HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU!
Simba and Nala were inseparable for the next couple of days, spending every minute in their disposal by doing anything they wished, making up for the lost time that way. Lost in the haze of love, they allowed themselves to put aside their problems for awhile and enjoy their happiness. But...as we all know...all good things must come to an end eventually. And some matters are just too critical to avoid them forever.
The couple is taking a walk by the stream this afternoon. The colors of dusk colors the sky with a lovely shade of orange-pink and the smooth sunlight caresses the waters flowing down the sides of the cliffs. The wild vegetation of the jungle looks sweeter under this lighting, taking her beauty to a new level. "Isn't this a great place?" says Simba. Nala gazes around in admiration "It is beautiful" she says, but her expression changes quickly to a skeptical frown. "But I don't understand something" she turns at him. "You've been alive all this time" Simba lowers his head as he senses what is coming next. "Why didn't you come back to Pride Rock?".
"Well" he pauses. Lying to Nala gives him no pleasure but since the truth will do much more damage than good, he has no other choice. He can't risk it. "I just needed to get out on my own, live my own life. And I did" he finally chooses to say and it's only half a lie – even though he was unaware of this at the beginning, he soon realized that he was indeed in great need of living a life of his own choosing. He casually hopes on a nearby hammock of vines, the plants slightly swing as he moves, and he rests his head back with an expression of tranquility painted across his symmetrical features. "And it's great".
"We've really needed you at home" says Nala with a sad tone in her voice.
"No one needs me" says Simba with a grin. Nala's face hardens, her blue eyes sharp as daggers. "Yes, we do. You're the King" she says in her most severe voice. "Nala we've been through this" Simba snaps. "I'm not the King. Scar is". The figure of Scar as the wise and impressive man Simba grew to know continued to live in his memory, and since he was the one who helped him take the right decision after his father's death had overwhelmed him completely – he offered him a way out instead of a punishment for what he'd done, which is what anyone else would do in this case – Simba had no reason to believe that Scar wouldn't know what to do when he would be given the position of the ruler. Simba was convinced that Scar would make a better King than himself, that he was the one the kingdom and the pride needed and deserved.
But Nala knows better. She has witnessed first-hand what the cruelty and the madness of Scar can do. She was forced to see her people starve, weaken and being disgraced, her home turning to a decimated field of bones and ash. She, herself, had suffered a lot because of that ruthless monster. She had reached starvation more times than she could count and the only reason why she was still alive is because she had disciplined herself so as she can be endurable in these conditions. The uncouth ways of the werehyenas forced her to spend her formative years in a bullying and horrific environment. But apparently the news of the world's destruction haven't reached the exile.
Nala places her elbows on the hammock, next to Simba, and she looks him straight in the eye. When she speaks the next words, her voice is unshakable, cold and serious to the point of petrifying. "Simba, he let the werehyenas take over the Pride Lands".
"What?!" Simba can't believe his ears.
"Everything is destroyed. There is no food, no water" she says. She bows her head but that doesn't hide the fire of mourning and rage that burns on the glass-like surfaces of her eyes.
Simba is left speechless. Scar would never do that. How could he? How could he let his land being violated like that? How could he betray his people, the legacy of his brother, by forcing an alliance with those fouls creatures? Simba denies to believe that his uncle is capable of such actions...but the look of genuine hatred on Nala's face and the clarity of her words are enough to make him question everything he thought he knew.
Nala takes her arms off the hammock and stands in a severe posture. "Simba, if you don't do something soon, everyone will starve" she says. Simba turns away from her and frowns. "I can't go back" he says. "Why?" Nala demands to know. Simba hopes off the hammock and walks away. "You won't understand" he says. "What won't I understand?!" Nala begs him to talk to her.
Simba shakes his head. "No, no, it doesn't matter. Hakuna Matata" he simply states. Speaking the motto of the Strays is something that comes naturally to him now. It was the answer he was seeking to all his problems and the remedy to all his torments. Nala makes a puzzled face. "What?" she says.
"Hakuna Matata. It's something I learned out here" Simba explains. "Look, sometimes bad things happen..."
"Simba!"
"...and there's nothing you can do about it. So, why worry?".
