Zerrissen

Prologue: New Beginnings

Under the glimmering moonlight, he sat.

For the first time, Simba actually allowed all the paranoid contingencies to sink in at once. And at the same time the young cub breathed in heavily; allowing himself to absorb the, somewhat, crisp invigorating air of what seemed to be - night. The occasional tears had begun to form in his eyes once more and this time, he struggled terribly to hold it in. And the incredible thing was, Simba - as the prince of the Pridelands - had always lived a pampered lifestyle with both of his parents together, hardly experiencing any depressing or harsh moments. But now he knew. Now he felt the pain and he understood.

His father had died the previous night.

The pain ignited on him was beginning to burn and sting. It was simply unbearable - he was lucky to have even made it through the first night. The prince didn't know how he had survived on his own that day, with no father or mother to snuggle him, no lionesses to greet him or provide him with any sort of a decent meal. And worst of all: no friends. No Nala, Chumvi, Kula or Tama. Not even Malka in sight. He didn't have anywhere to go as of now. Right now, he had to flee the kingdom as Uncle Scar had suggested to him, before everyone else at home had discovered the gut-wrenching, agonising news of the king's tragic death.

Simba winced. He couldn't help it. Cold dew had started to commence from the swaying turf below his paws, prompting coldness from him too. Shivering, Simba continued to concentrate on the events that had previously happened this week.

It would take more than a thousand times for the juvenile to accustom to the fact that his father was gone - never to be seen by him again, never to rule this kingdom proudly or enjoy moments with his son. And Simba thought they were always supposed to be together. He felt foolish to have forgotten that his father would one day die and become the grass (as he had once taught him).

And the next thing that weighed Simba's mind the most was definitely his mother. Despite her loving, caring nature, she'd probably disown Simba as a son the moment she found out it was her son's fault that her mate was gone from the world forever. On cue, Scar's courtly-stated sentence reverbed in his mind dozens of times:

"But the king is dead. If it weren't for you, he'd still be alive."

And it was true. Simba couldn't blame anybody else for his father's death. It was him that had triggered those wildebeests' accidental attack with his loud roars, and if he hadn't done that, his father wouldn't have needed to come to the rescue.

As of now, Simba felt completely torn and disconnected from his pride and his father's teachings - but nobody could blame him. He'd been exiled by his own uncle at such a young age, then heinously pursued by three nasty hyenas afterwards. Had it not been for his small size that was able to - just about - fit into the thorned shrub, he'd be dead meat by now.

"What will your mother think?"

The lion cub resumed his abrupt journey throughout the savannah; he needed to find somewhere to rest so he'd be fully energised for another exhausting journey the next day. It was absolutely saddening to think the cub was now a rouge. Living a life as a rogue was extremely difficult - and as an unfortunate youngster, he could not predict what would happen to him over the next few days of his life.

Would he grow old living as a rogue, or find a pride of his own?

As several questions began to fill his mind, Simba could suddenly feel the coldness beating violently on his back, which caused him to slow. And eventually stop. He was now shivering excessively; as if he had been running for miles and miles. Simba knew he had to get up and find a place to sleep otherwise he could be attacked - or even killed - during the night. Maybe he was the prince of this land, but he was in exile. And no other carnivore or enemy would turn down such an easy opportunity. Of course, the prince had known of this: his parents had informed him every time he raced out to play with his friends.

His consciousness fading slightly, Simba apprehended an unfamiliar voice. "Who are you?"

The prince looked up tiredly. In front of him was a cub his age (or slightly older than him), her coat a beautiful folksy-gold with an even lighter underbelly, and her eyes a shimmering, bright green. Her uncoloured paws had reminded Simba of his best friend, Nala, back at Pride Rock. She stared at him skeptically despite her commanding tone.

Maybe she was confused as to why there was a cub out here alone. And in the night.

While Simba stared at the new cub blankly, she inquired further. "And why are you out here alone in the night? Where's your pride?"

"Well I should ask you the same question," Simba retorted in defense after a few seconds, erecting onto his paws in order to be able to speak to her more easily. "I haven't seen you around the Pridelands before, who are you?"

"I... I'm one of the Pridelanders," she fibbed. Unfortunately, her fib was obvious enough - and Simba wasn't a fool.

The flaxen lion cub inspected her suspiciously, before he decided to sit on his haunches and stand his ground again. A frown began to form on his maw, his eyebrows furrowed and his teeth threatening to bare. "Well I've lived in the Pridelands my entire life and I haven't seen you before." he told her. He didn't know who she was, and even if he was supposed to be heading out of the Pridelands due to his exile, he wouldn't put the rest of his family in danger by allowing a newcomer in randomly.

The cub noted his suspicion. "Oh, I... just arrived yesterday," she said rather questioningly. "My mother is already in your pride and-"

"If you're from here, then who am I?" Simba threw at her.

"Prince Simba." the female lioness cub threw back at him, baring her teeth irritatingly. She rolled her eyes. "There, I answered your questions. Can I go now, please?"

Simba was rather surprised. How did she know who he was? He knew she wasn't part of his pride - or should he say, old pride? There was something very suspicious about this girl, and as she began to slink away into the grasses in the direction, he couldn't help but call her again.

