[quote]Story 1:
A Kingdoms Descent: show
A Kingdom’s Descent
Ahadi lay on his deathbed, and everyone knew it was soon Mufasa’s time to rise to the throne. Many had great faith in the golden prince, as he was the far more kingly of the two in most ways. Some were saddened, however, to see the passing of his father, others were glad. One who was neither was the second prince, Taka, or rather, Scar.
He lay at a distance on the morning of Mufasa’s ascension to the throne, in a place where he could not see his brother’s ceremony, though he could certainly hear it. Growing up, Taka and Mufasa had often disagreed and failed to see eye-to-eye. Mufasa had always been cocky and proud, not mean because of it, but foolish and reckless. Taka had been clever and curious, always taking note of things and using his head. There had been many occasions during royal lessons when Mufasa had tried to use weak methods to solve problems in scenarios described by their father, and it was obvious that he rarely paid attention.
That’s why the announcement that Mufasa was to be Ahadi’s successor had deeply troubled and even wounded Taka. He knew that his brother would ruin the kingdom that he loved so dearly. He had spoken to his father about it in secret after that event, but he could not sway the king. And now, he could hear the new king laying claim to the kingdom, dooming them all.
As the time passed, many could not see the problems Mufasa was already creating. The lands were still lush, and prey plentiful. The rains came and went and things seemed to be better than everㅡ but Scar could see the beginnings of the end when he watched his brother’s deeds.
Mufasa made treaties with the leaders of different herds, sometimes “gifting” the same land, same water, or same “special” privileges to multiple species simply because they asked for it. By the time Mufasa’s son was born, Scar saw the squabbles breaking out between the antelope and zebras for water. He saw the wildebeest and gazelle herds fight over pastures, and he saw the cheetahs and hyenas quarreling over hunting grounds.
“Brother, the kingdom crumbles beneath you,” he muttered as Mufasa walked past one evening, getting a glare from the king. In Mufasa’s eyes, Scar was merely envious of his position. He smiled to the lionesses as he dismissed his younger brother’s claims.
“The kingdom prospers,” he replied confidently, “the lands are green, the herds are fine, and there is harmony.”
Most of the lionesses nodded their heads in agreement, but Naanda looked to Scar, knowing what he knew, having observed it for herself. As Scar sauntered away from the pride to return to his secluded den, she followed him, her tail swishing with the swaying of her body.
“You have always been the more observant and wise brother,” she remarked.
“What of it?” Scar barked.
“You should be the king. Or at the very least he should listen to you as an advisor,” she continued.
“It is no use. My brother is too proud to accept my advice,” he replied.
“Then maybe he just needs to be outsmarted,” Naanda whispered, nuzzling the prince. “I have seen what you have seen, Taka. The other species grow restless and engage in power strugglesㅡ it is not good for the kingdom.”
“Indeed. It will tear the kingdom apart and Mufasa doesn’t even realize what he’s done,” Scar said with a hint of anger in his voice. “This kingdom needs a fresh start.”
“Maybe hearing it from someone other than you will make him see. I’ll talk to my sister, surely she can persuade him to take remedial action,” the lioness purred as she rubbed against the dark male. A smile creased his muzzle at her touch.
“Yes, perhaps you can. But tomorrow. Let’s just spend the night together first,” he said. She gave him a look that said she was all for that and the duo made their way into the darker part of his den.
The next morning, Naanda spoke with Sarabi. Her sister wouldn’t hear any of it though. She refused to believe that Mufasa was creating such problems, her darling mate was doing a wonderful job as king. The two argued for a while, but the scent of Scar all over Naanda only gave Sarabi more of a reason not to believe her sister’s words.
“You’re letting Scar poison your views of my husband,” she said harshly.
.
“No, it isn’t that! Look at the herds will you! Theyㅡ” Naanda protested.
“They continue life as normal, there is no need to worry. The land is lush, the food is plentiful, times have never been better,” Sarabi insisted. Little did she know that Mufasa was at that moment making another political decision that would one day aid in the destruction of the lands and the kingdom she thought was doing so well.
“They were hunting in our hunting grounds again Your Majesty,” a cheetah was telling Mufasa.
“Your hunting grounds?” the hyena called Shenzi barked, “The king promised these lands to my people!”
“That’s impossible, he promised them to us!” another cheetah snarled.
“Your Majesty, those hyenas have always been rotten, and now they’re trying to take our food that law dictates is ours. Do something,” the first cheetah protested.
“You’re right,” Mufasa agreed, narrowing his eyes at the hyena leader, “They aren’t trustworthy and aren’t playing well with others. It is my responsibility to do something.”
“You can’t be serious?” Shenzi asked, her jaw dropping.
“But I am. If you hyenas can’t hunt somewhere else, then you must be outcast to the Shadowlands.” If possible, the hyena’s jaw dropped even lower.
“What? That’s discrimination! You gave us these grounds first, you can’t banish us!”
“Hmph. I am the king, I can do whatever I want. So be it, the hyena clan is no longer welcome within the boundaries of this kingdom!”
Calls of approval rose from the collection of cheetahs present.
“Oh thank you wise king!”
“Mighty king!”
“Justice as it should be!”
But the hyenas had been slighted, and they were very hurt. Having been in the lands during this king’s entire reign up to this point, they knew they weren’t the only ones, and they had seen the gazelle herds beginning to migrate away from the Pridelands. Now they were being forced to do the same and driven to the depths of the most barren land that they knew of. The Shadowlands were desolate and vacant of life and harbored little water. A life there would mean eternally encroaching on the hunting grounds of other predators and making themselves become widely known as scum and thieves. It was the ultimate damnation.
When Scar learned of this, he knew that his brother had gone too far. The balance of the ecosystem had been set completely out of whack. It was time for him to do something and take charge. He and Naanda approached the king one day as he was on his way back from a partol, determined to set him straight.
“You should never have been made king,” Scar said as they met him in the grasses on his patrol route. It was deliberately done this way, to be secluded from the prying eyes and ears of the pride.
“Have you the brain worms?” Naanda asked, “Can’t you see the problems you’ve created?”
Mufasa snarled.
“My subjects adore me.”
“Not the hyenas,” Scar countered.
“Well who cares about hyenas? They’re nothing but slobbering, mangy, stupid poachers,” the king said, his ears flat against his skull and eyes narrowed.
“And that’s the thinking that will destroy us. It’s not only the hyenas you’ve wronged and driven away. The gazelle herds tire of sharing their pastures with the wildebeest and leave the Pridelands in search of food,” Naanda informed him.
“Without every animal, the balance of the Circle of Life is distorted! You need to fix this!” Scar shouted.
“Do not address me like a misbehaving cub!” snarled the king, throwing a paw at his brother and causing him to crumple to the ground.
“How dare you strike him when he’s trying to save your kingdom!” Naanda gasped, her eyes burning with fury as she circled nearer to the king. In a panic, he struck her as well, knocking the lioness aside. He turned his steely gaze back on Scar.
“You poisoned her mind, corrupted her, made her like you!” he spat. “Why, to try and use her to turn Sarabi on me?”
“I have poisoned nothing, she can see for herself! Think for herself!” he snarled as he rose.
“How dare you imply I am a slave to anyone’s thoughts!” Naanda hissed, rising to her paws. Furious, the lioness leapt at the king.
“You won’t destroy our home!” she crowed. Instinctively, Mufasa slashed as she drew near, his claws deeply raking her throat and making her collapse with a thud to the ground. Both his and Scar’s faces registered shock, and then Scar was at her side in an instant.
“Naanda…!”
“Taka…” she gasped, “I tried to reason with him… I tried…”
“No! Naanda, don’t leave me!”
As Scar mourned over her, Mufasa, feeling guilt and fear of his mate’s retribution when she learned of what he’d done to her half-sister, slunk away, making his way back towards Pride Rock. Scar didn’t even notice his brother’s departure, so wrapped up was he in worry for Naanda. The lioness was fading fast, the color slowly draining from her eyes.
“You… Taka… were always my king…” she wheezed, “Re-remember that…”
Scar watched the life drain from her, unable to say anything other than the occasional whispered “no.” When she was gone, he sobbed for a moment, unable to bear it. Then, filled with hatred for the creature that had done this horrible thing, the one who was destroying everything Scar loved, the dark prince turned his red tear-stained eyes towards Pride Rock. It was time to put an end to his brother’s reign. And with blood on his paws, Mufasa could not get out of this one.
When he returned to Pride Rock, however, he was met by accusing stares. When he told them Naanda had been murdered, holding back tears, they told him to get away and blamed him for her death. He didn’t understand until he noticed his brother hugging a weeping Sarabi from in front of the den. Mufasa had told them that Scar was responsible.
“You attacked our king!”
“When she defended him, you cut her down!”
“Murderer!”
Unable to convince them that it was Mufasa who had done it, Scar was finally able to quiet them by blaming the hyenasㅡ much as he hated to do so. It was then that he knew for sure that his brother had to go, and, unfortunately, young Simba too. It was the only way for him to inherit the throne and save the kingdom.
He sought out the hyena for help in his mission, knowing that those who shared the wounds inflicted by Mufasa would rally behind him. Knowing that he’d have to bring them back to the Pridelands to restore the balance.
After many months of sympathizing with the hyenas and making fast friends, Scar knew the time to act was at hand. If he waited much longer, things would continue to get worse. And his little nephew, who so idolized Mufasa, as most cubs would idolize their father, would grow and he too would be against Scar. As horrible of a thought as it was, the cub had to be done away with while he was small and weak.
Scar lured young Simba into the Elephant Graveyard with cleverly spun words, hoping his new friends could quickly get that over with without him having to harm a cub, but they failed. And so he opted for something more drastic, and set up a stampede to end his brother’s life and line. Unfortunately, though Mufasa was defeated by the storm of wildebeest, Simba survived. The thought of killing the cub left a bad taste in Scar’s mouth, but it had to be done. He wore a strong face as he told the boy to run before issuing the orders of his death to the hyenas.
His work done, the dark lion returned to Pride Rock, bringing the hyena with him, in an attempt to fix the mistakes his brother had made. But it was already too late. The rains were scarcer than normal, and the squabbling herds were driving each other out, not to mention the lionesses all had favored Mufasa and still blamed Scar for Naanda’s death. The once prosperous kingdom was already beginning to crumble as Scar ascended the throne, and he could never put the pieces back together.
Story 2:
Untitled: show
This day didn’t really differ from the others. Life in the Pridelands was static and predictable – for some it felt good, for some boring. Scar was definitely part of this second group.
Sometimes he wondered why is he still here. The one thing that kept him there was the comfort of having his piece of the ground (he slept in separate den, unlike the whole pride), enough water and food. But last time he rarely was on the Pride Rock; he had secret that no one knew. He finally found friends...if he could call them like that. They were hyenas. Scar could imagine what would Mufasa say if he only knew...He would banish him immediately. The old law says: no hyenas in the Pridelands. As a “king”, Mufasa had to obey those magnificent rules. So chasing and killing hyenas became his favourite activity.
