ah.”

“And all Autumn’s got to compare you to is young Samuel’s father.”

“Ah…”

“And, well… running around after homicidal elephants and delinquent crocodiles might be more Autumn’s idea of dashing.”

“But not a Patrician.”

“Not a Patrician.”

Havelock seemed to ponder on this for a moment.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Hanna suddenly said as though this lull worried her; she could see the cogs turning in his mind, but she couldn’t work out why.

“My love, when have I ever done ‘anything stupid‘?”

She gave him a calculating look.

“Please do not look at me like that,” he said.

Hanna shook her head, “Give Autumn time. She’s just demanding.”

“Hmm. Like another lioness I know.”

Hanna caught his eyes as he got up to leave, “She is my daughter,” she said, “What do you expect?”

He just smiled back at her as he went.

---

Autumn stared down the length of the gorge as the sun fell toward twilight; “This is it,“ she muttered. There was a gorge in the savannah, a deep crevice somewhere in the heart of Morpork. It had, in its history, a little contest called Run The Gorge. It had been started by a pair of bored cheetahs and, because of the danger and risk of life involved, had continued ever since. People were stupid like that. It sounded about as enticing to a young cub, though, as it did to the dense grown man who had a score to settle.

Autumn had a score to settled, but only with herself. And her father, but she wasn’t challenging him. He was too old, after all. And too boring.

Wonse crouched behind her, “Yes, this is it,” he said, “Now, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Sure as sure.”

“You’re going to Run the Gorge!”

“I certainly am.”

“You’re gonna win.”

“I have no doubt.”

“You’ll be an inspiration to us all, little one.”

“And I’ll be better than my father.”

“Better? Better at something, or in general?”

“In general, stupid.”

Wonse found his teeth emerging from his jaw - he wanted to tear her arrogant head off, he wanted to -

‘Now Wonse’ the voice within said, ‘You’ve come this far…’

He transformed the snarl into a grin, “Right, right. Then get ready.”

“I’m always ready,” Autumn said as Wonse began to climb the wall of the gorge and made his way to the very top.

He shook his head; ‘Sheesh’, he thought as he drew himself up the wall, ‘She’s such a hard nut.’

Run The Gorge was a stupid thrill ride. Everyone liked thrill rides, until someone got hurt, but if it wasn’t a friend of yours, it didn’t matter. Run The Gorge was generally likened to teenage boys and immature men - and they were usually of a feline persuasion. Hippopotamuses and crocodiles had better things to do, and creatures like elephants couldn’t run fast, anyway, which immediately stamped them out of the equation - running was a prerequisite to the game. To Run The Gorge, you had to survive what is generally known as a stampede. At the source of the gorge, right above the precipice, there is a pastureland, and here, at some time or another, most of the herbivores of the city graze. You were bound to find at least one herd here at any one time. And, to start the game, a volunteer simply had to chase these herds over the wall, and along the gorge.

Simple.

Once they were on their way, the contestants would set off as soon as the first herbivore - be they antelope, wildebeest or (heaven forbid) rhinoceros - hit the flats. The rules were get to the end before you got crushed. If you beat the stampede, you got full marks - cheetahs were about the only ones who could do that; if you survived, you got acclaim, no doubt, because you’d taken a big risk; if you got crushed, people laughed at you in their ‘told you so’ voices. It was only right.

Any number of people could take part - it was usually two or more - but Autumn, challenging only herself, was going to do the run alone. As with all immature creatures, she thought she was bigger, better and faster than she actually was. Wonse wasn’t about to tell her that she would never be able to do it - she was his bait. She was his red herring. She was probably going to die, but he couldn’t care less.

Finally, Wonse reached the top. In the distance, he could just make out Brothers Fingers, Plaster and Watchtower. The rest of his Brethren were positioned at odd intervals all the way along the high reaches of gorge, right up to the end, where it flattened out into the savannah beyond.

Raising a paw, he waved at the trio.

