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Story 1:
Untitled: show
Untitled
King Kovu sighed in frustration as once more, the hunting party came back empty handed. For some unknown reason, the various animals of the kingdom started to flee the Pride Lands. To the new king, this situation was very usual. The lands themselves were absolutely fine. There was no drought or any other natural phenomena that would cause a mass migration out of the kingdom, and yet despite the rather pristine nature of the savanna, more and more animals were deciding to get up and leave.
The hunting party passed Kovu, all of them looking completely worn out, and without a meal to make up for the effort. If this will continue, the pride themselves will have to leave.
Kovu walked over to his sister, but Vitani didn't look at him. She didn't want to admit that despite being one of the best hunters in the pride, even she was feeling quite useless now, unable to help her fellow huntresses in getting a meal. And unlike when they still lived in the Outlands, this pride was too large to simply live off whatever mice and other critters lived underground. Added to the strain, the Pridelanders cared about one another too much to simply let the old or weak to starve to death in order to ease the hunger burden for the rest.
Kovu had to do something, and something fast. “Vitani, I am going to patrol the Pride Lands again tonight. I can never find anything during the day, and we're getting desperate. I need to know why all the herd are leaving for no reason.”
His sister glared at him. “Then I'm coming with you.”
“Wha? No, you're not. You need to rest.” This was not what he wanted to happen. Kovu simply wanted to tell Vitani that he will be gone during the night. Not that he wanted her to accompany him.
Vitani let out a low growl. “Rest for what? Another failed hunt? We're running out of food, Kovu! Very soon we will either have to starve to death or we will be forced to leave as well! If it's as you insist not our fault that the animals are leaving, something else has to be. How can you explain all of the herds leaving right now? With the lands in this state? This is not a drought here, Kovu! Whatever is casing this exodus, it's not anything like what Scar caused. Yes, I'm tired. We're all tired! But we can't just rest between one failed hunt and the next. If you think that the solution lies at night, then you can bet that I am going to be with you. I need to find out for myself too, you know. You may be the king, but I am still your sister.”
Kovu nodded. “Alright, if I can't convince you to stay at night, then at least get some rest now.”
Shrugging, Vitani playfully batted his shoulder with a paw. “That I can do.” She walked in and disappeared inside the den.
000---000---000---000---000---000---000---000---000---000---000---000
Nudge. “Wake up. Vitani... wake up.” Nudge nudge.
A low groan emitted from the lioness. “Just a little longer, mother. I'm really tired...”
“Uh, Vitani, it's me. It's Kovu.”
Nudge.
“Kov- Oh, right!” Almost at an instant, the lioness was up, although not quite awake. “Why'd you wake me up?” Looking around, she confirmed that it was indeed night time.
The king grinned sheepishly. “Because I know that if I had simply left you behind to sleep, that the next time I would go to take a nap would be the last time my head would remain attached to the rest of my body.”
Even while still trying to wake up, Vitani managed to let out a small laugh. “Yeah, you got that right. Come on.” Again she almost effortlessly switched to fully awake and left the den, knowing fully well that Kovu wouldn't dare to fall behind. “So where are we going to anyways?”
Kovu thought for a moment. “The small herd that arrived from the desert yesterday after the hunt. They had to stop here at least for the night, and I think that they will be the best place to figure out what is going on.”
“But won't they just flee when they will notice us approaching?”
“Nah. They know that I won't hunt them at their state, and we will simply have to tell them not to mind us.”
“But Kovu... What if we ARE the problem? What if all those failed hunts are causing all the herds to be agitated and scared, causing them to leave?”
Kovu shook his head. “A successful hunt would make them more scared, so it's not failed hunts that are the problem. Plus, if it was indeed us, they would have told me. But whenever I asked anyone, they always refused to answer. Almost as if they are afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“I dunno. It's almost as if they are afraid to tell me because they think I won't be able to help.”
“That's why you are here at this time? To prove that you can help?”
“Considering that I don't know what the core problem is, more or less.”
The two siblings continued to walk until they met up with the small herd. A bit of talking more convinced the herbivores that the two lions were not there to cause trouble.
Then came what Kovu prepared for, but still found more extreme than he imagined. The tedious, monotonous boredom of always being alert to react to anything, to an unknown threat, when non came. A few times, the king caught himself slipping into a nap, but had to shake himself awake in order to get back to being a look out. What kind of king was he if he couldn't keep himself awake on the job? Simba would have a fit if he knew.
So far the most interesting thing that happened was Vitani sneezed once, causing Kovu to jump up ready for a fight, only to then realize what had happened. She snickered at him quietly as he lay back down on the grass to sulk to himself at getting frightened by such a common event.
Then more waiting. And waiting. And more waiting. Looking up at the sky. Seriously, it's only midnight? How long can a single night last for? Waiting. And waiting. And waiting. AND waiting.
And snap.
Kovu's ears locked on to a strange noise, as though something stepped on a dry twig. The noise didn't come from the herd, nor from where Vitani should be. He had to make sure though, just in case.
“Vitani?”
“What?” Sure enough, his sister's voice did not come from where he heard the twig snap. Vitani knew better than to commit such a cubbish mistake. This meant only one thing: They were no longer alone.
“Vitani, I think we are being watched.”
He heard her snort. “Good. Let them see all they want. It's still me they will have to deal with if they come close.” Ever so humble, that lioness.
Kovu watched carefully the general area where he heard the noise come from. He didn't know if it was just him, but he swore that he could see something move smoothly though the grass. Deciding that Vitani could watch herself, the king got up ever so carefully and began to follow whatever he could or could not be imagining.
For the longest time, he swore that he was only thinking that he saw anything in the first place, for he knew that he walked at at least past this rock at least three time now. He was being lead, or just walking so for no reason, in a circle.
That was when he heard a rather loud commotion, a loud roar from Vitani, and soon the herd came running past him in a blind panic. Running as fast as he could back to his sister, Kovu stopped when he found Vitani also standing, pressing a paw hard against a rather nasty wound on her shoulder. “Vitani, what happened?”
His sister shook her head. “I don't know. This thing just jumped me... and I mean JUMPED on me, and landed on my shoulder with its claws. I retaliated and gave it a good hard whack of my own, so it fled. I just didn't get a good look at it.”
Kovu walked over to examine the wound, but Vitani brushed him off. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Plus, now I know its favorite party trick, and how to avoid it. Now you go and get it. Alive if you can, of course.” She motioned into the grass. “It went off that way.”
Kovu grinned. “Alight. Take care of yourself.” He ran off, getting a hint of a very foreign smelling scent. He followed it, not knowing if what he was smelling was blood, something similar to blood, or something else entirely.
He continued to run before coming across the strangest looking animal. He could only describe it as a large lizard, and would have guessed that it would move on its two rear legs if it wasn't lying on its side, bleeding profusely from its own wound. Kovu grinned at this revelation. Vitani had done her job well.
This time it was he who pounced, landing hard on the lizard in a near death chock. “Alright you creature. I have one very simple question: Just what in the world are you?”
The lizard... thing... just looked back at him and hissed angrily. Kovu pressed harder on its neck. “I didn't get that. What are you, and why are you hunting down all of our herds? Don't you know who the king is around here?” There was no other explanation. This creature must have been the source of the mass exodus.
Still, he didn't get a good answer. Only more hisses. What Kovu did hear was Vitani's warning to move, and so he did, narrowly avoiding being hit by another one of these lizards. He stumbled a bit, trying to regain his footing, but this second creature had the upper hand and pounced on the lion king.
Kovu prepared to meet it in the air, but the moment never came as his sister intercepted the creature and swiftly ran a claw through its neck, killing it instantly.
Taking the opportunity, the other lizard had got up and was preparing to attack Kovu as well, but the king saw this move and prepared. Sure enough, the lizard tried to jump onto the king, and Kovu pretended not to be aware until the very last moment when he rolled on his back and used the lizard's own momentum to roll it over and jump on it once more. Not taking a risk again, he too quickly disposed of it.
The king looked over at the two bodies. He couldn't imagine just what kind of creatures they were. “Vitani, you know what this is?”
“No, why are you asking me for? You're the king, you're supposed to know this stuff. My job is just to hunt it and kill it.”