Scar tried to protect hyenas as much as he could. But he knew it’s not that easy: they had to hunt. There was nothing on the Elephant Graveyard, so the hyenas had to enter the Pridelands. He was suprised that he spend his time with those idiots...They were moronical, but at the same time funny and...and they were freaks. Just like him.
All his life he spent as an outsider, weirdo. No one liked him, they accepted him but not necessarily wanted to talk to him. He was always seen as the king’s younger brother. Always in his shadow. That’s what he thought before, but now... Now he knew that the lionesses were just scared of him. So they did whatever he would say.
Scar remembered the day when he got the wound on his left eye. But then he used to be called Taka...
It was shortly after Ahadi’s death, Uru died a few days later. Mufasa took the throne, as he always was supposed to. Just after Rafiki, their new shaman, gave him that title, he did something that no one expected.
“I’m your new king” he said with his powerful voice. “But now I need a queen.”
The lionesses started to whisper: none of them was ever dating the young king. Taka was in the distance, in his den. He didn’t come to bow in front of his lovely older brother. He didn’t really need to truckle or cheer, that was better for those naive lionesses...He never accepted Mufasa as his king. He could be someone else’s king, but never HIS. Though Taka could hear his dumb speech – Mufasa had this loud, idiotical voice. Typical for someone who loved himself. Every single ant on the borders of the land must hear him, or he won’t feel fulfilled.
“I choose Sarabi!”, yelled Mufasa.
“What?!” gasped Sarabi; Taka first froze, then stood up. No, it couldn’t be true. No!
He knew Sarabi. She and her friend Sarafina were the only lionesses that liked him. Sarabi was different. She was friendly, honest, just different. She didn’t care about his weakness, about his lower station in the pride. Taka wasn’t a sociable lion in general, but he liked to talk with Sarabi. But with the time he realised that he feel something more for her. She was beautiful...He loved everything in her: from her sandy fur and amber eyes to her sense of humor, voice and smile. But he had no courage to tell her.
“As you heard!” yelled Mufasa again. “I will repeat again everyone: from now, Sarabi from the Pridelands is my queen!”
“Never!” shrieked Sarabi.
“You will or I will kill you! I am the king and you must obey me! You will be my queen, you have no way!” growled Mufasa, then she turned around and went into his cave. For a while, the lionesses were quiet. But then Taka heard someone’s sobs and Sarabi’s voice:
“I will NEVER be his queen!”
He could wait no more. He left his cave and walked into the main chamber. He stood behind Mufasa and said:
“Are you satisfied? She’s crying now.” Mufasa slowly turned around and growled:
“None of your business, Taka.”
“Yes, it’s mine! What are you doing, brother? You’re trying to force her to marry you?”
“I said SHUT UP, you bastard!”
“Or what, my sweet brother? You will kill me?” Taka came closer to Mufasa and looked into his eyes with ironic smile. “Can’t you see NO ONE from your pride is happy?” Mufasa roared and yelled:
“Is it a challenge?! You wanna fight?!”
“Hell no, brother!” Taka rolled his eyes. “No fights, it was funny when we were much younger. I prefer living in peace...” he laughed sarcastically. “I’m just trying to tell you’re making a mistake...”
“You’re trying to question my rights to the throne?!” growled again Mufasa, extending his claws.
“It’s you who try to question it.” Then he felt only a pain. The weird force send him to the ground, his bones ached but not as much as his face. He couldn’t see: some dark substance flooded his left eye. He hissed then tried to straighten.
“This will teach you not to mess with me...Scar” growled Mufasa and went away.
Taka needed a few minutes to stand up. He tried to wipe the blood with his paw, but it wasn’t that easy. He left the cave and, ignoring the shocked screams of lionesses, he stopped in front of the waterhole. He saw a lion with blood all over his face...He was bleeding from a big scar running through his face. Fortunately, Mufasa didn’t damage his eye; he could see. But the wound was too deep to disappear that fast...
Since that day he was known as Scar. Sometimes he wondered if the wound isn’t the reason why everybody were afraid of him and it made sense...
The next week he watched suffering Sarabi, but he had no courage to talk to her. But he knew he has to do it. He waited for the moment when the lioness will be alone – Mufasa went out to chace the hyenas – so he entered his brother’s cave. Sarabi was crying. Scar went closer and asked: “Sarabi? What he’s done to you?” The lioness turned around and he saw a few bruises and slashes of a lion’s paw on her cheek.
“I...nothing. It’s nothing.” replied Sarabi.
“No, he hurt you!” yelled Scar.
“I’ll do what he wants...or we’ll all suffer” said quietly the sandy lioness.
“What?” gasped Scar and snorted: “Didn’t you realise that my brother ain’t a good person for walks and interesting conversations, and spreading his I love you around?”
“I’m afraid” said Sarabi and suddenly nuzzled into Scar’s black mane. Firstly the lion froze, but then he said:
“Run away with me. Come on! We’ll find a better place, away from Mufasa.”
“No...I can’t...” Sarabi moved back and looked up at Scar with surprise.
“What? You wanna stay here and obey this tyrant?” growled Scar.
“Scar...you don’t understand. The Pridelands are our home. My family lives here...I couldn’t leave them!” Scar put his head down and for a minute he stared at his extended claws. He felt rejected, unimportant. He hoped Sarabi felt something for him...but it seemed she chose the unsafe safety of the land.
“Alright...I understand” he said sarcasticly. “Just remember my proposition, when he’ll come back and do worse things to you...” Then he turned around and went away. Mufasa was already coming back, so this situation would see a little “different” as for him.
*
He tried to forget about Sarabi, but he couldn’t. Real love is rather tought to fight. He couldn’t just sit and watch what this brutal was doing to her. Now the lioness was bruised and wounded, she never smiled. She became quiet and obedient. The rest of the pride was pretending they can’t see all those things, for their own safeness. They didn’t spoke to the queen that much: Mufasa forbid it. He wanted to have her just for himself.
But then push came to shove. Mufasa announced that queen is pregnant.
Firstly, Scar couldn’t believe it. How Sarabi let him do this? He was almost sure that she didn’t want to have cub with someone like Mufasa. He must have forced her to do this. Now Scar felt the impotent rage. He offered her the escape. They could live together outside the Mufasa’s prison.
He came to her again. He saw her holding this ugly little hairball and...smiling.
“Sarabi!” he stood in front of her.
“Oh...Scar” her smile was a little bitter.
“He...he...” the blackmaned started, but Sarabi interrupted:
“Forget about it. Now I have son...somebody to love. I’m happy. Really.”
“What? After all what he’s done to you?!” Scar looked down at the cub with disgust.
“I’ve just accepted the reality. I’m his queen, and now I’m a mother. I’m...I’m finally happy, Scar.” He couldn’t believe what he’s heard.
“But Sarabi...We could run away...With the cub as well...” he added with growing hatred for Mufasa’s offspring. “Sarabi...I just love you...”
“Scar...” he sighed and smiled. “I appreciate how you care about me...It’s what I love in you the most...but it’s too late. We went different ways. Now I have my life, my duties, my own family to care about.”
“Care about?” snorted Scar and looked down on her bruised face. “Did HE care about you?”
“I said, I really appreciate your support” she said with a sharp voice. “But that’s enough, Scar, I’m sorry.”
“Are you that naive or just that stupid?” hissed Scar with hatred, narrowing his eyes. “How do you think, whose kid is Sarafina’s daughter? What about those cute little ones, Kula, Chumvi, Tojo, Tama? Did you ever wonder?”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Sarabi with cold voice.
“Oh, unfortunately I wasn’t LUCKY ENOUGH to meet THE LOVE OF MY LIFE to CARE ABOUT” he said sarcastically. “Have I heard good? Are your son and your mate’s daughter REALLY bethroted?”
“Stop it! Get out of my cave. NOW!” growled Sarabi.
“As you said, MADAME” Scar smiled ironically and left the den.
*
Yes, he hated them both. Mufasa and his son, Simba. The little prince. The future king. The cute, horribly annoying little idiot. Not that horrible as his father, but yet unbearable. He took him away everything. The throne and Sarabi. He was the last and final thing that tore them apart.
She was HAPPY. It’s how she called it. Scar hated her too, but not as much as Mufasa. But that was something different, he was somewhere between love and hate. Because he couldn’t let his feelings go, he couldn’t fall in love with different lioness.
And in the Pridelands nothing changed. Mufasa was mating with all the lionesses, no one seemed to care about it, at least no one talked about it loudly. He was taking away all the preys, he liked to hit and hurt the lionesses just for fun. He loved to yell at them for no reason. But as for his son, he was the greatest father on the entire planet. The cub loved and idolized him, not seeing all his true nature.
Now Scar was spending almost all his time with hyenas. He was coming back to the Pride Rock just to see Sarabi for a while, check out if she wasn’t wounded too much. But at the same time he couldn’t take this whole idyll and falsehood.
“Hey, Scar? Are you sleeping or something? I asked if we go for a hunt!” yelled Shenzi. Scar shook his head, quitting thinking about the Pridelands. He was back on the Elephant Graveyard, with his “friends”.
“Oh, maybe our little Scar...FELL IN LOVE?!” gasped Banzai; Shenzi and Ed started to laugh crazily.
“SHUT UP!” growled Scar.
“Scar fell in love, Scar fell in love!”
“I SAID SHUT UP!”
“Ooooh, seems it’s unrequited love...Go on, Scar, fight for her! Kill this guy!” yelled again Banzai.
“IDIOTS! Get your jaws shut or you won’t have a dinner the whole week!” roared Scar; the hyenas stopped their laughing, now they were only shrugging.
“Come on now” said Scar and stood up. They were heading to the Pridelands to have something to eat. He tried to focus on killing the preys but he still could hear Banzai’s voice in his head: fight for her! Kill this guy!
*
“SARABI!” growled Scar. His old love was slowly walking into his way, mocked by the hyenas. They had no respect for the former queen. Just like Scar. He lost all his respect for her the day when she born Simba.
“Yes, Scar?” she asked with neutral voice, looking in his eyes. That made him extremely mad. She rejected him twice. While Mufasa’s pride and while his own pride. When she was finally free. But they were no friends anymore.
“Where is your hunting party? They’re not doing their job” said Scar, walking nervously. The drought came to the land, they all suffered from hunger and lack of water.
“Scar, there is no food. The herds have moved on” she replied. He couldn’t stand this voice anymore. He could feel they all blamed him for the drought. He knew they all wanted Mufasa back and he couldn’t understand it. He didn’t hit them, he never forced them to mate with them, he didn’t want children. He just wanted Sarabi’s love.
