Zira never meant to stay long. Just until she had rested and recovered her strength, then she would move on to some happier land. She had never felt herself fully part of her old pride, and was wary of attaching herself to this one. It was Nuka, at first, who tied her to Pride Rock.

"Wash the cub, Sarabi," Scar had said. Sarabi growled at his insolence, but when she looked at Nuka her anger melted away. Under Zira's watchful eye she led the cub to a quiet spot and gave him the most thorough cleaning he had ever had. Nuka squeaked and squalled and wriggled like a fish, but Sarabi, used to the ways of little boys, held him firmly down with a paw as she licked between his toes and inside his ears. If she shut her eyes she could almost imagine it was Simba's warm body against hers...

His ordeal over, Nuka dashed away like a wet cat and hid behind his mother. But soon he found that he was feeling less itchy and uncomfortable, as Sarabi's grooming had removed the parasites from his skin and fur. Later he caught his reflection in a puddle as he drank, and admired the slick shininess of his coat and his newly glossy mane. So he asked her to wash him again, and again, and as she washed she told him stories and taught him the way of the hunt.

Nuka still loved his mother, but now he often trailed Sarabi, sticking as close as her shadow. Zira felt a pang of jealousy when he left her side. But it was good for her son to have a tutor, someone to teach him the things Zira had never had a chance to learn. And it gave her time to herself...time she could spend with Scar.

Ah. Scar.

At first Zira was too weak to hunt with the other lionesses. While they searched for game, she and Scar spent hours together. Both were solitary by nature, but Scar offered his protection until she was able to defend herself against other predators and Zira was sensible enough to accept. To begin with they were silent companions, each revolving their own secret thoughts. But before long one or other of them voiced a thought, and a halting conversation began which picked up speed as each discovered the pleasure of talking with the other. After that they spent the days of Zira's recovery talking, and often continued far into the night.

Zira had at last found someone who knew what it was to be lonely. Scar might have grown up a prince, with an older brother by his side, but he had been as alone at heart as the orphan Zira. Overshadowed by his bumptious, extrovert brother, poor at making friends with the other cubs and largely ignored by his parents as they worked to mould the young Mufasa into a king, he grew into a solitary, introspective lion. By the time he would have liked someone to talk to, it was too late - friendship groups within the pride had been formed, and those who did not hate the surly Scar were not interested in him.

Even after he attained the royal throne, Scar was friendless. Sarabi, deep in mourning, spurned his approaches. Those who had disliked him before saw no reason to change just because he was king; they would obey him, but no more than that. He was not good at dealing with problems and disputes as his brother had been, and soon the pride stopped bothering to approach him with their troubles. Hyaenas, he quickly learned, made a sycophantic audience; they listened appreciatively to his boasts and cheered him on, but it brought little satisfaction. And try holding an intelligent conversation with one! He stood in isolation: monarch of all he surveyed, friend of none.

Then came Zira. New blood - someone to judge him by who he was, not by who he had been. A fresh start. Scar had been intrigued by the lioness' spirit since their first meeting, and it was not long before he began to make cautious overtures to her.

On her part, Zira was overwhelmed by his kindness. It was in her nature to be suspicious, and after Mazoo she was not going to be won over all at once. So she locked her gratitude and attraction deep inside.

He had told her his real name, Taka, but she refused to call him by it. "Scar suits you," she said. "Life has scarred you, as it has me. King Scar!"

One day she told him how she had come by her own scar, the perfect circle missing from her right ear.

She and Nuka had arrived in a wonderful place, a lush valley bursting with life. Tropical green was everywhere, birds sang in the trees and an abundance of creatures laced the air with tempting scents of prey. At last Zira felt at peace, as though she had found her home. There was so much game that even a poor huntress like herself could find enough food and more. Nuka practised his own fumbling little pounces and sometimes caught himself some small animal, which made him cocky as a monkey and Zira only slightly less proud. This was paradise.

