One & Only
It is a rainy day when I first notice him. A disgusting day, really. The Pride Lands to which I have just relocated have been under such a wet spell for days, nearly all its contents caked in dark brown mud. The other lionesses I accompanied in the move and those who already reside here say it is unlike the place to become much like the wetlands of which I have heard down south, but that the resident shaman has indicated that the rainfall could become either an omen of rich and abundant lands to come, or of something far more sinister.
On that rainy day, I am walking to what they call Pride Rock from an overflowing water hole, having taken what would prove to be the only drink I would need all day. My fur is matted and speckled with dirt. I can only squint to see the path in front of me through an ever-intensifying downpour.
He is ahead of me, lounging on a boulder that is covered by an outcropping of rock, providing him shelter from the rain. I cannot make out much of him at first, but I am intrigued. I do not know why, but this lion, this male, has captured my attention.
Before I can approach him further, he arises with a stretch, and departs into the inner reaches of Pride Rock. But I am able to steal a glance at him before he is gone. He is by no means large, a far cry from the Mufasa fellow I met my first day here. His black mane seems matted in places. He is slender, though built well. He walks with a slow gait, as though the seasons have not been kind to his body.
But most of all, before he is gone, I notice the scar across his left eye. I do not know where it has come from, and why such pain found his face to begin with.
I want to know more of the lion with the scar.
The lion's name is Scar. How fitting.
He tells me one evening that his given name is Taka, but changed it at a younger age to better suit his form.
He does not tell me much, but he told me this. I am, in a word, flattered.
I have come to a conclusion: I am in love with the lion with the scar.
It is funny how this came to be, but I felt something for him the moment we first met. He is unlike the other lions in the pride. He is quiet, and he keeps to himself often. This suits me.
Most days he is all I want to see. I have friends among the lionesses with whom I traveled here, sure, but he holds my attention most prominently. I am not always with him – in fact, we rarely speak – but sometimes I cannot help but watch him from afar. I wonder if he thinks of me like I think of him. Does he? Could he really? He told me his true name. Occasionally he has given me an extra share of a kill when he is not hungry enough for it.
I admire his courage. It must be difficult growing up in the shadow of one's older sibling. He is next in line to be king, he says, but he does not seem to believe it could ever happen. He seems resigned to living out his days underneath that outcropping of rock, lying idly by while matters are attended to in the kingdom.
If I were him, I would have already run away. Therefore, I admire his ability to stay. He is truly a better lion than I. Perhaps one day he will come to know how I feel.
Scar has been the new king of Pride Rock for two cycles of the moon. And I could not be more filled with glee.
The king's death was sad, but who needs him? By my account, Mufasa had grown too accustomed to playing with his young son than doing what is truly necessary for the Pride Lands. Good riddance to both of them.
Times are tough. Food is becoming scarce, and it has not rained in quite a while. Oh, what I would give for the rains that befell my arrival.
But the thought of that rain only strengthens me. It reminds me of the shaman's words, that the rain could bring good tidings.
That it has. The lion with the scar is now king.
I am also strengthened at the thought of Scar. You see, he has taken a liking to me lately.
I know! Can you believe it? I barely can. Me, Zira, myself a discarded piece of garbage – or so this is how I felt for most of my life – can be looked at kindly by the king of a pride.
I have even spent a few nights in his quarters – alone.
…and yet I am not content.
Though I love Scar and want more than anything for us to be together, I cannot admit to being completely happy. It is not that I am not with him every night, though I am hopeful that the day will come where I can claim that as being the state of my life.
It is the other lionesses.
Scar does not have a taste for just one lioness. In fact, he has his eye on quite a few of us. Some more than others, or so I have noticed. And that is absolutely his prerogative. He is the king, and the king is allowed to make whatever decisions he chooses.
But I cannot help but feel a growing jealousy toward the other lionesses.
Why can I not have him to myself? Why can Scar not see that I, above all others, would be the best for him?
I suppose all I can do is continue as I have. Perhaps only time can change his feelings toward me. And then, truly, can I be satisfied.
What a glorious day!
Today I am visited by the shaman Rafiki for a check of one's health. I have been feeling sickly over the past few days, and the other lionesses and I have begun to become worried. There are many good things it could be, but it could also mean a variety of illnesses which threaten my life.
The best, however, has occurred. Rafiki has informed me of my pregnancy – with Scar's child!
The king has awaited this day since not long after he came to power. He has searched for immortality in the form of a young cub, so that his reign can continue long after his death, whenever that should happen. And now, he has received his greatest wish, in the form of none other but me.