Simba walks away from her again. "Because it's your responsibility!" Nala bites spitefully and goes after him. Simba turns around and glares at her. "Well, what about you? You left" he bites back. "I left to find help! And I found you" Nala snaps. "Don't you understand? You're our only hope". She is desperately trying to knock some sense into him but all her attempts are in vein. Simba's glare grows wider. "Sorry" he says sharply and insensitively.
Nala is thrown off by his dogmatic attitude. She narrows her eyes, trying to peruse him. It seems strange to her; he looks so much like the person she knows and yet he is so different. The old Simba was stubborn, but he would never run away from his duty. This one is tough and unfeeling, selfish and distant. "What's happened to you? You're not the Simba I remember" she says.
"You're right, I'm not. Now are you satisfied?" says Simba roughly.
"No, just disappointed" Nala replies with a glare of her own. He brings his face closer to hers in a menacing way and shoot an angry look at her. "You know you're starting to sound like my father" he hisses and then turns away – running away from Nala's judgment, from the hardships, from the past...from everything. "Good" she says. "At least one of us does".
That is the last drop. Nala finds the nasty nerve and strikes hard. The truth stings Simba like hell, it hurts and infuriates him. He turns around and come on Nala with great tension, his eyes two red pyres burning with fury. "Listen, you think you can just show up and tell me how to live my life? You don't even know what I've been through!" he snaps.
"I would if you just tell me!"
"Forget it!"
"Fine!"
Simba takes off in a huff and Nala is left behind to boil in her own anger.
Simba is walking in circles, trying to put his mind at ease. "She's wrong" he says in a huff, thinking out loud. "I can't go back. What would it prove, anyway? You can't change the past". He subconsciously raises his hurt gaze to the night sky, the stars staring back at him. "You said you'd always be there for me!" he no longer talks to himself. He calls to the heavens, he addresses to the souls who are claimed to reside up there. He calls for his father. "But you're not" there is a sadness in his voice that can't be described in simple words. He bows his head in a sign of remorse, the long locks of his brownish-golden hair fall in front of his face like a curtain hiding away his ashamed existence. "It's because of me. It's my fault. It's my fault" he feels his own words choking him, an unbearable weight burdening his heart and a sob surfaces from his lungs. Tears burn the back of his eyes, crushing like the waves of the sea on the rocks on the beach, but doesn't shed them; he doesn't consider himself worthy of mourning Mufasa. The pain of remorse cuts him worse than any blade could and he is bleeding endlessly.
Simba remains trapped in this gloomy state for a while until something – actually someone – manages to catch his attention and pull him out of his thoughts. A bizarre noise, unfitted in this place, echoes from somewhere deep in the jungle and tingles Simba's extremely keen hearing. "Asante sana Squash banana, wewe nugu mimi hapana". It's a song, a strange rhythm in a foreign to Simba language which sounds like the chants the kin of the druids used to sing. The werelion lad turns his head around and his gaze rests on a spot between the trees. Overcoming the limits of darkness, his hyper red eyes form the lean and arched figure of an old man standing on top of a tree with a cane in his hand. He is laughs and hums this weird tune while he is plays with the vines hanging from the branches, making them dance to the rhythm of his song. Simba grins derogatorily at the sight of the old man acting like a fool and he takes off.
Rafiki continues to sing as he uses a vine to get off the tree and step his feet back on the ground. He stares at the young man walking away in the distance. He is the same as the vision. Tall and the structure of his body is strong, ripped, indicating a warrior. His long brownish-golden hair whip his face when the wind blows through them. He wears a black leather armor that covers his back, the exterior part of his arms and his legs – the armor of his pride – leaving his chest and torso bared. His skin still has the wheaten color of the Pride Landers but is also darkened by a light layer of sunburn from his time at the oasis. Looking pass the melancholic aura that follows him around and the little changes that life had drawn on him, there was no doubt that this was Mufasa's boy. You look just like your old man, lad, Rafiki thought and smiled.