“Oh, so now I'm the all-knowing king again, huh? Well, whatever this is, I do know one thing.”
“What's that?”
“It's no invincible, and I can do something about this. Starting tomorrow I can start to convince whatever herds stopping by here to say. There's nothing for them to worry about, at least not while I am here.”
“Correction: not while I AM here.”
“Yeah, yeah. One of these days your mouth will catch up to you, Vitani.”
“It hasn't yet.”
“Whatever.”
Story 2:
If Our Places Were Swapped: show
If Our Places Were Swapped
Scar stood proudly next to his mate, Zuri, their son and heir, Chumvi, between his paws. Next to him on the other side stood his brother, Mufasa, his mate, Sarabi, and their son, Simba. The brown lion smiled wide and roared across the lands from where he stood on the promontory. The lions beside him joined in, their voices sounding out in harmony across the kingdom. As the roar ended, the lion cast his loving gaze on his family.
Both of the youngsters had just been betrothed, it was a glorious moment for the kingdom, ensuring that some way or another, the royal line would be continued. Chumvi had just been betrothed to the orphaned youngster Zira, and Simba to Sarafina’s cub, Nala. The girls, not being of royal blood, were not standing here now, but in a few years, Scar knew they would make excellent brides for the boys, and one of them would make a fine queen.
He smiled at Mufasa, who returned the sentiment although somewhat distantly. Mufasa had been drifting away from Scar ever since Chumvi’s birth. Since Simba had been born around that time, Scar figured it was just the stress of being a dad. After all, there wasn’t as much time for everything else when you have a child to raise. It could all be Scar’s own doing after all, he reminded himself, because between his royal duties and teaching Chumvi and spending time with the lad, he hadn’t exactly had much time to spend with his brother. He resolved to go and speak with Mufasa at the conclusion of this ceremony.
The animals below Pride Rock reared up, calling out their sounds in a cacophonous response to the royal roar. Then as their forelegs returned to the ground, they fell into a deep bow. Scar smiled again as Rafiki made his way up the rock and stopped beside the lions. At his gesture, the adults backed away from the edge, leaving the young princes and the baboon at the precipice. The monkey painted the faces of the cubs with markings and then waved his staff over them in specific patterns that were baffling not only to the cubs, but to most of the other animals as well.
After some more theatrics on Rafiki’s part, the ceremony had reached its end and the animals began to disperse. As the crowds vanished and the cubs’ mothers had scooped them up and taken them off, Scar approached his brother.
“Mufasa, I was hoping for a word,” he said.
“Oh? Decided to take a break from your kingly duties to visit the commoner?” the yellow lion asked in a drawl.
“You know I’d spend more time with my brother if I had the time, and I do hope you don’t think I think of myself as better than you over a silly title,” Scar replied.
“And I hope you don’t view your rank and position as a nothing more than a silly title.”
“Mufasa, don’t do this. You know just as well as I that you are valuable to the kingdom too, and we both know I trust and value your advice. I may be king, but as a lion I am no better than you, brother,” the king chastised, “Now then, I wanted to arrange a time for us to go out and have a day with our sons, just the four of us. It would be good for us all, don’t you think?”
“Oh, but of course it would be, Simba and Chumvi aren’t able to play much, after all, for all the lessons,” Mufasa replied, though he seemed somewhat sarcastic. Scar decided to ignore that.
“I’m so glad you agree. I was thinking we could arrange surprises with one another’s sons for the fathers, you know, make it a sort of father-son… thing.”
“Yes, that sounds excellent, brother,” the golden lion said almost monotonously. Scar felt uncomfortable in his presence, so he just grinned and took a step away from Mufasa.
“Well, I’d better go find Simba and get started. I’ll send Zazu when it’s ready,” he said, strolling away hopefully. Something was certainly off about his brother, but surely some quality time with the family would mend things.
After locating the young cub, whose mother had cleaned all of the face paint off of, Scar took Simba with him to a place away from Pride Rock, and sent his own son off with Mufasa. He and the yellow cub spent hours over the course of several nights devising a great game with lots of rewards for all the players- rewards that would cater to Mufasa. Rewards like a hunk of antelope, a bunch of sweet berries, and a crown fashioned from branches and leaves just for Mufasa. The game was going to be called “King for a Day,” and Mufasa would be allowed to be the “king” over Scar and the cubs for as long as he kept the crown.
At last, pleased with the result, Scar sent for Mufasa. But when Zazu returned, he bore a strange message.
“Mufasa humbly requests that you come see his surprise first. He and Chumvi will be awaiting you at the gorge,” the hornbill reported. Scar wrinkled his nose.
“Odd… but alright. Come along, Simba, let’s see what your daddy has in store for your old uncle,” the king mused.
“But Uncle Scar, I wanted to show ours to dad first,” the cub pouted.
“And he wants to show us his first. We shouldn’t be rude, Simba,” Scar pointed out. The cub nodded and bounded along behind his uncle as they approached the gorge. When they reached the edge of the chasm, Scar peered down into the gorge, spying his son perched on a rock, but seeing no sign of Mufasa. Something felt out of place.
“I have a bad feeling. Simba, you stay up here,” he commanded as he started his descent down the wall.
“But Chumvi’s down there, it’s fine! Look! Look Uncle Scar!”
“If my hunch is wrong, you can come down in a moment Simba. Zazu, stay here with the boy,” Scar reasserted his concerns.
“Yes, sire, of course.”
The dark king made his way carefully and deliberately down the cliff, choosing his footing wisely so as to prevent a fall. The wall was steep and tall, but still it didn’t take him long to get to the floor of the gorge. Once he was safely on the flat surface, Scar trotted briskly over to the stone Chumvi was waiting on. The cub looked a bit concerned.
“Chumvi? Where is your uncle?” the king asked. The youngster looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I d-don’t know. He told me to stay put. He said you’d be coming with a surprise for me, a father-son thing… he told me I wasn’t to leave this spot or… or…” Chumvi gulped. Scar’s heart sank into his stomach. This definitely wasn’t right. The surprise was for him, not Chumvi. And why should Mufasa have said those things to the young prince? It didn’t add up, or at least, the one way it could add up was something Scar just couldn’t bring himself to believe.
And then---
RRRRROOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!
The sound echoed off the walls of the canyon, a roar that was unmistakably Mufasa’s, and a milimoment later, the sound of pounding hooves storming down into the gorge. Scar looked in the direction of the sound to see a horde of wildebeest pouring into the chasm towards him and his son.
“Zazu! Keep Simba away! Get help!” he bellowed at the top of his voice before snatching up his son in his jaws and fleeing. He tried to make for the wall he’d descended, but the creatures were already too close. He’d never make it. The king sprinted forward, his eyes darting back and forth for a chance to get through.
Oompf.
A hoof collided with Scar’s left hind leg, nearly toppling him. He fought to keep his jaw tight around Chumvi’s scruff. It hurt like hell, but he kept on running, he had to. He weaved to the right as a wildebeest came up on his left, too close for comfort. Another one right behind him, he could feel its breath on his rump. The beasts were everywhere, closing in on him, passing him, surrounding him. Scar was growing weak. He wasn’t as young as he’d once been, and the wait of his son was wearing at his jaw and his neck. Instinct begged for him to put his son down. But he couldn’t.
“DAAAD!!!” Chumvi wailed suddenly.
At just that moment, a leg struck the king in the ribs, and a hoof caught him under the chest. He grunted in pain, wheezing as the burning sensations coursed through his body. He knew he couldn’t keep this up much longer. He had to get out of there.
It was risky, but he seized a chance and darted beneath a wildebeest as its legs moved apart, getting kneed in the side of the head as he did so, and came out the other side, running behind a few of the others and jumping at the wall of the canyon. His claws met rock, hung. There was a tiny hint of a ledge. Big enough for Chumvi. The king opened his weary jaws and relinquished his son.
“Stay here until Zazu gets back with help. Don’t move while the stampede continues. Don’t trust Mufasa,” the king gasped between breaths, knowing he most likely wouldn’t make it out of the gorge alive. Scar slipped back to the ground and scrambled along as fast as he could near the wall of the canyon, desperately searching for anther place to climb up.
