[quote]Story 1:
Untitled: show
It was a cold, dark night in the Pride Lands, just like it had been for the last few weeks. Rafiki sat in his tree surrounded by his various fruits, doing his normal things. Eating dinner, talking to the great kings of the past, painting on the trunk. He was quietly meditating, when he thought he heard someone walking below his tree.
“Hmm?”
Rafiki peered down to where the walking sounds were coming from and saw Scar, plodding along home through the long grass, looking a little peeved. Scar was mumbling, but Rafiki caught every few words.
“…Damn him… Mufasa… Death… His time will come… Soon… Revenge.”
“What’s dis?”
Rafiki heard the words ‘Mufasa’, ‘death’ and ‘revenge’ in the same sentence from Scar. Rafiki knew of Scar’s hatred of Mufasa, so he climbed down a couple branches to get closer to Scar.
Rafiki landed in the perfect spot. He could see and hear Scar perfectly, but Scar wouldn’t be able to spot Rafiki unless he tried hard.
“My plan will succeed. Soon enough I’ll have the throne to myself. That ‘brother’ of mine Mufasa will be long dead when I take the throne. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when he sees me betray him. Me! His brother! The one he thought he could trust above all! I can’t wait for the day when I get to set my plans into motion.”
Rafiki moved a little and a branch broke off and landed right in front of Scar.
“What was that?”
Scar stopped. He looked up and his expression changed.
‘I dink he may have spotted me.’
Rafiki shrunk into the tree a little bit, trying to hide himself from Scar.
After a few moments of intense squinting, Scar looked down again and shook his head.
“Hmm. That’s odd. I thought there was someone in that tree. Must just be the wind.”
Scar started walking again, presumably off to the Elephant Graveyard.
Rafiki dared not move until Scar was out of earshot.
As soon as Scar was out of earshot, Rafiki quickly climbed back up the braches to the main area of his tree, once again among his various fruits and things.
Rafiki sat down in the middle of the large flat opening. He was not surprised much, he knew that Scar despised Mufasa, but Rafiki did not know that Scar would go as far to kill him in cold blood.
‘Should I tell Mufasa, or should I let de circle of life go on undisturbed?’
Rafiki paced around his tree for a while, trying to decide whether he would say something or not.
After a while laid down to rest. He had decided to not interfere. Nature will take its course. If it was meant to be, he would let it happen.
***
The next morning Rafiki awoke at sunrise to a warm day with no clouds in the sky, and a little cooling wind. He had awoken with a changed mind.
‘No, I must tell Mufasa. I couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing but never warning.’
Rafiki waited, giving what he thought as enough time for Mufasa to wake up, have his breakfast and get ready for another day of ruling.
In this space of time between Rafiki waking up and going to see Mufasa, Rafiki ate.
***
It was time to go. Rafiki grabbed his stick and leapt down from his tall tree. He landed on the dusty ground with a little thud. Brushing himself off and standing up straight, Rafiki turned in the rough direction Pride Rock was in, hesitated for a moment, and then started to go towards Pride Rock.
It took about half an hour for Rafiki to walk to Pride Rock.
When Rafiki arrived at Pride Rock, he was greeted by a sight he had never seen before.
Mufasa was standing below Pride Rock, and various animals were surrounding him. Mufasa looked a little distressed, a little tired. All the animals were arguing with each other and pushing and shoving and making whatever loud noise they could.
‘Ah, de king looks very busy today.’
“Please, please, everyone be quiet for a moment. One at a time. No pushing. Sir, were you really at the front. Everyone please just… Just everyone calm down, I need… Just…”
Fed up with the squabbling, Mufasa let out a mighty roar which significantly quietened the squabbling animals. They all stopped what they were doing and looked at Mufasa.
“Okay, now, everyone, listen to me. You will line up in the order you got here and I will deal with all your problems. No pushing, I will get to all of you. Just make it quick, my son is waiting for me.”
Without another noise, all the animals obeyed and lined up in front of Mufasa. There was not much pushing or talking. At the end, the animal at the front of the line was a female zebra.
“Right, now madam, what’s your problem?”
‘I might be here for a while.’
And Rafiki was there for a while. Mufasa kept to his word and went through every single animal there without any complaints from any of the animals. Some of the animals at the back of the line started to get a bit pushy towards the end, but that as about it.
As soon as Mufasa had finished consulting with the last animal, he walked up Pride Rock and went into the den, soon after re-emerging with Simba. They both strolled off in the opposite direction to Rafiki. Simba looked excited to be getting a lesson with his father, and Mufasa looked happier being with his son then with that horde of animals.
‘Oh well, let dem be together. Mufasa deserves it. He’ll be here tomorrow anyway.’
After half a day of waiting for nothing, Rafiki made the half-hour trek back to his tree, not very worried at all.
Rafiki did that night what he did every other night; eat, talk to the great kings, meditate, paint on his tree, meditate some more.
After this nightly routine, he went to sleep for the day.
***
Rafiki woke up the next morning, and decided to allow Mufasa a little more time before he went to talk to him. It was quite a good day, the sun was out, there were few clouds in the sky and it was quite warm.
Rafiki spent the whole time meditating and painting on the trunk of his tree, as well as having a nice breakfast of fruit. It was around midday when Rafiki hopped down from his tree and made the trek towards Pride Rock for the second time in two days.
It was a little warmer than what it had been yesterday, and there were more clouds today than what there was yesterday.
***
As Rafiki was nearing Pride Rock, he saw a herd of wildebeest peacefully grazing near the gorge.
Rafiki also stopped for a moment. He thought he had seen Scar under a nearby rock.
No, it was his imagination playing tricks on him.
He shrugged off his worry and continued to Pride Rock, arriving shortly after.
He got to the base of Pride Rock and looked around. No Mufasa surrounded by animals this time.
‘Good, he may not be busy.’