Simba moved a bit further so as he won't be disturbed by the old man's shenanigans. He sits by the riverside and stares at his reflection in the water. The reflection of a broken and damaged young man with nothing left to hold on to; no love, no family, nothing. Suddenly a pebble is being thrown into the water causing waves to spread across Simba's reflecting face. Simba looks baffled at the water for a moment but then he hears that stupid song again: "Asante sana Squash banana, wewe nugu mimi hapana". He turns around and what he sees? The old man – a druid, judging by his clothes and his obvious unstable sanity – is hanging from a branch of a tree, dangling over Simba's head. "Come on. Will you cut it out?" he says with a frown. "Can't cut it out. It grow right back!" says the druid with a funny accent. He laughs, he performs a swing in the air and then lands perfectly on the ground. He moves surprisingly good for someone at his age. The magic tricks of the druids, perhaps Simba thinks.
Simba stands up and departs once again, in search of some peace and solitude. The footsteps and the loud hysterical laughter of the old druid come after him. "Creepy little humanoid" Simba mumbles in a huff. The old man is now walking right past next to him. "Will you stop following me? Who are you?" he snaps. With a swift movement of his feet, the old man comes to stand right in front of Simba, blocking his way. He leans his head close to the lad's face and shoots him an examining look. Simba takes a cautious step back, sensing a sort of violation of his privacy. "The question is who are you?" says the old man with a crooked smile.
Simba's jaw drops open as the druid's words leave him astonished. His face turns to a contemplative expression as the cogs of his mind are put to work and a hurricane of self-reflecting thoughts begin to swirl in his head. Through this chaos, Simba manages to catch only broken pieces of the glass statues that represent different people and personalities, jagged pieces that don't fit together. From the one hand there is the prince, the one born and raised to be a leader, the one who's fate was to become the Alpha of the greatest pride this world has ever known along with the brave and noble King of Saeva. But that statue was shattered when tragedy struck. And at the other hand there is the Stray outcast, the free man with no concerns and the fighter who has no one to defend or fight for except from himself. But that statue had also been wrecked when the memories of a dreadful past sneaked their way into his life and ruined his serenity. So who he really was after all? The man of duty or the wayward warrior? Was he none of them? Or both? "I thought I knew. Now I'm not so sure" he says, his voice distant as though he is lost in a different universe.
"Well, I know who you are" says Rafiki and pulls Simba closer to him, spreading an arm around his broad shoulders, resting his temple on Simba's. "Ssh, come here. It's a secret" he whispers at Simba's ear with a half-naughty voice. The lad is anticipating to hear the extraordinary truth that Rafiki might be holding, a fading light of hope shinning in the depths of his sad red eyes. And then Rafiki starts singing again. "Asante sana Squash banana, wewe nugu mimi hapana". Simba pushes him away with an annoyed glare. "Enough already! What is that supposed to mean anyway?" he snaps. "It means you're crazy and I'm not" says Rafiki and starts laughing hysterically.
Simba scoffs, gives him a scornful look and attempts to walk away again. "I think you're a little confused" he hisses. As if on cue, he feels pressure being forced against his head and when he turns his red look forward, he finds the old druid standing in front of him, his finger slammed against his forehead and a mischievous smile covering his face. Simba shoots him a death glare. "Wrong! I'm not the one who's confused. You don't even know who you are!" the old man sneers. Simba snatches his boney skinny and wrinkled finger and removes it violently from his face. "Oh and I suppose you know?" he says angrily. He attempts to take another step, trying to get away from this upsetting creature – another disturbance that the universe had decided to throw to him in order to mentally torment him – but the next words that come out of the druid's mouth make him stiffen at his place. "Sure do. You're Mufasa's boy!" the way the druid tells it – the confidence, the pride, the admiration – almost make it seem unreal. For a second, Simba believes he is dreaming, that this crazy-looking man didn't just spoke his father name, that he'd never recognized him. But it is really happening. Simba remains as still as a statue, feeling as though his heart has stop beating, his body has lost all senses. He spuns around instantly and stares at the old man with his jaw dropped open but his lips empty of words. He is left speechless, stunned, baffled and everything in between. The druid flashes a smile. "Bye!" he says and before Simba can blink his eye, he's gone.