There were too many of them, he took another hit as one raced past him. Then suddenly, they were all gone, and Scar was still staggering along for a moment, his breathing ragged, his body aching. When he finally realized it was all over, he stopped moving, and a second later, collapsed to the earth.
“Dad!”
“Uncle Scar!”
The cubs’ voices.
“No… Scar…!” Zuri’s voice.
His vision was fading. Had this really happened? He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Everything was muted. He couldn’t see well, couldn’t hear well, couldn’t focus. There were lionesses above him. There, Zuri. Chumvi. Simba. Sarabi. Concerned faces, all concerned. He couldn’t make out the faces of anyone else, couldn’t see the perpetrator. Could barely remember what had happened.
“Mu… Mufasa…” he croaked.
“Mufasa?” someone echoed, he could hear the confusion in the tone. He knew he didn’t have enough breath left to tell them all, so he tried a different tactic.
“Chumvi… Mufasa… t-tell them… my son…” he rasped. His eyes snapped shut again and his head lolled. He could still hear. He could hear them murmuring in confusion.
“Chumvi?” he heard Zuri asked, “What does he mean?”
“I…” the cub’s voice started.
Yes, tell them, my son.
“I…” Chumvi repeated slowly. The lionesses asked him to continue. Scar heard the heavy footfalls of another heavy lion approaching. The young prince made another sound, like a squeak, and then he continued, “I don’t know. Uncle Mufasa… he b-brought us here for a- for a sur-surprise, but then the wildebeest… they, they… just came running into the gorge and dad, he… he t-tried to save me, and then… and then… this… That’s all I know… honest…”
Scar registered disbelief and shock. He opened his mouth to protest.
No.
But the word didn’t come out. He tried once again, but still nothing. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t supposed to go like this. Then it hit him, as forcefully as the wildebeest hooves had earlier. The heavy footfall’s were his brother’s. Mufasa had threatened Chumvi, and now Scar couldn’t protect him, and the boy was feigning ignorance from fear. If he’d had the strength, the dying king would have sworn.
It was over. And given Cumvi’s young age, Scar’s last thought was knowing Mufasa would “act as king until Chumvi’s coming of age,” but find some way to weasel out of giving the throne to the rightful heir when the time came. Mufasa had gotten away with murder, and there was nothing he could do about it as the final blackness set in.
Story 3:
Ascension: show
Ascension
The first sign of anything out of the ordinary that day had been the large cloud of dust rising from the distant gorge. The vast valley, which had once been home to a spectacular river, had dried up many moons ago, remaining empty of virtually any sign of life for as long as anyone could remember. Yet, now, here it was, all at once spewing dust and sand into the air like a suddenly active volcano that had lain dormant for years.
The king Mufasa and his major-domo Zazu hadn’t been too far away when it all started. A tremendous rumbling could be heard in the distance, but the two of them didn’t pay it much attention. Large herds of animals often travelled as one like that when migrating or just moving from one place to another. Either that or someone was on the hunt, scattering the prey animals as they burst from their hiding place, springing up out of the long grass that covered most of the savannah. In any case, the sound wasn’t a rare occurrence.
“We can go back to Pride Rock now, Zazu,” Mufasa said, dipping his head to drink from a nearby pool, “I think we’ve been everywhere now.”
“Very well, your majesty,” Zazu replied, hopping from the ground onto a nearby rock, “I think you’re right.”
As the lion quenched his thirst, having been under the intense heat of the African sun for several hours now, the bird looked tentatively up at him, the first words of a potentially awkward conversation forming on his beaked lips.
“You know, Sire,” he began, slowly, “I must say… how dreadfully sorry I am. For what happened at the graveyard…”
He flinched slightly as Mufasa raised his head, preparing himself for the berating he had not yet received. All the King had given him in the direct aftermath of the incident was a withering, silent glare, enough to make the bird cringe on the spot. He braced himself, certain that the worst was about to hit him.
“That wasn’t your fault, Zazu.”
Zazu opened his eyes, having shut them, surprised.
“I… I… what?”
“Well, you hardly led them to that graveyard, did you? If anything I should be thanking you! Without you I would never have got there in time. Those hyenas would have-”
He stopped, not wanting to think about any what-ifs. In that situation they were so numerous, and just thinking about them made the lion’s stomach turn over.
“Well, you know what would have happened.”
The bird nodded, knowingly. Mufasa continued,
“Simba is very young, with a lot to learn, but someday he will. For now it’s up to me to make sure he does that.”
He turned around to face his major-domo.
“In short, thank you, Zazu. You make this job a whole lot easier for me.”
He let a smile cross his lips, as Zazu reflected it, his relief clearly evident across his face.
Suddenly distracted, the hornbill gazed into the distance, and for the first time he spotted the commotion rising up from the gorge. He squinted at it, confused.
“Sire, do you see that?”
Mufasa looked up from the water that his gaze had fallen to. He followed Zazu’s line of sight until he too could see the swelling cloud above the canyon.
“What on Earth-?”
He didn’t finish, far too dumb-founded as to why this usually abandoned spot in the Pride Lands was all at once so alive.
“Why do you suppose that is?” Zazu asked, settling onto the king’s shoulder for a better view, “it’s usually so quiet down there. “
“I don’t know,” Mufasa replied, slowly, turning his thoughts over in his head as to why this could be. This was not a normal occurrence at all.
“We’d better go over and see,” he concluded, standing up and making to step forward. However, before he could, he was stopped again. His brother, Scar, had appeared in front of him, almost in the blink of an eye.
“Scar,” the king said, partially from the shock of seeing him so suddenly, “what are you doing here?”
The darker lion was almost out of breath, breathing heavily, as if he had been running to find them.
“You have to come with me, now,” he wheezed, not disguising the urgency in his voice, “there’s a stampede in the gorge.”
“We saw that,” Mufasa said, “but what can we do? If the herd is completely out of control there’s very little I can-”
“You don’t understand!” Scar suddenly cried, causing the king to step back in surprise. He was worried now. Scar, usually so stoic and indifferent to everything, looked positively terrified. He peered into his brother’s face.
“What’s wrong, brother? Tell me.”
Scar was breathing so heavily he could barely speak anymore. With all the effort he could muster, he choked out the last three words, causing the whole world to stand still for Mufasa.
“Simba’s down there.”
With that, without even so much as saying anything, Mufasa took off towards the gorge. For all he knew, he could have been flying, but for all he did, he knew that he needed to get there. Now.
“Zazu!” he finally shouted, not making any effort to try to sound less terrified than
he was, “fly ahead! Find him!”
Zazu shot off towards the gorge ahead of him, wings flapping furiously, matching the equally frantic pace of Mufasa’s paws as they pounded against the ground beneath them.
He reached the gorge in record time, skidding down a steep slope and landing on a rock that jutted from the walls of the ravine. The scene before him could not have been any more desperate had it tried: hundreds of panicked and out of control wildebeests were flooding past him, kicking dust into the air as they went, their cries echoing all around. Simba was nowhere to be seen.
“SIMBA!” Mufasa screamed above the chaos, “SIMBA!”
He scanned the gully below him over and over, and still couldn’t find him. He could feel the panic and overwhelming fear in him rising, not even noticing Scar eventually catching up to him.
“I don’t see him!” Mufasa almost wailed, “Oh, gods, I can’t find him!”
Zazu was gone, too. The thick cloud of dust was only getting thicker, reducing visibility significantly. In a mad panic, Mufasa began to run alongside the flow of wildebeests, Scar hot on his heels.
“It’s no good, Mufasa!” his brother called from behind him, “you’ll never see him! There’s just too much dust!”
“I can’t afford to think like that!” Mufasa bellowed back at him, turning his head slightly as he did so. When he fully turned forward once more, he snarled in shock as something hit him in the face. Shaking his head to clear the sudden dizziness that had taken it over, he saw Zazu in front of him, hovering just ahead, absolutely bedraggled looking from his frantic flight through the cloud. There was no time for Mufasa to speak.
“There!” he cried, “over there! On that tree!”
