The sun rose slowly above the horizon, casting a golden glow over the Pride Lands. The animals who lived all throughout the land began to stir, fluttering from their nests and stepping from the grassy beds they had made for themselves among their fellows as the slight wind drifting across the land brought with it the scent of morning dew and the warmth of sunlight.
The silence of the new dawn was broken by the sound of a lion's roar. The call, deep and commanding, echoed far across the lands as an announcement and a summons to all who lived there. Those who had not yet awakened rose quickly at the call, and all who heard it throughout the land turned in the direction from which it had come.
One by one, animals of all shapes and sizes heeded the call and began walking, flying and slithering toward a huge stone structure that stood proudly in the distance, silhouetted against the brightening sky. It was a massive structure of jutting stone that pierced high into the sky, and from which issued a promontory which was supported by a smaller but no less imposing mass of stone. At the base of the promontory, nearly halfway up the stone structure, a cave was nestled into the stone, leading deep back into the monument. It was in this cave the one who had called the summons lived, and this one who had called for his subjects was none other than the king of all the animals in this sprawling territory.
The animals continued to come, predators traveling peacefully alongside prey, for this was an event during which there was to be no hunting, no spilled blood. All the carnivores were aware of the restrictions which would remain in place until the ceremony's end, and they respected the law on this matter.
Finally, every animal in the land, from the zebras to the elephants and giraffes, from the cheetahs to the birds, primates and mice, were all gathered around the structure, waiting expectantly. All knew what the summons meant, had known that this event would come soon, and knew also that the ceremony the call announced would no doubt begin shortly. Even so, there was an air of impatience over the crowd of animals, especially noticeable in the youngest of them, many of whom continually shifted and fidgeted until- and sometimes even after- their parents reminded them to be still. The coming event was one of the most important that could take place in the land, and young and old alike were finding it difficult to contain their excitement. Murmured conversations, quiet but animated, were taking place all throughout the gathering.
As the sun rose higher and turned the sky into a pale blue, an ancient but still agile mandrill made his way through the throng of animals and climbed quickly up the rocky path to the promontory that jutted from the monolith, making his way up the slope with graceful ease. On this promontory, not far from the cave, a brown lion with a dark brown mane waited. He was an adult, though still relatively young, with a thin but powerful build. The lion's green eyes were glimmering with such excitement and joy that the scar on his face that ran over his left eye was almost unnoticeable, and his soft gaze, bright with love, was fixed on the beautiful lioness next to him.
She was of about the same age as the lion who sat next to her watching her with such adoration, though perhaps a few months younger, and her form was slim and graceful. Her golden fur, which was itself a bright shade, was further brightened by the light of the newly rising sun, and her red-brown eyes shone with happiness. She was laying on her stomach with a small cub curled contentedly in the fold of her forelegs, which were wrapped around him. The young cub had a rich brown, almost mahogany, pelt, soft and fluffy with his young age, and his sides rose and fell with his breath in a light rhythm. He made a soft snuffling sound as, even in his sleep, he nuzzled deeper into his mother, a contented expression on his young face. His closed eyes concealed their color.
Behind these three lions sat a larger golden lion, one with a much thicker build than that of the younger brown lion. He wore a magnificent red mane, and he was watching the mother and child with pride glowing in his eyes. A cream-colored lioness sat close next to him, her shoulder brushing his as she, too, watched the family and the ceremonial presentation, also obviously filled with pride. Adding to the gathering, a small bird with a large orange beak was perched on the red-maned lion's shoulder, watching the scene with a pleased expression, his head cocked at an angle. Not far from those three, a plump, reddish-brown warthog stood with a meerkat sitting on his head, both grinning widely as they, too, kept their gazes on the lion, lioness, and cub.
In the shadowy cave behind them it was possible to make out the gleaming eyes of the rest of the pride, many of whom were sitting or laying, though a few were on their paws as they all watched the event unfold. A dark tawny lioness with a rough, tussled bearing and rather lean form stood in the mouth of the cave, the tuft of fur on her head nestled between her striking blue eyes. Her gaze, too, was fixed on the family of three, and there was a slight smile on her muzzle.
The mandrill made it to the top of the massive rock and stepped onto the promontory. The gourds on the walking stick he carried in one hand were stirred by his rocking gait and they rattled together, making a soft clacking sound as he approached. As the mandrill walked up to the family of lions, the dark-maned lion stood and dipped his head respectfully. But, to his obvious surprise, the old mandrill chuckled fondly and grabbed him in a hug. The lion awkwardly patted the mandrill's back with his large paw, still seeming surprised but smiling nonetheless, clearly pleased by the fond greeting.
The bright orange lioness stood to greet the mandrill as well, her movements quick and excited, even as she was careful not to be rough as she picked up her cub by the scruff of his neck. Woken from his nap, the cub yawned, stretched out all four of his paws as best as he could while dangling from his mother's mouth, and opened his red-brown eyes. They were a reflection of his mother's eyes. He ran one fore-paw over his face as though to scrub his sleepiness away, and then looked at the various animals around him curiously.