I did it for you! he thought, watching the lioness.
“No. You’re just not looking hard enough” he snorted.
“It's over. There is nothing left. We have only one choice. We must leave Pride Rock.”
What? – he laughed in his mind. Oh my...I told you thousand of times we must leave...But you never wanted to...
„We're not going anywhere.” He said. Sarabi quickly understood he wasn’t refering to the land’s future, but their own past. She opened wide her eyes and yelled:
“Then you have sentenced us to death!”
“Then so be it!” So you’d choose the slower dying by Mufasa’s side? , he added in his thoughts.
“You can't do that.”
“I'm the king. I can do whatever I want!” Scar replied, grinning. Now, face it Sarabi! Wasn’t that the main motto of your mate?
“If you were half the king Mufasa was you would nev...”
“I'm ten times the king Mufasa was!” he growled and hit her as much as he could. He watched with shock how the lioness he once loved hits the ground and loses her consiousness. The one part of him screamed what have you done?! , the other mocked: just see, Sarabi, how I’m similar to your Mufasa...
But he had no time to analise it no more. The thunder hit; Scar saw a big lion with a red mane, standing on the rocks.
„Mufasa? No. You're dead.” Scar muttered.
But it wasn’t Mufasa. It was his damned offspring.
*
Scar opened his eyes, feeling dizzy. He barely could stand on his own paws. He felt weak, although he noticed he feels no pain anymore.
“Am I dead?” thought the lion. “Or alive? Where I am?” He looked around and he realised that he’s back in the Pridelands, under the Pride Rock, where the hyenas...killed him? So why could he still see, hear, walk?
...But he couldn’t feel. He couldn’t feel pain in his wounds, the flames that were touching his paws didn’t burn him. It was...against the Circle! Against the nature! How was this possible?
He came closer to the small pool of water and he saw his reflection: he had no wounds or burns at all. Except for this one on his eye...
He was dead.
Scar felt both weird and funny. He wanted to laugh himself. It was so...ridiculous...so that’s how the death looks like...
Of course, no one could see him. He could take adventage of it. He came closer to the Pride Rock. Scar saw the hyenas escaping from the Pridelands and he felt growing hate. How could they leave him?! He thought they were his friends...at least, they seemed loyal and usable...But they misunderstood everything he meant to, as always.
“Is it any tradition or something? Have I always, even after my death, to be surrounded by idiots?” thought Scar with irritation. Then he heard the lion’s roar. Simba. His little stupid nephew was standing on the Pride Rock, and, of course, the lionesses were delighted, finally they had real KING, who would erase the drought in some MAGICAL way... And Sarabi was there too. Proud of her son, the living evidence of the fact that Mufasa still was there around, still had his power... “It was your way...you’re just like them, Sarabi, I thought you’re not that stupid...You choose your dumb way. Good for you.” Thought Scar and turned around. He had nothing more to watch.
Hey, what said Ahadi? All the great kings from the past are now in the stars or something? Well, he actually USED TO be the king... Scar raised his paw and stood in the air. He was climbing the invisible stairs, not flying but going up, leaving his home behind. After a little while the scenery changed: now the big, dark and cold matter and the dots of light were surrounding him. He saw a silhouette of a big lion. Scar smiled meanly nad said sarcastically:
“Good mornig, my lovely brother...Or evening?”
Mufasa looked at him with disgust.
“Not that good as for some ones...For you at least.” he said, glaring at his younger brother.
“You won...are you satisfied?” snorted the blackmaned lion. “Now, you’ve got back everything. The throne, the memory, and Sarabi...”
“She was never yours” laughed Mufasa. “She could come to you and complain or even do other things...but she’s always been mine and she knows she’ll be mine forever.”
“The one thing that makes you funny” replied Scar “is that you always can’t seem to have enough. The more you have, the more you get. Often with no permission.”
“Such a great sense of humor, as always, bro...” Mufasa smiled with scorn. “But see, I don’t have enough time to joke with you. You know, I would see my son’s coronation...”
“Do you know, Mufasa, that your son is now getting married with his little sister?” said Scar, narrowing eyes. “But no little incesticide could spoil your mood?”
“That one was so funny, I love when you tell jokes” laughed ironically Mufasa. “But excuse me, I have no time.”
“Go on, watch your little hairball...” snorted Scar. “What’s your problem?”
“Hm...guess the problem is you. You forgot about one thing...The skies are opened for the great kings of the past...”
“You’re trying to tell me something or just to share your moron opinions?”
“Oh, my opinions...That’s the decision of Mohatu, Ahadi...of a Circle of Life in general, my brother. No places left...”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetie” snorted Scar and turning around. “I’ll find better place...But tell me one thing. How COULD YOU get into the skies? After all you have done?!”
“I’ll tell you my little secret...” Mufasa came closer and whispered: “The Circle of Life.”
“Good for you.” First Scar froze, but then he smiled ironicaly. He started to leave the skies, going down back to the Pridelands.
He didn’t know where he would go now, but he didn’t care. He still felt Mufasa’s satisfied look on his back, but he didn’t turn around no more.
Sometimes he wondered why is he still here. The one thing that kept him there was the comfort of having his piece of the ground (he slept in separate den, unlike the whole pride), enough water and food. But last time he rarely was on the Pride Rock; he had secret that no one knew. He finally found friends...if he could call them like that. They were hyenas. Scar could imagine what would Mufasa say if he only knew...He would banish him immediately. The old law says: no hyenas in the Pridelands. As a “king”, Mufasa had to obey those magnificent rules. So chasing and killing hyenas became his favourite activity.
Scar tried to protect hyenas as much as he could. But he knew it’s not that easy: they had to hunt. There was nothing on the Elephant Graveyard, so the hyenas had to enter the Pridelands. He was suprised that he spend his time with those idiots...They were moronical, but at the same time funny and...and they were freaks. Just like him.
All his life he spent as an outsider, weirdo. No one liked him, they accepted him but not necessarily wanted to talk to him. He was always seen as the king’s younger brother. Always in his shadow. That’s what he thought before, but now... Now he knew that the lionesses were just scared of him. So they did whatever he would say.
Scar remembered the day when he got the wound on his left eye. But then he used to be called Taka...
It was shortly after Ahadi’s death, Uru died a few days later. Mufasa took the throne, as he always was supposed to. Just after Rafiki, their new shaman, gave him that title, he did something that no one expected.
“I’m your new king” he said with his powerful voice. “But now I need a queen.”
The lionesses started to whisper: none of them was ever dating the young king. Taka was in the distance, in his den. He didn’t come to bow in front of his lovely older brother. He didn’t really need to truckle or cheer, that was better for those naive lionesses...He never accepted Mufasa as his king. He could be someone else’s king, but never HIS. Though Taka could hear his dumb speech – Mufasa had this loud, idiotical voice. Typical for someone who loved himself. Every single ant on the borders of the land must hear him, or he won’t feel fulfilled.
“I choose Sarabi!”, yelled Mufasa.
“What?!” gasped Sarabi; Taka first froze, then stood up. No, it couldn’t be true. No!
He knew Sarabi. She and her friend Sarafina were the only lionesses that liked him. Sarabi was different. She was friendly, honest, just different. She didn’t care about his weakness, about his lower station in the pride. Taka wasn’t a sociable lion in general, but he liked to talk with Sarabi. But with the time he realised that he feel something more for her. She was beautiful...He loved everything in her: from her sandy fur and amber eyes to her sense of humor, voice and smile. But he had no courage to tell her.
“As you heard!” yelled Mufasa again. “I will repeat again everyone: from now, Sarabi from the Pridelands is my queen!”
“Never!” shrieked Sarabi.
“You will or I will kill you! I am the king and you must obey me! You will be my queen, you have no way!” growled Mufasa, then she turned around and went into his cave. For a while, the lionesses were quiet. But then Taka heard someone’s sobs and Sarabi’s voice:
“I will NEVER be his queen!”
He could wait no more. He left his cave and walked into the main chamber. He stood behind Mufasa and said:
“Are you satisfied? She’s crying now.” Mufasa slowly turned around and growled:
“None of your business, Taka.”
“Yes, it’s mine! What are you doing, brother? You’re trying to force her to marry you?”
“I said SHUT UP, you bastard!”
“Or what, my sweet brother? You will kill me?” Taka came closer to Mufasa and looked into his eyes with ironic smile. “Can’t you see NO ONE from your pride is happy?” Mufasa roared and yelled:
“Is it a challenge?! You wanna fight?!”
“Hell no, brother!” Taka rolled his eyes. “No fights, it was funny when we were much younger. I prefer living in peace...” he laughed sarcastically. “I’m just trying to tell you’re making a mistake...”
“You’re trying to question my rights to the throne?!” growled again Mufasa, extending his claws.
“It’s you who try to question it.” Then he felt only a pain. The weird force send him to the ground, his bones ached but not as much as his face. He couldn’t see: some dark substance flooded his left eye. He hissed then tried to straighten.
“This will teach you not to mess with me...Scar” growled Mufasa and went away.
Taka needed a few minutes to stand up. He tried to wipe the blood with his paw, but it wasn’t that easy. He left the cave and, ignoring the shocked screams of lionesses, he stopped in front of the waterhole. He saw a lion with blood all over his face...He was bleeding from a big scar running through his face. Fortunately, Mufasa didn’t damage his eye; he could see. But the wound was too deep to disappear that fast...
Since that day he was known as Scar. Sometimes he wondered if the wound isn’t the reason why everybody were afraid of him and it made sense...
The next week he watched suffering Sarabi, but he had no courage to talk to her. But he knew he has to do it. He waited for the moment when the lioness will be alone – Mufasa went out to chace the hyenas – so he entered his brother’s cave. Sarabi was crying. Scar went closer and asked: “Sarabi? What he’s done to you?” The lioness turned around and he saw a few bruises and slashes of a lion’s paw on her cheek.
“I...nothing. It’s nothing.” replied Sarabi.
“No, he hurt you!” yelled Scar.
“I’ll do what he wants...or we’ll all suffer” said quietly the sandy lioness.
“What?” gasped Scar and snorted: “Didn’t you realise that my brother ain’t a good person for walks and interesting conversations, and spreading his I love you around?”
“I’m afraid” said Sarabi and suddenly nuzzled into Scar’s black mane. Firstly the lion froze, but then he said:
“Run away with me. Come on! We’ll find a better place, away from Mufasa.”
“No...I can’t...” Sarabi moved back and looked up at Scar with surprise.
“What? You wanna stay here and obey this tyrant?” growled Scar.
“Scar...you don’t understand. The Pridelands are our home. My family lives here...I couldn’t leave them!” Scar put his head down and for a minute he stared at his extended claws. He felt rejected, unimportant. He hoped Sarabi felt something for him...but it seemed she chose the unsafe safety of the land.
