"Mufasa's death...was a terrible tragedy," but it was not the only one to occur that night.
Also, massive thanks to my betareader, Aquaman52 off of Fanfic . net.
Now, as I think this story will end up being quite long, it may end up being split between posts, but other than that, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I did writing it.
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Chapter One
Spoiler: show
Silence. The lack of sound around the normally vibrant kingdom hub was both chilling and foreboding. The lionesses and cubs of the Pridelands congregated closely beside the promontory of Pride Rock, illuminated by a sliver of moonlight that crept around the majestic formation. In the low light, pained, mournful expressions could be seen on every face in the huddle. Some were odd, screwed grimaces; others wore a look of complete disbelief and shock; while a few, mostly the young ones, had tears budding at the corners of their eyes, and bent the heads to the ground in grief. The silence was not complete, though it would almost be better if it were, for the only sounds were brief and muffled sobs, echoing against the wind-lathed stone nearby.
Something truly terrible had happened that day.
On a slightly raised platform which lead into the caves on Pride Rock, a brown-furred lion sat on his haunches, his straggly, obsidian mane hanging limp beneath his jaw. His black, pointed nose was craned skywards, as if full of pride, yet his face adopted the same dampened look as those a little way below. His piercing, green eyes were hidden for the moment in reflection, allowing the celestial beams to highlight the jagged old wound splayed across his left eye that had become his namesake.
“Mufasa’s death…was a terrible tragedy,” Scar said with a hushed, reverential tone, “but to lose Simba, who had barely begun to live…”
The sentence was left hanging as the brown lion sniffled and buried his muzzle in his forepaw. A powerfully-built, dark tan lioness, who up until now had been looking stoically ahead in evident but dignified heartache, now dipped her head to the ground in despair, as a blue hornbill comfortingly placed his wing on her paw. Though Sarabi already knew that her beloved husband and son were gone, Scar’s words had re-opened the deep, excruciating wounds in her soul; they confirmed that her worst nightmares had come true.
The same had happened to a tan cub a short distance from her, as she was reminded that her best friend was never coming back from that gorge. With a gasping cry, Nala huddled closer to her mother’s forelegs, twin tears slithering down her face. One the rock, Scar had recovered from his momentary lapse and pressed on as the confirmation had sunk into the minds of the pride.
“For me, it is a deep personal loss. So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of the tragedy, we shall rise!” His voice had lost its air of sympathy by this point, reverting to a forceful and commanding tone that grew steadily in volume. This caught the pride’s attention, but after a moment they were instead focused on the shadows behind Scar.
In the ethereal green light, the shapes of hyenas pressed forth from the dark recesses of Pride Rock, a similar colour emanating from the scavengers’ eyes.
“To greet…the dawning of a new era!” The pride let out a collective gasp, shaken out of their mournful stupor. Several looked around, and saw more of their enemy closing in.
“In which lion and hyena come together, in a great and glorious future!” Their new King’s voice had dropped sinisterly and almost to a whisper, magnified by the smooth surroundings of their home. As the gleeful yips of the incoming hyenas grew ever louder, the lionesses realised for the first time just how much faith they placed on the whims of their king.
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Yet the Pridelands were not the only kingdom to be in upheaval that night. A little beyond the horizon atop Pride Rock, lay the kingdom of the Upper Eastlands, a lush and bountiful realm of soft, rolling hills and verdant, rich grasslands. That day, however, the serenity and peace of this kingdom had been shattered.
The pride that called the lands home was congregated in a spacious cave on a large hill near the centre of the kingdom. Many were tending to deep, bloody scratches and savage bites, aided by a rather terse cheetah who dispensed healing herbs to the injured. Mothers were shielding their cubs and trying to calm them after the events of that day, while their mates attempted to put on brave faces for the sake of their families. One was unable to do any of this; she lay broken, and unmoving, in one of the other smaller caves that permeated the hillside they called Haven. Inside yet another rather private shelter, another of their number was fated to join the prone lioness, though not for a little while yet.
A large, robustly-built lion lay on his side in this cave, his ragged breathing echoing in the confined space. Large chunks of his pelt had been brutally ripped away, exposing sickening, pink innards and smearing his normally brown coat with liberal amounts of viscous blood, which continued to seep through the multitude of injuries. One of his hind legs stuck out at an odd angle after a particularly heavy landing during that day’s exertions and several of his ribs were snapped, poking inwards and spearing his organs with every rise of his chest.
The almost unbearable pain was clear to see on Umeme’s face, its normally regal features stretched and contorted with each breath. A yellowish lioness, his treasured wife Masaada, sat by his middle, determinedly trying to clean his many wounds with her gentle tongue. But this battle was steadily, and surely, being lost. And Umeme knew it.
“Dear…” he croaked, just managing to suppress the loud roar that he was begging to let out, craning his neck to look at her for what could be the last time. The deft, comforting swabs at his inner layers of skin stopped as she did the same. Through the gloom of the moonlit cave, and a rather think layer of moisture, his piercing amber eyes met her warm, cerulean gaze, and she realised the inevitable.
Her visage too stretched into a grimace to rival his own, and she buried it in the expanse of his greying dark brown mane, though softly to avoid causing him even more pain. Both of them were well into their dotage, with Umeme recently celebrating twelve years of life, so Masaada was aware that this day would eventually come. But that didn’t mean that she expected it to be now, in this horrendously painful manner, or that she wanted it to happen.
Tears leaked from her eyes with great, shuddering sobs at what they both knew was going to happen, while he raised his least injured forepaw, and rubbed it tentatively along the nodules of her spine, trying to calm her while the building moisture in his own eyes finally ran its course silently down the sides of his own muzzle.
“Come on, honey,” he implored, attempting to keep his voice as strong as possible. “We both knew this was coming.”
There was a great, wet sniff as Masaada tried to gather herself before responding, “Yes, but does it have to be now?” she asked, desperation flooding her voice. “Surely Amana could do something?”
Her voice had cracked by the end of her query, and Umeme could feel his heart do the same at the sound of her anguish. He didn’t want to leave her, but he had to. With a sharp intake of breath as a bone fragment struck something it shouldn’t, he carried on.
“Maybe she could, but even if she did it would be a long and arduous recovery,” he stated, wavering. “There wouldn’t be much of a life left for me at the end of it.”
At this, Masaada picked herself up, and he felt a great deal of warmth leave his body. He really did not have much time left. She stared deeply into those amber orbs once again, trying to miss the innumerable scratches that also adorned the face she so adored.
“But at least it would be a life,” she mumbled, unable to raise her voice. “At least we would still be together.”
Umeme had to steady himself before his reply. He was almost ready for death: it would be a welcome and deserved respite from the immense pain wreaking havoc through his body. But he was not ready to leave his mate behind, or to watch her suffering from his place in the heavens with no way to help; those were the only two things keeping him there.
“Honey…don’t you remember the story of what happens to those who pass on?” he asked, a small, reassuring smile stretching his lips despite his own personal agony. “I’ll never be truly gone. We’ll always be together, even if we can’t feel each other.”
His words had a small but definite effect, and her expression softened. She was still burdened by enormous sorrow, but at least she was somewhat ready for his passing. She gave a slight nod, and bent down to lick the end of his nose, careful to avoid inflaming the cuts there.
“Do you want me to go get Amana? She might have something to stop the pain.” She wanted him to suffer as little as possible before the inescapable happened, but his great head shook.
“I think I can manage,” he breathed out, before a hacking cough interrupted his reverie. “Could you fetch Khalfani though? I need to speak to him before…”
“’Course,” she said, tears welling up as he delicately left the sentence hanging. The lioness began to turn away and leave, but at the last second she faltered, and once again gently rested her head on his side, nuzzling him tenderly.
“I love you, Umeme,” she gasped, slowing her rubs a tiny amount. “From the first time we met, and you pulled that stupid jump off Haven, I knew I loved you… and I always will…even if we can’t truly be with each other…” Her sentence trailed off as her tears grew more copious, soaking further into his mane with each pained rub.
Once again, Umeme had to fight to stop himself from breaking, as the treasured memories played in his mind’s eye. Where did all that time go? he thought mournfully, tears running freely down his muzzle to cling resolutely onto the age-lengthened fuzz on his chin.
“And I you, Massie,” he wheezed. Time was growing short, and he could feel the end approaching, but he found the strength to wrap his forelegs around her and pull her close, despite the horrendous pain. “And I you…”
He relented, and felt her comforting weight slowly rise off his neck, and breathing became easier again, though only slightly; the inevitable was still on the horizon. However, he had to speak to his son before he departed, and Umeme watched through half-lidded eyes as the love of his life gave his muzzle a heartfelt lick, before leaving to find their son. In the empty silence, his mind rested on those he would be with again. Dad…Mum…Ahadi…Afla…it won’t be long now.
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In the entrance to the Sleeping Cave, a well-built but rather young lion sat on his haunches. His head hung limply, as he stared intently at the ground as though trying to bore into it; trying to find a way to escape the heartache he felt as his father lay struggling for breath in one of the other caves. Tears fell silently from the end of his muzzle as the terrible thoughts crossed his mind. He had already lost his sister recently; surely the Great Kings would not allow their number to be increased tonight.
He picked his head up momentarily, looking down the hillside for the opening to the cave where her cold, lifeless form lay in peace. She had barely left cub hood, he thought, face unconsciously contracting in grief. She didn’t deserve this.
His thoughts returned to his father; surely he would get better. He was not going to die. Not now. Not when he needed him the most. Not when he was too young to take the responsibilities the king’s death would entail.
The young lion sighed. Now more than ever before, he wanted his love by his side, but she wasn’t. An earlier sweep of the cave had told him that Sabra was trying to calm her younger brother down. He didn’t feel angry with her for that, but still, he couldn’t help but desire her to be with him. So that he could feel her kind, reassuring affections; so that he could be immersed in her earthy scent again; so that he didn’t feel so crushingly alone.
As if on cue, he heard a soft padding from behind, getting steadily louder as someone approached, and he flicked his head around to face them. As soon as his eyes landed on the familiar, brown-furred lioness he couldn’t help but feel uplifted. But then the thick, suffocating cloud surrounding his heart reasserted its presence, and he turned away to face the landscape, fresh tears blazing their path down his face.
Silently, Sabra sidled up to him, nuzzling his side kindly as she joined him in sitting. At her affections, Khalfani’s neck went limp, as something inside him crumbled, and he felt himself rest against her for support, in every sense of the word.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Sabra murmured, bending down to try and peer into his eyes. Her search was brief, as Khalfani had picked himself up again at her concerned tone. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she finished with a reassuring but respectfully small smile.
“Khalfani…”
Both of them looked up at the hushed whisper, and saw their queen standing before them. Aside from his burgundy mane, Khalfani was an almost perfect doppelganger of his mother, despite inheriting his father’s oversized frame. The lion felt boosted, thinking that her appearance might bring news of his father’s recovery. However, when the pairs of identical eyes met, he felt his heart plummet again and the suffocating fog thicken. The dark lines indicating copious tears; the barely-contained trembling of her jaw; the unmistakable look of despair in those normally warm blue orbs. This couldn’t be good news.
His mother inhaled with an oddly wet sound. “Your dad wants to have a word with you,” she said, in a cracked, quiet voice; she was clearly close to breaking. Unable to do anything else but dreading what lay ahead, he obeyed and slowly ambled off to join his mother. Sabra stayed behind: she wanted to be there for him, but knew that it was not her place to interrupt the king’s final moments with his family.
Though the cave was not far from the one they slept in, the walk there seemed to be the longest of Khalfani’s life. He could feel every muscle in his body tremble as he padded toward the cave, engrossed in thought, searching desperately for something that would make this not be reality, sinking slowly into despair as the sorrow began to consume him.
“I’m so sorry, Khalfani,” his mother whispered, “I should have got him back quicker.”
The young lion was jerked back to earth by this, and by the vision in his mind of the aged lioness carrying her battered husband to the cave where he now lay, his broken leg jarring horribly against her flank. Fluids streamed down her face, as she strove determinedly, but gently given his condition, back to Haven; back to where Amana could hopefully treat him. Khalfani had to fight back a shudder at the sight of his father’s blood dripping out of the many slashes in his countenance.
“Don’t be, Mum,” he replied. He did his best to replicate Sabra’s smile from earlier, but with the pain in his chest and shuddering jaw he was unsuccessful. He settled instead with giving her a comforting nuzzle. It was a slightly odd feeling; usually, she was the one trying to cheer him up when he was down. “You did everything you could.”
Presently, they had reached the cave, and Khalfani could hear his father’s strained breathing reverberate from deep within. Panicking, he ran almost blindly into the cave, desperate to see his father, desperate for some hope. Maybe he was going to make it, but it would be a long time before he could walk again? That had to be it. His father couldn’t be dying.
But when his eyes adjusted, his father was still in the same bad way as Khalfani last saw him. Their shaman’s herbs and assistance had stemmed the flow from the smaller cuts and nips, but the more gaping holes were still sickeningly damp, and the fur around them was still stained scarlet. There was still life in Umeme, but it was dwindling rapidly; his chest was rising very slowly and weakly, and his eyes were almost fully closed.
Resisting the overbearing urge to simultaneously vomit and break down in sobs, he bounded over to his father, hoping that the noise might rouse him; it didn’t. Those familiar amber eyes remained almost hidden, though he did hear his father make an odd noise, almost as if he was talking in his sleep.
“Dad!” Khalfani exclaimed, the terror he felt reaching breaking point, but it quelled slightly when his father’s eyelids retreated. But only slightly.
“Son…” he replied weakly, barely more than a whisper, the corners of his mouth receding to his neck at the sight of his child. Khalfani felt his eyes overflow once again, as he now realised the extent of his father’s injuries, though he couldn’t bear to look at them.