The end came out of the blue. As Zira and Nuka swayed towards their sleeping-place, relaxed and full, there was a noise like a dozen thunderclaps at once and a sharp, acrid smell of fire. At the same moment some buzzing insect struck Zira's ear, deafening her with a sudden burning pain. Alert now, she smelled a new animal on the loose and saw flattened grass where something heavy had passed. A powerful predator had taken over their paradise. The lions fled, never to return, as the thunder sounded around them and the whizzing, killing flies swarmed. The bullet-hole through her ear was not the only scar Zira bore from that day; she was warier and more ferocious than ever.

"My poor Zira!" Scar reached out to her, then put his paw to his temple, to the livid mark that ran across his eye. He drew breath as if to speak, then shook his head.

"Zira - I want to tell you, but I can't. Not yet. Some day I will." A shudder passed over his frame, and Zira felt a strong urge to touch him and offer comfort.

Instead she made Nuka the recipient of her newfound, overflowing affection. He couldn't believe his luck would last, and was sure that soon he would do something stupid to displease her again. But his mother's sunny side continued to show, the darker half of her nature in remission. The other lionesses, too, made a fuss of Nuka, who was at present the only adolescent male in the pride. The scrawny, dust-coloured cub began to blossom.

"I'm ready." Zira said.
"Are you sure you're fit to hunt?" asked Sarabi, looking her up and down. "Game's scarce - we can't afford any dead wood on the team."
"I said I'm ready." Her lip curled up, and there was a faint snarl on her last word. Sarabi ignored the hinted threat and nodded. "Stay with me, then. We'll take the western quarter."

Zira felt little of the confidence she had displayed to the leader of the lionesses. She was aware that her first hunt with the pride would be a test of her abilities, one she could not afford to fail. It was a long time since she had hunted as part of a team. Sarabi's lionesses could read each others' intentions from a single movement, almost a single breath; Zira the stranger, the loner, would have to work hard to keep up.

The pride ranged far, out of necessity, and night had bitten deep into evening by the time they came upon a herd of zebra. In the darkness the striped beasts merged into one striped beast, and Zira, squinting, could not make out one individual animal, let alone be sure where lay the vulnerable head and where the kicking hindpart.

"Choose," breathed Sarabi. Zira flattened her ears, hearing a voice that wanted her to fail.
"You think I want you to miss?" It was as if the wise old lioness had read her thoughts. Her eyes wrinkled in an almost-smile. "We are hungry, Zira, and this may be the only game within a day's journey. I would far rather use a chosen huntress, or better several. But it's a traditional test for those who want to join the pride. You must make the kill." She looked away into the night and added softly, "My husband would have wished it."

Just then one of the zebra moved nervously, lifting its head. An eye caught the moonlight and flashed green. Zira took off instantly, homing in on her quarry as its companions scattered in alarm. Now its form was clear and she swung wide, coming in from the side to take its neck and shoulders. The zebra's run was begun too late and it could not reach its top speed before the lioness was upon it. She leaped, her full weight across its back. The zebra sprawled and kicked uselessly out as Zira's jaws clamped over its muzzle. Its eyes rolled wildly as it struggled to breathe, and its limbs thrashed in the dust. Zira hung on as she had always hung on to prey, to life, to hope: fiercely. With a couple of final jerks and a long, convulsive shudder, the animal stilled.

Sarabi joined her at the kill. "Dead - and scarcely a mark on him," she said, sniffing the corpse. "I'm impressed." Zira's mouth was watering, but she waited for the elder lioness to make the first move.
"You first," Sarabi told her, smiling. "Get a good bellyful before you call the rest." Zira immediately sank her face into the tender rump, emerging bloody and pleased. She arched her neck and gave the loud roar that meant I have killed! and also Let us eat!

She was sawing off a tasty joint to keep for Nuka when Sarabi spoke.
"Zira...you're a good lioness, and you are welcome in the pride. But there's something you need to know: be careful of Scar." Zira directed her full attention to the former queen. This was it - the mystery that had puzzled her, the discontent she had sensed in the pride.
"Why?" she demanded, licking a dribble of blood from her cheek.
"He has never been trustworthy. Even in our cubhood..."
"But what has he done?" Zira pressed. Sarabi hesitated.
"Nothing...that could be proved. But none of us trust him."
"You've never given him a chance!" Zira snarled, more fiercely than she had intended to. The strength of her own feelings took her by surprise. Sarabi stared, astonished, then comprehension washed over her. The lionesses looked at each other for a moment, two pairs of eyes wide.