The three got up and made their way to the back of the current grazers - a fine herd of wildebeests, stretching as far as the eye could see. Excellent. Autumn had picked a good time to do the run - the more danger involved, the higher thought of one would be at the end (or the more stupid one was remembered as, if one didn’t make it).

Taking a few paces back, Wonse watched as, slowly, the herd discovered they were being chased by hyenas. Grunting, they spun about in a momentary confusion until, the three hyenas guiding them, they were chased down the funnel toward the gorge and over into the canyon below.

Wonse rolled his eyes - you’d think the herds would have learned by now. But life wouldn’t be much fun if people learned.

As he watched Autumn leap from her starting position, he began to canter back toward Pride Rock; he’d forgotten to remind Autumn that there was no way out the gorge until you got to the end - unless you were any good at climbing steep walls, that is. A slight hiccup if she found herself in trouble half way along.

---

“The baboons are going ape, my lord!” Drumknott went on, flapping his wings about in that desperate little way, “We must do something.”

“Yes, I agree,” Havelock nodded, “But right now, doing ‘nothing’ would be the better option. I did the ‘something’ last week.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Your lordship! Your lordship!”

Havelock felt his brow knot; “Yes, Wonse?” he asked, turning to look at the head clerk as he rushed up to him, scrambling over the dusty cavern floor and skidding to a halt.

“There’s a stampede in the gorge!”

Havelock’s brow rose and he exchanged a glance with Drumknott; “Odd…” he mused.

“Autumn’s down there!” Wonse added. He then watched with pleasure as he saw, for the first time, that he had actually incurred some form of shock, some kind of discomfort, in the Patrician. It was hard to tell, but if you had worked for him as long as Wonse had, you could read a slight discrepancy in his eyes when it finally occurred.

Havelock seemed to swallow and, with a great leap, charged past Wonse and rushed out of the cave. Wonse followed suit and Drumknott, dumbfounded, finally got his wings to work and went after them.

---

‘Yes, this is the life!’ Autumn thought as she rushed down the dusty floor of the gorge. She could hear the stampede growing closer behind her, but she knew she’d beat them to the end - she was a really fast runner. She beat Sam at races all the time.

She glanced up to the side of the gorge, looking for Wonse - she couldn’t see him right now, but he had said he’d be there. He’d said he’d watch out for her and stuff.

The ground began to shake badly. Autumn could smell the breath of the wildebeests. Perhaps the wind was blowing this way, because they surely couldn’t be that close…?

There was a crush beside her and she screamed - a hoof had torn straight through a rock, smashing it to pieces. And it hit Autumn, quite hard between the eyes, that that could have been her - and she wasn’t as durable as a rock! Thinking clearly for the first time that day, she felt her stomach clench with panic - what if that had been her? What made her think she could do this? Could she still make it?

Hooves were all around her now, wildebeest were taking over… she couldn’t do it.

She wanted her mum. She panicked and panted and found her strength failing, yet the end of the gorge was nowhere in sight. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stop!

‘Mummy’ she thought, ‘I want my mum!’

She felt a tear roll down her face, felt it fly behind her and fall beneath the crushing feet of the herd.

She was done for…

---

Wonse was panting, too. For a lion who wasn’t young, Havelock couldn’t half run! He sprang about like a gazelle, his weight shifting perfectly, his footing elegant and flawless. What couldn’t this lion do?

In the distance, dust could be seen rising like an ominous cloud from the deep gorge. With a power Wonse envied, Havelock bowed his head and sped up yet more, his mane flying like a flag in his wake. Overhead, Wonse just caught the flutter of pale blue feathers that announced Drumknott’s arrival on the scene. The hornbill took over the two lions and carried on toward the gorge.

Flying down into the chaos, the small bird looked desperately amongst the onslaught of stampeding hooves. His eyesight was sharp and he found her, a small rushing ball of sandy-coloured fur, dodging and diving in-between the wildebeests. The young cub had spotted a small, derelict tree coming her way, and, with a great leap of faith, managed to reach it and cling onto its pathetic-looking bark for dear life.

Drumknott swooped down to her, noticing that her grip, even now, was beginning to fail; “Autumn!” he squealed.