Rafiki walked up Pride Rock, experiencing déjà vu from Simba’s presentation day. He got to the top and brushed himself off; he had gotten dusty climbing up Pride Rock, and walked into the den.
“Mufasa. Mufasa!”
‘Hmm. He’s not here. Maybe I could ask one of de lionesses.’
Rafiki took one final sweep of the den, and then turned and walked back out, being greeted by a lioness.
“Excuse me; have you happened to see de king anywhere?”
“Hmm, I saw him earlier, but I haven’t seen him lately. Have you checked the waterhole?”
“No, I haven’t checked dere, I’ll go now. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Rafiki walked back down Pride Rock and to the waterhole, encountering no other lionesses along the way. When he arrived at the waterhole though, he saw Sarabi, and Sarabi saw him. Sarabi came over to him.
“Good afternoon Rafiki, what brings you here?”
“I happen to be looking for Mufasa, hive you see hi m anywhere?”
“Sorry, I haven’t.”
“Thank you anyway.”
Rafiki turned and walked off, and was just starting wonder where else he could look when Sarabi called out again.
“Wait!”
Rafiki turned back around to face Sarabi.
“I think I may have seen him rushing off into the gorge. What he’s doing I don’t…”
“Thank you very much!”
‘Scar must have already put de plan into motion! I must hurry to de gorge to see if I can prevent anyding!’
Without another word, Rafiki turned and started to run off to the gorge, leaving Sarabi to cough in his dust.
‘I hope I’m not too late.’
***
Rafiki arrived at the edge of the gorge, and what he saw made terror tear through his body.
What he saw was the worst thing that could have happened.
He had found Mufasa, dangling from a ledge with Scar standing over him and Simba witnessing the events before him.
‘I’m too late.’
Rafiki had arrived just in time. Just in time to see Mufasa get murdered. He watched the events unfold before him.
Scar threw Mufasa off the ledge, Simba yelled out. The stampede ceased. The dust settled. Simba ran down to his father and crawled under his forelegs, crying.
Scar approached Simba, and Rafiki wondered how Simba would react to his father’s killer.
Rafiki was surprised as Simba showed no hostility towards Scar at all, even accepting false comfort from Scar.
That surprise soon gave way to realisation. Simba hadn’t seen Scar, only Mufasa.
Scar leaned in close to Simba and said a few words. Simba started to run.
The hyenas walked up behind Scar. Scar said two words and the hyenas responded and ran after Simba. Rafiki lost sight of them and assumed the worst.
‘I can’t believe dis has happened.’
Quite depressed that the evil Scar would now be the ruler of the Pride Lands, and would surely run it into the ground, Rafiki turned and walked sadly back home to his tree, feeling a little guilty.
***
Rafiki sat in the middle of his tree. Scar had been declared the new king of the Pride Lands, and Simba and Mufasa had been proclaimed dead. Rafiki mourned and put a smudge through his painting of Simba that sat on the trunk of the massive tree.
Rafiki felt defeated, he had tried, but failed to keep one of the greatest kings he had seen alive.
But, Rafiki came to the conclusion that this was always meant to happen.
Rafiki accepted this and moved on eventually, still hoping that someone would come along and release the poor Pridelander lionesses from the reign of Scar. But in every monarchy there is always a downfall, and this was the time for the Pride Lands.
“Hmm?”
Rafiki peered down to where the walking sounds were coming from and saw Scar, plodding along home through the long grass, looking a little peeved. Scar was mumbling, but Rafiki caught every few words.
“…Damn him… Mufasa… Death… His time will come… Soon… Revenge.”
“What’s dis?”
Rafiki heard the words ‘Mufasa’, ‘death’ and ‘revenge’ in the same sentence from Scar. Rafiki knew of Scar’s hatred of Mufasa, so he climbed down a couple branches to get closer to Scar.
Rafiki landed in the perfect spot. He could see and hear Scar perfectly, but Scar wouldn’t be able to spot Rafiki unless he tried hard.
“My plan will succeed. Soon enough I’ll have the throne to myself. That ‘brother’ of mine Mufasa will be long dead when I take the throne. I can’t wait to see the expression on his face when he sees me betray him. Me! His brother! The one he thought he could trust above all! I can’t wait for the day when I get to set my plans into motion.”
Rafiki moved a little and a branch broke off and landed right in front of Scar.
“What was that?”
Scar stopped. He looked up and his expression changed.
‘I dink he may have spotted me.’
Rafiki shrunk into the tree a little bit, trying to hide himself from Scar.
After a few moments of intense squinting, Scar looked down again and shook his head.
“Hmm. That’s odd. I thought there was someone in that tree. Must just be the wind.”
Scar started walking again, presumably off to the Elephant Graveyard.
Rafiki dared not move until Scar was out of earshot.
As soon as Scar was out of earshot, Rafiki quickly climbed back up the braches to the main area of his tree, once again among his various fruits and things.
Rafiki sat down in the middle of the large flat opening. He was not surprised much, he knew that Scar despised Mufasa, but Rafiki did not know that Scar would go as far to kill him in cold blood.
‘Should I tell Mufasa, or should I let de circle of life go on undisturbed?’
Rafiki paced around his tree for a while, trying to decide whether he would say something or not.
After a while laid down to rest. He had decided to not interfere. Nature will take its course. If it was meant to be, he would let it happen.
***
The next morning Rafiki awoke at sunrise to a warm day with no clouds in the sky, and a little cooling wind. He had awoken with a changed mind.
‘No, I must tell Mufasa. I couldn’t live with the guilt of knowing but never warning.’
Rafiki waited, giving what he thought as enough time for Mufasa to wake up, have his breakfast and get ready for another day of ruling.
In this space of time between Rafiki waking up and going to see Mufasa, Rafiki ate.