Then the rest of the pride arrived, and the feast began.

Zira did not sleep that night. She watched the stars, Nuka a scruffy bundle curled against her side, until dawn washed pink around the great rock. The full-bellied pride stretched and sprawled contentedly. A whole haunch had been saved for Scar, and he had praised Zira at every mouthful. "You clever little huntress. Well done, my girl, well done. You showed these lazy lionesses how to do it." Sarabi looked bitter at this, but the king's good moods were rare and to be encouraged. Now Zira gathered his words to her, the way Nuka as a baby had carried around some stick or stone or bone that took his fancy, examining and chewing over every one. Was Scar merely glad that there had been a kill, or was it the killer that interested him? Inexperienced still, she could not tell.

A king may do what he wishes. Any lioness he wants is his for the taking. Scar had grown up believing this, and had seen the ease with which his brother selected and took Sarabi. But when his own time came he found it was not as simple as it seemed. The old queen should have been his by rights, but she had rejected him utterly, prepared to leave the pride rather than surrender to Scar. He knew then that Mufasa and Sarabi had had a true love, that she would have gone with him if he had been the lowliest of rogues instead of the Pridelands king. Beautiful young Nala had refused him; she had been promised to his nephew Simba, and was loyal to his memory. She had vanished some time ago, and Scar secretly missed her youthful vigour and cheeky disobedience.

In the early days of his reign he had tried taking unwilling lionesses by force, but it was a humiliating business that was joyless at best and at worst a physical impossibility. He had learned that a king too can suffer rejection and heartbreak. So it was that, although he could have commanded Zira to be his, he held back. Her position in the pride was precarious and she was obliged to obey the king's every wish, but he was afraid that she would not. Besides, what he felt for Zira was not pure lust - he wanted her to come to him. He wanted to be loved.

As usual, it was Scar who approached Zira. Whatever she felt for him he was still the king, to be respected. Besides, she was a solitary creature and seldom made the first move in any interaction.

"I wanted to congratulate you on last night's kill," Scar opened.
"You already did." Zira narrowed her eyes, squashing down her dangerous feelings. "Is it such a miracle that I am capable of hunting?"
"It was a miracle that brought you to me." Scar licked his lips; he had never said anything like that before. Zira would think it foolish, but he had said it unthinkingly.
"Scar -"
"Zira -" they said together.
"Speak."
"No, you - your Majesty."

Scar shifted from paw to paw. "Zira, I want you. But I want you of your own free will, not because I am the king and you my lioness. Will you have me?"

Zira's ears went flat. Scar's words had filled her with joy and hope. But did he mean it? Was he another Mazoo, out to satisfy his selfish desires? And if she trusted herself to him, would she lose a part of herself? All her life she had been self-sufficient. Could she give up her independence to this dark king who made her feel so different?

Her hesitation hit Scar as a physical blow. He turned his shoulder to her and began to pad away.

"Wait." She crouched a little, looking up into his green eyes. Then she said something she had never confessed in all her years of loneliness and danger.
"I'm frightened."

The male walked slowly towards her, murmuring soothingly all the while. "Don't be scared, little one. It's only me. You know me well; we're friends. And now we are becoming something more."

Scar's eyes filled with an urgent longing. For an instant he looked almost like Nuka pleading for his mother's love. Then he stepped forward, shaking his mane. He was in control. "Let us love," he said firmly, and his narrow head pushed Zira's flank so she tumbled to the ground. She lay straddled, her head arched back to see the king, her stomach and loins pressed against the earth. Then, for the first time in her life, Zira purred.

He took hold of the scruff of her neck in his teeth, gently at first then harder, so she froze to the spot. His hot breath sounded harsh in her ears. Slowly Scar lowered himself on top of the lioness, his lioness...

Zira cringed away. "No!"

Scar stopped what he was doing instantly, though his body still pinned the now-shivering female.

