9:57 PM 5/3/2010 -
Fan Fiction Based on: The Lion King, first movie Title: The Lion King: Sanctuary Total Chapters: 10 Written in Chapter parts The Lion King (c) Disney Fanfic (c) glycermakhado To be posted on .net account, SavageAlex Lion King characters (c) Disney Characters Dynar & Kade Kagen (c) glycermakhado -
The Lion King - Sanctuary

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." -Matthew 11:28 "...And him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out." -John 6:37

Chapter 2 ~ Wound Recovering

A gentle wind blew and gusted, occasionally forming into dust devils and signaling the arrival of the dry season but still with rains, not yet fully into the dry season just yet. In the skies were grey clouds, dotting the savnnah with their shade with scattered showers here and there.
In the surrounding area of the rocky mound of outcrop, still flourishing with its green folige and water streams.
But outside of the surrounded area, the plants die out and the water evaporates away. Outside of the boundry turning into a desert wasteland, the unbearable heat assuredly killing any living thing caught out in it. The rain that does fall and drop onto the sun backed ground just hit the sandy ground with a puff and steam.
Inside the cave of the rocky outcrop mound, rested the lone young man Dynar, his wounds fully dressed this time and he sat with his back against the side cave wall, the medium sized fire burning four feet out in front of him. Painstakingly he had gathered enough fire wood for a week, if he wasn't harshly disturbed that is. He'd ate the two mice last night before he had went to bed, now he was eatting the porcupine, both the muscle meat and the fat. Cooked over the fire on a skewer. As with his Navtive American Indian tradition, he had eatten the heart raw. The guts and intestines he took out the the desert area and buried them. Maybe a wild animal would find and eat them.
Life was an endless stream of choices, after all.
=+*+=

When it was noon, Dynar fell asleep for a short nap, he'd tried to stay away so he wouldn't have none of the nightmares of his past come back to haunt him again but unfortunately he didn't have nothing with caffine to keep himself awake. So even he found himself slowly drifting into a slumber.
~+#+~

Forgotten Past

It was a dark room with no lights nor any windows, a hard concrete floor was cold and damp, there was only one person down here. A lone and young child, perhaps at the age of ten, sat at the bottom of the stairway in a prisoner-of-war fasion with his hands flat under his upper legs. His was head tilted back.
As far as he was concerned, he was far from active civilization.
The mother had just whipped him just for digging in the trash bin and eatting food. She had used a multiple rose bush branch. A few thorns had dug into his skin but most left thorn gashes on his back. He had attempted to take out the thorns but the mother scolded him, telling him to leave them alone. Likely to cause him more pain than was necessary. Even the gashes from the thorns that cut into his flesh. At least down in the basement, he could take off his worn and torn t-shirt so the fabric would not congeal to his cut wounds like glue. The father was a drunk, and acoholic. When the father was at work, doing whatever, the boy was safe somewhat. Even the mother worked most of the time outside doing chores. But when the father came back from work, the boy would regular receive brutal beatings at night before time to sleep and in the morning just before the boy woke up until the father went to work. They hardly fed him, only given meger meal of a slice of bread, sandwitch meat, a block of cheese and a plastic cup of water. Though down in the basement there was a wash basin where he could also drink water from, even though it'd be stale. The young child was offically a bastard. An outcast of humanity. With various bumps, belt lash welts, bruises and other cuts and stabs from the boys' regular pyhsical abuse from both mother and father.
This all had begun after his younger brother had been born and brought back from the hospital. The doctors had found a heart murmur in the baby but they had fixed it. So the baby was saved. They now cared more about the baby than they did the boy. However, this had not brought any jealously fomr the boy or any envy but a thankfulness that the baby was not going to have to go through what he is currently going through. He wished he could somehow escape from all of this torture and brutal beatings. The boy's mother and father thought him to be a low-life animal, after all.

It was night, as best he knew since he was left alone during that time. It was the boy's time of rest and recovery.
Diligently, he began plucking out the multiple rose thorns that had stuck into his flesh. And he used a clean but worn damp cloth to soak up the blood that seeped out from the wounds and cleaned them. They were indeed infected but at least he removed the thorns before it could get any worse. The whole ordeal was painstaking and terrible, infact it was more painful than anything he'd felt yet.
Once all the thorns that had been stuck in his flesh was removed, he felt relieved from the sharp stinging pain he gone through before taking the thorns out. Now came the process of his body healing itself. The gashes from the thorns that cut into his skin but not getting stuck was already scabbed over and not infected like the wounds he had just removed the thorns from.
He had a roll of tissue paper, so the boy used this to cover over the thorn wounds like a dressing, these tissue papers he torn into square pieces small enough to cover the thorn wounds. His injuries taken care of, now he needed water. And the wash basin sink was four feet away from him.
The only clothing he wore was easy slip-on shoes but worn and simple worn childs pants that had been folded up to the calves. His only shirt was a simple worn pajama long-sleeve shirt that had its sleeves folded up just below the elbow lay discarded on the wooden cot.
The only light he was allowed was an old oil lamp, slowly the boy pushed himself up off form the wooden cot and attemped to stand up but the wounds he recently received still pained and ached as he wasn't ready for the strain of standing up and he gasped sharply, collasping down and falling chest first onto the cold hard concrete floor. His front body hitting the floor knocked the breath out of him momentarily and he lay there for some unknown minutes, stunned before blacking out.