***
It was time to go. Rafiki grabbed his stick and leapt down from his tall tree. He landed on the dusty ground with a little thud. Brushing himself off and standing up straight, Rafiki turned in the rough direction Pride Rock was in, hesitated for a moment, and then started to go towards Pride Rock.
It took about half an hour for Rafiki to walk to Pride Rock.
When Rafiki arrived at Pride Rock, he was greeted by a sight he had never seen before.
Mufasa was standing below Pride Rock, and various animals were surrounding him. Mufasa looked a little distressed, a little tired. All the animals were arguing with each other and pushing and shoving and making whatever loud noise they could.
‘Ah, de king looks very busy today.’
“Please, please, everyone be quiet for a moment. One at a time. No pushing. Sir, were you really at the front. Everyone please just… Just everyone calm down, I need… Just…”
Fed up with the squabbling, Mufasa let out a mighty roar which significantly quietened the squabbling animals. They all stopped what they were doing and looked at Mufasa.
“Okay, now, everyone, listen to me. You will line up in the order you got here and I will deal with all your problems. No pushing, I will get to all of you. Just make it quick, my son is waiting for me.”
Without another noise, all the animals obeyed and lined up in front of Mufasa. There was not much pushing or talking. At the end, the animal at the front of the line was a female zebra.
“Right, now madam, what’s your problem?”
‘I might be here for a while.’
And Rafiki was there for a while. Mufasa kept to his word and went through every single animal there without any complaints from any of the animals. Some of the animals at the back of the line started to get a bit pushy towards the end, but that as about it.
As soon as Mufasa had finished consulting with the last animal, he walked up Pride Rock and went into the den, soon after re-emerging with Simba. They both strolled off in the opposite direction to Rafiki. Simba looked excited to be getting a lesson with his father, and Mufasa looked happier being with his son then with that horde of animals.
‘Oh well, let dem be together. Mufasa deserves it. He’ll be here tomorrow anyway.’
After half a day of waiting for nothing, Rafiki made the half-hour trek back to his tree, not very worried at all.
Rafiki did that night what he did every other night; eat, talk to the great kings, meditate, paint on his tree, meditate some more.
After this nightly routine, he went to sleep for the day.
***
Rafiki woke up the next morning, and decided to allow Mufasa a little more time before he went to talk to him. It was quite a good day, the sun was out, there were few clouds in the sky and it was quite warm.
Rafiki spent the whole time meditating and painting on the trunk of his tree, as well as having a nice breakfast of fruit. It was around midday when Rafiki hopped down from his tree and made the trek towards Pride Rock for the second time in two days.
It was a little warmer than what it had been yesterday, and there were more clouds today than what there was yesterday.
***
As Rafiki was nearing Pride Rock, he saw a herd of wildebeest peacefully grazing near the gorge.
Rafiki also stopped for a moment. He thought he had seen Scar under a nearby rock.
No, it was his imagination playing tricks on him.
He shrugged off his worry and continued to Pride Rock, arriving shortly after.
He got to the base of Pride Rock and looked around. No Mufasa surrounded by animals this time.
‘Good, he may not be busy.’
Rafiki walked up Pride Rock, experiencing déjà vu from Simba’s presentation day. He got to the top and brushed himself off; he had gotten dusty climbing up Pride Rock, and walked into the den.
“Mufasa. Mufasa!”
‘Hmm. He’s not here. Maybe I could ask one of de lionesses.’
Rafiki took one final sweep of the den, and then turned and walked back out, being greeted by a lioness.
“Excuse me; have you happened to see de king anywhere?”
“Hmm, I saw him earlier, but I haven’t seen him lately. Have you checked the waterhole?”
“No, I haven’t checked dere, I’ll go now. Thank you.”
“No problem.”
Rafiki walked back down Pride Rock and to the waterhole, encountering no other lionesses along the way. When he arrived at the waterhole though, he saw Sarabi, and Sarabi saw him. Sarabi came over to him.
“Good afternoon Rafiki, what brings you here?”
“I happen to be looking for Mufasa, hive you see hi m anywhere?”
“Sorry, I haven’t.”
“Thank you anyway.”
Rafiki turned and walked off, and was just starting wonder where else he could look when Sarabi called out again.
“Wait!”
Rafiki turned back around to face Sarabi.
“I think I may have seen him rushing off into the gorge. What he’s doing I don’t…”
“Thank you very much!”
‘Scar must have already put de plan into motion! I must hurry to de gorge to see if I can prevent anyding!’
Without another word, Rafiki turned and started to run off to the gorge, leaving Sarabi to cough in his dust.
‘I hope I’m not too late.’
***
Rafiki arrived at the edge of the gorge, and what he saw made terror tear through his body.
What he saw was the worst thing that could have happened.
He had found Mufasa, dangling from a ledge with Scar standing over him and Simba witnessing the events before him.
‘I’m too late.’
Rafiki had arrived just in time. Just in time to see Mufasa get murdered. He watched the events unfold before him.
Scar threw Mufasa off the ledge, Simba yelled out. The stampede ceased. The dust settled. Simba ran down to his father and crawled under his forelegs, crying.
Scar approached Simba, and Rafiki wondered how Simba would react to his father’s killer.
Rafiki was surprised as Simba showed no hostility towards Scar at all, even accepting false comfort from Scar.
That surprise soon gave way to realisation. Simba hadn’t seen Scar, only Mufasa.
Scar leaned in close to Simba and said a few words. Simba started to run.
The hyenas walked up behind Scar. Scar said two words and the hyenas responded and ran after Simba. Rafiki lost sight of them and assumed the worst.
‘I can’t believe dis has happened.’
Quite depressed that the evil Scar would now be the ruler of the Pride Lands, and would surely run it into the ground, Rafiki turned and walked sadly back home to his tree, feeling a little guilty.
***
Rafiki sat in the middle of his tree. Scar had been declared the new king of the Pride Lands, and Simba and Mufasa had been proclaimed dead. Rafiki mourned and put a smudge through his painting of Simba that sat on the trunk of the massive tree.