“Alright...I understand” he said sarcasticly. “Just remember my proposition, when he’ll come back and do worse things to you...” Then he turned around and went away. Mufasa was already coming back, so this situation would see a little “different” as for him.
*
He tried to forget about Sarabi, but he couldn’t. Real love is rather tought to fight. He couldn’t just sit and watch what this brutal was doing to her. Now the lioness was bruised and wounded, she never smiled. She became quiet and obedient. The rest of the pride was pretending they can’t see all those things, for their own safeness. They didn’t spoke to the queen that much: Mufasa forbid it. He wanted to have her just for himself.
But then push came to shove. Mufasa announced that queen is pregnant.
Firstly, Scar couldn’t believe it. How Sarabi let him do this? He was almost sure that she didn’t want to have cub with someone like Mufasa. He must have forced her to do this. Now Scar felt the impotent rage. He offered her the escape. They could live together outside the Mufasa’s prison.
He came to her again. He saw her holding this ugly little hairball and...smiling.
“Sarabi!” he stood in front of her.
“Oh...Scar” her smile was a little bitter.
“He...he...” the blackmaned started, but Sarabi interrupted:
“Forget about it. Now I have son...somebody to love. I’m happy. Really.”
“What? After all what he’s done to you?!” Scar looked down at the cub with disgust.
“I’ve just accepted the reality. I’m his queen, and now I’m a mother. I’m...I’m finally happy, Scar.” He couldn’t believe what he’s heard.
“But Sarabi...We could run away...With the cub as well...” he added with growing hatred for Mufasa’s offspring. “Sarabi...I just love you...”
“Scar...” he sighed and smiled. “I appreciate how you care about me...It’s what I love in you the most...but it’s too late. We went different ways. Now I have my life, my duties, my own family to care about.”
“Care about?” snorted Scar and looked down on her bruised face. “Did HE care about you?”
“I said, I really appreciate your support” she said with a sharp voice. “But that’s enough, Scar, I’m sorry.”
“Are you that naive or just that stupid?” hissed Scar with hatred, narrowing his eyes. “How do you think, whose kid is Sarafina’s daughter? What about those cute little ones, Kula, Chumvi, Tojo, Tama? Did you ever wonder?”
“What are you trying to say?” asked Sarabi with cold voice.
“Oh, unfortunately I wasn’t LUCKY ENOUGH to meet THE LOVE OF MY LIFE to CARE ABOUT” he said sarcastically. “Have I heard good? Are your son and your mate’s daughter REALLY bethroted?”
“Stop it! Get out of my cave. NOW!” growled Sarabi.
“As you said, MADAME” Scar smiled ironically and left the den.
*
Yes, he hated them both. Mufasa and his son, Simba. The little prince. The future king. The cute, horribly annoying little idiot. Not that horrible as his father, but yet unbearable. He took him away everything. The throne and Sarabi. He was the last and final thing that tore them apart.
She was HAPPY. It’s how she called it. Scar hated her too, but not as much as Mufasa. But that was something different, he was somewhere between love and hate. Because he couldn’t let his feelings go, he couldn’t fall in love with different lioness.
And in the Pridelands nothing changed. Mufasa was mating with all the lionesses, no one seemed to care about it, at least no one talked about it loudly. He was taking away all the preys, he liked to hit and hurt the lionesses just for fun. He loved to yell at them for no reason. But as for his son, he was the greatest father on the entire planet. The cub loved and idolized him, not seeing all his true nature.
Now Scar was spending almost all his time with hyenas. He was coming back to the Pride Rock just to see Sarabi for a while, check out if she wasn’t wounded too much. But at the same time he couldn’t take this whole idyll and falsehood.
“Hey, Scar? Are you sleeping or something? I asked if we go for a hunt!” yelled Shenzi. Scar shook his head, quitting thinking about the Pridelands. He was back on the Elephant Graveyard, with his “friends”.
“Oh, maybe our little Scar...FELL IN LOVE?!” gasped Banzai; Shenzi and Ed started to laugh crazily.
“SHUT UP!” growled Scar.
“Scar fell in love, Scar fell in love!”
“I SAID SHUT UP!”
“Ooooh, seems it’s unrequited love...Go on, Scar, fight for her! Kill this guy!” yelled again Banzai.
“IDIOTS! Get your jaws shut or you won’t have a dinner the whole week!” roared Scar; the hyenas stopped their laughing, now they were only shrugging.
“Come on now” said Scar and stood up. They were heading to the Pridelands to have something to eat. He tried to focus on killing the preys but he still could hear Banzai’s voice in his head: fight for her! Kill this guy!
*
“SARABI!” growled Scar. His old love was slowly walking into his way, mocked by the hyenas. They had no respect for the former queen. Just like Scar. He lost all his respect for her the day when she born Simba.
“Yes, Scar?” she asked with neutral voice, looking in his eyes. That made him extremely mad. She rejected him twice. While Mufasa’s pride and while his own pride. When she was finally free. But they were no friends anymore.
“Where is your hunting party? They’re not doing their job” said Scar, walking nervously. The drought came to the land, they all suffered from hunger and lack of water.
“Scar, there is no food. The herds have moved on” she replied. He couldn’t stand this voice anymore. He could feel they all blamed him for the drought. He knew they all wanted Mufasa back and he couldn’t understand it. He didn’t hit them, he never forced them to mate with them, he didn’t want children. He just wanted Sarabi’s love.
I did it for you! he thought, watching the lioness.
“No. You’re just not looking hard enough” he snorted.
“It's over. There is nothing left. We have only one choice. We must leave Pride Rock.”
What? – he laughed in his mind. Oh my...I told you thousand of times we must leave...But you never wanted to...
„We're not going anywhere.” He said. Sarabi quickly understood he wasn’t refering to the land’s future, but their own past. She opened wide her eyes and yelled:
“Then you have sentenced us to death!”
“Then so be it!” So you’d choose the slower dying by Mufasa’s side? , he added in his thoughts.
“You can't do that.”
“I'm the king. I can do whatever I want!” Scar replied, grinning. Now, face it Sarabi! Wasn’t that the main motto of your mate?
“If you were half the king Mufasa was you would nev...”
“I'm ten times the king Mufasa was!” he growled and hit her as much as he could. He watched with shock how the lioness he once loved hits the ground and loses her consiousness. The one part of him screamed what have you done?! , the other mocked: just see, Sarabi, how I’m similar to your Mufasa...
But he had no time to analise it no more. The thunder hit; Scar saw a big lion with a red mane, standing on the rocks.
„Mufasa? No. You're dead.” Scar muttered.
But it wasn’t Mufasa. It was his damned offspring.
*
Scar opened his eyes, feeling dizzy. He barely could stand on his own paws. He felt weak, although he noticed he feels no pain anymore.
“Am I dead?” thought the lion. “Or alive? Where I am?” He looked around and he realised that he’s back in the Pridelands, under the Pride Rock, where the hyenas...killed him? So why could he still see, hear, walk?
...But he couldn’t feel. He couldn’t feel pain in his wounds, the flames that were touching his paws didn’t burn him. It was...against the Circle! Against the nature! How was this possible?
He came closer to the small pool of water and he saw his reflection: he had no wounds or burns at all. Except for this one on his eye...
He was dead.
Scar felt both weird and funny. He wanted to laugh himself. It was so...ridiculous...so that’s how the death looks like...
Of course, no one could see him. He could take adventage of it. He came closer to the Pride Rock. Scar saw the hyenas escaping from the Pridelands and he felt growing hate. How could they leave him?! He thought they were his friends...at least, they seemed loyal and usable...But they misunderstood everything he meant to, as always.
“Is it any tradition or something? Have I always, even after my death, to be surrounded by idiots?” thought Scar with irritation. Then he heard the lion’s roar. Simba. His little stupid nephew was standing on the Pride Rock, and, of course, the lionesses were delighted, finally they had real KING, who would erase the drought in some MAGICAL way... And Sarabi was there too. Proud of her son, the living evidence of the fact that Mufasa still was there around, still had his power... “It was your way...you’re just like them, Sarabi, I thought you’re not that stupid...You choose your dumb way. Good for you.” Thought Scar and turned around. He had nothing more to watch.
Hey, what said Ahadi? All the great kings from the past are now in the stars or something? Well, he actually USED TO be the king... Scar raised his paw and stood in the air. He was climbing the invisible stairs, not flying but going up, leaving his home behind. After a little while the scenery changed: now the big, dark and cold matter and the dots of light were surrounding him. He saw a silhouette of a big lion. Scar smiled meanly nad said sarcastically:
“Good mornig, my lovely brother...Or evening?”
Mufasa looked at him with disgust.
“Not that good as for some ones...For you at least.” he said, glaring at his younger brother.
“You won...are you satisfied?” snorted the blackmaned lion. “Now, you’ve got back everything. The throne, the memory, and Sarabi...”
“She was never yours” laughed Mufasa. “She could come to you and complain or even do other things...but she’s always been mine and she knows she’ll be mine forever.”
“The one thing that makes you funny” replied Scar “is that you always can’t seem to have enough. The more you have, the more you get. Often with no permission.”
“Such a great sense of humor, as always, bro...” Mufasa smiled with scorn. “But see, I don’t have enough time to joke with you. You know, I would see my son’s coronation...”
“Do you know, Mufasa, that your son is now getting married with his little sister?” said Scar, narrowing eyes. “But no little incesticide could spoil your mood?”
“That one was so funny, I love when you tell jokes” laughed ironically Mufasa. “But excuse me, I have no time.”
“Go on, watch your little hairball...” snorted Scar. “What’s your problem?”
“Hm...guess the problem is you. You forgot about one thing...The skies are opened for the great kings of the past...”
“You’re trying to tell me something or just to share your moron opinions?”
“Oh, my opinions...That’s the decision of Mohatu, Ahadi...of a Circle of Life in general, my brother. No places left...”
“Don’t worry about me, sweetie” snorted Scar and turning around. “I’ll find better place...But tell me one thing. How COULD YOU get into the skies? After all you have done?!”
“I’ll tell you my little secret...” Mufasa came closer and whispered: “The Circle of Life.”
“Good for you.” First Scar froze, but then he smiled ironicaly. He started to leave the skies, going down back to the Pridelands.
He didn’t know where he would go now, but he didn’t care. He still felt Mufasa’s satisfied look on his back, but he didn’t turn around no more.
Story 3:
Untitled: show
"Gather round, little ones." The elder whispers as the Coast Clan cubs draw near, his long silver mane is tugged on by the youngest, whilst the older cubs act as if they would rather be somewhere else.
"What story is it today Maktu?" A young female asks, her large brown eyes wide.
"Today we shall learn about Pride Rock, little Peetu." He smiles, removing a small cub from his mane and replacing it between his crossed paws.
"What's so special 'bout Pride rock?" Brinestone grumbles.