She looked up, “Drumknott!” she smiled, her blue eyes filling with hope at the sight of him, “Help me! I can’t get out! I can’t do it!”

“Just hold on! Your father‘s on the way.”

Autumn swallowed… her father.

Reaching the lip of the gorge, Wonse drew to a halt, and was shocked to find that Havelock didn’t stop as well - the Patrician just ‘flowed’ (there was no other word for this smooth movement) right over the edge and slid down the steep wall. He found himself a ledge, still quite far up the side of the chasm, and surveyed the scene rapidly from there. His eyes moved fast, searching the stampede, looking for his flower…

“Your lordship!” Drumknott cried as he flew toward him, “You lordship! Look there, on that tree!” He gestured in the way of the feeble growth in the centre of the ruckus.

An inelegant crumbling sound behind Havelock announced Wonse’s arrival on the ledge. Brushing himself off, Wonse, too, stared down into the precipice - ah, the little cub had done her job, she was still alive, and that’s all he needed for now.

“Oh, what shall we do?” Drumknott flustered on.

Autumn screamed as her branch began to give way, and, without a word, Havelock simply leapt off the ledge and rushed headlong into the stampede below.

“Your lordship!” Drumknott cried in horror. Everything then went black for the little hornbill as, irritated by him already, Wonse thumped him on the back of the head. He fell with a flop onto the ledge and lay still. Wonse growled at the unconscious bird, then, eyes following the Patrician, he climbed back up from the ledge and found a path along the steep wall, across which he could follow Havelock’s progress.

From her unstable bough, Autumn watched as her father wove in and out of the running wildebeests. She’d never seen anything like it - he flowed like water, finding all the gaps and drifting into the spaces. He ran all the way past her and, for a moment, she thought he’d forgotten her or was unable to reach her… then, suddenly, she saw him dive beneath a running wildebeest ahead and come charging back toward her, against the course of the rush.

Her hopes soared - and the branch broke! A wild wildebeest had hurtled through the tree, then, just to make matters worse, had torn straight into Havelock thereafter.

With a roar, the Patrician was sent crashing to the floor. His vision blurred and blood trickled down his jaw. Then he heard Autumn scream. He looked up and saw his daughter had been thrown from her hold and was flying through the air. Gathering his wits, he bounded upward and grabbed her in his maw. Landing awkwardly, but ignoring the pain, he then forced himself to run on, following the current and trying to keep pace with the mad dash. Autumn could just see the ground flashing beneath her as her father ran and ran, going faster than she’d had any notion he could.

Then, there was a thump as another wildebeest flung into their path; it collided heavily with the Patrician and he lost his grip on Autumn. She tumbled away with a shriek through the rush, losing sight of her father amongst the pounding hooves.

She got to her feet, dodging the wildebeests as best as she could; oh no, where was he? Where’d he gone?

Up above Wonse followed the events with interest - Havelock was indeed an impressive piece of work. But he couldn’t last forever. And the stampede was still coming thick and fast.

Autumn thought about running again, and turned to go when, suddenly, she felt her sire’s teeth clamp over her and she was carried away once more. He was back! She stared ahead, following his erratic moves as he went left then right, as he weaved and charged, leapt and darted.

He seemed to have something in mind for he soon was endeavouring to get toward the right side of the gorge. Zigzagging between a few slower wildebeests, he sprang at the wall and caught a low ledge. His claws dented the earth as he tried to hold on - slowly, he opened his jaws and let Autumn slip down onto the outcropping. She turned and looked at him contritely until, with a terrific roar, he was again knocked astray, back beneath the feet of the herd.

“DAD!” Autumn cried.

Wonse smirked from above; she did call him dad, after all, the pompous little brat.

There was a long pause. Autumn’s eyes strained, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of grey fur or a hint of a black mane amongst the scurrying throng, but she could find none. The wildebeests just kept coming, and she could see nothing; “Dad!” she screamed again, voice breaking, hoping her cries alone could draw him back.

But there was still nothing.