Mufasa hurriedly followed to where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was Simba, dangling above certain doom as the deadly flood of unrelenting hooves rushed past below him. The half-rotten limb swayed as they galloped by, and the tiny cub clutching to it was clearly struggling to hold on.
“Oh, dear gods,” Mufasa whispered under his breath, “Hang on, Simba! I’m coming!”
Then, before either Zazu or Scar could say anything to stop him, he leapt from the plateau and into the stampede, sprinting flat-out towards his son.
Standing on the platform was nothing compared to being in the thrall of the stampede itself. Down here, the dust was flying from the ground and continuing to swirl around due to the mass movement taking place on the floor of the gorge. The great King screwed up his eyes and barrelled forwards towards the limb that Simba clung to. On the approach, he tried to move closer towards the far side of the gulch, so as to run directly underneath the tree and grab the cub as he passed, but trying to run forwards whilst inching sideways in the middle of this throng was nearly impossible. Every second he was inches away from being gored or sliced by the hundreds of horns rushing alongside him, moving closer to them only tempted fate. There was only one thing for it.
He surged forwards, streaking past Simba, before expertly sliding on his belly across the path of the oncoming wildebeest and doing an about face. This was even scarier: sprinting in the opposite direction of the frightened herd made the threat of a head on collision all the more likely, and there was no doubt as to who would come out of such an event worse-off
He was right: with little warning, a bull appeared seemingly from nowhere, crashing into Mufasa and sending him flying backwards unceremoniously. Sprawling across the ground, Mufasa cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, as he felt the beast’s hooves pummelling into him as he ploughed straight over him in a desperate bid to carry on with the others.
Shaking the blood out of his eyes, Mufasa looked up just in time to see the limb that had allowed his son to survive in the stampede this long finally give way. Another wildebeest had collided with it, causing an ear-splitting crack, as the branch shattered into a hundred tiny splinters. Simba was flung into the air by the momentum of it all, screaming in horror as he tumbled down, closer and closer to the ground where he would surely be trampled to death…
For Mufasa, time slowed to a crawl. His cat-like reflexes kicked into gear as in one fluid movement he was on his feet, kicking off the floor and leaping into the air. Right on cue, he caught the soaring cub in his mouth and landed, light as a feather, back amongst the stampede. It was almost over now; he just needed to get back to the platform.
With heightened agility, given the circumstances, he weaved in and out of the panicked animals, his goal in sight, Simba held securely in his mouth. A small portion of the fear and dread within him had loosened, but the rest stuck fast. He would only allow himself to relax once they were out of the gorge, for any lull in concentration now could have deadly consequences.
Ironically, as this thought came to him, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain tear through his side, eliciting a road of agony from him. He just about heard Simba squeals as he was flung away from him into the forest of pounding hooves. Mufasa, blood seeping from the wound left by a wildebeest that had tossed its head in an effort to throw him out of the way, scrambled to his feet and leaped in the direction of Simba’s cries for help. Standing still in this fray would be a suicide attempt.
He spotted Simba not too far away, desperately dancing in and out of the wildebeest limbs descending from the sky all around him. At any moment one could strike him, and this thought alone was enough to make the fur along the king’s spine stand up even more. Seizing his opportunity, Mufasa leaped towards his son, throwing himself over him to shield his tiny body from an oncoming bull. Mufasa’s bulk suddenly in front of it threw the wildebeest’s concentration: with no time to dodge the new obstacle, it collided with them and tripped, skidding across the ground. Its dying scream descended upon Mufasa’s ears as its body was pierced by hundreds of hooves mowing straight over it. Trying with all his might to ignore it, he hurriedly picked Simba up and hauled him towards the rocky wall, their escape within sight.
Mufasa kicked off the ground once more, latching on to a low platform and setting Simba down, out of harm’s way. Still clinging precariously to the ledge, he breathed a sigh of relief, and opened his mouth to speak.
“Simba…” he began.
Before there was any chance for him to continue, he was suddenly ripped away from the ledge as another beast smashed into him. Unprepared for the collision, he rolled away beneath the stampede, wincing and roaring from the pain of the hooves striking him. Blood was flowing from all manner of wounds now, and the ever-flying dust was sticking to him. He would have been completely unrecognisable as the King of the Pride Lands to anyone who saw him.
Completely disorientated now, he stumbled to his feet, with difficulty as the wildebeests streaking past buffeted him. In a last ditch attempt for life, he leaped out of the stampede and, with all the strength left within him, dug his claws into the rock face. With nowhere else to go, he started to climb, higher and higher, his muscles burning with every small movement. His limbs ached, having been running for so long now, and the heat was so intense that the blood was mixing with the sweat that covered his body.
Oh, gods, I need WATER.
With one last desperate lift of his paw, he was suddenly aware of his brother’s face appearing from the shroud, and he breathed a sigh of relief to see him. At last, he was safe!
“Scar!” he cried, “brother! Help me!”
He tried to scramble closer to him, but his hind legs just scraped across the rock without being able to grip it. Scar didn’t move, either. He just continued to stare down at Mufasa, his usual apathetic facial expression returned.
“Scar?” Mufasa called again, confused, “what are you waiting for? Help me up!”
Still, Scar didn’t move, either. The darkness of his expression was making Mufasa extremely uneasy.
And then, in one fluid movement, Scar’s claws slammed down upon Mufasa’s paws. Half from shock, half from pain, Mufasa let go of the rock, crying out from the pain of it all, and dangled from the face of the cliff, the ever-flowing stampede still rushing past below him.
Scar pulled his brother closer, his expression darkening even more. Mufasa’s eyes widened in shock as a sneer slowly spread its way across his face, and he uttered four words, soft as whispers, holding a deadly significance.
“Long live the King!”
With that, Scar threw his paws out, splaying them, and Mufasa was flung back. Down he tumbled, faster and faster, his ears roaring, his mouth screaming, the air rushing past him, the screeching thoughts in his brain becoming louder and louder and louder until…
The almighty smash of his impact never came. The next thing he knew, his eyes were screwed shut, and he was lying on a hard surface. The pain in his limbs and his back was gone. He couldn’t feel the stinging of the dust upon his cuts, and the roar of the stampeding wildebeests was gone. He felt at peace, light as a feather, ready to spend the rest of time in this dream like state.
“Mufasa…”
At the sound of his name, he let his eyes slowly open. Serenely, he took in the scene around him. He was still in the gorge, yes, but it was immediately apparent that he wasn’t alone. Rolling onto his stomach, he looked around him to try and ascertain as to where the voice had come from.
When he spotted the figure behind him, he cried out loud, instantly knowing who it was. His father stood before him, just as proud and serious-looking and regal as Mufasa remembered him. Still, like a cub that hadn’t grown into his paws yet, he tried to stumble to his feet and ended up collapsed in front of the great King Ahadi, who had gone to join the pride in the stars many moons ago. Under his gaze,
Mufasa felt scrutinised, just like it had always felt. This was far too real.
“Rise, my son,” the oh-so-familiar voice boomed, its commanding tone just so.
Mufasa looked up at him, his body racked by a terrible shaking, his voice stuttering as he attempted speech.
“B-but… I don’t understand…”
He looked around him, and gasped in shock. From what he could tell, his own battered, mangled corpse lay in front of him. He turned back to his father.
“Am I – … I’m…?”
“Yes, son,” came the reply, somewhat sad sounding, “you died.”
Still confused, bewildered and overwhelmed, Mufasa once again failed to regain control of his tongue.
“Scar?” he stammered, “Scar killed me? But… wh-why?”
Ahadi looked to the ground, sadly, and nodded.
“A terrible hatred took him over,” he said, uncharacteristically softly, “there was nothing the spirits could do for him. It was stuck there.”
Mufasa looked from his father to the top of the canyon to his dead body and back again. This had to all be some sort of strange dream. There was no other explanation. And yet, it couldn’t be. The feelings he felt in the presence of this spirit lion were exactly the same as those he had felt so long ago when his father had been alive. It had to be him, right here, right now.
“So… when you used to tell me that when a great king died, his successor came to guide him into the stars… that’s now?”
Ahadi nodded back, again. He was almost smiling, yet at the same time a terrible sadness seemed to have taken him over, too.