“Dad, please!” he begged, “tell me you’re gonna make it!” His eyes could see the tremendous pain that each breath caused, all the innards shifting beneath the shattered ribcage, but he refused to believe that his father…would not be there any more. He couldn’t even complete the thought now that he knew.
“Shh…calm down, Khalfani,” Umeme wheezed. With great difficulty, the king raised his left forepaw, and the yellow lion lowered himself to fit under it and collapsed softly into Umeme’s ever-reassuring embrace, quickly creating a damp patch around his grief-etched face. “I know it will be hard…but I’m afraid it is my time.”
Umeme was trying to keep his voice stable and strong for his son, if only to make the blow less catastrophic, but it was a futility by now.
“But I’m not ready to lose you, Dad. I’m not ready to be King.” Khalfani heard his father sharply gasp at the last part; he knew it was just as difficult and traumatic for his father to say goodbye as it was for him. However, he was comforted when the older lion’s paw stroked gently at his back.
“I know you are, my son. I-” But he was stopped with his face contorted horribly, as another bone fragment poked into something tender within his chest. The pain was immense, and Umeme had to forcibly stop his claws from unsheathing instinctively, but he managed to gather himself. “I’m sorry that you must carry this burden at such a young age…but I have full confidence in you, Khalfani. You are the greatest achievement of my life, and you will become an equally great King…I only wish that I could be with you as you do.” His face twisted again as he said this, but this time in overwhelming heartache than physical pain, though it was still agonising.
Though this speech had calmed Khalfani and was starting to give him a shred of his usual confidence back, it was almost completely mitigated by his father’s voice growing fainter and fainter throughout. The fear was starting to take over by now.
“You were always there for me, Dad. I couldn’t have wished for anyone better as a father.” He had to tell him just how much he meant to him, before…
Unseen by Khalfani but noticed by Masaada, who was watching the tender, but heartbreaking moment from a little way behind her son, one last wide smile sprouted across Umeme’s tattered face. He gave his wife a small, reassuring nod, and she tearfully returned it. She could barely resist the compulsion to run over and hold both of them close herself, but she knew that this moment was intended for their son. Umeme’s noble head returned to the ground with a soft thud.
“Thank you, son. Don’t worry…I’ll always be watching over you. I love you, my boy…”
And with that, everything went silent. Khalfani felt his father’s gentle embrace become nothing more than a weight around his neck, choking him like the darkness surrounding his heart. He felt his father’s chest cease its doomed heaving, and something intangible but agonisingly familiar leave the comforting body beneath him. He sank further into the still-warm pelt, tears flowing silently as his senses numbed, and finally collapsed in grief and shock.
Something truly terrible had happened that day.
On a slightly raised platform which lead into the caves on Pride Rock, a brown-furred lion sat on his haunches, his straggly, obsidian mane hanging limp beneath his jaw. His black, pointed nose was craned skywards, as if full of pride, yet his face adopted the same dampened look as those a little way below. His piercing, green eyes were hidden for the moment in reflection, allowing the celestial beams to highlight the jagged old wound splayed across his left eye that had become his namesake.
“Mufasa’s death…was a terrible tragedy,” Scar said with a hushed, reverential tone, “but to lose Simba, who had barely begun to live…”
The sentence was left hanging as the brown lion sniffled and buried his muzzle in his forepaw. A powerfully-built, dark tan lioness, who up until now had been looking stoically ahead in evident but dignified heartache, now dipped her head to the ground in despair, as a blue hornbill comfortingly placed his wing on her paw. Though Sarabi already knew that her beloved husband and son were gone, Scar’s words had re-opened the deep, excruciating wounds in her soul; they confirmed that her worst nightmares had come true.
The same had happened to a tan cub a short distance from her, as she was reminded that her best friend was never coming back from that gorge. With a gasping cry, Nala huddled closer to her mother’s forelegs, twin tears slithering down her face. One the rock, Scar had recovered from his momentary lapse and pressed on as the confirmation had sunk into the minds of the pride.
“For me, it is a deep personal loss. So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of the tragedy, we shall rise!” His voice had lost its air of sympathy by this point, reverting to a forceful and commanding tone that grew steadily in volume. This caught the pride’s attention, but after a moment they were instead focused on the shadows behind Scar.
In the ethereal green light, the shapes of hyenas pressed forth from the dark recesses of Pride Rock, a similar colour emanating from the scavengers’ eyes.
“To greet…the dawning of a new era!” The pride let out a collective gasp, shaken out of their mournful stupor. Several looked around, and saw more of their enemy closing in.
“In which lion and hyena come together, in a great and glorious future!” Their new King’s voice had dropped sinisterly and almost to a whisper, magnified by the smooth surroundings of their home. As the gleeful yips of the incoming hyenas grew ever louder, the lionesses realised for the first time just how much faith they placed on the whims of their king.
-------
Yet the Pridelands were not the only kingdom to be in upheaval that night. A little beyond the horizon atop Pride Rock, lay the kingdom of the Upper Eastlands, a lush and bountiful realm of soft, rolling hills and verdant, rich grasslands. That day, however, the serenity and peace of this kingdom had been shattered.
The pride that called the lands home was congregated in a spacious cave on a large hill near the centre of the kingdom. Many were tending to deep, bloody scratches and savage bites, aided by a rather terse cheetah who dispensed healing herbs to the injured. Mothers were shielding their cubs and trying to calm them after the events of that day, while their mates attempted to put on brave faces for the sake of their families. One was unable to do any of this; she lay broken, and unmoving, in one of the other smaller caves that permeated the hillside they called Haven. Inside yet another rather private shelter, another of their number was fated to join the prone lioness, though not for a little while yet.
A large, robustly-built lion lay on his side in this cave, his ragged breathing echoing in the confined space. Large chunks of his pelt had been brutally ripped away, exposing sickening, pink innards and smearing his normally brown coat with liberal amounts of viscous blood, which continued to seep through the multitude of injuries. One of his hind legs stuck out at an odd angle after a particularly heavy landing during that day’s exertions and several of his ribs were snapped, poking inwards and spearing his organs with every rise of his chest.
The almost unbearable pain was clear to see on Umeme’s face, its normally regal features stretched and contorted with each breath. A yellowish lioness, his treasured wife Masaada, sat by his middle, determinedly trying to clean his many wounds with her gentle tongue. But this battle was steadily, and surely, being lost. And Umeme knew it.
“Dear…” he croaked, just managing to suppress the loud roar that he was begging to let out, craning his neck to look at her for what could be the last time. The deft, comforting swabs at his inner layers of skin stopped as she did the same. Through the gloom of the moonlit cave, and a rather think layer of moisture, his piercing amber eyes met her warm, cerulean gaze, and she realised the inevitable.
Her visage too stretched into a grimace to rival his own, and she buried it in the expanse of his greying dark brown mane, though softly to avoid causing him even more pain. Both of them were well into their dotage, with Umeme recently celebrating twelve years of life, so Masaada was aware that this day would eventually come. But that didn’t mean that she expected it to be now, in this horrendously painful manner, or that she wanted it to happen.
Tears leaked from her eyes with great, shuddering sobs at what they both knew was going to happen, while he raised his least injured forepaw, and rubbed it tentatively along the nodules of her spine, trying to calm her while the building moisture in his own eyes finally ran its course silently down the sides of his own muzzle.
“Come on, honey,” he implored, attempting to keep his voice as strong as possible. “We both knew this was coming.”
There was a great, wet sniff as Masaada tried to gather herself before responding, “Yes, but does it have to be now?” she asked, desperation flooding her voice. “Surely Amana could do something?”
Her voice had cracked by the end of her query, and Umeme could feel his heart do the same at the sound of her anguish. He didn’t want to leave her, but he had to. With a sharp intake of breath as a bone fragment struck something it shouldn’t, he carried on.
“Maybe she could, but even if she did it would be a long and arduous recovery,” he stated, wavering. “There wouldn’t be much of a life left for me at the end of it.”
At this, Masaada picked herself up, and he felt a great deal of warmth leave his body. He really did not have much time left. She stared deeply into those amber orbs once again, trying to miss the innumerable scratches that also adorned the face she so adored.
“But at least it would be a life,” she mumbled, unable to raise her voice. “At least we would still be together.”
Umeme had to steady himself before his reply. He was almost ready for death: it would be a welcome and deserved respite from the immense pain wreaking havoc through his body. But he was not ready to leave his mate behind, or to watch her suffering from his place in the heavens with no way to help; those were the only two things keeping him there.
“Honey…don’t you remember the story of what happens to those who pass on?” he asked, a small, reassuring smile stretching his lips despite his own personal agony. “I’ll never be truly gone. We’ll always be together, even if we can’t feel each other.”
His words had a small but definite effect, and her expression softened. She was still burdened by enormous sorrow, but at least she was somewhat ready for his passing. She gave a slight nod, and bent down to lick the end of his nose, careful to avoid inflaming the cuts there.
“Do you want me to go get Amana? She might have something to stop the pain.” She wanted him to suffer as little as possible before the inescapable happened, but his great head shook.
“I think I can manage,” he breathed out, before a hacking cough interrupted his reverie. “Could you fetch Khalfani though? I need to speak to him before…”
“’Course,” she said, tears welling up as he delicately left the sentence hanging. The lioness began to turn away and leave, but at the last second she faltered, and once again gently rested her head on his side, nuzzling him tenderly.
“I love you, Umeme,” she gasped, slowing her rubs a tiny amount. “From the first time we met, and you pulled that stupid jump off Haven, I knew I loved you… and I always will…even if we can’t truly be with each other…” Her sentence trailed off as her tears grew more copious, soaking further into his mane with each pained rub.
Once again, Umeme had to fight to stop himself from breaking, as the treasured memories played in his mind’s eye. Where did all that time go? he thought mournfully, tears running freely down his muzzle to cling resolutely onto the age-lengthened fuzz on his chin.
“And I you, Massie,” he wheezed. Time was growing short, and he could feel the end approaching, but he found the strength to wrap his forelegs around her and pull her close, despite the horrendous pain. “And I you…”
He relented, and felt her comforting weight slowly rise off his neck, and breathing became easier again, though only slightly; the inevitable was still on the horizon. However, he had to speak to his son before he departed, and Umeme watched through half-lidded eyes as the love of his life gave his muzzle a heartfelt lick, before leaving to find their son. In the empty silence, his mind rested on those he would be with again. Dad…Mum…Ahadi…Afla…it won’t be long now.
-------
In the entrance to the Sleeping Cave, a well-built but rather young lion sat on his haunches. His head hung limply, as he stared intently at the ground as though trying to bore into it; trying to find a way to escape the heartache he felt as his father lay struggling for breath in one of the other caves. Tears fell silently from the end of his muzzle as the terrible thoughts crossed his mind. He had already lost his sister recently; surely the Great Kings would not allow their number to be increased tonight.
He picked his head up momentarily, looking down the hillside for the opening to the cave where her cold, lifeless form lay in peace. She had barely left cub hood, he thought, face unconsciously contracting in grief. She didn’t deserve this.
His thoughts returned to his father; surely he would get better. He was not going to die. Not now. Not when he needed him the most. Not when he was too young to take the responsibilities the king’s death would entail.
The young lion sighed. Now more than ever before, he wanted his love by his side, but she wasn’t. An earlier sweep of the cave had told him that Sabra was trying to calm her younger brother down. He didn’t feel angry with her for that, but still, he couldn’t help but desire her to be with him. So that he could feel her kind, reassuring affections; so that he could be immersed in her earthy scent again; so that he didn’t feel so crushingly alone.
As if on cue, he heard a soft padding from behind, getting steadily louder as someone approached, and he flicked his head around to face them. As soon as his eyes landed on the familiar, brown-furred lioness he couldn’t help but feel uplifted. But then the thick, suffocating cloud surrounding his heart reasserted its presence, and he turned away to face the landscape, fresh tears blazing their path down his face.
Silently, Sabra sidled up to him, nuzzling his side kindly as she joined him in sitting. At her affections, Khalfani’s neck went limp, as something inside him crumbled, and he felt himself rest against her for support, in every sense of the word.
“Don’t worry, darling,” Sabra murmured, bending down to try and peer into his eyes. Her search was brief, as Khalfani had picked himself up again at her concerned tone. “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she finished with a reassuring but respectfully small smile.
“Khalfani…”
Both of them looked up at the hushed whisper, and saw their queen standing before them. Aside from his burgundy mane, Khalfani was an almost perfect doppelganger of his mother, despite inheriting his father’s oversized frame. The lion felt boosted, thinking that her appearance might bring news of his father’s recovery. However, when the pairs of identical eyes met, he felt his heart plummet again and the suffocating fog thicken. The dark lines indicating copious tears; the barely-contained trembling of her jaw; the unmistakable look of despair in those normally warm blue orbs. This couldn’t be good news.
His mother inhaled with an oddly wet sound. “Your dad wants to have a word with you,” she said, in a cracked, quiet voice; she was clearly close to breaking. Unable to do anything else but dreading what lay ahead, he obeyed and slowly ambled off to join his mother. Sabra stayed behind: she wanted to be there for him, but knew that it was not her place to interrupt the king’s final moments with his family.
Though the cave was not far from the one they slept in, the walk there seemed to be the longest of Khalfani’s life. He could feel every muscle in his body tremble as he padded toward the cave, engrossed in thought, searching desperately for something that would make this not be reality, sinking slowly into despair as the sorrow began to consume him.
“I’m so sorry, Khalfani,” his mother whispered, “I should have got him back quicker.”
The young lion was jerked back to earth by this, and by the vision in his mind of the aged lioness carrying her battered husband to the cave where he now lay, his broken leg jarring horribly against her flank. Fluids streamed down her face, as she strove determinedly, but gently given his condition, back to Haven; back to where Amana could hopefully treat him. Khalfani had to fight back a shudder at the sight of his father’s blood dripping out of the many slashes in his countenance.