Rafiki felt defeated, he had tried, but failed to keep one of the greatest kings he had seen alive.
But, Rafiki came to the conclusion that this was always meant to happen.
Rafiki accepted this and moved on eventually, still hoping that someone would come along and release the poor Pridelander lionesses from the reign of Scar. But in every monarchy there is always a downfall, and this was the time for the Pride Lands.
Stroy 2:
Like Father, Like Son: show
Like Father, Like Son [AU!]
It was quiet in the gorge. The dust cleared, all was deathly still and something in the air seemed to be amiss. Thick clouds hung—the remainders of the stampede, the rowdy hordes of frightened animals which had, due simply to fear rather than any sort of premeditated malevolence, trodden the ground into a uniform, beaten swath of dry, dusty earth which hung there, parching the narrowing, winding throat of the land.
Once there had been wide rivers here, but now they were no more.
Once there had been lush grass and herds of animals here, but now they were no more.
… Once there had been a king living and breathing here, but now he, too, was no more.
The dark lion stood in the middle of the gorge looking guilty, for he had nothing to hide. There was no one here to witness him, no one but himself and the spirits which were said to inhabit the gorge… including one just separated from its body: that of his brother, no doubt occupying the space around him as he set down his paw. Blood tipped his claws, which accounted for the gaping, crimson wound amid his older brother’s auburn mane.
He licked it off, but it was useless. He still had the uneasy sensation of caked blood under his fingernails, and no matter how many times he inspected it, it seemed to linger there, much like the last, ragged gasps of the golden lion before he’d fallen.
Fallen off the ledge. So far. A precipitous drop to doom. To destiny. For his destiny was, surely, to die. The Pridelands could not bear him forever.
He told himself that, that he was the instrument of inevitable change, and that he was justified… but no matter how many times he repeated it, there was no sense that that was what he truly felt. There was only a gaping uncertainty, a vast pit of doubt inside him. The truth was that he didn’t know, and that the line between right and wrong had been permanently, irrevocably blurred.
One more uneasy, silent glance at the cooling, outstretched body, and he turned away, putting his back to it. No use in mourning the dead when he had yet to attend to the living. His twig-like limbs tread the distance across the gorge, slowly creeping. Slowly moving. Yet each of his limbs creaked under bearing the burden of his body, skinny as it was.
“Simba?” he whispered as softly as he could manage, voice hoarse from dust, “where are you?”
He approached a grotto, dark and hunched under the massive rocks of the gorge, with a figure equally doubled over and huddled towards the back wall. Shadows covered his face, making his soft, cub-like features jut out and give him the appearance of being older than he really was. His eyes especially bore into him from the depths of their sockets, a frightened glint invading them like a phantom.
Simba had stayed here, as he had told him, through it all, too shocked and afraid to move. And in this moment, despite his appearance, the absence of his usual swagger and princely air revealed a normal, innocent cub inside.
There was still a chance.
“Thank the spirits…”
His voice was surprisingly strained, which seemed to tip the cub off that something was wrong. He backed away, back into the wall.
“U-u-uncle… where is he? Where’s Dad? He’s here with you, isn’t he? Uncle?” His face dropped, energy and hope fading. “… Uncle?”
“Simba…” he repeated, arm reaching out. His limb twisted, hoping to embrace the cub in a hug. He felt him for a moment, felt the golden lump of fur and the heartbeat in his arms… at first slow and soft, but in a moment hammering and furious. He felt those claws yet again—still small, yet already sharp—digging into his arm, near where the evidence from his last scratching had not yet healed over. He leapt back, exclaiming in pain, though the fury of the little cub before him was inherently enough to pry his attention from his troubles.
“No! NO! He can’t… he can’t be!” He cried out, whirling around the cave as he looked about, panicked, searching for his father as he bolted out into the merciless sunlight shining down on the gorge. Scar followed listlessly with his silent, weary tread, knowing from the start that this would happen. He expected it… yet it was easily ten times more disquieting to witness it firsthand, as it only augmented his guilt. There was nothing he could do to soothe him as he cuddled under his father’s paw, sobbing into the golden, chilly fur. He stood for a moment, distant, unused to seeing the cub cry.
It was clear that it touched him deeply.
“Simba… Simba, no need to cry. He’s gone,” he grunted absently, trying to ignore his own pricks of emotion as his nephew waited there momentarily, simply letting the tears flow softly and steadily down his face in gentle streams. He sniffed, nose contorting into a wrinkled shape before he wiped it with his arm.
“You… you don’t understand… this is my fault. I could have done something. I could’ve warned him… I could’ve… I could’ve…” he began to rave, retreating from under his father’s paw as the intensity grew in his voice. “I could have saved him, Uncle Scar… if it weren’t for those cursed hyenas!”
His voice swelled with anger, and Scar saw briefly, in that flash of a moment, the coming true of his worst fears. He saw Mufasa in that little cub. Mufasa, his brother, his greatest oppressor. And as of now, that little cub, that possible future despot, was leaping about the gorge without care, swiping at the rocks, screaming at them, the distraught emotions playing out second after horrifying second.
“When I’m king, I’ll kill every last one of them! I’ll… I’ll… make them pay. I could’ve saved him.”
Simba was blaming himself, but Scar would have none of it, for he knew where the guilt truly lay. He saw the hyenas perched on the cliffs like vultures, waiting for the king to climb to refuge before they swooped down and threw him to his doom. And he saw himself, after his brother’s fall, swiping his claws down his throat. He instinctively looked down at them, expecting to see them dripping with the sanguine blood he knew had been attached to him… but there was nothing. Both paws had already been licked clean during the hazy moments following his brother’s last breath.
“Simba…” he squeaked, slightly choked and unsure of how to comfort him without giving away the truth, “… this was bound to happen. There was nothing you could have done. Now come, we’re going home.”