“I only wish I didn’t have to be doing it this soon.”
There was something about him that Mufasa couldn’t stop staring at. His father was young and strong again, not elderly and weak as he had been just before he died. His mane was sleek and his eyes were bright, as if his every imperfection had been stripped away during his passage into the afterlife. The battle-scars he had procured during his life were gone too. He was almost like a blank canvas.
As he was drinking in this perfected image of the lion before him, a sudden thought came sprinting into his mind.
“… where is Simba?”
Ahadi turned his head to the left, gazing down the canyon. A distant echo could be heard.
“Dad! Dad! Where are you?!”
Mufasa stared as the cub approached, sighing in relief that he was unharmed. However, this release was rapidly replaced by confusion as Simba rushed past him.
“Simba?” Mufasa said, following him, “I’m right here. Where are you going? Can’t you see me?”
“He can’t, Mufasa,” Ahadi said quietly, “no one can. They can’t see me either.”
Mufasa wasn’t paying him any attention. He was too busy calling out to the son who couldn’t hear him.
“Simba! It’s okay! I’m here!” He reached out a paw to try and pull him closer, but where he should have touched him; he just felt nothingness, his extended leg not connecting with anything.
“No…” Mufasa whispered, “no! NO!”
Simba turned and ran away from the dead body he had been poring over. His cries for help into the silence were more than Mufasa could bear. Great tears welled in his eyes and spilled over. He whirled around to face his father.
“Why can’t I touch him?” he whimpered, “Why can’t he hear me? He needs me!”
“You’re dead, Mufasa,” Ahadi replied, “we’re both spirits. No one will be able to hear you.”
“But, why? No! That’s not-”
He gasped, before the sound rapidly switched to a growl, rumbling deep in his throat. Simba lay slumped in defeat by his father’s corpse, while, in the distance, his dark form visible through the cloud of smoke, Scar was on the approach.
“I’ll kill him,” Mufasa whispered, “I’ll kill him so help me I’ll-!”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Ahadi said behind him, “you can’t. You left that world in death, there’s no going back.”
Not heeding his father’s words for a second time, Mufasa roared, and leaped at Scar, who was now talking to Simba, pulling him in close in false comfort. He soared straight through him, landing roughly on the ground, grunting in frustration.
“Get away from him!”
Roaring and snarling, he tried time and time again to knock his brother down, with the same failed result each time. Ahadi merely sat and observed him the whole time, while the scene rapidly changed around them. Simba turned and ran from where they all stood, only looking back once. Mufasa stopped roaring long enough for them to hear Scar utter another couple of terrible words.
“Kill him.”
“NO!”
Once more, in defeat, Mufasa hit the ground, weeping freely, not caring who could and who couldn’t see him. Through the blur of his tears he saw the three hyenas leaping away, hot on Simba’s heels.
“No,” he moaned, “no, no, No! Why did this have to happen?”
He was dully aware of Ahadi approaching him.
“I know it’s hard to accept,” he said, “but you’re not the only one to take it this way. I didn’t take it well at all.”
“But Simba needs me! And I can’t help him! And what about the pride and-”
Another agonising ripple coursed through his body.
“Oh, my gods, Sarabi.”
In desperation he looked around him, his breathing speeding up.
“I’ve got to go back!” he cried, “I’ve got to get to them.”
He whirled around to face his father once more.
“You’ve got to help me!” he begged, “change me back! Do something! Please!”
He looked him deep in the eyes.
“Help me!”
Ahadi shook his head.
“There’s nothing I can do. You’re already gone, there is no going back.”
Fresh tears began to flow down Mufasa’s face, in defeat he slid to the floor again.
“You aren’t completely powerless, Mufasa.”
His son looked up at him, confused.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“You can’t speak with them, you can’t touch them, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be with them.”
“But I have to- I need to-”
“It’s hard, I know, but someday you’ll be together again.”
He smiled slightly.
“For me, that’s right now.”
Mufasa just continued to stare at him, like he had for the entire encounter. His pained and panicked expression didn’t falter. Ahadi stepped closer to him.
“Do you remember running to that graveyard to find Simba, Mufasa? Do you remember how panicked you felt, but then everything was ok in the end?”
Mufasa merely nodded.
“I do, too. I was running alongside you.”
The lion on the ground suddenly was staring up at him, looking as though he had just been struck by the hand of realisation.
“The night before you ascended the throne, and you were terrified about it, I was sitting in that cave with you. Every time an intruder breached the border I ran to the battle with you. I was always there.”
He stopped to let this sink in with his son. He was now looking down at the floor, deep in thought.
“You said so yourself, “just remember the great kings will always be there to guide you.””
A new sense of understanding seemed to have come over Mufasa.
“I did say that, didn’t I? And you told it to me first.”
Ahadi nodded.
“…It’s great to finally be able to talk to you again.”
Mufasa looked up, his expression pensive.
“It feels great to see you again.”
They both smiled, before the younger of the two stood up, and, hurrying over rubbed his face into his father’s mane, something he hadn’t been able to do for a long time.
“When Simba’s time comes you can go to meet him, but until then you can watch over him along with the rest of us.”
Mufasa nodded, accepting the situation for what it was. It was better than nothing.
“Good, then. Let’s go.”
Ahadi led the way into a suddenly present white light, seemingly unending before them.
“You’re really going to love it up here.”
The first sign of anything out of the ordinary that day had been the large cloud of dust rising from the distant gorge. The vast valley, which had once been home to a spectacular river, had dried up many moons ago, remaining empty of virtually any sign of life for as long as anyone could remember. Yet, now, here it was, all at once spewing dust and sand into the air like a suddenly active volcano that had lain dormant for years.
The king Mufasa and his major-domo Zazu hadn’t been too far away when it all started. A tremendous rumbling could be heard in the distance, but the two of them didn’t pay it much attention. Large herds of animals often travelled as one like that when migrating or just moving from one place to another. Either that or someone was on the hunt, scattering the prey animals as they burst from their hiding place, springing up out of the long grass that covered most of the savannah. In any case, the sound wasn’t a rare occurrence.
“We can go back to Pride Rock now, Zazu,” Mufasa said, dipping his head to drink from a nearby pool, “I think we’ve been everywhere now.”
“Very well, your majesty,” Zazu replied, hopping from the ground onto a nearby rock, “I think you’re right.”
As the lion quenched his thirst, having been under the intense heat of the African sun for several hours now, the bird looked tentatively up at him, the first words of a potentially awkward conversation forming on his beaked lips.
“You know, Sire,” he began, slowly, “I must say… how dreadfully sorry I am. For what happened at the graveyard…”
He flinched slightly as Mufasa raised his head, preparing himself for the berating he had not yet received. All the King had given him in the direct aftermath of the incident was a withering, silent glare, enough to make the bird cringe on the spot. He braced himself, certain that the worst was about to hit him.
“That wasn’t your fault, Zazu.”
Zazu opened his eyes, having shut them, surprised.
“I… I… what?”
“Well, you hardly led them to that graveyard, did you? If anything I should be thanking you! Without you I would never have got there in time. Those hyenas would have-”
He stopped, not wanting to think about any what-ifs. In that situation they were so numerous, and just thinking about them made the lion’s stomach turn over.
“Well, you know what would have happened.”
The bird nodded, knowingly. Mufasa continued,
“Simba is very young, with a lot to learn, but someday he will. For now it’s up to me to make sure he does that.”
He turned around to face his major-domo.
“In short, thank you, Zazu. You make this job a whole lot easier for me.”
He let a smile cross his lips, as Zazu reflected it, his relief clearly evident across his face.
Suddenly distracted, the hornbill gazed into the distance, and for the first time he spotted the commotion rising up from the gorge. He squinted at it, confused.
“Sire, do you see that?”
Mufasa looked up from the water that his gaze had fallen to. He followed Zazu’s line of sight until he too could see the swelling cloud above the canyon.
“What on Earth-?”
He didn’t finish, far too dumb-founded as to why this usually abandoned spot in the Pride Lands was all at once so alive.
“Why do you suppose that is?” Zazu asked, settling onto the king’s shoulder for a better view, “it’s usually so quiet down there. “
“I don’t know,” Mufasa replied, slowly, turning his thoughts over in his head as to why this could be. This was not a normal occurrence at all.
