Alright, feel free to go, "YOU SHOULD BE WORKING ON YOUR OTHER STORIES INSTEAD OF SONGFICS!!!" I know, I know, but I got this idea… (I seem to be getting a lot of those) and wanted to write this. I suppose it sorta ties in with Ghost Whispers, theme-wise… almost… maybe… I may extend it into a story. Eventually. If you want me to. The song, by the way, is Shadowland, from the Lion King.

Disclaimer: I don't own CATS, or the Lion King.

"Tribe singing"

"Jemima singing"

"Exotica singing"

"Everyone singing at the same time"

"Jemima," Munkustrap whispered. "We're going to get you out of here." The calico queen looked up, startled.

"What do you mean, Daddy?" she asked nervously. "I can't leave you and the tribe here!" He frowned at her.

"Jemima, the drought has been going on for five years. There's hardly any food left. Someone has to go in search of a new territory, and the Council has decided that the best candidate is you." She gulped. After the drought, most of the tribe's food sources had died or run away. There was no water. Everyone was bone-thin and dehydrated. Munkustrap was right- they needed a new territory, new resources. She knew he was right.

"Alright, Daddy," she replied shakily. "I'll do it."

Her going-away ceremony was the next day, at dusk. In the past, there would have been feasts, and grand speeches by Jemima's family. Now everyone stood morosely, staring at their one hope for a better life- her.

"Fatshe leso lea halalela," Exotica sang softly, beginning the ceremonial chant that honored their ancestors, willing the spirits to guide Jemima's paws safely on her journey. In the ancient Jellicle Tongue, which was spoken only for special occasions, it meant "the land of our ancestors is holy."

"Fatshe leso lea halalela," the tribe chanted, joining their High Priestess in song. They paused, waiting for Jemima to make a statement on her reasons for leaving.

"Shadowland," she began.

"The leaves have fallen.

This shadowed land,

This was our home." She felt her gut wrench as she gazed at the miserable faces of her friends and family, all trying not to cry.

"The river's dry,

The ground has broken,

So I must go.

Now I must go!

And where the journey may lead me,

Let your prayers be my guide.

I cannot stay here, my family,

But I'll remember my tribe."

"Tribeland," they sang, raising their hands in acknowledgement of her words.

"I have no choice!"

"My land,"

"I will find my way!"

"Tear-stained,"

"Lea halalela!" Jemima wailed, her voice mingling with the tribe's in a melancholy harmony.

"Dry land,

Take this-"

"Take this prayer-"

"With you-"

"What lies out there?"

"Fatshe leso,"

"Lea halalela!" She was almost crying as her friends' paws hit the dry ground in a rhythmic, traditional dance. It was highly unlike anything they performed at the Jellicle Ball, tracing its origins back to the first tribes of African Wildcats.

"And where the journey may lead you

Let this prayer be your guide!

Though it may take you so far away,

Always remember your tribe.

Fatshe leso lea halalela,"

"Fatshe leso lea halalela." The tribe repeated their well-wishes, Jemima singing in a fluent mix of Jellicle Tongue and Cat's English.

"Giza buyabo! Giza buyabo!

I will return, I will return!

Beso bo

Giza buyabo, I will return

Giza buyabo, oh giza buyabo,

I will return…" She trailed off sadly as they ended their song. She bowed respectfully to them, and, as she was turning to leave, her father came up to her to say goodbye.

"Remember, Jemima. I will always be with you," he whispered.

"Always," she replied, tears filling her eyes while she took one last look at her tribe.

The Jellicle Tribe.

So, do you have any questions? Comments? Reviews? Do you think I should continue it or not?

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