"Well, Brinestone, it is the largest formation for miles around here. And do you know why?" He grins, patting him happily on the head.
"Because the ancient race of cats were giants. It is said that Zyrcon sculpted the lands with his paws. Every-time he landed after he flew, rivers and watering holes appeared. He even made the cave we lie in now..." He pauses and watches the young cubs that have gaping mouths, eyes wider with wonder.
"Wow!" Peetu gasps.
“He settled down and had six cubs with a beautiful lioness, Getta. However, his brother, Hyna grew jealous and challenged Zyrcon to a fight, whoever won, got Getta, the land and the Power…So, the storm rumbled over head, lightning flashed and lit the sky with an eerie blue glow… The battle lasted for eons until, both warriors died…”
“Who won! Who won!” Brinestone yells, eyes wide and whiskers twitchng with sheer excitement.
“Both, neither, it is the same. But it is said that Hyna’s body forms the Outlands and Zyrcon forms the Pridelands… In fact this very cave is said to be Hyna’s mouth and Pride Rock is Zyrcon’s crown. And every time there is an Earthquake, it is them snoring!”
“Another! Another!” The cubs squeal.
“Ok, young cubs! But only one, as Old Cats like me need sleep.”
Brinestone yawns and settles down next to the Silver lion as he begins to tell the next tale. ‘Maybe one day, I’ll tell this story to my cubs…’ The young lion thinks before drifting off into a deep sleep with the story playing through in his mind.
"What story is it today Maktu?" A young female asks, her large brown eyes wide.
"Today we shall learn about Pride Rock, little Peetu." He smiles, removing a small cub from his mane and replacing it between his crossed paws.
"What's so special 'bout Pride rock?" Brinestone grumbles.
"Well, Brinestone, it is the largest formation for miles around here. And do you know why?" He grins, patting him happily on the head.
"Because the ancient race of cats were giants. It is said that Zyrcon sculpted the lands with his paws. Every-time he landed after he flew, rivers and watering holes appeared. He even made the cave we lie in now..." He pauses and watches the young cubs that have gaping mouths, eyes wider with wonder.
"Wow!" Peetu gasps.
“He settled down and had six cubs with a beautiful lioness, Getta. However, his brother, Hyna grew jealous and challenged Zyrcon to a fight, whoever won, got Getta, the land and the Power…So, the storm rumbled over head, lightning flashed and lit the sky with an eerie blue glow… The battle lasted for eons until, both warriors died…”
“Who won! Who won!” Brinestone yells, eyes wide and whiskers twitchng with sheer excitement.
“Both, neither, it is the same. But it is said that Hyna’s body forms the Outlands and Zyrcon forms the Pridelands… In fact this very cave is said to be Hyna’s mouth and Pride Rock is Zyrcon’s crown. And every time there is an Earthquake, it is them snoring!”
“Another! Another!” The cubs squeal.
“Ok, young cubs! But only one, as Old Cats like me need sleep.”
Brinestone yawns and settles down next to the Silver lion as he begins to tell the next tale. ‘Maybe one day, I’ll tell this story to my cubs…’ The young lion thinks before drifting off into a deep sleep with the story playing through in his mind.
Story 4:
ATIS: show
ATIS
Nala tossed another hyena out of the way before pausing for a moment to wipe away the cooling rain from her eyes. As she prepared to rejoin the fight, a tan and red blur moved quickly and Nala found herself next to Simba. She looked at him and he gave a slight nod giving the signal for what they were both thinking: They will take Scar down together.
A flash of lightning caught their attention and the tyrant was spotted. Upon seeing the tyrant try to slip away from the fight, Nala let out a low growl. Not only was Scar a horrible king, now he wasn't even going to brave up and face the consequences of his reign.
But before she was able to charge at the king she was sent to remove, Simba beat her to it. He looked ready to murder his own uncle to shreds, the revelation of Mufasa's true murderer no doubt still heavy in his mind and driving his emotions to the extreme. As though racing to get at Scar first, Simba and Nala ran towards the dark maned king.
Scar spotted the two lions charging at him and ran off like a gazelle trying to avoid being hunted. He didn't seem to notice where he was running, only that there was a distance, no matter how short, between him and the two who didn't want to see him take even another short panicked breath. Weaving his way though the fighting pride and hyenas, Scar finally had to stop, cornered. He looked around, realizing that he was chased into non other but the den where the pride slept just the night before.
Nala allowed herself a small grin when she saw Scar stop and slowly turn towards Simba and her, defeat in his eyes. “This is it, Scar. It's over. You lost.” She had to speak in short breaths, needed to grab air in between them, but this didn't stop the venom in her voice from reaching the tyrant king. “You brought this upon yourself.”
Scar's eyes seemed to bolt between Simba and Nala, not bothering to linger on any one of them for any period of time. Eventually, the lion spoke. “Nala... it was all a misunderstanding! I truly wanted the best for the pride!.. The hyenas... They grew out of control-”
“Because of you!” Even Simba seemed to flinch at Nala's sudden outburst. She didn't notice. “We warned you time and time again about those beasts! And you...” She began to approach Scar slowly, as if savoring her final moments before his inevitable end. “What did you do? You didn't listen to anyone! No!..” Nala was breathing very heavily by now. “You.. blamed... us!”
As if by miracle, Nala did not pounce at the king yet, instead stopping short of him and glaring at him ,pure hatred in her eyes.
Scar tried to back away even further, but tripped over a lose rock and was stuck. Knowing that Nala was hopeless, he looked at his nephew in desperation. “Simba, please! You can't allow her to kill me! You... you wouldn't allow her to kill your own uncle!..”
Compared to Nala's fiery temper, Simba was quite calm by comparison. In fact, this entire time he was looking down at the ground, only looking up when Scar finally addressed him personally. It looked like he was crying. “I'm sorry uncle,” he muttered quietly, just enough for Scar and Nala to hear, “but you killed dad. I... I know I'll never be able to forgive you. I just can't.”
Scar's eyes widened in fear as he realized that he was alone and without help. “So what are you going to do?”
Simba quietly walked over and sat down next to Nala, purposely rubbing up against her to calm her down. “Run. If you don't run, then I'm going to have to kill you.” Simba looked at his uncle, dead in the eye. “That's what you told me last time, remember? Run. Run away and never return. His paw pressed firmly but gently against Nala's, keeping her in place.
Scar cautiously picked himself off the ground and slowly walked back towards the entrance. “Oh, thank you Simba. You are truly noble-” He quickly stopped talking when it looked like praising his nephew would lead to a sooner death than not. “-And Nala... You are very brave and very clever.”
He stopped, as if to say his final words. “But the two of you are also very naive.” Without bothering to explain, he quickly reached out into a dark crack along the wall of the den.
As soon as Simba's paw lifted off her, Nala pounced at Scar, determined to kill him for once again trying to trick them. Out of the corner of her eye, she knew that Simba was doing the same.
But something felt strange.
Instead of solid rock that was supposed to be the support from which they jumped from, Nala felt herself not so much lunge forward, as much as push the rock back. And the sensation of falling. As the den turned into darkness, Nala realized that it wasn't a sensation: she really was falling. Somehow, the den's floor gave away from underneath Simba and her, and now she was falling through pure darkness.
Unable to see anything, but still feeling the sensation of moving air, Nala screamed for help. “Simba!”
Either he didn't hear her, or she didn't hear a reply, but Nala got a sickening feeling that she was alone. Not knowing how to deal with the falling, she started to panic and flail her limbs around widely. Then she hit something hard and it broke from under her, causing her to scream in pain.
Before Nala realized what was going on, her head hit something else and she didn't feel anything else anymore.
---
Somehow, she woke up again. All she could feel was a tremendous headache, and after what felt like an eternity, she was able to let out a groan.
“...Nala?”
What was that noise? Who was saying her name?
“Nala?” Again that voice.
It was then she felt something warm and soft move next to her. It took her a while to open her eyes, but when she did, all she was able to see was white. Moving her eyes around, she saw something very blurry break this whiteness. Trying to focus, she finally was able to concentrate through her headache to see a very worried face of Simba looking at her. “...Simba” As soon as she spoke, a series of coughs broke through her, making her pain even worse.
“Try not to speak, Nala. You've fallen from a very large height... I was worried you didn't survive...”
What?
Not really comprehending the message, but soothed by Simba's voice, Nala closed her eyes and allowed herself to fall back into the blackness.
---
The next time she woke, Simba was once again right there next to her, sound asleep.
Somehow feeling significantly better than before, she was finally able to see more than just blurry images. The whiteness was not from her mind: both she and Simba were in what appeared to be a large white den; albeit one with what looked like very smooth and flat walls. Looking up above her, the den's ceiling seemed to produce light from the center, much like the sun, and it hurt to look up at the source.
Feeling safe with Simba next to her, Nala rested, trying to take in what was going on. She remembered the fall, the pain, much of which she still felt, and the blurry images of what she assumed was where they were in now. Was this another one of Scar's tricks?
Sooner than she expected, Simba awoke. As soon as he noticed that she was also awake, he let out a bright smile. “How are you feeling, Nala?”
Nala let out a sigh. “Terrible,” she admitted. “..Where are we?”
Simba let out a hesitant groan. “I... I don't know. Somewhere under Pride Rock I think.” Nala looked over him realizing with dread that he looked in a pretty bad shape as well. “I fell down too, but to a different area I think... I didn't know where I was, but this... thing.. it helped me. It lead me to you, and that's how I found you...”
She frowned. “What thing?”
Simba looked stumped. “I... err...”
As if to answer her, a dark section of the cave wall started to change color, causing Nala's eyes to widen in shock. And then that section began to speak.
“Excuse me for the sudden appearance, but I was busy checking the systems and reliability of this facility.”
Nala didn't know what to say. “Simba... what's that?”
The lion simply shrugged. “It was the first thing I saw here, to be honest... Claims it's a... a...”
The wall spoke again. “I believe the term you are looking for is “Operating System”. Specifically, the “Altros Singularity Operating System”. Or ATIS for short.”
Nala didn't know what to say, so Simba decided to say something. “This 'ATIS' knows where to lead us out of here. We can leave this place and stop Scar again. He thinks we're dead, so I don't think he'll be prepared for us to return. But for the rest of the pride... we need to leave as soon as we can. But I don't want to leave before you're ready. You took quite a fall...”
Upon being reminded of the rest of the pride, Nala forced herself to get up. Ignoring both her own pain and Simba's insistence to keep her down, with effort she found herself standing. “You look like you took quite the fall as well,” she retorted, “and you already had time to walk around and meet new... things.” She didn't listen to Simba's pleads for her to rest. “Scar is still out there, and for all we know, he can be planning to execute the rest of the pride... unless he already did that.”
Letting out a defeated sigh. “I'm not going to rest down here when every moment we spend here, someone can be killed off. I'll rest after we stop Scar. But right now, we need to leave this place...” She looked around with dread, not seeing any way out of the cave they were in.