The shaman claims it will be a male, which provides the king with a male heir. My excitement is unparalleled as I run to his innermost chamber, to provide him with the news. Scar has been unable to receive a cub before me. It must mean our fates have truly aligned, as though the Great Kings themselves have taken notice of us and given our fate.
He is grinning. The news has already reached him via another lioness. I do not care. The look he gives me, the look of adulation, is all I will ever need.
"Zira," he says, tentatively wrapping a foreleg around me and pulling me close. "Zira. You have done well."
I beam up at the lion with the scar.
"Only the best for you, my king," I say.
Scar is not happy. Nor am I.
Nuka, the son I bore, is not the cub we expected. He is not the cub any of the entire pride expected, at that. He may bear a resemblance to his father, particularly their jet black manes and tufts of hair, but he is clumsy, dull-witted and very much an oddball.
My son seeks only to please me, and I should admit that he does. He is, after all, my son, and he cannot change that who he is.
But I must maintain the outward appearance that I am at least frustrated with Nuka – which, often, I am. Sometimes I must even appear disgusted with him, as though his very presence on the face of this earth is the most excruciatingly troubling circumstance to ever befall my mundane life.
A few of the lionesses treat him as such. After all, they believed him to be the heir to the throne – which, technically, he is. But they do not want Nuka to gain power. They are not confident in his abilities and believe he will be the worst thing to happen to us.
Scar does not even acknowledge him anymore. The king was at least modestly involved in his life at first, but once it became clear to him that Nuka was not the son for which he had hoped, his visits became less and less frequent, before ceasing entirely.
I am upset. I am ashamed. Often, I am unsure what to do.
The lion I love has angered me so. He does not see the potential Nuka harbors, nor does he understand that with a little training, he could be more than adequate.
Plus, he has said he cares for me deeply. I do not see how this can necessarily be the case when he continues to see these other lionesses, especially more frequently now that he believes my son to be a lost cause. He had all but accepted me as his mate, his queen. But now, it is as though he is punishing me for bearing him a so-called unworthy child, even when he is half-responsible.
But it does not matter. I know I will win back his affections. Our fates are entwined now. This is how it must be.
I am with child again, but it is not by the king of Pride Rock.
A short time ago, a group of rogues who hope to start their own pride were travelling through our boundaries. We provided them with shelter for the evening, and what little food we could muster.
Two males were a part of this group. One, a brown-furred adult with a dark mane, took a liking to me, and it was then that I saw my opportunity.
I was with that lion that night, and now I bear a child of his. I wonder if he will ever know.
I am pleased beyond words. This, I think, is my way of getting back at the lion with the scar. Perhaps he will see my allure to other lions and become jealous. Perhaps he will see the error in his ways and will take me back – for good, this time.
Vitani and Kovu.
Those are the names of the cubs – yes, cubs – that I have borne into this world.
Not even Rafiki foresaw that two would be born. Imagine my thrill at receiving not only another son, but my very own daughter as well. It is absolutely amazing how much she looks like me.
Ah, speaking of similarities in appearance. The other one.
Kovu, my new son, is a miracle. When I first lay eyes on him, it is like glancing at Nuka again for the first time, only there is something more. The dark mane,the determined eyes…
My youngest son is more like Scar than Nuka was, even though Nuka was the king's true son.
The king is summoned at once. I have spoken very rarely to him in previous moons, as my pregnancy had apparently labeled me as an undesirable in his eyes – more so, I suppose, than I had already been.
Again, I am able to experience that look on Scar's face, one of conniving triumph. He glares at my son, scrutinizing his every feature as though the cub might disappear from his sight at a moment's notice, never to return again.
I tell him the cub's name is Kovu.
To the lionesses that stand nearby, he speaks in an exultant voice laced with glee. "This cub," he growls happily, "I hereby hand-pick to become my new heir. Once I die, Kovu shall reign over the Pride Lands!"
I believe I nearly fainted with joy, and I am brought to my senses again by a paw lightly touching the top of my head. I look up to find Scar there, glancing down at me, eyes shining.
"I have underestimated you, Zira," he says to me. "He is not mine, but already he shows the markings of a great king. Come, let us retire to my private chamber, just you and I, where we may discuss our future…"
I cannot help but form a tiny smile at the corners of my muzzle, but I keep my composure enough to nod to my king. "Of course," I say. "Whatever you require, Scar. Only the best for my king."
And in that moment, I feel I have won over the lion with the scar. I am to him what he has been to me since that fateful day, when I saw his figure through the pouring rain.
My one and only.