“Don’t be, Mum,” he replied. He did his best to replicate Sabra’s smile from earlier, but with the pain in his chest and shuddering jaw he was unsuccessful. He settled instead with giving her a comforting nuzzle. It was a slightly odd feeling; usually, she was the one trying to cheer him up when he was down. “You did everything you could.”
Presently, they had reached the cave, and Khalfani could hear his father’s strained breathing reverberate from deep within. Panicking, he ran almost blindly into the cave, desperate to see his father, desperate for some hope. Maybe he was going to make it, but it would be a long time before he could walk again? That had to be it. His father couldn’t be dying.
But when his eyes adjusted, his father was still in the same bad way as Khalfani last saw him. Their shaman’s herbs and assistance had stemmed the flow from the smaller cuts and nips, but the more gaping holes were still sickeningly damp, and the fur around them was still stained scarlet. There was still life in Umeme, but it was dwindling rapidly; his chest was rising very slowly and weakly, and his eyes were almost fully closed.
Resisting the overbearing urge to simultaneously vomit and break down in sobs, he bounded over to his father, hoping that the noise might rouse him; it didn’t. Those familiar amber eyes remained almost hidden, though he did hear his father make an odd noise, almost as if he was talking in his sleep.
“Dad!” Khalfani exclaimed, the terror he felt reaching breaking point, but it quelled slightly when his father’s eyelids retreated. But only slightly.
“Son…” he replied weakly, barely more than a whisper, the corners of his mouth receding to his neck at the sight of his child. Khalfani felt his eyes overflow once again, as he now realised the extent of his father’s injuries, though he couldn’t bear to look at them.
“Dad, please!” he begged, “tell me you’re gonna make it!” His eyes could see the tremendous pain that each breath caused, all the innards shifting beneath the shattered ribcage, but he refused to believe that his father…would not be there any more. He couldn’t even complete the thought now that he knew.
“Shh…calm down, Khalfani,” Umeme wheezed. With great difficulty, the king raised his left forepaw, and the yellow lion lowered himself to fit under it and collapsed softly into Umeme’s ever-reassuring embrace, quickly creating a damp patch around his grief-etched face. “I know it will be hard…but I’m afraid it is my time.”
Umeme was trying to keep his voice stable and strong for his son, if only to make the blow less catastrophic, but it was a futility by now.
“But I’m not ready to lose you, Dad. I’m not ready to be King.” Khalfani heard his father sharply gasp at the last part; he knew it was just as difficult and traumatic for his father to say goodbye as it was for him. However, he was comforted when the older lion’s paw stroked gently at his back.
“I know you are, my son. I-” But he was stopped with his face contorted horribly, as another bone fragment poked into something tender within his chest. The pain was immense, and Umeme had to forcibly stop his claws from unsheathing instinctively, but he managed to gather himself. “I’m sorry that you must carry this burden at such a young age…but I have full confidence in you, Khalfani. You are the greatest achievement of my life, and you will become an equally great King…I only wish that I could be with you as you do.” His face twisted again as he said this, but this time in overwhelming heartache than physical pain, though it was still agonising.
Though this speech had calmed Khalfani and was starting to give him a shred of his usual confidence back, it was almost completely mitigated by his father’s voice growing fainter and fainter throughout. The fear was starting to take over by now.
“You were always there for me, Dad. I couldn’t have wished for anyone better as a father.” He had to tell him just how much he meant to him, before…
Unseen by Khalfani but noticed by Masaada, who was watching the tender, but heartbreaking moment from a little way behind her son, one last wide smile sprouted across Umeme’s tattered face. He gave his wife a small, reassuring nod, and she tearfully returned it. She could barely resist the compulsion to run over and hold both of them close herself, but she knew that this moment was intended for their son. Umeme’s noble head returned to the ground with a soft thud.
“Thank you, son. Don’t worry…I’ll always be watching over you. I love you, my boy…”
And with that, everything went silent. Khalfani felt his father’s gentle embrace become nothing more than a weight around his neck, choking him like the darkness surrounding his heart. He felt his father’s chest cease its doomed heaving, and something intangible but agonisingly familiar leave the comforting body beneath him. He sank further into the still-warm pelt, tears flowing silently as his senses numbed, and finally collapsed in grief and shock.
Chapter Two
Spoiler: show
For Khalfani, it was as if time had stopped. He heard nothing. He felt nothing, besides the gaping void that occupied his chest and the steadily chilling fur beneath him. No thoughts crossed his mind. He just stared at the smoothed stone that enclosed their broken bodies, tears slowly trickling down his muzzle as he tried desperately not to catch sight of his father’s corpse. But he knew that he had to; he had to face the undeniable, horrible truth.
Slowly, with muscles aching as though he had been the one gasping for breath, he carefully manoeuvred his limbs around Umeme’s overlarge form, and pushed himself to his paws. For a few moments he closed his eyes, as he barely heard the formerly embracing forelimb limb meet the ground with a quiet thump, and took a deep, steadying breath; he could feel his entire face welling up at the prospect of what he was about to do. He cracked his eyes back open.
A painfully familiar sight greeted him. His father looked so serene, so untroubled, with his head gently lying against the floor, and a small smile stretching across his tired face. Due to his old age, Umeme had found himself spending an increasing amount of time resting, trying to conserve his strength for when his royal duties called. But now, Khalfani would never again be able to rouse him with a nudge or playful shout. As the memories once again flooded back, the young lion’s head bowed and he eyes screwed shut once again. I love you too, Dad.
So dulled had Khalfani’s senses become, though, that he hadn’t heard what was going on behind him. He hadn’t heard his mother, trembling with every step, slowly pad to the mouth of the small cave, and with a quick look behind her to try and placate her desire to run back into the cave and nuzzle her son in comfort, tilt her face to the heavens. He had not seen the two new stars twinkle at her from on high, and he had not expected the aging Queen to let out a loud yowl, which echoed around in the night and perked many of the nearby animals’ heads.
It was an appalling sound, not only because of how strained and laden with heartache it was, or how Masaada almost collapsed after her grief-weakened voice fell silent, but also because it had a particular meaning; it confirmed the King’s passage to join his ancestors. As its reverberations faded, the cool night air was disturbed by two sets of thundering paws, belonging to a cheetah and a brown lioness.
Sabra, the younger of the two, arrived first, and was met with the sight of the grieving Queen. Seeing Masaada’s eyes glossed over and staring resolutely at the ground, with her shoulders so limp that the aged lioness was swaying slightly, Sabra knew that there was little she could do to console her queen. A feeling of guilt bubbling up in her chest, she quietly padded into the cave. The cheetah though, remained outside. Despite it being her duty as Shaman to tend to the deceased, and not typically being a very sentimental soul, Amana couldn’t suppress a distinct pang of nausea as she watched Masaada’s lonely anguish. Silently, the cheetah trotted over to her old friend.
Through the low light, Sabra spotted Khalfani standing over his father at the cave’s end, and she deftly padded towards them. She sped up a little, as she saw her beloved cringe in heartache, and bow his head to the dead king, but remained quiet so as to not disturb him in his clearly pained thoughts.
Khalfani was sure that he heard pawsteps behind him, but dismissed the miniscule noises as the occasional tear parting company from the end of him muzzle. He was alone now, surely. With his father…gone, and his mother overwhelmed by her own grief, there was no one to comfort him. No one. Except for whoever was gently nuzzling his shoulder, or who was providing a strangely familiar, earthy scent, that his dulled sense of smell was having trouble pinning down.
Khalfani tilted his head to the left, and his eyes landed upon a soft grey pair that he knew so well. He felt an old warmth return to his dulled chest, fighting against the chilling clouds that had grown denser as he sank deeper into despair. Once again, Sabra’s mere presence was enough to give him a small shred of hope. It was not enough to overcome the crippling trauma he felt, but her comforting expression was something his mind could tether to; something to keep his mind from falling into the abyss.
But still he felt conflicted by these feelings, and he returned to staring sombrely at the deceased King, simply allowing the tears to fall again. He could not be calm and reassured in the presence of his father’s unmoving body. Surely it was right that he feel hopeless. Surely it was right that he go through this tremendous pain. Surely it was right that he be left to truly mourn…
“Honey…”
His gaze was wrestled away from his father at the gentle whisper, and instead fixed on Sabra’s almost imploring visage. In her grey eyes he could also see a certain unease, alongside the great waves of sympathy.
“I know how much this is hurting you, dear…” She paused, as if to steady herself; her voice was still a tentative mumble. “But…come with me.”
The words seemed to echo in Khalfani’s almost empty mind. Leave? The thought almost sickened him. Surely leaving his father would be a sign of contempt; as if Umeme’s death had meant absolutely nothing? No. It was only right for him to stay by his father’s side. It was what he would have wanted, wasn’t it? It’s what any loving son would do for their father.
And yet, the thought of staying also made him feel ill. He was growing less and less able to look upon the corpse; to look upon all those horrific, and now proven to be fatal, injuries; to have to smell his father’s previously heartening scent being swamped by the odour of congealed blood and the unmistakable musk of death. The maelstrom of emotions roiling inside his head would be pain enough for his father.
Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, Khalfani gave her a short nod and turned to follow her out of the cave, but not before craning his head back one last time to look at the lion who had been the first thing he’d ever seen, who had taught him everything he had ever known, who had comforted him; played with him, loved and cared for him. He hadn’t lied: he couldn’t have ever wished for a better father.
Painfully, he tore his eyes away from the body, fearing that his body would simply collapse if he beheld the sight any more in his present, exhausted state. Every muscle trembled, and his breathing echoed the ragged sounds from earlier, as he crept beside the brown lioness, once again becoming lost in his own thoughts. Seeing his neck arch itself downwards, as he lost the will to look ahead, Sabra gently wrapped her tail around his.
It was not tight enough to express intimacy or desire, but it was still there. As Khalfani’s mind became enveloped in its own suffering, it was the one thing that prevented him from completely closing himself off from the world. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to, she just kept that constant reminder there: he was not alone. He couldn’t find the words to thank her, not with his thoughts lying almost dormant in his blank mind, but he couldn’t have been more grateful.
Soon enough, they came to the mouth of the hollow, and Khalfani could spot his mother and Amana just outside the opening. He wasn’t sure if it was his barely-functioning hearing, but he could hear a compassion in the cheetah’s voice that was never there before. And yet, it was having virtually no effect on the queen. Though she definitely appeared to have steadied, and brought her more explosive feelings under her normal, regal control, the look of vacant despair was still embedded into her eyes. Her shoulders were still hunched, her jaw never ceased its almost cubbish quivering, and tears still slipped unendingly from the corners of those weary, cerulean orbs.
Seeing the pair emerge from the gloom, Amana leant her spotted head in even closer to Masaada’s ear. After a brief, nearly inaudible whisper and a last attempt to comfort the queen with a reassuring smile, to which the lioness gave an odd twitch in answer, the shaman dutifully trotted off to take care of the king, silently acknowledging the couple with a nod as she passed. Sabra was almost about to lead Khalfani away, but saw Masaada slowly moving towards them, stumbling occasionally and jolting the still hanging droplets from her fur.
When they were almost touching noses, the queen stopped, and the pairs of identical eyes once again stared into each other in silence. Though the aged lioness opened her mouth with the intention of trying to console her son, no words passed her lips. Instead, she padded forwards again, and leant her neck against the lion’s in a leonine hug. Again, not a sound exuded from the pair, not that it was needed as the thoughts almost flowed between them, each providing immeasurable solace to the other.
Eventually, though neither of them wanted to let go, the embrace had to end. Though it seemed as if time had stopped during the fortifying affection, and indeed the only real movement had been the queen raising a paw to stroke her son’s pelt, the world around had kept relentlessly moving, and a few of the pride members were slowly making their way to the source of the yowl, which seemed to have happened eons ago.
Masaada softly pulled away from Khalfani, whose eyes reopened with a startled look, though not much of one due to the tightness that still gripped his face. He could see that there was definitely something different about her now. She was holding herself more upright, and as gave him something of a reassuring look, he could see that the heartache in her eyes was slightly diminished, even if it was still, painfully, the dominating feeling behind her more composed expression.
Sabra could see what the queen was hinting at, and brought her own head to Khalfani’s, giving him a brief nuzzle. When his face whipped around to meet hers, she gently beckoned him to keep following her, their tails still entwined. At the sight of her usual, comforting smile, the lion nodded, and the pair quietly walked away, though as they left Sabra could hear Masaada finally break her silence.
“Thank you, Sabra,” she croaked, her voice still weak. “Thank you for being strong when I could not.” As she finished, the old lioness once again dipped her head, but this time it was as though in shame.
Strong? Me? The lioness pondered as she lead Khalfani back to the Sleeping Cave, back to where he would be safe. It was true that Sabra was keeping remarkably calm seeing as she had still been fairly close to Umeme and had a great amount of fondness and respect for the paternal old lion, though obviously not as much as Khalfani. However, as much as she felt guilty for thinking it, the need to be there for the grieving son, in her mind, far outweighed the need to mourn the dead father. Not that she wasn’t greatly upset by the loss of her King, but every time she saw the look of hopelessness in Khalfani’s eyes, Sabra felt a stab of her own anguish shoot through her, which was why she was taking him somewhere familiar, and somewhere hopefully quiet, so that she could help him collect himself.
Eventually the pair made it back to the main cave on Haven, but Sabra’s idea of a secluded spot was actually at the rear of the hollow. At the very rear of the cave, it greatly narrowed and curved slightly to the left, creating a sheltered area that had been reserved for the royal family since before living memory. Unfortunately, its location meant that to reach the private area she had to lead Khalfani past most of the pride, who had either elected to remain behind, already knowing what the Queen’s howl had signified, or were still nursing their injuries.