“We’d better go over and see,” he concluded, standing up and making to step forward. However, before he could, he was stopped again. His brother, Scar, had appeared in front of him, almost in the blink of an eye.
“Scar,” the king said, partially from the shock of seeing him so suddenly, “what are you doing here?”
The darker lion was almost out of breath, breathing heavily, as if he had been running to find them.
“You have to come with me, now,” he wheezed, not disguising the urgency in his voice, “there’s a stampede in the gorge.”
“We saw that,” Mufasa said, “but what can we do? If the herd is completely out of control there’s very little I can-”
“You don’t understand!” Scar suddenly cried, causing the king to step back in surprise. He was worried now. Scar, usually so stoic and indifferent to everything, looked positively terrified. He peered into his brother’s face.
“What’s wrong, brother? Tell me.”
Scar was breathing so heavily he could barely speak anymore. With all the effort he could muster, he choked out the last three words, causing the whole world to stand still for Mufasa.
“Simba’s down there.”
With that, without even so much as saying anything, Mufasa took off towards the gorge. For all he knew, he could have been flying, but for all he did, he knew that he needed to get there. Now.
“Zazu!” he finally shouted, not making any effort to try to sound less terrified than
he was, “fly ahead! Find him!”
Zazu shot off towards the gorge ahead of him, wings flapping furiously, matching the equally frantic pace of Mufasa’s paws as they pounded against the ground beneath them.
He reached the gorge in record time, skidding down a steep slope and landing on a rock that jutted from the walls of the ravine. The scene before him could not have been any more desperate had it tried: hundreds of panicked and out of control wildebeests were flooding past him, kicking dust into the air as they went, their cries echoing all around. Simba was nowhere to be seen.
“SIMBA!” Mufasa screamed above the chaos, “SIMBA!”
He scanned the gully below him over and over, and still couldn’t find him. He could feel the panic and overwhelming fear in him rising, not even noticing Scar eventually catching up to him.
“I don’t see him!” Mufasa almost wailed, “Oh, gods, I can’t find him!”
Zazu was gone, too. The thick cloud of dust was only getting thicker, reducing visibility significantly. In a mad panic, Mufasa began to run alongside the flow of wildebeests, Scar hot on his heels.
“It’s no good, Mufasa!” his brother called from behind him, “you’ll never see him! There’s just too much dust!”
“I can’t afford to think like that!” Mufasa bellowed back at him, turning his head slightly as he did so. When he fully turned forward once more, he snarled in shock as something hit him in the face. Shaking his head to clear the sudden dizziness that had taken it over, he saw Zazu in front of him, hovering just ahead, absolutely bedraggled looking from his frantic flight through the cloud. There was no time for Mufasa to speak.
“There!” he cried, “over there! On that tree!”
Mufasa hurriedly followed to where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was Simba, dangling above certain doom as the deadly flood of unrelenting hooves rushed past below him. The half-rotten limb swayed as they galloped by, and the tiny cub clutching to it was clearly struggling to hold on.
“Oh, dear gods,” Mufasa whispered under his breath, “Hang on, Simba! I’m coming!”
Then, before either Zazu or Scar could say anything to stop him, he leapt from the plateau and into the stampede, sprinting flat-out towards his son.
Standing on the platform was nothing compared to being in the thrall of the stampede itself. Down here, the dust was flying from the ground and continuing to swirl around due to the mass movement taking place on the floor of the gorge. The great King screwed up his eyes and barrelled forwards towards the limb that Simba clung to. On the approach, he tried to move closer towards the far side of the gulch, so as to run directly underneath the tree and grab the cub as he passed, but trying to run forwards whilst inching sideways in the middle of this throng was nearly impossible. Every second he was inches away from being gored or sliced by the hundreds of horns rushing alongside him, moving closer to them only tempted fate. There was only one thing for it.
He surged forwards, streaking past Simba, before expertly sliding on his belly across the path of the oncoming wildebeest and doing an about face. This was even scarier: sprinting in the opposite direction of the frightened herd made the threat of a head on collision all the more likely, and there was no doubt as to who would come out of such an event worse-off
He was right: with little warning, a bull appeared seemingly from nowhere, crashing into Mufasa and sending him flying backwards unceremoniously. Sprawling across the ground, Mufasa cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, as he felt the beast’s hooves pummelling into him as he ploughed straight over him in a desperate bid to carry on with the others.
Shaking the blood out of his eyes, Mufasa looked up just in time to see the limb that had allowed his son to survive in the stampede this long finally give way. Another wildebeest had collided with it, causing an ear-splitting crack, as the branch shattered into a hundred tiny splinters. Simba was flung into the air by the momentum of it all, screaming in horror as he tumbled down, closer and closer to the ground where he would surely be trampled to death…
For Mufasa, time slowed to a crawl. His cat-like reflexes kicked into gear as in one fluid movement he was on his feet, kicking off the floor and leaping into the air. Right on cue, he caught the soaring cub in his mouth and landed, light as a feather, back amongst the stampede. It was almost over now; he just needed to get back to the platform.
With heightened agility, given the circumstances, he weaved in and out of the panicked animals, his goal in sight, Simba held securely in his mouth. A small portion of the fear and dread within him had loosened, but the rest stuck fast. He would only allow himself to relax once they were out of the gorge, for any lull in concentration now could have deadly consequences.
Ironically, as this thought came to him, he felt a sharp, stabbing pain tear through his side, eliciting a road of agony from him. He just about heard Simba squeals as he was flung away from him into the forest of pounding hooves. Mufasa, blood seeping from the wound left by a wildebeest that had tossed its head in an effort to throw him out of the way, scrambled to his feet and leaped in the direction of Simba’s cries for help. Standing still in this fray would be a suicide attempt.
He spotted Simba not too far away, desperately dancing in and out of the wildebeest limbs descending from the sky all around him. At any moment one could strike him, and this thought alone was enough to make the fur along the king’s spine stand up even more. Seizing his opportunity, Mufasa leaped towards his son, throwing himself over him to shield his tiny body from an oncoming bull. Mufasa’s bulk suddenly in front of it threw the wildebeest’s concentration: with no time to dodge the new obstacle, it collided with them and tripped, skidding across the ground. Its dying scream descended upon Mufasa’s ears as its body was pierced by hundreds of hooves mowing straight over it. Trying with all his might to ignore it, he hurriedly picked Simba up and hauled him towards the rocky wall, their escape within sight.
Mufasa kicked off the ground once more, latching on to a low platform and setting Simba down, out of harm’s way. Still clinging precariously to the ledge, he breathed a sigh of relief, and opened his mouth to speak.
“Simba…” he began.
Before there was any chance for him to continue, he was suddenly ripped away from the ledge as another beast smashed into him. Unprepared for the collision, he rolled away beneath the stampede, wincing and roaring from the pain of the hooves striking him. Blood was flowing from all manner of wounds now, and the ever-flying dust was sticking to him. He would have been completely unrecognisable as the King of the Pride Lands to anyone who saw him.
Completely disorientated now, he stumbled to his feet, with difficulty as the wildebeests streaking past buffeted him. In a last ditch attempt for life, he leaped out of the stampede and, with all the strength left within him, dug his claws into the rock face. With nowhere else to go, he started to climb, higher and higher, his muscles burning with every small movement. His limbs ached, having been running for so long now, and the heat was so intense that the blood was mixing with the sweat that covered his body.
Oh, gods, I need WATER.
With one last desperate lift of his paw, he was suddenly aware of his brother’s face appearing from the shroud, and he breathed a sigh of relief to see him. At last, he was safe!
“Scar!” he cried, “brother! Help me!”
He tried to scramble closer to him, but his hind legs just scraped across the rock without being able to grip it. Scar didn’t move, either. He just continued to stare down at Mufasa, his usual apathetic facial expression returned.
“Scar?” Mufasa called again, confused, “what are you waiting for? Help me up!”
Still, Scar didn’t move, either. The darkness of his expression was making Mufasa extremely uneasy.