The ATIS spoke again. “With all do respect, but if my sensors are correct, you will need a lot more help to do that.”
Nala recoiled back. “You were listening to us?”
“I hear everything that goes on in here. That was what I was designed for.”
Simba let out a little cough. “It can help us get out of here... And I don't know how to get out of here any other way. If it wasn't for that... thing, I would have never found you. I think you would have died if I didn't find you. It helped me take care of you, Nala.”
The ATIS took its opportunity to speak up. “This 'Scar' you talked about. I remember him finding this facility through one of the back entrances. Ran amok and destroyed quite a few of the vulnerable systems, I must say. I can help you get back to the surface and remove him. I'm afraid my programming has defined this 'Scar' as a hostile entity, and for the lack of a better term, I have no choice but to help you.”
“Help us? How?”
Something opened up on one of the walls, revealing a tunnel behind it. A way out. “Follow my guidance, and I will lead you back up. Welcome to the Singularity Facility.”
Nala looked as Simba. “Can we trust this thing?”
Simba nodded. “While you were out, I was talking to it. And from what I understand... well, it can talk, but it's not... alive. It already told me that if it helps, that I should think of it as a rock that can talk. I don't know what this “programming” it keeps talking about is, but from what I understand... it can't lie. As in, it doesn't even know how to lie. I think we can trust it. It lead me to you, remember?”
Nala nodded. “Yeah, I know. It's just that you must understand... we were so close to getting Scar. I ran away from home to find help, and there I found you. We returned, only for that... traitor to toss us here. What about the rest of the pride? What did he do yo them?”
Simba motioned towards the newly made exit. “I know you won't allow me to convince you stay here and rest up. Seeing how we have nothing to lose... Shall we?”
Nala let out a small smile and dipped her head slightly. “Yes. Let's go. I can't wait to see his face when we will return from the dead.”
Simba chuckled. “Twice.”
Together, they left the cave where Nala woke up in and into the unknown. Whatever was under Pride Rock, Scar no doubt thought them dead in a dark pit. He was wrong. Dead wrong.
Simba and Nala will return from the land of the dead and bring justice to the lion that deserved it the most.
Story 5:
The Fall: show
The Fall
Scar was running towards Pride Rock. He had to look like he had been rushing to get to Mufasa, else
Mufasa wouldn’t believe that Scar genuinely cared that Simba was in a stampede. As Scar approached the Rock, he heard Zazu and Mufasa talking.
“Oh look, sire; the herd is on the move.”
Mufasa looked down at the gorge, and saw a herd of wildebeest running through it.
“Odd…”
Scar climbed up the side of Pride Rock, and called out to Mufasa, taking deep breathes in-between each sentence to make himself seem worn out from sprinting.
“Mufasa. Quick. Stampede. In the gorge. Simba's down there!”
Scar watched Mufasa’s face as his expression turned from curiosity at Scar’s panting entrance to horror at the news of Simba being caught in a stampede.
Mufasa started running towards the gorge, calling out something that sounded like “I’m going to help him.” Scar closely followed behind, as getting Mufasa to the gorge was only the first part of his plan.
Mufasa reached the gorge, and told Zazu to fly around and see if he could spot Simba. Scar arrived shortly after Zazu flew down to the gorge, just in time to see Mufasa start to climb down to a ledge closer to the bottom.
When Scar reached the same ledge that Mufasa was on, Scar started to notice a fluttery feeling inside of him. An excited feeling. Something big was about to happen, and it would involve bug changes. Zazu flew over to the two, and pointed down at an old, dead tree.
“There! There! On that tree!”
Mufasa looked down, and saw Simba clinging on for his life, barely holding on. Scar looked down, and saw his future as king, just out of reach.
“Hold on Simba!” Mufasa yelled out, as he jumped down right into the stampede to save his son.
Zazu was floating to the right of Scar, watching in terror as Mufasa risked his life for Simba’s. Zazu was panicking, and had no idea of what to do. He asked Scar for his opinion.
”Oh Scar, this is awful. What will we do? What will we do? Hah ... I'll go back for help, that's what I'll do, I'll go back for he-“
Scar hit Zazu, and Zazu hit the rock with an “Oomph” and fell to the ground, dazed.
But, when Scar hit Zazu, Scar lost his footing, and tripped over. He slid over the ledge, and grabbed onto the edge at the last minute. Scar’s feelings of joy at his scheme going as he had planned it had changed to fear for his life in a matter of seconds as he flipped over the ledge.
He could not hold on for much longer, he was slipping. Scar’s claws were barely able to keep a grip on the smooth stone that had been weathered over the years. His scrabbling on the ledge was failing, and he was close to falling. With one final breath, Scar fell into the stampede.
And surprisingly, he was not hurt.
He went to stand up when he was bumped by a wildebeest. This shock knocked him back onto the ground, sending up dust and knocking over one of the herd. Over the noise of the stampede, he could just hear Mufasa’s reassuring voice.
“You are okay now Simba. We are both safe.”
The voice that had once filled Scar with hate now filled him with hope. He could survive, if only he could get Mufasa’s attention. Scar struggled to his feet and called out to his brother.
“Mufasa! Help, I’m stuck in the stampede!”
“Scar?”
Mufasa turned away from Simba and looked down at the stampede at the sound of Scar’s voice. He frantically searched for his brother for what seemed like an eternity until Mufasa spotted him, and turned back to Simba.
“Simba, go up that path and go straight back home. I don’t want you here right now, it’s too dangerous.”
“But dad, I-“
“Go.”
Simba turned around towards the path, then glanced at his father and ran up out of the gorge towards Pride Rock.
Once Mufasa was sure that Simba was safely out of the gorge, he turned back to the stampede and called out, unsure whether Scar could still hear him.
“Hold on Scar, I’m coming!”
Down in the stampede, Scar heard his brother call out, and his terror lessened a little. In the split second Scar relaxed, he failed to notice a wildebeest coming right at him. Scar got hit head-on by the wildebeest.
Mufasa saw this and started to feel worried. Worried that his brother might be dead. That is, until
Mufasa saw Scar’s body moving.
Scar was alive, but badly injured. It was agony for him to move, let alone stand up. The only thing he felt bothered to do anymore was to look up at his brother with sad eyes.
Mufasa jumped down to a ledge close to Scar.
“Come on! I can help you, Scar! Take my paw, and you will be fine.”
Scar was seeing something he hadn’t seen in his older brother for a long time, fear. Fear for Scar’s life. When Scar saw this, he found strength to stand. Scar made his way over to his brother, being careful as to not get hit by any of the wildebeest running towards him.
Mufasa reached out as much as he could towards Scar.
Scar was close enough to the ledge for Mufasa to grab.
Mufasa grabbed Scar and proceeded to pull him up.
Scar stood for a second, and then collapsed onto the ground, creating a little dust cloud.
“Scar, Taka, are you all right? Can you stand?”
“I… I…”
“Yes? Are you hurt?”
“I-I’m fine.”
Scar slowly and painfully stood up, and looked at his brother with an expression he hadn’t shown before.
Love.
“Yes. I think I’ll be fine.”
“Good. Let’s get you home. You need rest.”
“Yes, let’s… Let’s… I don’t feel so-“
Scar had started to sway.
“Taka?”
“Muffy…”
Scar fell over. Right over the ledge into the stragglers of the stampede.
“TAKA!”
Scar plummeted into the gorge, and his vision slowly faded.
“No! Taka…”
Mufasa looked down at his brother’s lifeless body, and a wave of sadness went through his body. Mufasa had never truly resented his brother; he had always loved him deep down.
Mufasa bowed his head in a moment of silence, for Taka.
After a short while, Mufasa turned around, and went up the same path that Simba went up earlier.
After a short walk, Mufasa arrived back at Pride Rock, and called a meeting. He announced the bad news. The only lions that mourned were Mufasa, Simba and Sarabi, but that didn’t matter. Mufasa couldn’t care less if any other lions weren’t mourning for Taka.
That night Mufasa went to sleep with a tear in his eye.
***
The lion woke up and felt as if he had been sleeping for a long time. He had no idea where he was, or where he had come from. He couldn’t remember much except for his name.
The lion was sore all over, bruised and battered all over.
‘The way I look, I must have been in a stampede. Though I do highly doubt it.’
The lion stood up, and shook himself to clear all the dust and dirt out of his fur and mane.
Looking around, he saw a giant rock and a jungle.
Neither of those places jumped out at him instantly, and after a while he decided on where to go.
The lion turned towards his destination, and started to walk towards the jungle off in the distance. There was something swirling around in his mind though, a strong looking lion with a thick red mane calling out his name.
The lion couldn’t remember anything besides the appearance of the other lion, but he shrugged it off as being unimportant, and continued towards the jungle, the place that was to become his home.
Story 6:
Imperfection: show
Imperfection
Scar, the dark lion, the prince of misfortune, slithered out of his place behind the lone umbrella tree whose foliage had graced the otherwise dry clime in the canyon’s bottom. The suppressed sunshine reappeared, pelting his clay brown hide and gradually slicking it with sweat as he walked slowly through the oppressive heat. With him was the golden child—who, contrary to common sense or the many degrees of heat and sticky humidity which was simmering in the deathly-still and torpid air around them—was bounding happily and jumping and playing and asking his uncle why he did not do the same.
He almost chuckled. Him, play? In this heat? Such a novelty…
“Uncle Scar, Uncle Scar, what’re you gonna show me in the gorge?”
If the older lion had been keeping track, this would’ve been the twentieth time he’d begged him to spoil his little… surprise. But he wasn’t going to release it the first time, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to after a hundred times. If the cub knew the truth—if any of them knew the truth which would greet them in but a few short minutes—then… well, then his nice shining grin would be wiped off his face in a matter of seconds.
Too bad he couldn’t find a way to do so now. That ebullient little smile with those tiny fangs and the shiny, gleaming coat which seemed to be made from strands of the sun itself… the boy was simply too spirited, it was frightful.
“Child, has your father ever explained the bounds of a surprise to you?”
A sharp, impatient growl came out with the word ‘surprise’. The blasted pretext had been haunting him for the half an hour it’d taken to bring the cub down the sharp and jagged slopes. And all the while he was asking…
“Well, yeah, but I don’t like surprises.” His tail drooped visibly. “I mean, why can’t I know now? This place is boring, Uncle Scar…”
“If it’s so boring, then go…” he waved his paw vaguely, thinking, “… look at that lizard over there. Anything, Simba, really.”
Just stop pestering me.
“Whoa, a lizard?” Simba craned his head, lids squinting around his vermeil irises so he could get a clear view of the lumbering, green lizard that was creeping around the rocks a mere ten yards from his curious stare. Its verdure shade was an inherent feast for the eyes and senses, and immediately he wished nothing more than to play with it.