“No!” he shouted in between his watery sobs, rebuking him, “no, you’re going home! You’re going to go home and forget this ever happened! You don’t understand, Uncle Scar.” He turned away, and Scar thought that perhaps he was calming himself… until he looked to find the cub hunched over, teeth digging deeply into his own paw and face scrunched into an expression of deep, self-imposed pain.
“Now that’s enough of that!” Scar cuffed him, paw clenching his scruff protectively, “go home, Simba!”
The cub whimpered, the anger dissipating and dissolving in his wet, salty tears as he stay there silently, still clearly innocent and vulnerable… no matter how much alike he and Mufasa appeared. After a moment Scar released him tentatively, pity overtaking him.
“I won’t forget your father,” he muttered softly, tail lashing as he turned to face the mutilated body, “but I must stay. Go back to Pride Rock—I’m sure your mother and Nala would love to see you, hmm?”
He nodded, for he had no strength to do anything else. Slowly, and with a slowness and weariness that deeply worried the older lion, Simba gathered his strength and walked on down the gorge, head hung in a way Scar had never seen it.
And suddenly he felt ashamed.
Alas, it wasn’t like that was anything new, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that this… the pain he had caused his nephew… meant that the effort he had made, and the cold corpse lying by his side, were not quite worth it. He looked out sadly, unsure, eyes laced with worry.
“What in spirit’s name am I going to do with you, boy?”
“Good question,” a rough voice sounded from his rear. He spun around. “… but I think we’ve got an answer. Whadda you think, Banzai? You agree?”
“What do you want?” He spoke bluntly, eyes half-closed and his mindset clearly not in the mood to deal with the hyenas, his companions and accomplices. This was too much at one time to deal with… not to mention that he didn’t want to be seen with them, no matter how much their dirty little selves interested him or how long he’d had dealings with their kind.
“Oh, I’m sorry, King Scar, is it so wrong that we would want something, after what we’ve done?” Shenzi cooed, malice shining in her eyes as it usually did.
“Yeah!” Her brother spoke up, expression careless and irritated, “we got rid’a your brother for ya! Aren’t we gonna get somethin’?”
“Hush, now, Banzai. That ain’t necessary… perhaps he’d rather’ve had him escape. Mufasa prob’ly would’ve had his hide tanning on the top of Pride Rock by now.”
The third of their trio, Ed, laughed absently, approaching Scar until he was uncomfortably close. A trickle of saliva flopped about limply at the edges of his jaw, one hanging rivulet flying off and landing square on their leonine ally’s nose. He scrunched it in distaste.
“What do you want?” He repeated more emphatically than before, expression unchanged.
“I want the cub,” she spoke with an equal flatness, teeth bared in a slight growl. “How’s that sound? Fair enough?”
“I can’t do that, I’m afraid,” he spoke without hesitation, “he’s mine. I’ll take him as my own, and teach him what Mufasa failed to.”
“How nice.” She moved closer, something in her posture slightly threatening. “I never thought of you as one ta leave a job unfinished, Scar. Why, that’d be… shameful. You got rid’a the father… now finish what you started.”
“Why are you so intent on this?” He shot back, uncomfortable. “I have no cubs of my own. He shall be my heir and keep his position.”
“Keep his position as our oppressors! I’m not gonna have a spawn of Mufasa sittin’ on your throne—that’s goin’ too far!”
He backed up slightly, her voice carrying a vehemence which was unusual for her and rather grating. His nerves frayed, though his expression was still blithely indifferent in the midst of their uncouth levity.
“What does it matter to any of you? It’s not as if you’re living here.” His eyes darted towards them sharply, the glint there showing his inability to back down on the subject. Indeed, he knew about oppression—far better than they did. It wasn’t as if Mufasa was literally breathing down their necks… he simply sent spies to watch the Elephant Graveyard every now and then. The hyenas didn’t exactly fight against him: they simply lived on their own, autonomously, in their ancestral home. Why should they care, and why did they see fit to lecture him?
“Leave me be,” he turned away, ignoring her attempts at arguing back and the ferocious, indignant glance she sent as he dismissed them. But there were no more words from her throat—at least not to him. She watched him slink away quietly, and turned to Banzai once he had withdrawn from the range of hearing.
“Bastard. I dunno what Mother saw in him sometimes.”
Ed began to giggle, though as his laugh continued, his face—previously staring in no particular direction and flopping about in laxness—tensed, his eyes becoming intensely lucid as his crazed giggle became a dark chuckle. He looked to her knowingly, expression brutal and rather angered.
“Guess it runs in the family,” he spoke simply, “I’d recommend finding that cub. If he won’t repay the good turn we’ve done for him, we will have to do so ourselves.”
He took a few steps forward, paws tapping against the ground and walking, without pause, past the dead body of the monarch they’d helped destroy. Banzai grumbled, trying to keep up with the increased pace the bold hyena set, though finally he glanced back at them, expression questioning.
“You two coming?”
Simba lay at the edge of a gulley, his visage bored as he studied the dry, desiccated landscape.
Dry weeds blew in the wind, which ruffled his soft, golden fur. His head lay on his paws, eyebrows a flattened line over his sunken, melancholic eyes. There was little life in them, and this was expressed simply by the wistful sigh he gave as the wind stopped.
Pride Rock towered in the distance. He should have been over there instead, but alas, he didn’t want to go home, despite himself. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, even though it was what his uncle told him. His uncle, who had leapt in and saved him from the deadly stampede. But he couldn’t go back and see the lionesses, his mother, or Nala… he didn’t feel like playing, or talking about what happened. He just wanted to be alone. It was unlike him, true, but his thoughts demanded that he stay by himself, sitting quietly to ponder everything over again at the very edge.