Khalfani could almost feel the twenty or so pairs of eyes boring into him as he stiffly trotted past, still being lead by Sabra. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, the sight of their confident, occasionally cocky prince being directed by a lioness a fair bit smaller than himself would have elicited a chuckle from some of the other pride members. But instead, as they saw the almost arthritic gait and look of great misery, some turned their gaze to the ground and unconsciously adopted similar expressions. Others kept their eyes trained on the couple, the odd tear slipping from those of the more emotional in the pride, while yet more looked to their own loved ones for comfort.
“Mummy, what’s happening?” asked a high-pitched voice up ahead, which actually managed to break through Khalfani’s temporary deafness. Without thinking, the lion felt his eyes drift upwards to the question’s source, one of the young cubs.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” his mother…Sanaa, was it?…replied, reaching forward to pull her tiny son close. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Oh really? How could anyone think that what’s going on right now is ”˜fine’?
Khalfani blinked as he quickly quashed the savage thought, and gave a small shudder as it slipped from his mind. Where did that come from?
Khalfani was jolted from his thoughts as Sabra finally stopped, having directed him to the very spot where he usually slept. The scents of both his parents and his little sister lingered, almost thick enough to drink, in the darkened cave, and the young lion felt comforted by the familiar environment, but he was interrupted as he felt the grip around his tail abruptly stop, and another recognisable body nuzzle against his own. Despite the sudden inflexibility of his own joints, and the great burden on his mind, he still found himself returning Sabra’s affections: he had to find at least some way of thanking her for all she had done, and was still doing.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m here for you, and I always will be.” Even though Khalfani had known that long before Sabra said it, just the sound of her voice, and her actual confirmation were helping to ease the pain, as did the brief but tender lick she gave his nose. “Just lie down, Khalfani. You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
He obeyed, and felt his legs almost collapse underneath him as he lay down. Though his mind initially tried to protest, the emotional trauma, the physical exhaustion and the sleep deprivation were finally taking their toll after a grief-induced dormancy, and he felt everything become very heavy, right down to his eyelids. However, just before he let his slumber completely envelope him, Khalfani tilted his head to look back up at Sabra, who had lain down slightly apart from him. The chocolate lioness was looking over him almost protectively, occasionally glancing at the opening to the main cave.
“Thanks, honey…” he sighed, before finally shutting his eyes to the world of the living, and entering the one of dreams.
-------
The next thing Khalfani knew, all was bright. The sky was a cloudless blue, and the grasslands shone with a slightly golden glint as the intense summer sun blazed overhead. He was running. And he was laughing almost maniacally. And everything for some reason seemed much bigger than he could remember…
“Gotcha!” came an odd mix between a strained grunt and a playful shout from behind. Recognising the voice, Khalfani turned his head around, still running at a remarkable pace, to see something that tugged painfully at his heartstrings: his father, in mid-leap with massive paws outstretched, bearing down at him from a larger height than normal. He felt those paws enclose his seemingly much smaller form, though gently so as not to be painful. As the two tumbled on the firm, but slightly damp earth, his father pulled him close to his chest, to the point where Khalfani could even feel the older lion’s heartbeat. Once again, the sorrow was almost clawing at his insides, reasserting itself, and yet his facial expression never changed; if anything, his giggling grew louder.
The dizzying motion eventually stopped, before the onset of nausea, as his father came to a rest on his back, and released Khalfani as his forepaws pulled back to rest alongside his head. Finally stopped, the younger lion felt his face being pulled downwards, and he caught sight of himself. No mane, smallish body, and, the clincher, an almost embarrassingly high pitched laugh? He was a cub again. His head shot up, still outside of his control, and as his mind boggled over this first oddity he was greeted with another as he saw his father in greater detail. No cuts, no scratches, no bites, no blood; his majestic brown pelt was immaculate, aside from the specks of sandy-brown dust that had settled haphazardly. Even the ribcage the cub was sitting on felt fully intact. His father just lay there, eyes closed in joy and regal face pulled into a wide grin as he chuckled throatily.
Khalfani was puzzled. What was this? Was it a dream, or was he reliving his memories? Though both seemed to be plausible, he couldn’t be sure. If these were his dreams, then why could he remember everything about this chase, if only after it happened? And why wouldn’t he have control of his body if it was his own fantasy? But if this was a memory, then why was he feeling so down? Why was he not feeling the happiness that his open-mouthed, goofy smile was telling him that he should be experiencing?
But he was pulled away from his reverie as he heard his father’s laughing finally dwindle, and he rose slightly as the King gave a heavy sigh, though when his mouth closed he was still smiling. The lion bent his neck forward to gaze at his child, bringing a forepaw up to pat Khalfani’s fuzzy head.
“I guess you couldn’t get away from me after all, hmm?” he joked, his lips curling wryly. Khalfani could almost feel himself ripping apart at the warm, resonant tones, but once again his cubbish body acted for him.
“Yeah, I guess so…” he replied sheepishly, in a ridiculously high voice, while accepting the calm strokes that his father was running along his spine, arching his body in pleasure. Suddenly, Khalfani felt his mouth contract into an impish grin. “Betcha can’t do it again, though!” he squealed, and sprang off his father’s chest, earning a quiet “oof” from the King, and took off again. However, before he had taken more than a few steps, his vision darkened, and everything suddenly appeared very grainy, before he was enveloped in darkness again.
Once again, the world of colour returned startlingly quickly, but this time it was somehow more muted. Instead of being in the open savannah, he was inside one of the caves on Haven, though for some reason not the Sleeping one. And again, he felt different. He felt stronger, bigger, and somehow much longer-limbed than he rather ought to be. Out of his control, his head tilted, and he caught sight of his father again, and though he felt a great surge of grief within him, it was a bit more subdued than in his last vision. Judging by how much he had grown against his father’s size and by how faded and slightly greying the King’s mane was, he guessed that he was around two years old, maybe a little less due to those overlong legs. Right about when…
“Khalfani,” muttered a quiet, tired voice to his left, and his head snapped to its direction, to face his mother. Her fur was matted and dishevelled, and her eyelids seemed to be drooping at the corners. Yet despite her apparent exhaustion, she was beaming up at him from where she was lying on the cave floor, and there seemed to be a proud gleam in her eyes. Still smiling, her lips parted.
“Here she is…”
And the lioness unfurled her cream paws, which seemed to be wrapped around something, a something which revealed itself to be a tiny, brownish lion cub, eyes still closed and ears pinned right back, sleeping soundly against her mother’s forelimbs, her fragile body rising and falling in a quick, but entirely calm rhythm. Masaada lowered her to stare adoringly at her daughter, and, if it could, her smile extended further. “Little Afla,” she concluded in barely more than a whisper, before finishing with a gentle lick to her daughter’s fuzzy forehead.
Two thoughts had crossed Khalfani’s mind as he gazed at his very little sister. One matched his former self’s facial expression: his softer, more heart-driven side going aww…
The other was rather more frantic. Great Kings! Afla! In all of the heartache and the emotion and the mental blankness of his father’s passing, all thoughts of his late sister had been driven out of his mind. I’m so sorry, Afla. How could you have slipped my mind so easily? Guilt was starting to course through him, and he was sure that, were he in full control of his body, he would be breaking down in ashamed weeping by now. Forgive me, Afla. You didn’t deserve to be forgotten. All he could think to do was apologise endlessly to his sibling, to the point where, despite this being one of his most treasured memories, he was actually startled when pulled out of his reverie by the sound of his father’s ever calm voice.
“How does it feel being a big brother, son?” he inquired quietly, his usually stable bass cracking somewhat through obvious joy. Apparently he had been staring at the slumbering cub for quite a long time, in complete silence. Khalfani found himself taking a deep, slightly rattling breath before he answered, tilting his head to face the old lion again, noting the beads of moisture in the corners of those amber eyes.
“Never been happier,” he murmured, tearing up himself and breaking out into a smile to rival his mothers, as he nuzzled his father. Of course, had he been in true control, his would have shown his father much more affection than the brief touch his memory had. However, before he could continue the vision, and trot over to the reclining lioness and give Alfa a more personal greeting, the scene dissolved again.
This happened again and again, as Khalfani found himself flitting between various memories, ranging from the seemingly trivial to the life-changing, though it seemed he would never forget any of them now. After his sister’s birth, there was a recollection of a time when he and Afla were taking it in turns to pounce on a sedentary lizard, which morphed into a later memory where he and his entire family were stargazing on a cool, still night at the summit of Haven. This in turn gave way to his later adolescence, and a lesson in kingship from Umeme, which still held his attention despite the back-flips his mind was going through. The words of wisdom faded to when his father had taken him to visit the Pridelands, and meet his new cousin, Simba. The pair frolicked in the open savannah, whilst their respective fathers remained on the monolith that was Pride Rock, observing from the high vantage point while they talked. Khalfani’s mind had almost settled down during this happy memory, but even this soon vanished, and was replaced with something that chilled him, though he was surprised that hadn’t been haunted by it before this point.
He was running again, this time under pale moonlight, and again his were not the only footsteps: the light, rapid thuds from behind told him that Amana was also racing to the same destination. One which he already knew, and his thoughts mirrored the look of terror on his barely-younger self. No…No! he begged, though to what he didn’t know. Not this, anything but this.
But he couldn’t stop himself; he was once again a passenger in his own body. Dread almost physically filled him, as he spotted two silhouettes in the distance, growing larger with each desperate step. They were his parents. They were both staring at something lying before them in the grass. His mother was evidently leaning heavily against his father.
As he neared them, Khalfani felt his movements become even more distressed before he finally stopped, heaving for breath barely a paw-width from his destination: his sister. Alfa was stretched out between the three older lions, and not a single part of her was moving. No breath entered her lungs, and not even her fur stirred in the still air, almost mockingly emphasising the cruel truth.
There were numerous cuts and slashes in her pelt, and despite the liberal amount of earth that had nestled in them and sullied the wounds, none of them seemed life-threatening. Even the odd angle that the adolescent’s jaw hung at seemed like a serious, but still curable injury, especially with Amana’s skill. It was then Khalfani’s eyes, which had been circling around Afla’s body, came to rest on a depression along her back and the odd angle that her hind-legs seemed to be at compared with the rest of her, and his former self’s mouth fell open as he realised what he had already knew: her spine had been severed.
Against his command, but not against his will, his gaze was forced upwards to look at his parents, as tears made their presence known. His mother had buried her face into her mate’s shoulder, clearly unable to even look at her daughter’s body, as her own shook with every heart-wrenching sob. His father was the opposite, staring down at his little girl intently, the occasional droplet picking its way though his fur. Though he was obviously distraught, Khalfani could see that his father’s hackles were slowly rising; his breathing was rapid but very heavy, and there was a deepest fury in those amber eyes that he would never have imagined could exist.
Unable to take this memory anymore, Khalfani resorted to pleading once again, to his…subconscious? Please: anything else, any other memory, just not this! Whatever it was appeared to have listened, as on cue, his vision darkened beyond the night, and as Khalfani considered the ramifications of moving ahead in time, colour returned. And sure enough, he immediately wished that it hadn’t.
All he could see was two lions a fair distance away, on their hind legs and grappling furiously with each other. He felt his face stretch out again, as he recognised his father as the slightly larger of the two as the moon momentarily shone on Umeme’s back. He watched, transfixed, as the pair each landed a monstrous final blow on the other’s muzzle, and fell down with a loud thud each, interjected by a dull crack, as he heard his father’s leg snapping. Both lay there, unmoving, as Khalfani felt himself being pulled by something…
In a flash, the young lion’s eyes were open, and he was breathing deeply and quickly. Calming his heaving chest, his eyes darted through the gloom of the cave, and he quickly worked out that he was awake again, not least because his body was back under his control. Not like in those visions, that continued to play in his mind as Khalfani simply lay there, contemplating.
From the emotional void of last night, and the brief confusion in his first waking moments, he was now faced with all the pain and grief that continued to fill his heart. His face screwed up, almost like a cub’s, and he began to shudder as his breathing quickly became gasps as the subdued anguish from the previous night flooded his brain. However, before his misery manifested itself in a complete breakdown, he was once again pulled from his thoughts by a voice. A quiet, strangely intonated voice.
“Sire?”
Khalfani blinked back the film of moisture that clouded his eyes, before bringing his head upwards from his curled sleeping-posture to face the passage back to the main cave, where his ears told him the voice was emanating from. A diminutive hornbill, his black feathers speckled with blobs of white, stared back. From his downcast expression and hunched neck, it seemed the aptly named Zuberi wanted nothing more than to shrink quickly into the wall and avoid further intrusion. However, his sense of duty as major-domo appeared to return just as fast, and the little bird cleared his throat.
“We have visitors, sire,” he said regally. “They’re making their way to Haven now. You should be able to see them from the cave entrance.” Khalfani nodded in reply, and Zuberi promptly flew away to leave the new king to his thoughts. He had been called ”˜sire’. He could feel his face bubbling up again, and his breathing hasten as the full weight of the seemingly insignificant title hit him. His father was gone. Really gone. He was king now, and it was his responsibility to lead the pride. This, oddly, had the effect of calming the lion, as his mind wandered to one of his father’s teachings.
“Son…no king is without emotion. You simply wouldn’t be alive without them. But as king, you need to be in control of your emotions and keep your mind from clouding. You can act upon your feelings, certainly, but only in a way that would be beneficial to the pride, as that is your duty as leader. Do you understand what I mean?”