And then, in one fluid movement, Scar’s claws slammed down upon Mufasa’s paws. Half from shock, half from pain, Mufasa let go of the rock, crying out from the pain of it all, and dangled from the face of the cliff, the ever-flowing stampede still rushing past below him.
Scar pulled his brother closer, his expression darkening even more. Mufasa’s eyes widened in shock as a sneer slowly spread its way across his face, and he uttered four words, soft as whispers, holding a deadly significance.
“Long live the King!”
With that, Scar threw his paws out, splaying them, and Mufasa was flung back. Down he tumbled, faster and faster, his ears roaring, his mouth screaming, the air rushing past him, the screeching thoughts in his brain becoming louder and louder and louder until…
The almighty smash of his impact never came. The next thing he knew, his eyes were screwed shut, and he was lying on a hard surface. The pain in his limbs and his back was gone. He couldn’t feel the stinging of the dust upon his cuts, and the roar of the stampeding wildebeests was gone. He felt at peace, light as a feather, ready to spend the rest of time in this dream like state.
“Mufasa…”
At the sound of his name, he let his eyes slowly open. Serenely, he took in the scene around him. He was still in the gorge, yes, but it was immediately apparent that he wasn’t alone. Rolling onto his stomach, he looked around him to try and ascertain as to where the voice had come from.
When he spotted the figure behind him, he cried out loud, instantly knowing who it was. His father stood before him, just as proud and serious-looking and regal as Mufasa remembered him. Still, like a cub that hadn’t grown into his paws yet, he tried to stumble to his feet and ended up collapsed in front of the great King Ahadi, who had gone to join the pride in the stars many moons ago. Under his gaze,
Mufasa felt scrutinised, just like it had always felt. This was far too real.
“Rise, my son,” the oh-so-familiar voice boomed, its commanding tone just so.
Mufasa looked up at him, his body racked by a terrible shaking, his voice stuttering as he attempted speech.
“B-but… I don’t understand…”
He looked around him, and gasped in shock. From what he could tell, his own battered, mangled corpse lay in front of him. He turned back to his father.
“Am I – … I’m…?”
“Yes, son,” came the reply, somewhat sad sounding, “you died.”
Still confused, bewildered and overwhelmed, Mufasa once again failed to regain control of his tongue.
“Scar?” he stammered, “Scar killed me? But… wh-why?”
Ahadi looked to the ground, sadly, and nodded.
“A terrible hatred took him over,” he said, uncharacteristically softly, “there was nothing the spirits could do for him. It was stuck there.”
Mufasa looked from his father to the top of the canyon to his dead body and back again. This had to all be some sort of strange dream. There was no other explanation. And yet, it couldn’t be. The feelings he felt in the presence of this spirit lion were exactly the same as those he had felt so long ago when his father had been alive. It had to be him, right here, right now.
“So… when you used to tell me that when a great king died, his successor came to guide him into the stars… that’s now?”
Ahadi nodded back, again. He was almost smiling, yet at the same time a terrible sadness seemed to have taken him over, too.
“I only wish I didn’t have to be doing it this soon.”
There was something about him that Mufasa couldn’t stop staring at. His father was young and strong again, not elderly and weak as he had been just before he died. His mane was sleek and his eyes were bright, as if his every imperfection had been stripped away during his passage into the afterlife. The battle-scars he had procured during his life were gone too. He was almost like a blank canvas.
As he was drinking in this perfected image of the lion before him, a sudden thought came sprinting into his mind.
“… where is Simba?”
Ahadi turned his head to the left, gazing down the canyon. A distant echo could be heard.
“Dad! Dad! Where are you?!”
Mufasa stared as the cub approached, sighing in relief that he was unharmed. However, this release was rapidly replaced by confusion as Simba rushed past him.
“Simba?” Mufasa said, following him, “I’m right here. Where are you going? Can’t you see me?”
“He can’t, Mufasa,” Ahadi said quietly, “no one can. They can’t see me either.”
Mufasa wasn’t paying him any attention. He was too busy calling out to the son who couldn’t hear him.
“Simba! It’s okay! I’m here!” He reached out a paw to try and pull him closer, but where he should have touched him; he just felt nothingness, his extended leg not connecting with anything.
“No…” Mufasa whispered, “no! NO!”
Simba turned and ran away from the dead body he had been poring over. His cries for help into the silence were more than Mufasa could bear. Great tears welled in his eyes and spilled over. He whirled around to face his father.
“Why can’t I touch him?” he whimpered, “Why can’t he hear me? He needs me!”
“You’re dead, Mufasa,” Ahadi replied, “we’re both spirits. No one will be able to hear you.”
“But, why? No! That’s not-”
He gasped, before the sound rapidly switched to a growl, rumbling deep in his throat. Simba lay slumped in defeat by his father’s corpse, while, in the distance, his dark form visible through the cloud of smoke, Scar was on the approach.
“I’ll kill him,” Mufasa whispered, “I’ll kill him so help me I’ll-!”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Ahadi said behind him, “you can’t. You left that world in death, there’s no going back.”
Not heeding his father’s words for a second time, Mufasa roared, and leaped at Scar, who was now talking to Simba, pulling him in close in false comfort. He soared straight through him, landing roughly on the ground, grunting in frustration.
“Get away from him!”
Roaring and snarling, he tried time and time again to knock his brother down, with the same failed result each time. Ahadi merely sat and observed him the whole time, while the scene rapidly changed around them. Simba turned and ran from where they all stood, only looking back once. Mufasa stopped roaring long enough for them to hear Scar utter another couple of terrible words.
“Kill him.”
“NO!”
Once more, in defeat, Mufasa hit the ground, weeping freely, not caring who could and who couldn’t see him. Through the blur of his tears he saw the three hyenas leaping away, hot on Simba’s heels.
“No,” he moaned, “no, no, No! Why did this have to happen?”
He was dully aware of Ahadi approaching him.
“I know it’s hard to accept,” he said, “but you’re not the only one to take it this way. I didn’t take it well at all.”
“But Simba needs me! And I can’t help him! And what about the pride and-”
Another agonising ripple coursed through his body.
“Oh, my gods, Sarabi.”
In desperation he looked around him, his breathing speeding up.
“I’ve got to go back!” he cried, “I’ve got to get to them.”
He whirled around to face his father once more.
“You’ve got to help me!” he begged, “change me back! Do something! Please!”
He looked him deep in the eyes.
“Help me!”
Ahadi shook his head.
“There’s nothing I can do. You’re already gone, there is no going back.”
Fresh tears began to flow down Mufasa’s face, in defeat he slid to the floor again.
“You aren’t completely powerless, Mufasa.”
His son looked up at him, confused.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“You can’t speak with them, you can’t touch them, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still be with them.”
“But I have to- I need to-”
“It’s hard, I know, but someday you’ll be together again.”
He smiled slightly.
“For me, that’s right now.”
Mufasa just continued to stare at him, like he had for the entire encounter. His pained and panicked expression didn’t falter. Ahadi stepped closer to him.
“Do you remember running to that graveyard to find Simba, Mufasa? Do you remember how panicked you felt, but then everything was ok in the end?”
Mufasa merely nodded.
“I do, too. I was running alongside you.”
The lion on the ground suddenly was staring up at him, looking as though he had just been struck by the hand of realisation.
“The night before you ascended the throne, and you were terrified about it, I was sitting in that cave with you. Every time an intruder breached the border I ran to the battle with you. I was always there.”
He stopped to let this sink in with his son. He was now looking down at the floor, deep in thought.
“You said so yourself, “just remember the great kings will always be there to guide you.””
A new sense of understanding seemed to have come over Mufasa.
“I did say that, didn’t I? And you told it to me first.”
Ahadi nodded.
“…It’s great to finally be able to talk to you again.”
Mufasa looked up, his expression pensive.
“It feels great to see you again.”
They both smiled, before the younger of the two stood up, and, hurrying over rubbed his face into his father’s mane, something he hadn’t been able to do for a long time.
“When Simba’s time comes you can go to meet him, but until then you can watch over him along with the rest of us.”
Mufasa nodded, accepting the situation for what it was. It was better than nothing.
“Good, then. Let’s go.”
Ahadi led the way into a suddenly present white light, seemingly unending before them.