The Pridelands were quiet. They always were. Thusly, it didn’t matter much where he stopped to rest, although this place was one of his favorites. Far in the distance he could see the sands of the desert, the greenery of the jungle, the snowcapped peaks of the mountains. Lands beyond where his father ruled, and beyond where he would rule one day. Yet they looked so beautiful, so pristine, so perfect in the distance. He almost reached out, almost extended his paw out to touch it…
Snap!
His head jerked, sharp ears pricking as they recognized the sound of one of the many dry twigs of the land being cracked under the weight of a paw. Instantly he stood up and whirled around, claws extended defensively as he continued to listen, although the intruding forces made no efforts to conceal themselves.
“… H-hyenas…” he backed up, terrified face belying his inner anger despite himself as the air around him became alight with cacophonous, crazed cackles. “Stay back, I’m not afraid of you!” His ears were pinned back, countenance becoming determined as he planted himself to the ground, refusing to show his fear.
That was what his father would have wanted after all, even if it didn’t stop her from laughing at him.
“Wrong choice, kid.” The normally crazed hyena spoke up, a brutal grin appearing across his maw as he leapt at him, claws extended and teeth closing in, aiming for his neck. Simba sidestepped, dodged, did as he was taught… and was able to scratch one of them across the eye. He heard a yowl of pain and tried to leap through the trio jumping at him. If he could escape, if he could get back to Pride Rock, then maybe he could get help. Maybe Uncle Scar would be there, maybe—
“Ack!” He felt something on his tail, body jerking back and refusing to sprint forwards as he was pressed to the ground by a hyena. Banzai growled as he clawed his prey across the face, Simba wincing as the hyenas continued to laugh and giggle in fits of mirth.
“We killed your father… and now we’re gonna kill you! Ahahahahahahahahaha!”
Simba gritted his teeth before turning and sinking both his claws and his incisors into the hyena’s foreleg. He may have been small, but it was enough for him to draw back his paw, enabling him to run. To sprint and bolt and lope across the ground as he sought refuge, just long enough to lose sight of them.
Shenzi, however, unbeknownst to him, hid behind a nearby boulder, somehow knowing that Banzai would not be able to hold him and repositioning herself accordingly. And as the cub ran towards the dazzling heights of Pride Rock, he unwittingly ran closer to his doom.
He made his way towards the looming figure that encompassed him, greeting his body with a harsh collision. A short scrapping of claws and he was already falling to the ground, head throbbing, heart pounding as his blood frothed and gushed from new, open wounds he was barely aware of. He lay there, writhing, trying to get up, though all he could see were the two, then four, then six beady, yellow eyes, which in their seeming evil appeared like demons inside his field of view. He continued to growl and struggle, though it was but a moment before he was briefly aware of the smacking sound.
The blow to his head knocked him out shortly, his vision turning completely back and the last thing he heard being the harsh, merciless cackling of the hyenas who had so pitilessly attacked him.
“Hurry up. We don’t want the lions to know what happened.”
Banzai and Shenzi walked across the parched earth carefully, neither responding as they both clenched their teeth around one of Simba’s hind legs. They dragged his body across the ground, trying to avoid leaving a trail of blood as his ragged, unconscious self neared the edge. The three looked down.
“Think this’ll do the trick?”
Each of them pondered it a moment, noticing the jagged, brush-studded boulders and taking the height of the drop into account. For below—far, far below, it seemed—the land opened up from its narrow, rocky gulch and spread out into the wide, dusty plains bordering the desert. Even if he lived, disoriented, injured, and unable to find his way home, he would likely wander into the desert and to his death.
And so Shenzi nodded.
“Alright… on three we’re gonna throw him off the cliff… like father, like son.” She shrugged, picking up one of his legs and gritting her teeth around it. The other two prepared themselves briefly, and then did so, hoping that the lions would not find out of their crime. After all, Simba was so close to the edge… it looked so much like an accident. They watched the golden body tumble and fall, smacking into some of the rugged, ragged landscape as he did so. The trio winced despite themselves, and after several moments of studying his still, seemingly dead form lying placidly on the edge of a tuft of grass, they turned around and fled without another word.
Moments passed. Then minutes, then hours. The sun flew its course across the sky, distant vultures perked up and charted their course towards the cub in expectation of a free meal. The day crept slowly onwards, no creatures moved about and nothing batted an eye in the heat of the desert day.
What they didn’t realize was that the cub would open his eyes. And as he did, struggling and standing on shaky feet as he battled with his own band of vulture followers, he looked to the horizon. Remembering nothing. Seeing, but not understanding.
And in that moment he set off, unknowingly leaving his home and his world behind. For he would be back and he would find the truth—one day, some day, despite what they thought. But for now, like his father, he was no more than a dead lion walking, aimlessly wandering the deserts as he sought the home, memories, and purpose he’d now long forgotten.
Story 3:
Not How it Was Supposed to Be: show
Not How it Was Supposed to Be
Mufasa let out a long sigh as he let Rafiki fuss over his mane and fur in order to make sure that the king looked respectable. Mufasa himself didn't care much about looking formal towards whatever delegates and representatives might show up and become upset if he looked anything but top-notch, but now more than ever, Mufasa wanted to plead with Rafiki to allow him to look like himself. He didn't want to look like a grand king, the ruler of the Pride Lands, but now more than ever, he wanted to look like himself. Like a father.
Because today Simba is coming home from war.
Just thinking about it made Mufasa look forwards to the event even more. All those sleepiness nights, the midnight talks with Sarabi, never knowing if they'll ever see their son alive again. Not even the first nor last cease of hostilities meetings that Mufasa had to be in compared to when Zazu flew in as fast as he could, barely able to pant out the news that the war finally ended and that Simba would be coming back in a short time.
A sharp tug on his mane tore Mufasa out of his thoughts. “Rafiki, are you done yet?” He forced himself not to growl as more of his mane felt like it was being torn off. After all, Rafiki was really going out of his way to make sure that Mufasa looked even better than Sarabi can make him.