Khalfani had answered “yes” at the time, but in a non-committal way, as he couldn’t possibly have fully comprehended their meaning at the time. But now he could. He was king now, and he had to put aside his sorrows, however raw they were, and focus on whoever these arrivals were. With measured difficulty, to the point where he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to, he curtailed his inner turmoil and brought himself to his paws.
As he rose, he caught sight of Sabra, and his gaze lingered for a moment on her comforting form. She was still lying in the same position, and if her eyes were not softly closed and her head tilted, he guessed she would still be maintaining her vigil, and he wanted desperately to give her some affection in appreciation. But he quickly ascertained from her posture that she had only been very lightly asleep, and merely for a brief time. After everything she had done for him, he didn’t want to disturb her. As Khalfani stretched his neck to rid himself of lingering grogginess, he caught sight of his mother on his other side, and it was clear that she, understandably, wasn’t having the best night’s sleep either; further confirmed as the elderly lioness’ jaw quivered from her dreams, and her whole body twitched momentarily. Judging by the way the dust and dirt on the cave floor had been disturbed around him, and that neither his mother nor Sabra were close enough to be resting against him, he too had been moving in his sleep.
Involuntarily, he found his thoughts drifting back to his dreams, and firmly shook his head to steer them away again. He had to concentrate; he had a duty to attend to, even if he didn’t particularly want it. Sure, he had been excited about the day he would become King, but he never thought, nay, never hoped, it would happen like this. Again, he had to stop his mind from delving too far along its current path, and began to pick his way through the cave.
His eyes flickered lazily from side to side in the low light, making sure that he was avoiding the sleeping lions, lionesses and cubs; his subjects. He could see that he was the only soul awake in the cavern, until he neared the entrance at least, where he spotted another small form: an orange cub with black tufts on his head, and oddly on his ears as well.
Khalfani paused for a moment, as he saw the cubs face break out into an open-mouthed grin. “Chumvi!” the cub, whose name he recalled as Malka, squealed breathlessly, and took off into the open. The King was puzzled. He knew this cub, and also that Malka had had very little to smile about recently: aside from the near-chaos to the previous night, his older brother had left the pride.
Years ago, long before any of those in his present company had been born, Kings Mohatu and Elimu of the Pridelands and Upper Eastlands respectively, had decided upon a Code of Laws for their prides. It consisted of three rules, plus an occasionally added piece of common knowledge, that had changed the traditional leonine societies in their lands for the infinite better. One of the Laws, was that any lion or lioness was to be given a chance to become a member of either pride, be they an adult male (who would have previously been exiled from the pride for competitive reasons) or a rogue (who would have simply been ousted from the lands), under the condition that they pledge undying and unswerving loyalty to the true King or Queen.
Though the Law had allowed many lions to remain in the Upper Eastlands after its codification, it did not mean that the males were forced to stay, and Ni had become the latest to leave his homeland, and embark on his own adventure. Needless to say, despite the adolescent’s assurances that he would one day see him again, Malka had been devastated to see his brother’s form growing smaller and smaller against the endless savannah, and had not left the Sleeping Cave since. What could have rejuvenated him so quickly?
The King pressed on to the mouth of the cave, and as the golden sun crested the horizon on his left, began to scan the lands below for signs of the visiting animals, or any life for that matter. It didn’t take long for his cerulean eyes to pick out a collection of four lionesses of various coloured pelts. Though he could not recognise them from this distance, he could see that they were not a threat from their slow, almost solemn gait, and the fact that there were other, much smaller bodies around them: lionesses with cubs were not aggressive. Protective of their young certainly, but their aims were always peaceful; there was simply too much at risk to be otherwise. That, and an orange streak was busily making his way towards them, and Khalfani knew that Malka was not a cub to knowingly put himself in danger, despite his apparent tendency to get lost.
Slowly, and feeling the nerves build up to occupy the space previously reserved for his subdued misery, Khalfani set off down the hill the welcome the lionesses. This was exacerbated somewhat as the lion felt the early morning breeze caress his side, and he suddenly felt very cool; his pelt strangely clingy. He realised he was still clammy with sweat from his dreams. He managed to convince himself to put this issue to one side, but the chill left him a little more anxious.
As he reached the base of Haven, and the ground levelled out, he saw that Malka had finally caught up to the group, and appeared to be chattering quite animatedly with them: his high-pitched voice carried snippets back to Khalfani across the dawn air. However, fairly quickly, the lead lioness dropped her head to whisper in his ear, and his ears drooped, only to be raised up once more as she added something else. The orange cub quickly doubled back on himself, scampering back to the Sleeping Cave as though under orders, though he was careful to stay out of Khalfani’s way.
With the cub taken care of, he was finally close enough, and the sun had risen enough, to focus clearly on the approaching felines, though he concentrated on the apparent leader as they continued to draw nearer. Her muscular legs that indicated a vast hunting experience; her dark tan pelt; her calm, but purposeful expression and high, broad nose, both of which seemed to exude nobility and dignity. It all pointed to one name.
“Good morning, Sarabi!” he said in greeting, trying to keep his voice cheery though still somewhat muted, as he drew close to the Queen. In fact, he was not the only one who seemed down, as he could finally tell from this proximity to the party, that something was wrong. There was a definite aura of depression around the group, all of whom had limp, downcast expressions. There was also a salty musk hanging around them, and combined with several damp muzzles, it seemed several of them had been crying en route. Plus, the smallest of the cubs had his paws clamped around his mother’s foreleg, and appeared to still be silently weeping. Maybe they’ve heard of…what happened, Khalfani pondered.
Sarabi’s neutral look cracked into a small smile before she responded. “The same to you too, Khalfani.” The queen then perked her head upwards to the entrance of the Sleeping Cave, her brownish-red eyes lingering on the dark cavern for a moment, before they returned to face the lion in front of her. “Is your father awake yet? Not that isn’t a pleasure to see you, but there is something we need to discuss with him, and urgently.”
Khalfani’s felt all the wind leave his chest, and he began to tear up once again, but fought against it. He was not going to break down now, even if Sarabi had, totally unknowingly, reminded him of his predicament. As he succeeded in quelling one dilemma, another arose: they didn’t know. How was he going to tell them, particularly when they already seemed to have a major problem of their own to deal with? Quickly, the lion gathered his thoughts and began to ”˜excuse’ his father.
“He… he was taken ill last night, and he’s been sleeping rather poorly recently. Amana says he’ll be fine after some rest, though.” Khalfani nearly winced as he said his father was sleeping, but pressed on again. “But he said that if there were any problems while he was recuperating, he entrusted me to handle them.” He quickly had to clench his jaw to stop it from trembling once more.
Sarabi took the resulting stoic expression to be one of newfound responsibility and trust, as well as showing that he was not willing to divulge in the details of his father’s sickness. Though the situation was indeed odd, and she had never known Umeme to eschew his royal duties before, he was fairly elderly, around the age when lions became prone to illness. Plus, Khalfani was not one to lie over matters like this. Besides, the King was easily reachable, even if he would not be best pleased about being awoken during his recovery. “Very well,” she decided, “this would be good experience for you after all, were it not for the circumstances.” Her face changed to mirror her pride sisters’.
Don’t I know it, Khalfani thought exasperatedly, but pressed on. There did genuinely seem to be a serious problem. “Why? What’s wrong?” he enquired.
He heard her breath rattle as it passed her lips. “It’s about Mufasa,” she whispered. Khalfani had almost reckoned such before, as there was a distinct lack of a mane amongst the Pridelanders. He wondered why he had thought they knew of his father’s passing, when surely Umeme’s nephew would be one of the first to arrive to pass condolences and share emotions? But now that thought had passed, Khalfani was again puzzled, as it seemed odd that the King had not journeyed with his Queen and the other lionesses to resolve whatever this difficulty was. Unless…
“What about him?” he asked, a new dread already forming.
Sarabi gave a great shudder, and looked away. “He’s dead,” she breathed out, blinking rapidly.
Khalfani’s heart skipped a beat. “He’s what!” he blurted without thinking, and heard the lioness take a deep, almost cleansing breath, so that when their eyes met again, despite the film of moisture over her pair, the rest of her face had returned to its almost eerie calm, though Khalfani could see there was a great tide of anguish being held back behind the serene look.
“He and Simba… were caught in a stampede yesterday.” Khalfani could feel the claws shredding his insides again. Simba too? That little bundle of energy, who always seemed to be on the go, and his father, Mufasa, the kindly and good-humoured but powerful king, who Khalfani had nothing but admiration for…gone.
After a few moments of looking at the ground in shock, Khalfani wrestled his gaze back to Sarabi, and felt a rush of respect, as well as the expected sympathy, for the apparently fallen Queen. Here she was, far from home, having lost her entire family, surely a much more fatal blow than his own; he still at least had his mother and Sabra to thank The Kings for. Mates for life were meant to be exactly that, and…no parent should ever have to lose a child. The sight burned into his eyelids of his parents grieving over Alfa’s corpse was testament to that. And yet she wasn’t breaking down, as he had done. No, she was here, leading her pride to solve…whatever this still-unknown crisis was.
But before then, he had to offer some form of solace, and settled for giving her a brief, but hopefully comforting nuzzle on the side of her face, whispering, “I’m so sorry for you, Sarabi,” before pulling his head back.
She flashed a grateful smile, before he opened his mouth again. “If there’s anything-”
“Thank you, Khalfani,” she interrupted, but not in a rude way. “I appreciate the thought, but for now there is a more pressing matter.”
How could anything be more important than this? Khalfani pushed the thought back. “Such as?”
“Scar has assumed the throne…and he has re-enacted the Cubs Ritual.” Sarabi closed her eyes, fearing that her emotions would overpower her, as the memories of that awful declaration flooded back.
-------
Just after the announcement of his ascension, Scar descended the steps on the side of Pride Rock. A superior smirk beginning to break out, he made his way resolutely towards one particular member of the pride, who had been left alone with her thoughts as the rest of his subjects had been escorted to the main cave by his new entourage.
“Sarabi,” he said coolly, vanquishing his smile, and waited as she raised her grief-laden head to his level.
“Yes, Scar,” she replied with surprisingly equal iciness. The normally collected queen was clearly, and understandably, under great duress. Not that her plight meant anything to the new King.
“As you may have guessed, you have been relieved of you duties as Queen. However…I can still think of one use for you.”
“Really?” Sarabi had no yearning for power; though she had enjoyed it alongside her beloved, without her family at her side, and with the well-masked turmoil within her, it meant absolutely nothing, so this ”˜official’ removal had little affect on her. Besides, her pride sisters would sooner look to her for advice and leadership than to their new queen.
“Of course; you have a great following amongst the pride, and I have a message for them. I believe it would be far more suitable for you to deliver it, given…recent events.” His already vibrant eyes appeared to flash at these final words, and Sarabi had to bite her tongue as she heard the trivializing manner in which he spoke of her loss. After a very deep breath, and many suppressed insults, their conversation continued.
“Well?”
“Tell them that after my coronation, I want all of the male cubs to be left on the promontory. The Ritual is being performed again.”
It was as if he had clawed at her heart. He couldn’t do this. He may be king, but he was still bound by the Code of Laws, of which the second explicitly outlawed this barbaric, needless practice.
“Why?” she asked, desperately trying to keep her voice stable.
“Hmm? Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” Scar seemed genuinely surprised that his rule was being questioned, though he still sounded in complete control of the discussion.
“Why? Why do you need to perform The Ritual? Why do these cubs need to be murdered?” Sarabi deliberately allowed a little of her incense to penetrate her voice, and carry it to perhaps where the rest of the pride could hear her. Scar appeared to recoil, and his eyes grew wide momentarily.
“Murder is such a harsh word, Sarabi. I prefer to think of it as…using an old ceremony for its intended purpose-”
“They’re cubs, Scar,” she spat, feeling her hackles begin to rise, though she managed to stop herself and calm her voice before she continued, “what sort of challenge could they give you?”
“They won’t be cubs forever,” he stated simply. Sarabi couldn’t be too sure, but was that fear she saw bubbling up in his eyes? Whatever it was, the lion was able to hide it well when he next opened his mouth. “That is why they must be removed, so that they will never become a threat,” his statement was punctuated with finality, and he turned to leave.
“You can’t do this!” she gasped at Scar’s retreating form, the sheer terror now paralysing her vocal chords. He turned around, an arrogant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
“Oh, but I can, Sarabi. And besides, I shall spare the females: after all, we will need a new generation of hunters soon.” He paused, as if daring her to question his authority again. “My coronation will take place in two days. Plenty of time for a fond farewell, don’t you think?” Her calm façade ended, and her mouth hung open as the dark lion re-ascended the monolith, to the throne he would surely take for himself. At that moment, Sarabi vowed that she would do all in her power to save those cubs. Somehow, someway, she would make sure that no other mother would have to experience what she was going through.
Thus, later that night, while the hyenas were still exploring their new surroundings rather than guarding anything important, she and the mothers of the three remaining male cubs fled to their nearest neighbours; to the lands of a fair, understanding King, who would surely sympathise with their plight.
Khalfani stared; once again, his very breath had been shocked out of him. No. Surely not. He had to admit, there was something about Scar that had always unnerved him slightly. He couldn’t quite put his paw on it: he was polite, he never fought with anyone, Simba would even rave about him. Khalfani had to momentarily stop and suppress the memories of his cousin’s happy voice that filled his ears.
Still, the only vaguely sinister thing that he could remember about Scar, was that he was very solitary: odd, for a member of such a social species. But this…this went beyond sinister. This was downright cruel. Not only that, it also went against everything that Mohatu and Elimu had strived for with their Laws; it went against the very fabric of the Pridelands, and mocked his ancestors.
“So…” Khalfani started, suddenly aware that he had been silent for quite a while, but before he could continue, another voice piped up.