“You’re really going to love it up here.”
Story 4:
The Lion-Hyena unification: show
The Lion-Hyena unification.
The lionesses were shocked of Scar's announcement. The hyenas were scattering into the Pridelands.
"Mom, I'm scared." Nala whimpered. Sarafina looked down sadly at her daughter. She was shaking, her ears were folded back and her eyes were filled with tears.
"Oh, Nala." She sighed sadly. Sarafina leaned her head down and nuzzled her sobbing cub. Her head immediately jerked up when she caught sent of a hyena. Her ears folded back when she saw a female hyena before her.
The hyena grinned at her, before leaning down to Nala's level.
"Oh I remember you." She said to Nala. "You were the cub who went to the Elephant graveyard!"
Shenzi smirked, startling Nala.
Sarafina growled.
"You can't hurt me. You know what Scar would do if you hurt me?" Shenzi said smugly to Sarafina. "He'd exile you."
She laughed and left Sarafina and Nala alone.
"Wh-what are we going to do?" Nala shivered.
"I don't know sweetheart... I don't know."
Story 5:
Lion-Hyena unification: show
Lion-Hyena unification.
“Hey boss! You do realize that we’re not the only ones you gotta convince that this idea of yours is worth the risk!”
The hyena’s voice echoed around the cave as she yelled out to Scar, shouting out what was a ‘quite obvious flaw’ in Scar’s plan. She didn’t know it, but Scar had already thought everything through. And when I say everything, I mean everything. How to get the others to join the lions, what to do if Zazu follows Mufasa, what to do if one, or both of them somehow survive. No matter what happens, Scar’s plan would succeed. He had thought of everything. Everything, that is, except how to get the hyenas over. He could promise them food, land, anything they could dream of. The only problem was that they hyenas didn’t trust Scar. Even with Shenzi, Banzai and Ed by his side, they other hyenas still thought Scar was trying to take them down and drive them out.
“Yes, yes, I realized I am going to have to convince the other hyenas. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Well, no boss, we just thought that-”
“Well it appears you thought wrong!” Scar interrupted the slightly frightened Banzai, who was honestly a little afraid of Scar. “Is everyone listening?” Scar didn’t pause long enough for anyone to answer. “Good. Listen closely, and I’ll tell you how we’re going to get the others to join me- er, us.”
Scar had almost slipped up. He wanted to keep his three ‘friends’ thinking that they would be a big part of his treasonous act. It would make them easier to keep loyal, in the end. Scar smiled evilly as he started to explain how he would win over the rest of the hyenas.
---
Scar plodded along the savannah, getting closer to where the others were. While he was a little nervous at what he was about to do, he didn’t let the feeling get to him. Nervousness causes slip-ups, slip-ups causes panic, and panic would ruin his chance at becoming king of the Pride Lands. When he was about five minutes away from where he would meet the hyenas, he stopped and turned to look at the three following him. After staring at each one for a few seconds, he began to talk.
“I assume you three remember the plan, am I correct?” Scar got a nod from the three hyenas simultaneously, and then continued. “Good. Do not slip-up. I do not care how nervous you may be, you will not slip-up, or I will see to it myself that you are punished for costing me the crown. Now, follow me; we’re almost there.”
Scar turned back around, and continued along his original path. A few moments later, he arrived at the boundary of the hyena’s land. Almost instantly, he was greeted by a couple of the guards.
“A lion? What business could you have here, cat?”
Scar almost struck out at the hyena for his amazing rudeness, but restrained himself.
‘Think of the reward for this… Don’t let your emotions overpower you.’
“I am Scar, of the Pride Lands. I am here to humbly request council with your leader, as I need to discuss important matters with him.”
“And why exactly…” started the second hyena guard, “should we trust you? You’re a lion, and for all we know, you’re here to kill our leader!”
Scar glanced back at his three hyena companions, and they started to play their part. As soon as they noticed him quickly look their way, they moved up in front of Scar. Shenzi was the first to talk.
“We’re the reason you should trust him.”
“We’re hyenas too ya know, and he seems trustworthy enough.”
Ed laughed.
“We trust ‘im. He brings us food and stuff like that.”
“Trust us when we say that it’d be a big mistake to turn him down and chase him away.”
At this, the two hyena guards turned to face each other, and whispered for a short amount of time. They turned back to face Scar.
“Alright. We’ll let you in. But just know we’re watching you!”
“You do anything suspicious, and you’re dinner.”
Scar breathed a little sigh of relief. He was starting to become a little unsure that he would be let in towards the end. He walked into the ‘camp’ the hyenas lived in. Scar noticed he was being closely followed by the two guards. No matter, they would not ruin his plan. Walking along through the middle of the camp, he saw something that made him a little more hopeful.
Hyenas, left and right. Starving, thirsting for water, dropping like flies. The healthier ones had managed to keep a small amount of meat on them. The rest of them were either lying down and not moving, or very skinny and weak, with ribs showing through their skin.
As he approached the leader of the pack, his guard party was joined by more hyenas, making sure he didn’t try to kill and run. He approached the leader of the pack, and bowed as soon as the hyena noticed Scar’s presence.
“Who let the lion in?!” The leader of the pack yelled out across the camp, scaring all those who were listening in.
The hyena guards slowly and nervously raised their front paws. The expression on the leader’s face was one of immense rage, but quickly died down.
“Letting a lion in is an act of treason!” he growled, threatening the guards. “But… Seeing as you have loyally served me for years, I am able to let this slide. Now get out of my site.”
The two hyena guards bowed, and quickly turned and ran off, away from their leader. The leader then faced Scar, getting straight to the point.
“You, lion. What do you want?”
Scar cleared his throat, and started to speak.
“I am Scar, of the Pride La-”
“Yes, yes, whatever. Get on with it!”
“I am here today to offer a truce of sorts. I want to unify the lions to the hyenas.”
“You what? You can’t… Don’t tell me you… Explain yourself, cat!”
“I am Scar, younger brother to King Mufasa. I have a plan to overthrow the King and take his place. I shall become the rightful King of the Pride Lands. I need you and you pack to keep the rest of the pride in check. I am only one lion, and one lion is not enough to keep the peace.”
“And what do we get in return from… Joining you?”
“In return, I shall give you all you could want. Food, water, a shelter to sleep, and lionesses to boss around. This shall be given to all hyenas of your pack, so long as you all stay loyal to me, and acknowledge me as your leader.”
At the end of Scar’s sentence, the leader of the hyenas his back on Scar, facing his guards. Scar saw the leader of the hyenas disappear into a sea of guards, and patiently waited for the leader to return. Scar anticipated a long wait, and lay down on the dusty ground
---
It was a few hours until the leader, along with his guards, returned to give their answer to Scar.
“Scar of the Pride Lands-”
‘Well he sure is being unusually formal’
“Our answer to your generous offer is yes.”
Scar was just about to breathe easy again, when the leader continued.
“But, we also want to keep our current roles. My guards will remain guards, my workers will remain workers, and I will remain leader of the hyenas. Even though I shall remain leader of the hyenas, I will report to you, and carry out whatever you may wish of me. I hope these terms are to your liking.”
Scar did not hesitate in answering.
“Of course they are. I have no problem with your extra terms, you may keep them.”
Scar approached the leader of the pack.
“Come. Let us discuss my plans further. Oh, and to seal the deal, you and your pack will have to do one teeny thing for me.”
The hyena leader turned his head to a 45 degree angle and looked curious.
“And this may be…?”
Scar grinned evilly.
“You all perform in a musical number with me.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Wait… What?!”
Voting will end on Sunday, February 2nd. One vote per voter this time around, as we have only five stories and not six. I know it's only one story less, and is still a good number for the contest, but I always set the line at six stories, and that's where I will leave it.
Voting rules are the usual: Don't vote for yourself, and don't vote for a story that you simply know was written by a friend. Don't ask others to vote for your story either. Read each one carefully and give all the stories the same consideration before you make your decision.
Good luck, read carefully, and may the best story win!
Oh, and if I sound tired here, it's because I am.
Hey, I went all the way through without mentioning that 1993 Dino flick! Oh, wait...
...But I am not so sure about the others this time...