"Hey wait!" Simba cries out. He doesn't waste a second in thinking about it and he starts chasing him. It's ironic how like a moment ago he wanted nothing more than to be left alone and now that the druid had finally run off he is desperate to go after him, and how this guy who looked like a major lunatic was actually being truthful all the time. Simba runs faster than the speed of light, he strides over the fields of grass and the bridge that passes over the stream, until he finally catches up with the druid. He finds him sitting on top of a rock, his legs crossed, his arms open to the sides and he shapes small circles by connecting his index finger and thumb, his eyes shut in an expression of serenity. He looks as if he is meditating. "You knew my father?" he says with a heavy breath. It's odd that he is breathing heavily, he doesn't feel tired. Can emotion be this powerful that it takes his breath away? "Correction. I know you're father" says the old man with a severe voice – it's the first time since they met that Simba sees him being serious – while his eyes remain shut. Simba closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as he feels the rising waves of pain suffocating him from the inside once again. "I hate to tell you this but he died. A long time ago" he said with a hurt and grieving voice.
"Nope! Wrong again!" Rafiki exclaims with his more familiar perky tone and with one swift movement he's hoped off the rock. He still grips his cane tightly in his hand. "He's alive and I will show him to you! You follow old Rafiki. He knows the way!" and with that he disappears within the heart of the jungle.
Simba stares baffled at the void that the druid left behind for a moment but then he feels his feet moving forward by instinct. He gazes at the endlessly dark and trackless depths of the jungle and then glances one last time at the place he has grown to call home. The passing thought of returning to the safety and certainty which it provides and forgetting that the events of this night ever occurred passes by his mind but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. A very strong voice at the back of his head screams: no more hiding, no more running, it's time to face what you dread most. And so he made his decision. He partly shifts so as he will run the fastest he can and he will be able to see in the dark with his hyper vision. And like diving into the waters of a deep black sea, he took a deep vital breath and stormed into the unknown.
This part of the jungle is dangerous and difficult to traverse, with too thick vegetation, a major obstacle course of tree roots and vines and almost non-existent light. The journey might not be easy at all but Simba is strong, flexible and endurable so he manages to overcome the obstacles in his way despite the difficulties. But there is a problem; he can't find Rafiki anywhere in this mayhem of nature. He searches and searches with his hyper vision but he is nowhere inside his vision field. He might not be able to see him...but he as sure as hell can hear him! He hears his laughter echoing through the jungle like an unearthly music and he realizes it comes from somewhere high. Moving a curtain of spiderwebs and leafage away from his face, he lifts his gaze up. He finds Rafiki standing on a branch over his head, a wide mischievous smile stretching from the one side of his mouth to the other. He grips the cane with the beautiful spheres so tight that has grown to look like an extension of his hand. Rafiki urges Simba to hurry, and before the latter can take another breath, he's moved to the next tree. "Hey wait!" Simba cries out to him as he starts running after him again. "Come on! Come on!" Rafiki urges. He performs a jump to the next tree, moving faster than any human at this age, and Simba struggles to keep up with his pace. It's astounding and almost funny how the prince – the champion of power – of werelions has a difficulty in catching an old mortal druid. The old fellow cheats, because he gets help from the heaven's magic.
"Can you slow down?!" Simba cries out but his words must fall to deaf ears. At this very moment he feels the earth relenting from under his feet, the gravity pulls him down and he ends up falling to the ground. Vines get entangled around his arms along the way but thankfully he manages to quickly place his hands to the ground so as to lessen the force of the impact and not hurt his face against the hard solid surface. The rubbles scratch his palms, pain bites the area of his knees and he is left with the bitter taste of unwelcome surprise but he quickly recovers and continues to march, driven to the right direction by the out of tune melody that is Rafiki's laughter. Simba continues to run through the dark labyrinth of grim trees, accepting occasional whips in the head by branches and vines from now and then, watching Rafiki jumping from tree to tree, appearing and disappearing from his field of sight like flashes of thunders in a stormy sky.
Suddenly Simba loses all sights of him for a long period of time. As he begins to worry that he is running lost, heading straight to a dead end, a hand juts out from within a wall of plants and Rafiki's head follows a moment later. "Stop!" he commands and Simba manages to slow down and freeze at place just an inch before his face crashes onto Rafiki's palm. The old man narrows his eyes, he brings his index finger to his lips and makes a hushing sound. He steps next to a row of high grass and moves it aside like a curtain. "Look down there" he indicates with a meaningful smile.