Suddenly he woke up with wide eyes, the time he lay on the cold concrete floor was not known to him. But he didn't care. He had to get to his only source of water, even if it tasted stale but it was still cold. The boy'd breathing was shallow and heavy while also wheezing, yet, he still slowly pushed himself up and managed a staggering walk on over to the sink. He barely noticed that his health had worsened to the point of him being phlegmatic.
The complusion for water drove his body to move, it was the only thing on his mind. Stumbling to the sink basin, the boy looked down at the concave part of the sink. Oh what he'd give to just be able to lay himself in the sink like a bath tub. But that wasn't likely to happen. He reached for the cold water knob and turned it on. He had only used the hot water from the sink to give himself a 'bird bath' but at least he stayed clean, cause his mother and father had no concern for him whatsoever. Lowering his head down to the spout where the water flowed from, he hastly drank his fill to satisfy his need for water. He made sure not to drink too much water, as he could also die from drinking more water than he needed.
Once again, the boy had beaten both the mother and father by overcoming and recovering their pyshical abuse on him. Time adruptly passed quickly through thirteen years of abuse from his parents until the local police had somehow found out about the captive abuse the boy was going through. He'd never found out who had told the local police about it. The police took him into custody and since his parents were deemed unfit to care for the boy, he was placed in foster care. The boy's parents were sent to jail with no foreseeable bail. The boy fully recovered from his ill-inflicted wounds in several months. Though he still bore the sorrowful scars of that time he'd rather wished he could forget.

However, the boy's native indian nature had kicked in by this point and he mostly got into trouble with the other kids around his age. Fights, school fights, fights in the alley's, fights with gangs and those who used drugs and drank acohol. He wouldn't stop fighting until either he was unable to keep fighting or the people he was in a fight with was unable to. Usually it was him who was so badly beaten that he was a bloody heap on the ground. All this fighting and brawling lasted until he was age seventeen, then government officals came, men in black, who had him restained with a strait jacket, put in a heavily armed truck and taken to the nearest penitentiary with the highest level of top security.
Once there, the young man was kept heavily sedated for a year and was fed intravenously liquid food into his blood stream just to keep him alive. They also stimulated his muscles so he wouldn't loose any muscle mass or get lethargic. After that year was over and he was then eighteen years of age, thats when they cleaned him up, gave him new clothing, had him go through a crash course on how to use military weapons and also defend himself.
Strangely enough, he enjoyed the training. And the survival training also helped with what he went through during his time of captive abuse with his ex-parents.
The young man hadn't joined any branch of the military, they were just training him for whatever their true purpose for him was...
~+#+~

A cold sweat is what greeted him as he sat bolt upright with his lower half under a sheet of tan grass that he had threaded together just before he fell asleep, slowly his heavy breathing returned to normal as he wiped the beady sweat off from his forehead.
Looking around, he saw that everything that had been laid about him was as where he left it last night. Out the den's entrance, Dynar wasn't surprised to see that there was sunlight pouring in through the opening. Morning had finally arrived after a terrible nightmare of past memories he'd tried to bury and forget.
Its a good thing had hadn't screamed as he woke when he usually does, cause he'd rather not attract any of the local wildlife to where he made his temporary shelter.
With head down in hands, he took a deep breath before pushing the grass bed sheet aside and got up to stand. Strangely, he felt no aches or sharp tinges of pain he always got when during his wounds healing.
He checked his body for how the recently wounds had healed and to his surprise all that remained were scars. More troubled memories to add to his life. He then thought to check his compass wrist-watch. Shocked to see that two and a half days had passed while he slept to recover from the fever he'd gotten when he traveled to get to this place. Two and a half days! No wonder he was so thristy and hungry. At least he had left-over food and water to drink in the cave. But he had lots of catching up work to do. There was lots of thing needed doing, and first thing was replenish his water and food supply, next was to scout the land to see if he could locate his younger brother Kade, beyond the rest of the harsh wasteland of the dry and sandy desert.