From behind him, the mandrill chuckled. “Rafiki's almost done, Mufasa! In de mean time, did you finish going over the latest reports?”
Mufasa let out a low groan, knowing that it was Rafiki's way of trying to distract him from the torment of getting his large mane brushed off. But the last thing he felt like doing at the moment was reading. Not even knowing of the concept when he grew up, Mufasa had to quickly learn when it became apparent that even Zazu won't be able to keep up with all the news coming in. But no matter how much effort he put in, reading was a slow and tedious process that Mufasa never even dared to try without Sarabi next to him and helping out.
He felt a tang of jealousy towards his queen. Even though Mufasa knew that Sarabi helped him read as much as she could, if only from that paranoia induced fear that if they got a message that Simba was killed, that they both find out at the same time. But despite all of that, Sarabi never actually had to learn to read. She wanted to out of her own free will.
Among other things that she didn't have to do, Sarabi didn't have a mane that needed combing, an opportunity she quickly took to watch for Simba's return from Pride Rock instead of staying inside the den, trying to ignore a fussy monkey.
“Rafiki's done, your highness!”
Mufasa just about bolted out of the den as soon as Rafiki announced that he was done, but not without giving his thanks, of course. Careful not to ruin his new appearance, no matter how much he wanted to, Mufasa rushed towards Sarabi. He sat down next to her, noticing with slight amusement how she had to physically stop herself from nuzzling, an act that would give he a stern scolding from Rafiki for.
Quietly, he asked what he yearned for the most. “Are they here yet?”
Sarabi motioned with a paw. “A group just arrived on the Western border. I think it's them.”
The king followed where she pointed at, and sure enough, a small group of lions was making it's way towards Pride Rock. “I thought it'd be bigger...” Worry coursed through Mufasa: Surely the return group should be bigger! Suppressing his fears, Mufasa forced himself to think that this was not them, but simply another group of lions.
“I don't think it's them. Keep looking, will you? I need to check on the others to make sure that they're ready as well, and I think I'll send Zazu to confirm who this group is.” As carefully as he allowed himself, Mufasa gently bumped his head with Sarabi's before walking back down to where the rest of the pride was.
First things first, the king spotted Zazu and quickly informed him of the group. The bird nodded before swiftly taking off and flying away. Turning back to the pride, Mufasa scanned over them. While they won't have to look as overly neat as him, they still needed to look presentable. “Right, are you all ready? They can be back at any moment, and I don't want any last minute surprises.” He scanned the pride more carefully again. “Sarafina, you need to wash you face. The top of your nose has some dirt on it. You three, make sure that the den is spotless...” Most of the time, the pride would have complained if Mufasa took this much control over them, but for today they allowed him to micromanage their lives. After all, some of them also had something to look forwards to.
Nodding in confirmation that the pride was in order, Mufasa mentally went over the things that needed to be done before anyone came home. As far as he was aware, he had everything in order... Oh wait, except one thing. Not knowing if it was worth the effort, Mufasa made his way towards the small guest dens at the side of Pride Rock.
Entering the farthest one away from the main den, the king spotted what he was looking for. “Scar, may I talk to you for a moment?”
The scrawny dark lion rose from his near-slumber and followed Mufasa outside. “Oh, what is it that you want now?” Scar didn't bother to hide his distaste at having to do anything for Mufasa.
The king sighed quietly. “Scar, please. I only want to ask you a favor. As you know, Simba is coming back home today, and-”
“-And why should I care? He's your son, go ahead and do what you want, but let me be.”
“Scar, please... He's your nephew! If not for me, be there for him. I'm not asking you to do it for me, because I also know that you don't care about these matters, but would you at east do it for Simba? Do you realize how much it will mean to him to see his favorite uncle when he comes back?”
“You mean his only uncle...”
“All the more reason! Scar, come on, just this once.”
Scar made an exaggerated display of thinking. “Oh, alright. I'll do it for the little hairball.”
Mufasa smiled. “Thank you Scar! You have no idea how much it will mean to him and-”
“Don't push it, Mufasa! Annoy me too much, and I won't be there for your precious little Simba.”
“I... very well, Scar. I'll send Zazu for when it's time... and don't eat him.” With that, Mufasa left his brother, not wanting to gamble with how much he can get out of Scar before losing it all and not have Scar do anything at all.
Hurrying back up to Pride Rock, Mufasa rejoined Sarabi at the top of Pride Rock, who was with Rafiki now. “So, any news?”
It was Rafiki who answered. “Yes, Rafiki has got news for you: WHAT WERE YOU DOING, Mufasa? Already your mane...” And once again, Mufasa felt the tugging as Rafiki made sure that he looked at his best. Surely he couldn't gotten this messy already...
Sarabi let her tail touch his as a sign of acknowledgment. “Only that first group. No on else came in.”
Mufasa frowned. It was around now that Simba and the others should be coming into the Pride Lands, and yet there was no sign of anyone else. As if to answer his thoughts, Zazu swooped in and landed in front of the royal couple.
“Oh there you are, sire. That group you wanted me to look for... it is them!”
Mufasa's eyes widened. “What? Them? Come on Sarabi,we don't have that much time left then!” If it was them, why was the group so small? “Zazu! Go and get Scar. You can find him at his cave.” Zazu nodded and flew off again, leaving the three to make their way back down.
To make things worse, Mufasa had to walk down slowly, making sure not to anger Rafiki even more over the state of his fur. The very familiar way down to the meeting area felt like an eternity, each step a lifetime, as Mufasa realized that now, finally, Simba was back.
Either Zazu already told them, or the rest of the pride figured it out, but by the time Mufasa reached them, they were assembled and ready to great their fellow pride members back properly. Out of the corner of his eye, Mufasa spotted Scar following Zazu towards them. “Alright everyone... this is the day we have all been waiting for. Let's not ruin it for them.”
