Golden eyes, their metallic irises filled with sorrow and pain, gazed out across the savannah. They belonged to a lean young lioness - lean not only from her already slim build, but also from going hungry more than once after the leader of her pride and his hyena cronies had gorged themselves on the prey that she had killed, leaving only shards of bone and scraps of skin for the lionesses. Lions cannot cry, but her heart wept bitterly over the death of her King and the destruction of the Pridelands.
O, Mufasa, your death is most bitterly mourned by all those left behind.
Indeed, the land itself seemed to have put on mourning for the death of the great King Mufasa. Grey blanketed the dusty landscape, the sun obscured by dismal clouds that seemed forever on the brink of rain that never came. The formerly innumerable wildebeest herds had grown few and far between; the gazelles and antelopes vanished entirely. Hyenas were the only movement visible from the lioness's hiding place atop the outcropping of sandstone, their cruel cackling echoing painfully in her sensitive black-rimmed ears.
The soft padding of paws across harsh stone alerted her to the presence of another on the ledge, and she spun, crouching for combat. She hurriedly straightened, though; when she realized that the approaching figure was not Scar, but the bowed, greying one of Sarabi. "Sarabi," she said respectfully, dipping her head in respect.
Crossing the last tail-length, the dowager Queen gently cuffed the younger lioness, forcing her to raise her chin. "None of that, now, Nala. If he saw you acting like that..." Sarabi let her words trail off, sadly settling to the ground next to where Nala had been sitting.
"Yes, Sarabi." Nala returned to her perch.
The two lionesses sat in silence, the weight of the Prideland's ruination bearing down heavily on two tawny backs. After a while, Sarabi stirred.
"It angers you, doesn't it." Her question was more a statement, something the elder lioness knew for certain.
Nala considered this for a moment, searching her heart. Anger was there, for certain, but until Sarabi had spoken, it had been buried underneath the suffocating sorrow and constant worry that Scar was going to do something else. Now, though, it pulsed like heat lightning - small, yet sharp. "Yes, it does." Her claws made scraping noises as she subconsciously tried to knead the stone beneath her paws, lip lifting in a silent snarl. "He has no right to do this - no right to destroy us. Because he is, you know. As sure as the herds are gone, as sure as the waterholes are drying up, he is destroying the Pridelands, and us with them."
Sarabi nodded, closing her eyes to hide the pain that had burrowed into the very core of her being, gnawing away more and more of her every day since Mufasa's death. "Mufasa - he always said that the pride – the king - was tied to these lands, flourishing and suffering with them."
Hesitantly, Nala touched her tail to Sarabi's, offering comfort, forcing back her own loss. Simba. The elder lioness looked up, met Nala's eyes, expressing wordless thanks.
"Something must be done." Was that hard, cold voice her own? Nala stood, her mind made up, and began to pick her way down towards the main den. Maybe he will listen.
"Nala, where you going?" Alarmed, Sarabi sprang to her feet. "Nala, he's insane, don't go in there."
Firmly shutting out Sarabi's calls, Nala took a deep breath, then coughed from the stench of hyenas. Bones crunched underfoot as she started forwards into the cave. For the pride.
A/N: Now that I'm rereading this, I'm considering continuing with "fill-in-the-gaps" bits, to cover where the movie does not. Thoughts? Criticisms? Cookies? Hit review.