The mandrill, who was a powerful Shaman and a close friend of the king and queen of this land, stepped back from the dark lion. At a slight nod from the lioness, he gently took the cub from her mouth. He held the tiny cat securely in his long arms as he turned and walked toward the tip of the rocky monolith's promontory; Pride Rock, the grandest, most magnificent structure in the territory of the Pride Lands.
An expectant hush lay over the animals below, their low conversations having trailed off as the mandrill approached the tip of the promontory. As he reached the edge, he held the cub up high for all to see, presenting the future king of the Pride Lands to the animals gathered below.
With the trumpeting of elephants, the screeches of monkeys, the calls of birds, the whooping cries of zebra, and the roar of leopards, the animals enthusiastically sounded their approval; a cacophony of sounds blending into one massive din that rose and fell for several long moments. Then as they all fell silent, one by one, the many animals of the Savannah bowed deeply. The cub of Kovu and Kiara had been presented. And the great Circle of Life continues.
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On the outskirts of the Pride Lands, just outside its borders, a young lion, almost out of cubhood but still not yet an adult, sat. He had a light brown coat, while his muzzle, chest, and the toes on his paws were the color of rich cream. His deep brown mane was still rather short, yet. His body was thin from months of hunger, his ribs visible through his fur, and his pelt was ragged from travel, but he was still a powerful lion. Though his head was lifted high, his narrow shoulders were slumped and his ears were flattened so they nearly disappeared into his thin-furred mane. His light silvery-blue eyes appeared haunted as he looked out at the dark, barren land, beyond which lay his former home.
His sleep had been fitful, his dreams filled with the faces of his mother and father. He'd dreamed of a rogue lion in the prime of his life, one who had come to his home and to his family uninvited and unwelcome. Arrogant and cruel, the outsider had challenged his father, the king, for the ruler-ship of the pride. Hodari had fought with all his strength, but had been overpowered by the vicious rogue.
Though his son was quite young, Hodari had been older. His dark brown coat had become streaked with gray and his powerful body had slowly begun to weaken as he'd aged. Mikazo had been born to Hodari and Kawanja, a kind-hearted, reddish-brown lioness, late in their lives. As they'd told their son, they had, in fact, almost given up hope of ever having a cub. But they were king and queen of their pride, and they had needed an heir. At that time, there had been no young lions in the pride to select and train as heir. Then Mikazo was born. His parents had been beyond thrilled. As they had always made it abundantly clear, in their eyes, having an heir was suddenly just a special bonus that paled into insignificance beside the fact that they had a son.
There was no doubt that Mikazo had been loved, and he was grateful for that. But he almost wished he hadn't been. Perhaps if they hadn't been close, it would have been less painful to see the powerful, dark tawny rogue strike the final blow to the king, Hodari. Mikazo closed his eyes, remembering his father's final moments, how the mighty king had fought for his pride to his final breath- how his best, heroic efforts had been in vain, and he had fallen before the attacking rogue in the bloody climax to a battle that Mikazo knew would forever haunt his nightmares. Tears left dark tracks along Mikazo's muzzle, and fell to the dry, barren ground beneath his paws as grief washed over him in painful, all too familiar waves. Dad.
But the nightmare the rogue had brought with him had not ended there, with the death of the father Mikazo had so loved and admired. The rogue hadn't been expecting Kawanja to throw herself at his throat, extended claws intending to do to him what he had just done to her mate. It hadn't mattered though, as he had simply jerked his head to the side in time to avoid a fatal slash. Kawanja's claws had torn uselessly through his thick, dark mane, ripping patches of fur free but doing no true harm to the rogue. And Mikazo had watched, paralyzed by horror, unable to do anything to help as his mother landed heavily on the ground. She stumbled from the force of her miss-aimed attack, her snarl choking off into a deeper growl. She had then tried to fling herself at the rogue once more, driven by rage and grief, but before she could finish the leap, he had knocked her paws out from under her with one vicious swipe.
The rogue lion had then pinned Mikazo's mother to the ground. Her attempts to thrash free, to retaliate, had been in vain, and the rogue's powerful body had not once shifted, despite her efforts. His teeth were flashing as he'd lunged at her throat.
The only comfort Mikazo had was it had been quick. His mother hadn't suffered. The rogue had then stood, both of Mikazo's parents laying dead at his paws, and announced to the horrified pride that he, by right of combat, was now the king. Unfortunately, he had that right. By law the pride was now his.
Then, suddenly, Mikazo had realized through his haze of shock and grief that he was in great danger. The law allowed the challenger, if he was victor, to kill all cubs and adolescents in the pride, those who had not yet reached full adulthood, both male and female. Thus none could grow up to challenge him. And the new king had been only too willing to add Mikazo's life to the list of those he had ended.
Mikazo, still a young lion, had been attacked by the new king. He'd tried to kill the young Mikazo.