In hushed silence, the pride waited for the first of the group to show up on the path leading down from the meeting area to the savanna.
To Mufasa's annoyed predictions, the first one to come was not a Pridelander. The lion walked a few more steps before stopping. He cleared his throat. “On behalf of the united kingdoms and unified armies of...” Thankfully this time, the speech was rather short, and didn't give Mufasa enough time to get a quick nap. “With your permission, Mufasa, I would like to welcome your pride members back.”
Mufasa nodded, even though inside he wondered why in the world he needed to give permission for his pride to return home. It wasn't like the entire pride wasn't waiting anxiously for weeks already after the news came...
And then the moment they were all waiting for happened.
Nala was the first to step up. She was grinning widely as the pride whooped and hollered for her return. Quickly rushing forwards to Sarafina, she embraced her mother in a deep hug. Mufasa felt some sadness that it wasn't Simba who was the first to come to them, but it's not like he had to wait much longer anyways...
Amidst the cheering, Mufasa heard Sarafina talking to Nala.
“How's Mheetu? Is he here?”
“No, mom. But he's fine... he'll be back after a week or so. That's what I've been told.”
“What happened to him? Nala...”
“He's fine, mom! He's just going to be arriving afterwards.”
From Nala's tone, Mufasa felt like she was hiding something from her mother. He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach that told him that she was hiding more than just news on Mheetu...
Tojo was next. This time, the lion stopped in front of Mufasa and bowed his head slightly, a gesture that the king returned.
“Tojo, you look... different.” It was true. Not only did Tojo age quite a bit since Mufasa had last seen him, but he was much more muscular as well.
“Yeah. And you don't have to worry about me tripping all the time now either. Now excuse me, but my family...”
The two of them laughed briefly at the little joke, and Tojo made his way into the pride and to his family and the awaiting hugs.
Finally, it was Simba's turn.
Mufasa didn't realize that he was holding his breath until he he felt that Sarabi was holding hers as well. Simba stopped in front of them, as though waiting for something. Mufasa and Sarabi broke into a wide smile.
“Welcome home, son.”
Sarabi reached out and just like everyone else before, grabbed Simba and pulled him into a tight hug. Mufasa joined them, closing his eyes and allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of his son next to him once more. Simba returned the hug, gripping onto his parents so tightly that it was as though he will never let them go again.
Eventually though, let go of them, Simba did. Mufasa leaned back in order to get a good look at his son. The feeling of happiness he felt now at seeing his son again was so great that he almost didn't know what to say.
As he looked over his son, Mufasa's smile slowly faltered as he realized something was wrong. Even though Simba was looking back at them, it looked as though he wasn't focused on neither him nor Sarabi, but rather something behind them. It was as though Simba was looking right through them, like they weren't even there.
“...Simba, are you alright?”
Their son barely reacted. He just turned his head slightly more towards Mufasa, but still continued to stare at something very far away. Mufasa tried again.
“...Simba...?” Even Sarabi tried asking, but it didn't seem like their son was hearing them.
Instead of replying, Simba simply gave a slight nod before getting up and slowly inside the den, unaware of the much more joyous atmosphere around him. It was hard not to notice the limp that disrupted his otherwise monotonic stride.
Feeling confused and hurt, Mufasa glanced at Sarabi, and without speaking both of them reached the same conclusion. Together they got up and followed their son. Scar causally strolled over, a sly grin on his muzzle.
“Well dear brother, it appears that you were wrong about my nephew wanting me to be here. But seeing as he doesn't appear to want anyone to be here, I will make an exception and-”
Mufasa had to stop himself from lunging at Scar and making a scene. “Not now, Scar!” His tone left even the normally emotionless Scar shocked stiff.
Mufasa and Sarabi made their way into the den without further incident, and found Simba at the far end, lying on the floor and staring at the wall next to him, unmoving. It was very odd for him to prefer the cold dark cave over the festivities just outside. If it wasn't clear before, it was very visible now that something was very wrong with Simba.
It hurt to see their son like this, but Mufasa slowly approached him slowly. “Simba, are you alright?” Simba didn't react at all this time, continuing to stare at the wall. “...Simba, what's wrong? Can you tell us what happened?”
It was the voice of Tojo than answered them.
“He won't answer you, Mufasa.” Mufasa and Sarabi turned to see Tojo at the entrance of the den, looking grimly at Simba. “He... doesn't even talk anymore. At least, I haven't seem him talk for some time now.”
“Tojo? what do you mean?”
“The war. What else? I think it was Malka's death that really lead Simba to being like this...” As if to prove his point, upon hearing Malka's name, Simba turned quickly towards Tojo, a hopeful grin on his face that went away immediately and the lion returned to staring at the wall. His breathing became rough and sporadic, as though he was trying not to cry.
Mufasa and Sarabi stared at their son helplessly. “Tojo, what can we do? If he's going to be like this for... for...”
Tojo walked over to Simba and whispered something into his ear. Simba nodded a few times before getting up and walking back outside.
“What did you just do, Tojo?”
“Relax, Mufasa. He's going to be with Nala for now. Like I said about Malka... Simba took his death very hard, and he basically listens to only a few of us since then. But to answer your first question... I don't know.”
Mufasa felt anger rise up in him. Simba was not supposed to be this broken husk of a lion! He's supposed to be like how he was before he left: full of life and even mischief. “Well what do you know then?” he demanded.
Tojo stared back with a knowing look. “Well...”
From the editing, I think it's safe to say that you can expect three rather depressing stories. Hopefully they'll still be good enough to gather up some votes, no?
Voting will end on Monday, May 20th.
Voting rules are: Don't vote for yourself, and don't vote for a story that you simply know was written by a friend. Don't ask others to vote for your story either. Read each one carefully and give all the stories the same consideration before you make your decision.
Good luck to you writers, and have a great time readers! Remember to vote!