“Please, Khalfani, please let our cubs stay in your pride,” begged one of the other lionesses, a rather young looking mother on the verge of tears, though she was silenced by a nuzzle from her ochre cub.
Sarabi continued on her behalf. “I know this is a great deal to ask of your pride, Khalfani, but…I don’t know of anyone else who would help us.”
Khalfani weighed up the options, and reached his decision very quickly. Yes, allowing four extra cubs into the pride would undoubtedly cause some tensions, and there would quite possibly be an increased demand from the hunters, but he didn’t know if he could live with himself if he willingly sent those cubs back to their deaths. The desperate looks from the three mothers and their cubs only bolstered this sensation of not-quite-apparent guilt. But, with something like this, he would have to ask the opinion of the pride. It wasn’t that there were doubts over his right to the throne; sadly, he was the one remaining heir of Umeme. But as his pride would be the ones caring for the cubs, it would only be fair to have their permission.
He sighed, and parted his lips. “I have no problem with your little ones staying here, and I’m sure my father wouldn’t either.” Instantly the eight faces brightened. “But…” and there went those smiles, “as the lionesses, and not myself, will be the ones looking after them if they stay, it’s only right that they should agree too. I’m sure they will, though,” he added, trying to keep their spirits up, despite the mingling feelings of fear, dread and heartache within himself. “Follow me, I’ll summon the pride near Haven.”
As the group trekked back towards the verdant mound, Khalfani noticed that the mood around them seemed to be lighter, more buoyant. He also started to notice small details about the cubs that may or may not become part of his pride. The ochre cub from earlier was, oddly, being trailed by four blue birds. There was a very pale cub that was now being carried in his mother’s jaws due to his very young age; he appeared to be barely past weaning, if at all. And finally, there was a pair of dark-brown twins, one of them with a tuft of fur on his head, a natural way to separate the pair.
Presently, they arrived at the foot of Haven, and stopped. Khalfani gathered his thoughts. This was it: the first time he would be truly leading the pride, though he was being constantly reminded of why he was being forced into this responsibility now. Dreading slightly what could lay ahead, and of the moment when the Pridelanders would find out about…last night, he raised his mouth to the steadily brightening heavens and closed his eyes.
Moment of truth, he thought, before drawing his head back in a great inhalation, and releasing it back as a loud, potent, but somewhat strangled, roar. He reawakened his sight, and spotted the other pride members slowly making their way downhill towards him.
Slowly, with muscles aching as though he had been the one gasping for breath, he carefully manoeuvred his limbs around Umeme’s overlarge form, and pushed himself to his paws. For a few moments he closed his eyes, as he barely heard the formerly embracing forelimb limb meet the ground with a quiet thump, and took a deep, steadying breath; he could feel his entire face welling up at the prospect of what he was about to do. He cracked his eyes back open.
A painfully familiar sight greeted him. His father looked so serene, so untroubled, with his head gently lying against the floor, and a small smile stretching across his tired face. Due to his old age, Umeme had found himself spending an increasing amount of time resting, trying to conserve his strength for when his royal duties called. But now, Khalfani would never again be able to rouse him with a nudge or playful shout. As the memories once again flooded back, the young lion’s head bowed and he eyes screwed shut once again. I love you too, Dad.
So dulled had Khalfani’s senses become, though, that he hadn’t heard what was going on behind him. He hadn’t heard his mother, trembling with every step, slowly pad to the mouth of the small cave, and with a quick look behind her to try and placate her desire to run back into the cave and nuzzle her son in comfort, tilt her face to the heavens. He had not seen the two new stars twinkle at her from on high, and he had not expected the aging Queen to let out a loud yowl, which echoed around in the night and perked many of the nearby animals’ heads.
It was an appalling sound, not only because of how strained and laden with heartache it was, or how Masaada almost collapsed after her grief-weakened voice fell silent, but also because it had a particular meaning; it confirmed the King’s passage to join his ancestors. As its reverberations faded, the cool night air was disturbed by two sets of thundering paws, belonging to a cheetah and a brown lioness.
Sabra, the younger of the two, arrived first, and was met with the sight of the grieving Queen. Seeing Masaada’s eyes glossed over and staring resolutely at the ground, with her shoulders so limp that the aged lioness was swaying slightly, Sabra knew that there was little she could do to console her queen. A feeling of guilt bubbling up in her chest, she quietly padded into the cave. The cheetah though, remained outside. Despite it being her duty as Shaman to tend to the deceased, and not typically being a very sentimental soul, Amana couldn’t suppress a distinct pang of nausea as she watched Masaada’s lonely anguish. Silently, the cheetah trotted over to her old friend.
Through the low light, Sabra spotted Khalfani standing over his father at the cave’s end, and she deftly padded towards them. She sped up a little, as she saw her beloved cringe in heartache, and bow his head to the dead king, but remained quiet so as to not disturb him in his clearly pained thoughts.
Khalfani was sure that he heard pawsteps behind him, but dismissed the miniscule noises as the occasional tear parting company from the end of him muzzle. He was alone now, surely. With his father…gone, and his mother overwhelmed by her own grief, there was no one to comfort him. No one. Except for whoever was gently nuzzling his shoulder, or who was providing a strangely familiar, earthy scent, that his dulled sense of smell was having trouble pinning down.
Khalfani tilted his head to the left, and his eyes landed upon a soft grey pair that he knew so well. He felt an old warmth return to his dulled chest, fighting against the chilling clouds that had grown denser as he sank deeper into despair. Once again, Sabra’s mere presence was enough to give him a small shred of hope. It was not enough to overcome the crippling trauma he felt, but her comforting expression was something his mind could tether to; something to keep his mind from falling into the abyss.
But still he felt conflicted by these feelings, and he returned to staring sombrely at the deceased King, simply allowing the tears to fall again. He could not be calm and reassured in the presence of his father’s unmoving body. Surely it was right that he feel hopeless. Surely it was right that he go through this tremendous pain. Surely it was right that he be left to truly mourn…
“Honey…”
His gaze was wrestled away from his father at the gentle whisper, and instead fixed on Sabra’s almost imploring visage. In her grey eyes he could also see a certain unease, alongside the great waves of sympathy.
“I know how much this is hurting you, dear…” She paused, as if to steady herself; her voice was still a tentative mumble. “But…come with me.”
The words seemed to echo in Khalfani’s almost empty mind. Leave? The thought almost sickened him. Surely leaving his father would be a sign of contempt; as if Umeme’s death had meant absolutely nothing? No. It was only right for him to stay by his father’s side. It was what he would have wanted, wasn’t it? It’s what any loving son would do for their father.
And yet, the thought of staying also made him feel ill. He was growing less and less able to look upon the corpse; to look upon all those horrific, and now proven to be fatal, injuries; to have to smell his father’s previously heartening scent being swamped by the odour of congealed blood and the unmistakable musk of death. The maelstrom of emotions roiling inside his head would be pain enough for his father.
Swallowing back the bile rising in his throat, Khalfani gave her a short nod and turned to follow her out of the cave, but not before craning his head back one last time to look at the lion who had been the first thing he’d ever seen, who had taught him everything he had ever known, who had comforted him; played with him, loved and cared for him. He hadn’t lied: he couldn’t have ever wished for a better father.
Painfully, he tore his eyes away from the body, fearing that his body would simply collapse if he beheld the sight any more in his present, exhausted state. Every muscle trembled, and his breathing echoed the ragged sounds from earlier, as he crept beside the brown lioness, once again becoming lost in his own thoughts. Seeing his neck arch itself downwards, as he lost the will to look ahead, Sabra gently wrapped her tail around his.
It was not tight enough to express intimacy or desire, but it was still there. As Khalfani’s mind became enveloped in its own suffering, it was the one thing that prevented him from completely closing himself off from the world. She didn’t say anything; she didn’t need to, she just kept that constant reminder there: he was not alone. He couldn’t find the words to thank her, not with his thoughts lying almost dormant in his blank mind, but he couldn’t have been more grateful.
Soon enough, they came to the mouth of the hollow, and Khalfani could spot his mother and Amana just outside the opening. He wasn’t sure if it was his barely-functioning hearing, but he could hear a compassion in the cheetah’s voice that was never there before. And yet, it was having virtually no effect on the queen. Though she definitely appeared to have steadied, and brought her more explosive feelings under her normal, regal control, the look of vacant despair was still embedded into her eyes. Her shoulders were still hunched, her jaw never ceased its almost cubbish quivering, and tears still slipped unendingly from the corners of those weary, cerulean orbs.
Seeing the pair emerge from the gloom, Amana leant her spotted head in even closer to Masaada’s ear. After a brief, nearly inaudible whisper and a last attempt to comfort the queen with a reassuring smile, to which the lioness gave an odd twitch in answer, the shaman dutifully trotted off to take care of the king, silently acknowledging the couple with a nod as she passed. Sabra was almost about to lead Khalfani away, but saw Masaada slowly moving towards them, stumbling occasionally and jolting the still hanging droplets from her fur.
When they were almost touching noses, the queen stopped, and the pairs of identical eyes once again stared into each other in silence. Though the aged lioness opened her mouth with the intention of trying to console her son, no words passed her lips. Instead, she padded forwards again, and leant her neck against the lion’s in a leonine hug. Again, not a sound exuded from the pair, not that it was needed as the thoughts almost flowed between them, each providing immeasurable solace to the other.
Eventually, though neither of them wanted to let go, the embrace had to end. Though it seemed as if time had stopped during the fortifying affection, and indeed the only real movement had been the queen raising a paw to stroke her son’s pelt, the world around had kept relentlessly moving, and a few of the pride members were slowly making their way to the source of the yowl, which seemed to have happened eons ago.
Masaada softly pulled away from Khalfani, whose eyes reopened with a startled look, though not much of one due to the tightness that still gripped his face. He could see that there was definitely something different about her now. She was holding herself more upright, and as gave him something of a reassuring look, he could see that the heartache in her eyes was slightly diminished, even if it was still, painfully, the dominating feeling behind her more composed expression.
Sabra could see what the queen was hinting at, and brought her own head to Khalfani’s, giving him a brief nuzzle. When his face whipped around to meet hers, she gently beckoned him to keep following her, their tails still entwined. At the sight of her usual, comforting smile, the lion nodded, and the pair quietly walked away, though as they left Sabra could hear Masaada finally break her silence.
“Thank you, Sabra,” she croaked, her voice still weak. “Thank you for being strong when I could not.” As she finished, the old lioness once again dipped her head, but this time it was as though in shame.
Strong? Me? The lioness pondered as she lead Khalfani back to the Sleeping Cave, back to where he would be safe. It was true that Sabra was keeping remarkably calm seeing as she had still been fairly close to Umeme and had a great amount of fondness and respect for the paternal old lion, though obviously not as much as Khalfani. However, as much as she felt guilty for thinking it, the need to be there for the grieving son, in her mind, far outweighed the need to mourn the dead father. Not that she wasn’t greatly upset by the loss of her King, but every time she saw the look of hopelessness in Khalfani’s eyes, Sabra felt a stab of her own anguish shoot through her, which was why she was taking him somewhere familiar, and somewhere hopefully quiet, so that she could help him collect himself.
Eventually the pair made it back to the main cave on Haven, but Sabra’s idea of a secluded spot was actually at the rear of the hollow. At the very rear of the cave, it greatly narrowed and curved slightly to the left, creating a sheltered area that had been reserved for the royal family since before living memory. Unfortunately, its location meant that to reach the private area she had to lead Khalfani past most of the pride, who had either elected to remain behind, already knowing what the Queen’s howl had signified, or were still nursing their injuries.
Khalfani could almost feel the twenty or so pairs of eyes boring into him as he stiffly trotted past, still being lead by Sabra. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, the sight of their confident, occasionally cocky prince being directed by a lioness a fair bit smaller than himself would have elicited a chuckle from some of the other pride members. But instead, as they saw the almost arthritic gait and look of great misery, some turned their gaze to the ground and unconsciously adopted similar expressions. Others kept their eyes trained on the couple, the odd tear slipping from those of the more emotional in the pride, while yet more looked to their own loved ones for comfort.
“Mummy, what’s happening?” asked a high-pitched voice up ahead, which actually managed to break through Khalfani’s temporary deafness. Without thinking, the lion felt his eyes drift upwards to the question’s source, one of the young cubs.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” his mother…Sanaa, was it?…replied, reaching forward to pull her tiny son close. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
Oh really? How could anyone think that what’s going on right now is ”˜fine’?
Khalfani blinked as he quickly quashed the savage thought, and gave a small shudder as it slipped from his mind. Where did that come from?
Khalfani was jolted from his thoughts as Sabra finally stopped, having directed him to the very spot where he usually slept. The scents of both his parents and his little sister lingered, almost thick enough to drink, in the darkened cave, and the young lion felt comforted by the familiar environment, but he was interrupted as he felt the grip around his tail abruptly stop, and another recognisable body nuzzle against his own. Despite the sudden inflexibility of his own joints, and the great burden on his mind, he still found himself returning Sabra’s affections: he had to find at least some way of thanking her for all she had done, and was still doing.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m here for you, and I always will be.” Even though Khalfani had known that long before Sabra said it, just the sound of her voice, and her actual confirmation were helping to ease the pain, as did the brief but tender lick she gave his nose. “Just lie down, Khalfani. You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
He obeyed, and felt his legs almost collapse underneath him as he lay down. Though his mind initially tried to protest, the emotional trauma, the physical exhaustion and the sleep deprivation were finally taking their toll after a grief-induced dormancy, and he felt everything become very heavy, right down to his eyelids. However, just before he let his slumber completely envelope him, Khalfani tilted his head to look back up at Sabra, who had lain down slightly apart from him. The chocolate lioness was looking over him almost protectively, occasionally glancing at the opening to the main cave.