He accordingly took off like shot in its direction, short attention briefly diverted away from his long-faced uncle. “That’s great, thanks Uncle Scar!”
The lion grimaced—his version of a relieved smile—in recognition, keeping the cub within his sight. He was nearly where he wanted to be… he could only hope those brutes wouldn’t screw something up this time. Yesterday his whole plan was ruined by that brother of his, the cub’s protective father… and knowing the nature of his hired hands, the entire imbroglio could have had a worse finale…
He cast an inadvertent glance at the lip of the gorge. Nothing. Good.
“Hey Uncle Scar, look, it changes colors!”
Simba determinedly poked his little clawed paw at the vexed creature, whose fringes were transforming into a bright, angry shade of scarlet. Best not to toy with it further. It occurred to Scar that he really wasn’t sure if chameleons could bite or not… but if they did, the boy more than had it coming to him.
“That’s marvelous, nephew. Now would you come here, please?”
He was nearly at the rock that served as a marker. From the edges of the ravine, he would track their progress when… it… happened. Yes. The beasts would come down from the top—that ridge over there—and come tumbling down, leaving the cub trapped in the center of it all. Meanwhile, he will have escalated out of danger and gone to warn his brother, a task which, judging by the herd Shenzi had rounded up, he would have about six minutes to fulfill before—
“Yowww… YOWWwww… YOWLLLLLRRRrrr!”
A raucous sound jarred him out of his concentrated thoughts.
“What on earth are you doing, Simba?”
The golden cub perked up, seemingly proud of his juvenile attempt at a massive roar… a sound which sounded more like a complaining wet house cat than the regal, throaty rumbles of a fully-grown lion. Pitiful.
“Roaring.”
He should have expected that answer. Pinching the bridge of his nose as subtly as he could, he looked down on the cub, who was still perky and alert with indefatigable energy.
“Please, nephew, practice those with your father. I’m sure he would love to hear how your roar is… developing…”
Simba was not in the least deterred by his somber, perhaps even acerbic tone. His Uncle Scar was always passionless and even morose in his demeanor, and after a while, he found that he felt a little bad for him. Maybe if he cheered him up somehow, he wouldn’t feel so excommunicated and lonely. Despite the warnings of his father, he felt obligated to keep the old lion company.
Scar, in his turn, was just as dispassionate and apathetic as ever, it seemed. He walked forward slowly and in his usual manner, with a deliberate sluggishness and languorousness that suggested boredom. His hunched and bowed form seemed unnaturally bony and delicate—a perception that his slender, almost effeminate figure only seemed to augment.
The golden cub frowned, perched on a rock which he had found and decided to clamber on top of. His uncle hadn’t chastised him, rather sauntering up next to him with what seemed to be an unreadable expression.
“Now… as I was saying… wait here. Your father has a marvelous surprise for you.”
“Really? Where is he? What is it?” The cub fidgeted in place, bouncing with energy as he searched the walls for any sign of his father. Scar should have expected such a reaction: his brother overshadowed him in nearly every aspect of life, and even Simba’s interest in him seemed to dwindle and perish whenever the walking hunk of sentient muscle—the veritable form of love incarnate—walked onto the scene.
“Simba, pay attention.” His tone was biting and an ample reflection of his irritation. Simba shrunk back as his acrid, acid-green eyes narrowed and bore into his sunken figure. “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it, my boy?”
“If you tell me, I’ll act surprised!” He bounced back metaphorically, limbs still twitching in excitement, barely bridled.
“Eheheh… no. This is just a father-son…” he paused, distaste welling up in his mouth as he thought back to his own father, the injustice wrought on him by the patriarch and the golden son of his. Oppressive, now that he thought of it… this bid for revenge was long suppressed and long overdue. As such, he had no word to describe such an excursion—he’d never experienced one himself. “… Thing.”
“Well,” he broke the uncomfortable silence and directed his silent, hidden train of thought elsewhere. “I’d better go get him.”
The cub’s response was almost predictable, and yet something he had not accounted for.
“I’ll go with you!” The golden prince leapt several paces off the rock, bounding after him and threatening to undo all the effort he’d taken in bringing them both down here. If he breathed a word to Mufasa about the ‘surprise’, the older sibling was bound to get very suspicious. Likely because he was always suspicious—and for good reason. They’d more than mutually volleyed their perceptions and opinions of one another, and Mufasa knew not to underestimate his cruelty, his devious cunning and his jealousy. Doing so would be his mistake…
Yet Mufasa, in his turn, was not the best of the bunch as everyone so willingly believed. The scar on his eye, from which they’d dubbed him his appellation, physically burned at the bitter thought of his hurt, his long-welled up shame which had corroded away at his center for years now. And all of it was Mufasa’s fault, Mufasa’s short-coming… Mufasa’s wrath.
His son, Simba, would never know, of course. But he’d made it clear how he thought of him, and now it was too late to right the wrongs any other way but this. Forgiveness was a lost road, and now only reparation remained; Scar’s brother would pay, dearly.
The little cub was naïve, and hence knew none of their problems. To him, all of this was but another filial enigma. He would never understand, for in but a few short minutes his life would be snuffed out like a weak candle. At that very moment the trio of hyenas was impatiently waiting for the dark lion’s signal, so that they could scatter the horde of gnu. And then they’d tumble amok down the slopes, trampling everything below their churning hooves into the cold embrace of death. Everything save for Scar, who would have extricated himself in a timely manner.
But alas, they were hyenas. And hyenas could only hold back that damned, impulsive hunger of theirs for so long. If he spent any more time here, he risked an accident—the crazed, mute one, Ed, especially worried him. There was no telling what he would do, or if he would suddenly jump into the fray and frighten them all in spite of the others' warnings.
This would have to be quick.
“Simba,” he gave an attempt at a warm chuckle, the sort his bleeding-heart brother would give his son at nearly any occasion. All that came out was an icy chortle. “Stay here, safe on this rock. Wouldn’t want to end up in a mess like that one with the hyenas, hmmm?”
“Oh. Yeah,” Simba looked dejected, reply unusually short as he stared ashamedly at his neat little paws. “You knew about that, Uncle Scar?”
Well, yes. He’d been there to watch the slobbering brutes attack him. And also there to see Mufasa leap bravely and ferociously into the fray—frankly, he was surprised that the golden king didn’t extol punishment on the creatures. The same responsible for their father’s death.
With the strength of the blood feud between the species, it would have been more reasonable to cut their throats while he had the chance. Had he been in that position, he would have done so. But alas, Mufasa had been on a merciful streak. His heart ordained it not so.
But again, that was something that could not be known. Had Simba spilled their little secret to his father, telling him about how good old Uncle Scar had discreetly incited him to explore the hyena’s squalid abode… well, nobody involved would have found a happy ending.
And so it was that he conceded with a vague “Simba, everybody knows about that.”
The cub was understandably abject and embarrassed.
More importantly, though, was the cub’s uncharacteristic, and perhaps overblown, fears. For it seemed silly to him—the same cub that would laugh in the face of danger—to be scared of what was surely just a trick from his imagination… but he couldn’t shake the fact that he smelled hyenas skulking somewhere around. And if Uncle Scar left, he was afraid of another experience like the one which had transpired only a day beforehand.
“Please don’t leave, Uncle Scar,” he begged with a whimper, face oddly long and crestfallen. “I’m scared.”
“Scared?” He scoffed. That had to be a first—the brash son of Mufasa rarely, if ever, showed his fear… he had to have been petrified. Did he… know… somehow? “What for, child?”
“I smell hyenas,” the cub let out with a gentle susurration, his figure trembling slightly with the knowledge that several of the beasts were coming closer… Scar stiffened inadvertently, eyes locked with the top of the gorge. It was true, his sense of smell was not as acute as that of the young lion cub sitting abut to him, but he could sense something… a faint disturbance in his inner self which drew itself not from reasoning, but from something else much deeper, much more vital…
Something was very, very wrong. He had known what to expect, and that should have given him an advantage… but this unexpected turn of events was enough to even instill him with an ornery sense of dread.
The youngling’s golden form reached out and placed a quivering paw gently on the dark lion’s shoulder. Scar flinched at the touch, surprised at the frightened timbre of the cub’s voice and that he would so suddenly press up against him, yet he did not move away…
“Please don’t go, Uncle Scar.”
He stopped and stooped in his tracks, trying to reassure the boy. May as well—he didn’t hold anything personal against the miniature king-in-the-making. Yes, true, he was spoiled, and annoying, and talkative… but so were most cubs: Mufasa, especially, had been much more of a pain to grow up with. If he wasn’t the king’s spawn, he wouldn’t have had to drag him down here. He wouldn’t have had to get rid of him. In fact, he might have even grown a fondness for the cub.
But indeed, it was not so. For he was his brother’s child, and his brother had to go. It would be cruel to keep the gentle father and the loving son apart for too long.
“You’ll be fine,” he spat, masking his vague apprehension with a show of anger which was only partially true and by no means directed at Simba. “Your father can’t come here unless I leave.”
He kept up his little charade, the little fallacious pretext which really didn’t matter anymore. For something was setting him on edge… the sides of the gorge were alight with a faint rumble, a distant sound which ruffled their surroundings and caused their fur to instinctively bristle. And then, out of nowhere, a dark figure came bounding out from the top of the cliff, prancing and jumping and multiplying—first into two, then into five, and ten, and fifty, and a hundred, and a thousand…
Suddenly the ‘surprise’ wasn’t on the front of Simba’s mind, despite the fact that he was staring right at it. Scar, too, was shocked into silence… no, this was not supposed to happen, not while he was still here. Why couldn’t those damned poachers keep themselves under control for five whole minutes? Why couldn’t they wait for him? Now he was to be trampled to death along with his quarry!
Mufasa was nowhere to be seen, and suddenly he cursed his luck. This was going to fail. They were both going to die!
He spun around, prepared to run away and find safety… but Simba only stood there, mouth agape and frozen in a prolonged state of terror and unexpected fright, golden form bristling and trembling idly.
So what? Just leave him while you have the chance! This could still work!
No, it couldn’t. Surely it couldn’t. He was already supposed to be out of the gorge… and if Mufasa found out that Simba died and Scar had done nothing to save him, it wouldn’t do anything to help him.
They’ll both die in the end. What does it matter?
He ran for several seconds as such, fighting his own battle with thoughts thus conflicted. It continued on until the moment whence he looked back, seeing the cub’s helpless form trip and stumble off of the rocks, the first of the stampeding animals overtaking him as he tried to find shelter. Suddenly his mind was made up.
Simba was his nephew. Family. He looked up to him like a hero, and had unbounded faith in him. Alas, he shouldn’t have—the rest of the pride had long since relinquished their trust in him… but he couldn’t just leave him for dead in the midst of the chaos. He had to go back for him… Besides, if Simba lived through this stampede, however slim the odds were, and remembered that his uncle had abandoned him… what would he think? And what would his father think?