The sun was setting. It cast its red rays on the walls. Wonse lapped up the effect as his eyes, in contrast to Autumn‘s, sought not to see any sign of the Patrician. He knew the game wasn’t over yet - he’d worked for Havelock for too long to just expect that.

Autumn was now beginning to shake. This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t be the end, this -

Suddenly, there was a roar, a great, deep roar that she’d never heard before, and Havelock flew up from the mass and clung onto the sloping wall. Autumn’s face lit up - he was all right, he’ be okay!

His grip on the slippery sandstone wasn’t strong, however, and his feet scrabbled about to find a hold. He knew that he had to pull himself up and, slowly, he began to claw his way up the wall, bit by bit. Autumn looked behind her - there was a path leading from her outcropping up towards the top. She could meet him up there if she took it, and tell him how sorry she was. Yes, that’d be the right thing to do.

Giving her father one final glance, she lost sight of him for a time whilst she climbed the narrow path to the zenith.

Wonse, meanwhile, was grinning, laying down and dangling his paw over the edge as he watched Havelock climb up the slope from below. He knew that Havelock had already seen him - he was just waiting for the Patrician to reach him, if the old beast could even get that far; “Having a tad of bother, Havelock?” he called.

The Patrician slipped. His fore-claws dug in as his rear feet lost their grip. He heaved a great breath, and slowly found his footing again, before he attempted to climb up the wall once more. He ignored Wonse.

“My, my, it’s not good, is it?” Wonse went on.

Havelock drew himself up a little more - but he knew he couldn’t make it. His energy was spent and he had nowhere to climb. Nowhere except towards Wonse, that was, and he knew that that wasn’t an option; “Wonse, I can’t hold on,” he said plainly.

Wonse’s paw continued to swing, “Can’t you? Pity.”

Havelock’s eyes were filled with the kind of coldness that would usually make one feel like throwing themselves happily off the tip of Pride Rock, but Wonse wasn’t prepared to do that now - he had The Advantage.

Havelock’s claws came closer as he struggled to pull his body up. The slope was treacherously steep.

“Help me, Wonse,” he said; it was more a command than anything.

Wonse pondered on this, “Hmm… well, you know what, Havelock, I don’t really feel like it right now, so don’t let me detain you.”

Havelock glared. His back legs slipped again and he dangled. His face was beginning to show the beginnings of a strain that would have long ago taken hold in anyone else. His lips were rimmed with blood, seeping from fractures within his maw. He couldn’t make it…

Wonse savoured the moment, watched the Patrician dangle beneath him before he realised that enough was enough - beside, the stampede was coming to an end, and he was running out of corny lines; launching himself forward, his claws flaring, Wonse leant over the ledge and dug them deep into Havelock’s forelegs.

The Patrician roared - anyone would have.

Wonse grinned darkly, the malicious grin of a villain who knows he’s won, whilst Havelock merely watched him, allowing his eyes to betray nothing.

“Sic non confectus,” Wonse hissed, “Non reficiat!”

And he flung his claws out, hurling the weakened Patrician from the wall and down into the gulf below.

“NOOOO!” Autumn shrieked as, just reaching the top of the wall, she watched her father fall down, down, down… back into the rush.

Wonse was still hidden from view.

---

Scrambling faster than her little feet could allow, Autumn stumbled back down the path and slid down the walls. As if on cue, the stampede was slowly dying away, and by the time Autumn reached the floor of the gorge, only a few stragglers were left trotting by.

She coughed - there was dust everywhere, and it clogged her lungs. Squinting through the murky mist, she looked about for her father, waiting for him to materialise out of nothing, as he usually did.

“Dad!” she called. Her voice echoed off the empty walls. It was scary.

She coughed again and, suddenly, heard stones shift behind her; “Dad?” she said, turning. A lone wildebeest cantered out of the cloud and went on its way. Autumn’s hopes faded.

She dragged her feet along the cavern floor, going back the way the wildebeest had come, and there, under the broken tree, Autumn saw the form of her sire. The clouds of dust were steadily settling about him. He didn’t look like he was about to get up.