“Thanks, honey…” he sighed, before finally shutting his eyes to the world of the living, and entering the one of dreams.
-------
The next thing Khalfani knew, all was bright. The sky was a cloudless blue, and the grasslands shone with a slightly golden glint as the intense summer sun blazed overhead. He was running. And he was laughing almost maniacally. And everything for some reason seemed much bigger than he could remember…
“Gotcha!” came an odd mix between a strained grunt and a playful shout from behind. Recognising the voice, Khalfani turned his head around, still running at a remarkable pace, to see something that tugged painfully at his heartstrings: his father, in mid-leap with massive paws outstretched, bearing down at him from a larger height than normal. He felt those paws enclose his seemingly much smaller form, though gently so as not to be painful. As the two tumbled on the firm, but slightly damp earth, his father pulled him close to his chest, to the point where Khalfani could even feel the older lion’s heartbeat. Once again, the sorrow was almost clawing at his insides, reasserting itself, and yet his facial expression never changed; if anything, his giggling grew louder.
The dizzying motion eventually stopped, before the onset of nausea, as his father came to a rest on his back, and released Khalfani as his forepaws pulled back to rest alongside his head. Finally stopped, the younger lion felt his face being pulled downwards, and he caught sight of himself. No mane, smallish body, and, the clincher, an almost embarrassingly high pitched laugh? He was a cub again. His head shot up, still outside of his control, and as his mind boggled over this first oddity he was greeted with another as he saw his father in greater detail. No cuts, no scratches, no bites, no blood; his majestic brown pelt was immaculate, aside from the specks of sandy-brown dust that had settled haphazardly. Even the ribcage the cub was sitting on felt fully intact. His father just lay there, eyes closed in joy and regal face pulled into a wide grin as he chuckled throatily.
Khalfani was puzzled. What was this? Was it a dream, or was he reliving his memories? Though both seemed to be plausible, he couldn’t be sure. If these were his dreams, then why could he remember everything about this chase, if only after it happened? And why wouldn’t he have control of his body if it was his own fantasy? But if this was a memory, then why was he feeling so down? Why was he not feeling the happiness that his open-mouthed, goofy smile was telling him that he should be experiencing?
But he was pulled away from his reverie as he heard his father’s laughing finally dwindle, and he rose slightly as the King gave a heavy sigh, though when his mouth closed he was still smiling. The lion bent his neck forward to gaze at his child, bringing a forepaw up to pat Khalfani’s fuzzy head.
“I guess you couldn’t get away from me after all, hmm?” he joked, his lips curling wryly. Khalfani could almost feel himself ripping apart at the warm, resonant tones, but once again his cubbish body acted for him.
“Yeah, I guess so…” he replied sheepishly, in a ridiculously high voice, while accepting the calm strokes that his father was running along his spine, arching his body in pleasure. Suddenly, Khalfani felt his mouth contract into an impish grin. “Betcha can’t do it again, though!” he squealed, and sprang off his father’s chest, earning a quiet “oof” from the King, and took off again. However, before he had taken more than a few steps, his vision darkened, and everything suddenly appeared very grainy, before he was enveloped in darkness again.
Once again, the world of colour returned startlingly quickly, but this time it was somehow more muted. Instead of being in the open savannah, he was inside one of the caves on Haven, though for some reason not the Sleeping one. And again, he felt different. He felt stronger, bigger, and somehow much longer-limbed than he rather ought to be. Out of his control, his head tilted, and he caught sight of his father again, and though he felt a great surge of grief within him, it was a bit more subdued than in his last vision. Judging by how much he had grown against his father’s size and by how faded and slightly greying the King’s mane was, he guessed that he was around two years old, maybe a little less due to those overlong legs. Right about when…
“Khalfani,” muttered a quiet, tired voice to his left, and his head snapped to its direction, to face his mother. Her fur was matted and dishevelled, and her eyelids seemed to be drooping at the corners. Yet despite her apparent exhaustion, she was beaming up at him from where she was lying on the cave floor, and there seemed to be a proud gleam in her eyes. Still smiling, her lips parted.
“Here she is…”
And the lioness unfurled her cream paws, which seemed to be wrapped around something, a something which revealed itself to be a tiny, brownish lion cub, eyes still closed and ears pinned right back, sleeping soundly against her mother’s forelimbs, her fragile body rising and falling in a quick, but entirely calm rhythm. Masaada lowered her to stare adoringly at her daughter, and, if it could, her smile extended further. “Little Afla,” she concluded in barely more than a whisper, before finishing with a gentle lick to her daughter’s fuzzy forehead.
Two thoughts had crossed Khalfani’s mind as he gazed at his very little sister. One matched his former self’s facial expression: his softer, more heart-driven side going aww…
The other was rather more frantic. Great Kings! Afla! In all of the heartache and the emotion and the mental blankness of his father’s passing, all thoughts of his late sister had been driven out of his mind. I’m so sorry, Afla. How could you have slipped my mind so easily? Guilt was starting to course through him, and he was sure that, were he in full control of his body, he would be breaking down in ashamed weeping by now. Forgive me, Afla. You didn’t deserve to be forgotten. All he could think to do was apologise endlessly to his sibling, to the point where, despite this being one of his most treasured memories, he was actually startled when pulled out of his reverie by the sound of his father’s ever calm voice.
“How does it feel being a big brother, son?” he inquired quietly, his usually stable bass cracking somewhat through obvious joy. Apparently he had been staring at the slumbering cub for quite a long time, in complete silence. Khalfani found himself taking a deep, slightly rattling breath before he answered, tilting his head to face the old lion again, noting the beads of moisture in the corners of those amber eyes.
“Never been happier,” he murmured, tearing up himself and breaking out into a smile to rival his mothers, as he nuzzled his father. Of course, had he been in true control, his would have shown his father much more affection than the brief touch his memory had. However, before he could continue the vision, and trot over to the reclining lioness and give Alfa a more personal greeting, the scene dissolved again.
This happened again and again, as Khalfani found himself flitting between various memories, ranging from the seemingly trivial to the life-changing, though it seemed he would never forget any of them now. After his sister’s birth, there was a recollection of a time when he and Afla were taking it in turns to pounce on a sedentary lizard, which morphed into a later memory where he and his entire family were stargazing on a cool, still night at the summit of Haven. This in turn gave way to his later adolescence, and a lesson in kingship from Umeme, which still held his attention despite the back-flips his mind was going through. The words of wisdom faded to when his father had taken him to visit the Pridelands, and meet his new cousin, Simba. The pair frolicked in the open savannah, whilst their respective fathers remained on the monolith that was Pride Rock, observing from the high vantage point while they talked. Khalfani’s mind had almost settled down during this happy memory, but even this soon vanished, and was replaced with something that chilled him, though he was surprised that hadn’t been haunted by it before this point.
He was running again, this time under pale moonlight, and again his were not the only footsteps: the light, rapid thuds from behind told him that Amana was also racing to the same destination. One which he already knew, and his thoughts mirrored the look of terror on his barely-younger self. No…No! he begged, though to what he didn’t know. Not this, anything but this.
But he couldn’t stop himself; he was once again a passenger in his own body. Dread almost physically filled him, as he spotted two silhouettes in the distance, growing larger with each desperate step. They were his parents. They were both staring at something lying before them in the grass. His mother was evidently leaning heavily against his father.
As he neared them, Khalfani felt his movements become even more distressed before he finally stopped, heaving for breath barely a paw-width from his destination: his sister. Alfa was stretched out between the three older lions, and not a single part of her was moving. No breath entered her lungs, and not even her fur stirred in the still air, almost mockingly emphasising the cruel truth.
There were numerous cuts and slashes in her pelt, and despite the liberal amount of earth that had nestled in them and sullied the wounds, none of them seemed life-threatening. Even the odd angle that the adolescent’s jaw hung at seemed like a serious, but still curable injury, especially with Amana’s skill. It was then Khalfani’s eyes, which had been circling around Afla’s body, came to rest on a depression along her back and the odd angle that her hind-legs seemed to be at compared with the rest of her, and his former self’s mouth fell open as he realised what he had already knew: her spine had been severed.
Against his command, but not against his will, his gaze was forced upwards to look at his parents, as tears made their presence known. His mother had buried her face into her mate’s shoulder, clearly unable to even look at her daughter’s body, as her own shook with every heart-wrenching sob. His father was the opposite, staring down at his little girl intently, the occasional droplet picking its way though his fur. Though he was obviously distraught, Khalfani could see that his father’s hackles were slowly rising; his breathing was rapid but very heavy, and there was a deepest fury in those amber eyes that he would never have imagined could exist.
Unable to take this memory anymore, Khalfani resorted to pleading once again, to his…subconscious? Please: anything else, any other memory, just not this! Whatever it was appeared to have listened, as on cue, his vision darkened beyond the night, and as Khalfani considered the ramifications of moving ahead in time, colour returned. And sure enough, he immediately wished that it hadn’t.
All he could see was two lions a fair distance away, on their hind legs and grappling furiously with each other. He felt his face stretch out again, as he recognised his father as the slightly larger of the two as the moon momentarily shone on Umeme’s back. He watched, transfixed, as the pair each landed a monstrous final blow on the other’s muzzle, and fell down with a loud thud each, interjected by a dull crack, as he heard his father’s leg snapping. Both lay there, unmoving, as Khalfani felt himself being pulled by something…
In a flash, the young lion’s eyes were open, and he was breathing deeply and quickly. Calming his heaving chest, his eyes darted through the gloom of the cave, and he quickly worked out that he was awake again, not least because his body was back under his control. Not like in those visions, that continued to play in his mind as Khalfani simply lay there, contemplating.
From the emotional void of last night, and the brief confusion in his first waking moments, he was now faced with all the pain and grief that continued to fill his heart. His face screwed up, almost like a cub’s, and he began to shudder as his breathing quickly became gasps as the subdued anguish from the previous night flooded his brain. However, before his misery manifested itself in a complete breakdown, he was once again pulled from his thoughts by a voice. A quiet, strangely intonated voice.
“Sire?”
Khalfani blinked back the film of moisture that clouded his eyes, before bringing his head upwards from his curled sleeping-posture to face the passage back to the main cave, where his ears told him the voice was emanating from. A diminutive hornbill, his black feathers speckled with blobs of white, stared back. From his downcast expression and hunched neck, it seemed the aptly named Zuberi wanted nothing more than to shrink quickly into the wall and avoid further intrusion. However, his sense of duty as major-domo appeared to return just as fast, and the little bird cleared his throat.
“We have visitors, sire,” he said regally. “They’re making their way to Haven now. You should be able to see them from the cave entrance.” Khalfani nodded in reply, and Zuberi promptly flew away to leave the new king to his thoughts. He had been called ”˜sire’. He could feel his face bubbling up again, and his breathing hasten as the full weight of the seemingly insignificant title hit him. His father was gone. Really gone. He was king now, and it was his responsibility to lead the pride. This, oddly, had the effect of calming the lion, as his mind wandered to one of his father’s teachings.
“Son…no king is without emotion. You simply wouldn’t be alive without them. But as king, you need to be in control of your emotions and keep your mind from clouding. You can act upon your feelings, certainly, but only in a way that would be beneficial to the pride, as that is your duty as leader. Do you understand what I mean?”
Khalfani had answered “yes” at the time, but in a non-committal way, as he couldn’t possibly have fully comprehended their meaning at the time. But now he could. He was king now, and he had to put aside his sorrows, however raw they were, and focus on whoever these arrivals were. With measured difficulty, to the point where he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to, he curtailed his inner turmoil and brought himself to his paws.
As he rose, he caught sight of Sabra, and his gaze lingered for a moment on her comforting form. She was still lying in the same position, and if her eyes were not softly closed and her head tilted, he guessed she would still be maintaining her vigil, and he wanted desperately to give her some affection in appreciation. But he quickly ascertained from her posture that she had only been very lightly asleep, and merely for a brief time. After everything she had done for him, he didn’t want to disturb her. As Khalfani stretched his neck to rid himself of lingering grogginess, he caught sight of his mother on his other side, and it was clear that she, understandably, wasn’t having the best night’s sleep either; further confirmed as the elderly lioness’ jaw quivered from her dreams, and her whole body twitched momentarily. Judging by the way the dust and dirt on the cave floor had been disturbed around him, and that neither his mother nor Sabra were close enough to be resting against him, he too had been moving in his sleep.
Involuntarily, he found his thoughts drifting back to his dreams, and firmly shook his head to steer them away again. He had to concentrate; he had a duty to attend to, even if he didn’t particularly want it. Sure, he had been excited about the day he would become King, but he never thought, nay, never hoped, it would happen like this. Again, he had to stop his mind from delving too far along its current path, and began to pick his way through the cave.
His eyes flickered lazily from side to side in the low light, making sure that he was avoiding the sleeping lions, lionesses and cubs; his subjects. He could see that he was the only soul awake in the cavern, until he neared the entrance at least, where he spotted another small form: an orange cub with black tufts on his head, and oddly on his ears as well.
Khalfani paused for a moment, as he saw the cubs face break out into an open-mouthed grin. “Chumvi!” the cub, whose name he recalled as Malka, squealed breathlessly, and took off into the open. The King was puzzled. He knew this cub, and also that Malka had had very little to smile about recently: aside from the near-chaos to the previous night, his older brother had left the pride.
Years ago, long before any of those in his present company had been born, Kings Mohatu and Elimu of the Pridelands and Upper Eastlands respectively, had decided upon a Code of Laws for their prides. It consisted of three rules, plus an occasionally added piece of common knowledge, that had changed the traditional leonine societies in their lands for the infinite better. One of the Laws, was that any lion or lioness was to be given a chance to become a member of either pride, be they an adult male (who would have previously been exiled from the pride for competitive reasons) or a rogue (who would have simply been ousted from the lands), under the condition that they pledge undying and unswerving loyalty to the true King or Queen.