None in his pride had been allowed to help him. He remembered how the new king had stalked toward him, claws digging deep into the earth as he advanced, his eyes gleaming with cruel anticipation of the kill. Mikazo had done the only thing he could think of, he'd run. Of course, there had been little chance of getting away; he couldn't outrun a full grown lion, not with his more lanky, youthful form, not with his less-developed muscles which granted him less speed then did those of a full adult. But they'd been his lands. And he knew all of the places full grown lions couldn't possibly fit. So he ran, disgusted with himself for running away from the lion who had killed his parents, shocked and shaking with grief, his mind blurred by the pain of loss. But he was little more than a cub, only barely an adolescent- and in those moments of terror and emotional pain, he had been reduced to the mindset of a frightened cub, and had acted on instinct. And he had escaped. He had run from the only home he had ever known. And he just kept running.
Luckily the area around where he'd lived had plenty of water. And though he was too inexperienced and too young to catch the bigger animals, such as antelope, without working with other lions, he could catch smaller ones, just enough to keep him alive. He remembered how his father, King Hodari, had taught him how to hunt, with lessons in the early morning and those in twilight, that had, quite often, ended with Mikazo pouncing on his father rather than on his prey. It had been just weeks before the king's death.
Though there had been times Mikazo was so sad and weary that he wondered why he bothered to continue eating and drinking, why he bothered to hunt for prey and look for rivers and lakes, he had still continued on. He knew that he couldn't give into his grief, his exhaustion, both physical and mental, that urged him to lay down and give up, and that, intense though that desire sometimes became, it wasn't in his nature to do so.
So he had gone on, living as a rogue himself, now. He'd continued traveling, hoping to find some way to help his pride. And now, two months after the terrible incident that had driven him from his home, he'd arrived here, standing here in this desolate land. The ground here was dry and webbed with deep cracks, long robbed of all moisture, and whenever the wind blew, dust clogged the air in thick, choking clouds. He didn't know the name of the place he had found himself in, he just knew that he didn't like it. Too exhausted to find a more desirable place to rest, he had gone to sleep. And then he had dreamed again the terrible dream that had haunted him for months.
Mikazo opened his eyes and tried to banish the painful memory, pushing the dream and the events that had caused it to the back of his mind. He knew that his pride mates needed help. He had to find a way to dethrone the new king and take back his birthright as the true king. He may be a rogue now, but he was still a prince. The prince of a pride in need. More than anything, he needed to find a way to help his pride mates.
He knew, though, that he couldn't defeat the rogue by himself, not at his age. The rogue was powerful, a full adult with a thick, muscled frame, and Mikazo had seen just how effectively, how lethally the rogue could fight. If he was going to defeat the rogue who now ruled his pride, he needed help. So he set out to find other lions, to make friends, to bring help back with him. Surely there must be some lion who would be willing to help him save his pride.
He had not run into any other prides in the time he'd been traveling. He could tell that lions had lived in this place, this barren, dusty land, once before, though he couldn't imagine why anyone would choose to live in this sort of territory. Perhaps they had realized what a poor choice this part of the land was and moved on, because he was certain none had stayed here for a least a few months; the scent of lions was barely detectable, the paw-prints that had been pressed into the barren ground were blurred now by wind-blown dust.
Pushing himself to his paws, still shaking slightly from the dream that was also a memory, he padded over to the edge of the desolate lands, heading up over a long, stretching rise. As he reached the top of the rise, Mikazo's eyes widened and his breath ceased in awe.
A beautiful place lay beyond, the complete opposite of the land he stood in, jarring him with the abrupt change. He could see wide green plains speckled with trees and plants as far as the eye could see. Animals of all species were grazing upon them, scattered herds in every direction. Elephants were stretching their trunks and giraffes were stretching their necks to reach the leaves from the tall trees. Gazelle, antelope, and zebra were pulling the grass from the ground. Birds of all feathers were perching in the trees and flying over-head in large flocks as well as smaller groups.
From the added height of the rise on which Mikazo stood, he could see that the land had several lakes of varying sizes, as well as a wide river, the water of which was turned to a burnished gold by the sunlight. The sun, which had baked the ground of the desolate area Mikazo currently stood in and had dried it to a hideous, lifeless husk, cast a beautiful glow to the land he now looked upon. It was one of the more pleasant places Mikazo had ever seen, and it was abundant with life.
He walked over to the edge of the green land, where he could smell the scent-markers of a lion pride; a strong message to those who approached, easy to read for all animals. He had finally found a lion pride's territory, and he could completely understand why they had chosen this place to live.
Though he had been trying to find lions to help for the last two months, there was some risk in heading into the territory of another pride, he knew. He knew that chances were that if he, a rogue, were seen trespassing on the lions' land, he would be driven out, if not killed. But he needed their help. For the sake of his pride mates and of his pride, he needed to find kindly lions who he could ask for assistance in dethroning the cruel rogue lion. Those most important reasons aside, it would also be the first time he had seen his own kind in two long, lonely months, and he couldn't wait.
Flicking his tail in sudden excitement, he bounded over the scent-markers, and into the unknown.