Autumn’s ears fell and she swallowed - her throat was dry and her limbs were aching, but she hardly noticed as, heart in her mouth, she approached him.

He was sprawled out in an odd way - his back leg was definitely broken - and he seemed to have cuts and gashes everywhere. Autumn walked all the way round to his face and stared at it; the blue eyes were closed, the silky mane was matted. No smile, rapid-fire or otherwise, was going to greet her.

“Dad?” she hesitated, ears rising slightly.

He said nothing.

She swallowed again and pushed her head against his black nose, “Come on,” she muttered, “You’ve got to get up!” She heaved his nose off the ground, pushed his face upward. It fell back down with a thud as she released it.

She shook her head and rushed around to the top of his, “Dad, we’ve gotta go home… mum‘ll be waiting for us,” she continued, shaking his head with a push of her paws, before she grabbed his ear in her mouth and tugged - he hated that, he’d get up, he’d tell her to stop it, he’d…

He wasn’t getting up.

Autumn sniffled, her eyes were welling; she turned her back on him and rushed a few feet away, “Help!” she cried, “Someone help!”

Only her echo answered her.

“Somebody!” she yelled, “Anybody!”

The sun set. Shadows set into the gorge. Silence greeted her, and her heart fell with a thud to the bottom of her belly; “Help…” she sobbed before the tears rolled down her face. She turned and crawled back to her father, squeezing beneath his inanimate foreleg and lying by his body.

The murkiness behind them shifted. Wonse emerged like a spectre from the swirls of unsettled dust and looked upon the fallen Patrician and his tiny daughter with a twisted smile; he dropped the smirk and sat down, “Autumn,” he muttered, his whisper alone managing to reach the far reaches of the chasm, “What have you done?”

And the glorious thing was, Wonse thought, that this had all been her idea! This technically was her fault! Oh, he loved her… he loved her so much, he hated her.

Autumn shuffled out from beneath her sire’s paw and looked at Havelock, then back to Wonse, “He…he tried to save me, he… I… I didn’t mean for it to happen, I… I…” She was crying again. She couldn’t speak coherently. She couldn’t think coherently. Wonse was bargaining on that.

“Shush, little one,” he purred, putting a paw round her and drawing her to his leg; she leant into him and cried some more, “No one ever means for these things to happen, but… well, your father is dead.”

Autumn pulled away from Wonse and looked up into his red eyes; there was so much in those eyes that hadn’t been in her father’s, so very much…

“And if it hadn’t been for you, Autumn, he’d still be alive,” Wonse thoughtfully added.

Autumn glanced back at her dad again; he was right. This was her fault, all her stupid fault. And the last thing she‘d said to him was that she hated him…

She heard Wonse gasp and returned her attention to him, “Oh my, Autumn, what will your mother think?”

“Mom?” she whispered; she couldn’t go back, she couldn’t face her mother! What would she think? She‘d hate her, she‘d really hate her...

“What am I going to do?” Autumn whispered.

Wonse looked at her, doing his best pitiful expression; “Run away, Autumn,” he murmured, “Run! Run away and never return.”

Autumn took a step back, but she realised that Wonse was probably right. She couldn’t come back. It’d be better for everyone this way. She gave her father’s head a final nudge of farewell as she walked by, then she ran, ran out of the gorge and fled for dear life.

Wonse got to his feet and watched her go; further materialising from out of the gloom behind him, the trio of hyenas, Plasterer, Watchtower and Fingers came up to his flanks; “Kill her,” he ordered. And they rushed off, teeth blazing.

Overall, Wonse thought, things were going rather well. Now all he had to do was sway the crowds. He pursed his lips and tried to put together a speech: Autumn was dead, it had been the Patrician’s failing that she hadn’t survived - he could even twist it so that it sounded like Havelock had driven her to Run The Gorge, or something… or maybe he should make up some other story? Hmm, well, anyway, with the Patrician dead, it wouldn’t really matter…

At least Wonse thought that until he turned around and two bleak, blue eyes stared him right in the face.

“Ach!” he yelled.

--End of Draft