Though the Law had allowed many lions to remain in the Upper Eastlands after its codification, it did not mean that the males were forced to stay, and Ni had become the latest to leave his homeland, and embark on his own adventure. Needless to say, despite the adolescent’s assurances that he would one day see him again, Malka had been devastated to see his brother’s form growing smaller and smaller against the endless savannah, and had not left the Sleeping Cave since. What could have rejuvenated him so quickly?
The King pressed on to the mouth of the cave, and as the golden sun crested the horizon on his left, began to scan the lands below for signs of the visiting animals, or any life for that matter. It didn’t take long for his cerulean eyes to pick out a collection of four lionesses of various coloured pelts. Though he could not recognise them from this distance, he could see that they were not a threat from their slow, almost solemn gait, and the fact that there were other, much smaller bodies around them: lionesses with cubs were not aggressive. Protective of their young certainly, but their aims were always peaceful; there was simply too much at risk to be otherwise. That, and an orange streak was busily making his way towards them, and Khalfani knew that Malka was not a cub to knowingly put himself in danger, despite his apparent tendency to get lost.
Slowly, and feeling the nerves build up to occupy the space previously reserved for his subdued misery, Khalfani set off down the hill the welcome the lionesses. This was exacerbated somewhat as the lion felt the early morning breeze caress his side, and he suddenly felt very cool; his pelt strangely clingy. He realised he was still clammy with sweat from his dreams. He managed to convince himself to put this issue to one side, but the chill left him a little more anxious.
As he reached the base of Haven, and the ground levelled out, he saw that Malka had finally caught up to the group, and appeared to be chattering quite animatedly with them: his high-pitched voice carried snippets back to Khalfani across the dawn air. However, fairly quickly, the lead lioness dropped her head to whisper in his ear, and his ears drooped, only to be raised up once more as she added something else. The orange cub quickly doubled back on himself, scampering back to the Sleeping Cave as though under orders, though he was careful to stay out of Khalfani’s way.
With the cub taken care of, he was finally close enough, and the sun had risen enough, to focus clearly on the approaching felines, though he concentrated on the apparent leader as they continued to draw nearer. Her muscular legs that indicated a vast hunting experience; her dark tan pelt; her calm, but purposeful expression and high, broad nose, both of which seemed to exude nobility and dignity. It all pointed to one name.
“Good morning, Sarabi!” he said in greeting, trying to keep his voice cheery though still somewhat muted, as he drew close to the Queen. In fact, he was not the only one who seemed down, as he could finally tell from this proximity to the party, that something was wrong. There was a definite aura of depression around the group, all of whom had limp, downcast expressions. There was also a salty musk hanging around them, and combined with several damp muzzles, it seemed several of them had been crying en route. Plus, the smallest of the cubs had his paws clamped around his mother’s foreleg, and appeared to still be silently weeping. Maybe they’ve heard of…what happened, Khalfani pondered.
Sarabi’s neutral look cracked into a small smile before she responded. “The same to you too, Khalfani.” The queen then perked her head upwards to the entrance of the Sleeping Cave, her brownish-red eyes lingering on the dark cavern for a moment, before they returned to face the lion in front of her. “Is your father awake yet? Not that isn’t a pleasure to see you, but there is something we need to discuss with him, and urgently.”
Khalfani’s felt all the wind leave his chest, and he began to tear up once again, but fought against it. He was not going to break down now, even if Sarabi had, totally unknowingly, reminded him of his predicament. As he succeeded in quelling one dilemma, another arose: they didn’t know. How was he going to tell them, particularly when they already seemed to have a major problem of their own to deal with? Quickly, the lion gathered his thoughts and began to ”˜excuse’ his father.
“He… he was taken ill last night, and he’s been sleeping rather poorly recently. Amana says he’ll be fine after some rest, though.” Khalfani nearly winced as he said his father was sleeping, but pressed on again. “But he said that if there were any problems while he was recuperating, he entrusted me to handle them.” He quickly had to clench his jaw to stop it from trembling once more.
Sarabi took the resulting stoic expression to be one of newfound responsibility and trust, as well as showing that he was not willing to divulge in the details of his father’s sickness. Though the situation was indeed odd, and she had never known Umeme to eschew his royal duties before, he was fairly elderly, around the age when lions became prone to illness. Plus, Khalfani was not one to lie over matters like this. Besides, the King was easily reachable, even if he would not be best pleased about being awoken during his recovery. “Very well,” she decided, “this would be good experience for you after all, were it not for the circumstances.” Her face changed to mirror her pride sisters’.
Don’t I know it, Khalfani thought exasperatedly, but pressed on. There did genuinely seem to be a serious problem. “Why? What’s wrong?” he enquired.
He heard her breath rattle as it passed her lips. “It’s about Mufasa,” she whispered. Khalfani had almost reckoned such before, as there was a distinct lack of a mane amongst the Pridelanders. He wondered why he had thought they knew of his father’s passing, when surely Umeme’s nephew would be one of the first to arrive to pass condolences and share emotions? But now that thought had passed, Khalfani was again puzzled, as it seemed odd that the King had not journeyed with his Queen and the other lionesses to resolve whatever this difficulty was. Unless…
“What about him?” he asked, a new dread already forming.
Sarabi gave a great shudder, and looked away. “He’s dead,” she breathed out, blinking rapidly.
Khalfani’s heart skipped a beat. “He’s what!” he blurted without thinking, and heard the lioness take a deep, almost cleansing breath, so that when their eyes met again, despite the film of moisture over her pair, the rest of her face had returned to its almost eerie calm, though Khalfani could see there was a great tide of anguish being held back behind the serene look.
“He and Simba… were caught in a stampede yesterday.” Khalfani could feel the claws shredding his insides again. Simba too? That little bundle of energy, who always seemed to be on the go, and his father, Mufasa, the kindly and good-humoured but powerful king, who Khalfani had nothing but admiration for…gone.
After a few moments of looking at the ground in shock, Khalfani wrestled his gaze back to Sarabi, and felt a rush of respect, as well as the expected sympathy, for the apparently fallen Queen. Here she was, far from home, having lost her entire family, surely a much more fatal blow than his own; he still at least had his mother and Sabra to thank The Kings for. Mates for life were meant to be exactly that, and…no parent should ever have to lose a child. The sight burned into his eyelids of his parents grieving over Alfa’s corpse was testament to that. And yet she wasn’t breaking down, as he had done. No, she was here, leading her pride to solve…whatever this still-unknown crisis was.
But before then, he had to offer some form of solace, and settled for giving her a brief, but hopefully comforting nuzzle on the side of her face, whispering, “I’m so sorry for you, Sarabi,” before pulling his head back.
She flashed a grateful smile, before he opened his mouth again. “If there’s anything-”
“Thank you, Khalfani,” she interrupted, but not in a rude way. “I appreciate the thought, but for now there is a more pressing matter.”
How could anything be more important than this? Khalfani pushed the thought back. “Such as?”
“Scar has assumed the throne…and he has re-enacted the Cubs Ritual.” Sarabi closed her eyes, fearing that her emotions would overpower her, as the memories of that awful declaration flooded back.
-------
Just after the announcement of his ascension, Scar descended the steps on the side of Pride Rock. A superior smirk beginning to break out, he made his way resolutely towards one particular member of the pride, who had been left alone with her thoughts as the rest of his subjects had been escorted to the main cave by his new entourage.
“Sarabi,” he said coolly, vanquishing his smile, and waited as she raised her grief-laden head to his level.
“Yes, Scar,” she replied with surprisingly equal iciness. The normally collected queen was clearly, and understandably, under great duress. Not that her plight meant anything to the new King.
“As you may have guessed, you have been relieved of you duties as Queen. However…I can still think of one use for you.”
“Really?” Sarabi had no yearning for power; though she had enjoyed it alongside her beloved, without her family at her side, and with the well-masked turmoil within her, it meant absolutely nothing, so this ”˜official’ removal had little affect on her. Besides, her pride sisters would sooner look to her for advice and leadership than to their new queen.
“Of course; you have a great following amongst the pride, and I have a message for them. I believe it would be far more suitable for you to deliver it, given…recent events.” His already vibrant eyes appeared to flash at these final words, and Sarabi had to bite her tongue as she heard the trivializing manner in which he spoke of her loss. After a very deep breath, and many suppressed insults, their conversation continued.
“Well?”
“Tell them that after my coronation, I want all of the male cubs to be left on the promontory. The Ritual is being performed again.”
It was as if he had clawed at her heart. He couldn’t do this. He may be king, but he was still bound by the Code of Laws, of which the second explicitly outlawed this barbaric, needless practice.
“Why?” she asked, desperately trying to keep her voice stable.
“Hmm? Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” Scar seemed genuinely surprised that his rule was being questioned, though he still sounded in complete control of the discussion.
“Why? Why do you need to perform The Ritual? Why do these cubs need to be murdered?” Sarabi deliberately allowed a little of her incense to penetrate her voice, and carry it to perhaps where the rest of the pride could hear her. Scar appeared to recoil, and his eyes grew wide momentarily.
“Murder is such a harsh word, Sarabi. I prefer to think of it as…using an old ceremony for its intended purpose-”
“They’re cubs, Scar,” she spat, feeling her hackles begin to rise, though she managed to stop herself and calm her voice before she continued, “what sort of challenge could they give you?”
“They won’t be cubs forever,” he stated simply. Sarabi couldn’t be too sure, but was that fear she saw bubbling up in his eyes? Whatever it was, the lion was able to hide it well when he next opened his mouth. “That is why they must be removed, so that they will never become a threat,” his statement was punctuated with finality, and he turned to leave.
“You can’t do this!” she gasped at Scar’s retreating form, the sheer terror now paralysing her vocal chords. He turned around, an arrogant smile curling at the edges of his mouth.
“Oh, but I can, Sarabi. And besides, I shall spare the females: after all, we will need a new generation of hunters soon.” He paused, as if daring her to question his authority again. “My coronation will take place in two days. Plenty of time for a fond farewell, don’t you think?” Her calm façade ended, and her mouth hung open as the dark lion re-ascended the monolith, to the throne he would surely take for himself. At that moment, Sarabi vowed that she would do all in her power to save those cubs. Somehow, someway, she would make sure that no other mother would have to experience what she was going through.
Thus, later that night, while the hyenas were still exploring their new surroundings rather than guarding anything important, she and the mothers of the three remaining male cubs fled to their nearest neighbours; to the lands of a fair, understanding King, who would surely sympathise with their plight.
Khalfani stared; once again, his very breath had been shocked out of him. No. Surely not. He had to admit, there was something about Scar that had always unnerved him slightly. He couldn’t quite put his paw on it: he was polite, he never fought with anyone, Simba would even rave about him. Khalfani had to momentarily stop and suppress the memories of his cousin’s happy voice that filled his ears.
Still, the only vaguely sinister thing that he could remember about Scar, was that he was very solitary: odd, for a member of such a social species. But this…this went beyond sinister. This was downright cruel. Not only that, it also went against everything that Mohatu and Elimu had strived for with their Laws; it went against the very fabric of the Pridelands, and mocked his ancestors.
“So…” Khalfani started, suddenly aware that he had been silent for quite a while, but before he could continue, another voice piped up.
“Please, Khalfani, please let our cubs stay in your pride,” begged one of the other lionesses, a rather young looking mother on the verge of tears, though she was silenced by a nuzzle from her ochre cub.
Sarabi continued on her behalf. “I know this is a great deal to ask of your pride, Khalfani, but…I don’t know of anyone else who would help us.”
Khalfani weighed up the options, and reached his decision very quickly. Yes, allowing four extra cubs into the pride would undoubtedly cause some tensions, and there would quite possibly be an increased demand from the hunters, but he didn’t know if he could live with himself if he willingly sent those cubs back to their deaths. The desperate looks from the three mothers and their cubs only bolstered this sensation of not-quite-apparent guilt. But, with something like this, he would have to ask the opinion of the pride. It wasn’t that there were doubts over his right to the throne; sadly, he was the one remaining heir of Umeme. But as his pride would be the ones caring for the cubs, it would only be fair to have their permission.
He sighed, and parted his lips. “I have no problem with your little ones staying here, and I’m sure my father wouldn’t either.” Instantly the eight faces brightened. “But…” and there went those smiles, “as the lionesses, and not myself, will be the ones looking after them if they stay, it’s only right that they should agree too. I’m sure they will, though,” he added, trying to keep their spirits up, despite the mingling feelings of fear, dread and heartache within himself. “Follow me, I’ll summon the pride near Haven.”
As the group trekked back towards the verdant mound, Khalfani noticed that the mood around them seemed to be lighter, more buoyant. He also started to notice small details about the cubs that may or may not become part of his pride. The ochre cub from earlier was, oddly, being trailed by four blue birds. There was a very pale cub that was now being carried in his mother’s jaws due to his very young age; he appeared to be barely past weaning, if at all. And finally, there was a pair of dark-brown twins, one of them with a tuft of fur on his head, a natural way to separate the pair.
Presently, they arrived at the foot of Haven, and stopped. Khalfani gathered his thoughts. This was it: the first time he would be truly leading the pride, though he was being constantly reminded of why he was being forced into this responsibility now. Dreading slightly what could lay ahead, and of the moment when the Pridelanders would find out about…last night, he raised his mouth to the steadily brightening heavens and closed his eyes.
Moment of truth, he thought, before drawing his head back in a great inhalation, and releasing it back as a loud, potent, but somewhat strangled, roar. He reawakened his sight, and spotted the other pride members slowly making their way downhill towards him.
Continued (for now) in Post 6.
You are a great author! I wish I was half as talented as you,looking forward to reading more!