"Stop!" Simba commanded, weighing her down. "You're not from my pride. And I'm not going to let you go anywhere until you tell me who you are, and why you're here. How do you even know me?"

The lioness cub sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned to face the lion cub who seemed rather interested in him. "Oh, alright!" she cursed, slamming her paw on the ground. "I'm Nuru, and I'm not from the Pridelands. I come from the Outlands, from a small pride with a small quantity of lionesses and no males whatsoever. Well, the only male in our pride is Scar - our king. And he said that once he rightfully took back the Pridelands, we could go and unite with his pride."

Simba gasped. "Rightfully his? The land belonged to my dad!"

Nuru nodded. "Yeah, his land. He said that this other awful lion named Mufasa took away his birthright, and that he was going to get it back. He told us everything about you Pridelanders, described each and every one. The hyenas came to fetch us once the lands were Scar's again; we were headed there right now with our queen, Zira. I just kinda ran ahead."

Slightly offended by how Nuru had explained how she saw the story, Simba argued back. "The land was never Uncle Scar's... It was my dad, Mufasa's. But my dad died yesterday..."

Nuru suddenly softened, shifting her gaze to his paw. "Aw, I'm sorry." she sympathised. "My father died too, when I was just a cub."

Simba shook his head. "It's fine, sorry to hear about your dad too." He stared down to her face. "So, how comes Scar had another pride and he never told anyone? And what did you mean by Scar trying to get his birthright back?"

The folksy-gold-furred lioness huffed in annoyance. She didn't know why he was asking so many questions just because he was the prince. And if he was the prince, what was he doing out so late and all alone? But right now, she had to answer all of his questions to erase any lingering suspicion of her and her incoming pride's business here. He was the prince after all, and the lionesses would trust him more than their king.

"I'm not sure, but I think Scar wanted to talk it out with Mufasa and he never got the chance." Another fib wouldn't hurt, even if she did know the truth.

And it's all because of me... thought Simba dolefully.

"And you," Nuru began slowly, "I... You're the prince! What're you doing out here so late and far away from your pride?"

Suddenly, Simba's ears drooped down in attempt to present his dejected posture. "Well... You can't tell anyone but... It's my fault my father is dead." Shamefully, Simba's whole body sunk and he curtained his eyes with his paws. "So Uncle Scar suggested that the best idea was to run away from the Pridelands, so nobody would think it's me. But then I got chased by three hyenas downhill and I ended up here."

"I guess the only way is the Outlands then..." whispered Nuru to herself, guilt rising at a tremendously high point inside of her. She turned away for a moment. Poor Simba... Mufasa's death wasn't his fault! But I can't say anything...

The prince nodded. "You're gonna love the Pridelands... A whole bunch of fun cubs to play with, lionesses that'll feed you well everyday, great green grass to explore in and a whole savanna to discover. But I can't do that anymore."

Something was forcing her to say it, yet the lioness just couldn't bring herself to. She wasn't supposed to be talking to strangers, as her mother had said, let alone an exiled cub! But the feeling inside her was far too strong. "...I-if you really can't stay anywhere here, how about I come with you to the Outlands? You're gonna need a lot of survival advice." Nuru smiled then.

To her dismay, the male cub shook his head. "I'd love that but you have a family. They won't ever let you wonder around on your own with a... a murderer."

Nuru also became dejected. "A-Actually I'm the only cub there, and my mother doesn't really pay attention to me. All the other lionesses are so focused with their training to protect and join the new pride, because Queen Zira says they have to. My mother too, she trains her hardest and hardest until she just can't anymore. She becomes so tired she sleeps on her own in the cave, without even saying goodnight to me. It's been a long time since me and her have even spoken."

She looked up to the stars hopefully.

"I'm hoping that she'll have time for me when we move into this awesome new pride you were talking about, but... but if she's been training this hard for a land like that, then I probably won't even get to see her during our days there."

"But there are other cubs there," Simba interjected, beginning to smile at her sadly. "I'd love for you to come with me, but I can't let you struggle out here too."

Nuru cocked a brow. "Oh? Who says I'm going to struggle as much as you do? Have you forgotten that I used to live in the Outlands?"

"But even if there are cubs there," she continued, "I hate seeing the queen's scrawny, little face! She's the one who causes all the lionesses to become sick with this hardcore training - and even if we move to the Pridelands, she'll continue it! I can't bare to see Momma like that anymore... And Zira and Scar together? More training! If I stay there, I'll have to train too when I'm older."

Simba looked around skeptically. "Weeell, I suppose you could come with me. But what if we see your pride on the way out? And what are we going to do once we're out of the Pridelands?" To his dislike, Nuru ignored his first question.

Nuru shook herself from the pestering parasites surrounding both of them, scratching her stomach with her hind leg desperately. "I'm going to find someone who can stop Zira from hurting the lionesses of my pride, and find a new home for them too while I'm at it. What about you?"

"Guess I might as well help you and find a new home out here for myself too."

The two cubs began sauntering, their paws beginning to burn from the heated savanna sand, and their backs whipped by the cool breeze that occasionally swept by. Simba was glad he'd have someone that could be of help to maintain himself in the wild, and some company too - even if she was a girl. He wouldn't feel so alone knowing he wasn't the only one who'd lost a parent, or had to leave their family. But there was still a tainting memory of his father's death.