"It won't be like Mazoo, not this time," Scar promised, though he could not be entirely sure how his performance would turn out.
"You are an adult, I am an adult, we both know what we're doing, and...we love each other."

Zira breathed slowly out. It was a sigh of completeness, as though she had been holding her breath all her life, waiting for this, and could now release it.
"Yes, Scar. Yes!" Eyes gleaming, she snaked her head round and grabbed his mane in her teeth. She tugged and ripped, snarling, entangled in Scar as he joined himself to her. He too growled, and two sets of claws raked the ground. Together they endured full minutes of delicious, unbearable, wonderful pain.

Lions are perceptive creatures. They learn much from a faint scent, from a mane disarrayed, from two sets of pawprints close together in the dust. So Scar and Zira's coupling was known almost as soon as it happened. The feeling in the pride was of relief. Scar had found a mate at last; perhaps now his great anger would abate, the anger that threatened to destroy him and his subjects. Sarabi saw and was happy. She was needed no longer. Mufasa's line would continue its interrupted journey to the stars through his brother, and Sarabi...Sarabi would cease her attempts to counsel and guide Scar, free to mourn her husband and son till death reunited the family.

When her slim stomach began to expand, this time Zira knew what was happening and was unafraid. She would not bear her offspring alone in some wilderness, but at the centre of a pride. There would be midwives to help her at the birth, and she would be brought food while she was nursing. All these marvellous things, she had learned, a lioness with a pride could expect. The cubs would have abundant milk and a father to love and protect them, and perhaps, in the future, one of them would be a king...

"Wash me, Sarabi!" Nuka demanded. He and Scar had been banished during Zira's confinement; the presence of a male lion can make a new mother nervous. "I wanna look my best for my new little brother or sister!"

"You're more than old enough to clean yourself," the widow lioness said severely. "Besides, they'll be blind."
"They'll be blind? How come?" asked Nuka, horrified.
"Only for a few weeks, silly! Then their eyes will open." Seeing his disappointment, she drew the cub to her.
"Here. They'll be able to feel how nice and clean their big brother's fur is, anyway!"

Sarabi helped Nuka with the difficult bits, and he sat down with his own tail clasped between his forepaws to groom the tip. He was in this undignified position when old Myana padded softly up, brimming over with the good news she carried.

"Two cubs - a boy and a girl. She wants you, Nuka, and you, Sarabi, but most of all she wants the king."
Nuka overbalanced and sprawled on his back.
"Is Mother OK?" he coughed, spitting out dust.
"Never better, sweetheart." Myana smiled at him and trotted off in search of Scar, whom she found pacing moodily at the tip of Pride Rock, the epitome of anxious fatherhood.

Nuka grinned nervously up at Scar. "This is it, huh?"
"It certainly is." The king smirked, as though at some private joke. He walked through the crowd of lionesses, who parted respectfully before the new father. Zira looked up at him, as drained as she had been on the day he first found her, but this time her gaze was happy and trusting. She gave a weary smile and mewed a greeting. Clutched in her paws were two tiny cubs: one tawny as her mother, one cocoa-dark with a tiny tuft of fur already present between his ears. They had arrived early, but no less welcome for it, and both appeared perfect in every detail.

"Kovu, Vitani - meet your father," she said, her voice a soft purr. Scar's chest swelled. He wanted to roar his pride and happiness to the world; instead he rested his head against hers and purred in harmony with her, a rough, rumbling breath.

"And your big brother! Coming through! Family here!" Nuka shoved his way to the fore. His eager expression quickly changed to one of horror as he got his first look at his chubby, wriggling siblings with their tight-lidded eyes.
"That's my new brother and sister?"
"What's wrong, boy?" asked Scar.
"Ewww! They look like...like...termites!"

The lionesses fell about. Scar looked stern, as though Nuka's criticism of the cubs reflected on him personally. Then he saw that Zira was laughing too and he joined in, ruffling Nuka's scrappy mane affectionately. The newborn twins, surrounded by so much love and happy laughter, cuddled close to their mother and fell asleep. Zira took a last look around before she joined them in slumber.

"I'm home," she murmured.