Maybe he did care, to at least some small degree, after all. But nonetheless, whatever the reason, he turned around. With a burst of energy he didn’t know he had, he wove his pathway through the horde of primeval beasts, approaching the little golden figure wading through the torrents of uproarious hooves that were crashing down, deluge-like, from every angle in a frightened attempt to crush his skull.
Scar darted in, teeth closing in on the loose ruff of fur at the cub’s nape. Perhaps it was a little harsh, and maybe his sharp sabers had drawn blood… but alas, Simba was not one to care at that moment, his wide eyes gazing at the rows of frightened creatures as Scar tried to turn around. The slope here, from where they had entered the gorge, was relatively shallow and an ideal exit... but fighting against the current was only going to last so long, and as the sharp surface of a horn was thrust a paw’s width from the older lion’s frame, they both realized that the only way of survival was to run alongside the herd as fast as they possibly could.
Another burst of speed and Scar bolted, juxtaposed to their opponents. His lithe, quick frame was like a shadow in the midst of the weary and paranoid creatures, Simba synergizing smoothly with the lilting, agile actions of his uncle’s movements.
They were running headlong into the fray, Scar’s head shaking back and forth as he sought an exit. Yes, there had to have been one around… his jaws tightened around Simba’s scruff, jade eyes purveying the sides of the massive ditch. It continued to get steeper and steeper, and if he didn’t act now then refuge would be all but—
“ACKKKkkk!”
Scar cried out suddenly as one of the frenetic animals acted just a little too frisky, the sharp point of a horn stabbing into the edge of his rippling shoulder. A spurt of blood gushed as Simba continued moving, his uncle’s grip compromised. He flew several feet, unsuspended, before landing as a vulnerable heap in the middle of the living river.
To his horror, he could not see the dark form of his uncle—he had disappeared in the short distance between them. Instantly his breath quickened. What if he fell too? What would happen to them? All his faith of surviving he had rested on his uncle… and if the elder lion was gone, a cub like him would could only hope to live for so long…
He tried to dodge the incoming hooves, his attention still focused behind him… but the constant, steady stream of dark hides was too much. His luck could only last for—
Thwump!
A hoof struck the ground inches from him, sending clumps of dirt showering out as he remained frozen in horror. No, no… he had to keep running. And so he did, watching as the sides of the gorge became steeper and steeper. Time was running out.
The magnitude of his fear increased as he felt glistening wet teeth clutch the skin on the back of his neck, a feeling which quickly dissipated. Scar had managed to find his footing, though the limp in his gait and the crimson rivulets trickling across his limb suggested he was the worse for wear. He wheezed as he moved, seeming to groan with every step now… Simba was shaken up and down roughly, the choppiness of his actions obvious. The grace and speed with which he moved was gone… another hit like that and the two of them would be resigned to their fate.
Scar’s muscles bunched as he saw a flat shelf on the edge of the ravine, perfect for the idea he had in mind. For ultimately, he had to get Simba to safety first… the cub could summon help to rescue him, provided he lived that long. At this point, his own survival seemed a bleak hope—the muscle in his shoulder throbbed and smarted, sending waves of pain shooting up and down his limb every time he moved it… it hurt to keep running like this, it really did.
Closing his eyes and ignoring the pain as well as he could, he vaulted forwards, his front limbs latching onto the edge of the rock as he pulled himself halfway onto the ledge. With much effort he loosened his jaws, depriving them of their locked vise-grip as he dropped Simba onto the ground, the golden cub visibly relieved. The rest of his strength he used in an attempt to straighten his limbs and pull himself up to safety… Simba’s face contorted with the crook of a smile, and for a moment, it seemed as though he would be able to go home…
Without warning, however, another wrench was thrown into his plans—this one in the form of a horn tearing deeply into the soft edge of his flank as he hung there deleteriously. He stiffened like a corpse, his claws digging into the rock… but the force of the impact still tore him away from his nephew, who cried out in surprise as his uncle was flung into the middle of the gorge, the converging point where nature’s wrath would rain down upon him in the form of sharpened hooves.
Scar hit the earth with a grunt, trying to shake himself back into alertness. More than a few seconds on the ground would ensure his death. His heart pounded, temple throbbing with the pulse which reverberated in between his russet ears. He staggered to his feet as the beasts ran around him, his shoulder sending its own complaints as he shook with the chill which crawled up his spine. Every beat of his heart sent spatters of crimson spilling out from his mangled side as he tried to run, Simba’s eyes tracking him in the midst of the clouds of dust and hooves which polluted his otherwise sharp sight. He could see the horrors almost too clearly. He saw his uncle’s desperation as he moved to and fro sporadically. Every bit of sweat glistening off his pelt as his lurid, lemon-lime eyes graced the edge of the ravine. The rippling of his muscles under his pelt as he tensed up, using the rest of his remaining stamina to leap as far as he could… which, in view of his injuries, wasn’t as far as Simba would have hoped. One might have even said that it wasn’t far enough.
Simba wasted no time in running up the edge of the cliff near his own end, scampering over rocks and debris in the hope that he could reach the summit and then descend to help his uncle. But there wasn’t enough time.
The dark lion clung there in fright, his claws locking in and roughly scraping at the gritty edge of the boulder. His paw pads were cut and bleeding with the sandpaper-like asperity of the inhospitable stone, his back legs scrabbling at the sheer slope of the cliff. Mostly they only clawed at air, at the dangerous and certainly deadly drop below him. Normally he was a good climber, but all of his progress relied on the strength of his front limbs… which, due to his shoulder, was lacking.
And so he stiffly held himself there, knowing that this was a life-or-death struggle. Yet he could see no way out. He would pay for his own foolishness—his plan would backfire and kill him in the ultimate show of ironic fate, whilst the two intended victims would escape with not a scratch. Oh, what a cruel twist this was… A cruel twist indeed…
Suddenly a part of the rock gave way, the lion slipping down so that he was marginally closer to the wild, bustling fray. His breath caught and he visibly quavered in terror, everything shaking and pounding and throbbing around him in a virulent cacophony. No, he couldn’t die now… he couldn’t. He’d saved Simba, hadn’t he? Was death the price for saving his nephew’s life? He didn’t deserve this!
His muscles shook and buckled now, from fear and strain and effort. The twitching fibers began to give way to fatigue and weakness, and he felt himself slipping down farther, his hind legs dangling uselessly in the midst of empty, unforgiving space. A grunt escaped his battered figure, the rock a mottled grey and crimson as it abraded and chafed at the fur and flesh which rubbed against its surface as he continued to fall.
He should have left him. He should have abandoned him to be trampled by the gnu. He would be safe, his brother would be—
His brother.
He looked up to see… no, it couldn’t be. Mufasa’s golden form was there, the epitome of regal grace and what he always perceived as filial domination. The lion was now physically standing over him, the dark lion at his mercy. Scar half-awaited the moment when Mufasa would look down and laugh contemptuously at him, cursing him to his ultimate fate. No. He couldn’t stand this humiliation. Closing his eyes and bracing his slick-with-sweat forehead against the stone, he openly cursed his luck… again.
But a part of him was desperate. And that was the part of him that called out for help.
“Mufasa!”
Scrrrtcchhh!
His claws slid another few inches down the stone. Only one or two more slips like that and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on anymore.
“MUFASA!”
He panted, his lungs wheezing for breath in the midst of the panic and the dust.
“Please!”
And that was it. Was this what death felt like? The hopelessness and despair and pain? Cold and gripping and sweaty in its embrace of fear, it was all he could feel as his claws slid down the rest of the way, his paws clinging at the very edge and their grip rapidly fading. He was about to fall backwards, the horde of dark ungulates still churning rapidly and thickly below, ready to accept him under the tread of their feet. All of a sudden he reached the precipice, the point of no return… and he was about to let go.
Until the golden paw reached down and, at the last possible moment, clutched his own.
He looked up in surprise, but Mufasa did not let go. The golden lion held him in a grip which emanated warmth and safety, the strength of his paw and, indeed, his entire body showing as he pulled him up alongside him. In fact, as the dark lion ascended, he noticed Simba, smiling happily and curled up next to his father.
“It’s alright, Scar,” he whispered, closing the remainder of the distance between them. “I’ve got you.”
Suddenly the dark prince found himself standing alongside his brother on the ledge. The last of the wildebeest had disappeared at the bottom edge of it, the creatures becoming nearly powerless as the strength of their numbers was absolved. All the tension, all the suspense… suddenly it was gone, everything returning almost to normal. His heart still pounded, seemingly ready to burst, inside his chest… that much was true, yes. But no longer was he walking the fine line between life and death.
Instantly Simba lurched forwards, hugging his uncle around the leg as tightly as his little arms could… which was surprisingly so, considering his size. Nonetheless, he was growing rapidly, and would no doubt be bigger than Scar himself someday.
“Thank you, Uncle, for saving me.”
Scar’s muzzle was wrought into a vaguely pleased expression, though this unusual show of emotion was something he generally preferred repressed. No gratitude was necessary, considering he had been scheming to take his life all afternoon beforehand…
“… Don’t mention it, child…”
“No,” Mufasa chided him mildly, “we will. Listen, Scar… I… I know that we’ve been…”
Mufasa appeared to be fumbling around with his words, something which was unusual for someone so steadfast and confident… their gazes met, and in the still silence of the air around them, Mufasa knew he had heard him and that he had to continue.
“Look, Scar… I… misjudged you. I know. Granted, I don’t see why you two were down here, alone…”
Simba frowned slightly, realizing that his father must have forgotten their surprise. That, or there never was one to begin with… an idea which, luckily, he didn’t understand.
“But what you’ve done is something I can’t ignore. I want to talk with you later… if that’s okay. Just know that you have my immense gratitude, brother.”
Brother. Mufasa hadn’t addressed him as that in years. It was always ‘Scar’ or, occasionally, ‘you’. He looked up at him in surprise… a surprise which was increased as the older lion advanced on him and locked him in the huge expanse of his arms. A hug. The first in… spirits, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged Mufasa. It had to have been many moons ago. Yet the whole experience felt…
Good.
The eyes of both his brother and his nephew were upon him, and for once, unlike his pridesisters, it wasn’t a gaze filled with contempt and derision. It was kind… forgiving. Like they actually wanted him around.
For the first time in… well, perhaps ever, Scar was actually glad at the prospect of being proven wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for them, for forgiveness and reconciliation. It started when he decided…
Suddenly he was attacked by something unexplained. For as he remained in the embrace of the king he felt guilty, and ashamed… only minutes before he’d been so intent on taking all their lives. And it took all of this for him to change his mind.
For the first time in years, Scar—the dark lion, the prince of misfortune—wept.
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Six stories. I didn't expect that...