Simba collects his courage and slowly approaches Rafiki. He glances at the old druid and the latter nods in reassurance. Simba gulps, his heart races in his chest. He moves past the high grass and slowly steps towards what Rafiki had gotten into so much trouble to show him. It turns out to be a waterhole, the werelion lad walks to the edge and peers inside. At the mirror of those crystal waters is being reflected his own figure; two big circles red as fire and as bright as the morning sun stare back at him. Simba frowns in disappointment. "That's not my father" he says, his second self in the water copying every single one of his movements. He stretches his body and fixes his posture. "That's just my reflection".
Rafiki comes to stand beside him, he places a hand on the back of Simba's neck. Simba looks at him. "No. Look harder" says Rafiki, his voice deep and somehow mystical. The old man touches the waters with his skinny finger and Simba observes as cyclical waves begin to form at the surface. He leans over the hole and stares at the liquid mirror again, but as Rafiki told him to now he looks harder. At the beginning Simba doesn't notice any differences, his reflection is still the same. The same face structure, the same long blond hair, the same black armor, the same eyes narrowed in curiosity. But slowly the cyclical waves start doing strange things to his reflection, they magically change it...No. They transform it! Now the face that stares back at Simba is not his own. Its features are more mature, its edges are sharper and an expression of major superiority and intense severity cover it from side to side. But still the hair are the same brownish-golden colour as Simba's and the eyes have an identical shape and colour. It's the face of a man whom Simba believed he would never have the chance to see in this lifetime. Mufasa! "You see? He lives in you" says Rafiki softly but Simba is speechless.
Simba
It echoes from above. A voice soft like a whisper but which radiates so much power that can make the world quake. Everything from the accent to the timbre is all too familiar to the werelion lad. At first Simba believes it's just a figment of his imagination, a hopeful fantasy, but then a sensation unlike any other wakes up inside his system. A shiver travels up and down his spine, an alarming feeling like when he senses the presence of another living being. And he's not the only one who feels it. The nature around him reacts to the change too; the wind blows harder, the sky darkens and thunders boom. Simba lifts his gaze to the heavens. "Father?" he whispers.
Before the awe-struck eyes of Simba, the clouds and the stars descent from the skies. The strong winds capture the divine material and weave it to the shape of a man as grand as a mountain. Threads of light are entangled around the foggy statue, giving some sort of substance to his angles and his curves, making it look like a real living being. The two brightest stars in the sky take their place at the top representing his all-seen eyes. Now the unearthly creation is complete; a carnation, a ghost, a vision. Mufasa. Mufasa opens his clouds-made mouth and speaks, the voice which echoes is louder than any thunder and with more depth than the music of any drum can create. "Simba you have forgotten me".
"No. How could I?" says Simba, still too astonished by the miracle that occurs. The wind blows through his hair and makes them dance like snakes around his face, framing his angles.
"You have forgotten who you are and so have forgotten me" says Mufasa, his words daggers of solemnity. "Look inside yourself Simba. You are more than what you have become" it looks as though a disapproving grimace flashes across Mufasa's face. "You must take your place in the Circle of life".
"How can I go back? I'm not who I used to be" Simba is pleading for guidance, for clarity, for answers.
Gradually, colours of immense vibrancy begin to paint Mufasa's ghost until it is transformed to a depiction of his alive self. His fangs are bared, his claws are projecting from his fingertips, fur can be seen covering the sides of his face, neck and chest and a magnificent brownish-golden mane flows in the form of watercourse from his head. The lion and the man united, existing as one in the afterlife. Mufasa's eyes bright the most divine glow. Simba can't help himself but stare in absolute wonderment. "Remember who you are. You are my son and the one true King. Remember who you are" these words of great significance are the last guidance's offer of Mufasa towards his son. His colours begin to fade and the clouds start to drift away, they want to return to their home to the sky. But Simba is not ready to let his father go again. "No! Please! Don't leave me!" he cries in despair. He begins to run again, he chases after the ghost of his father. He knows it's in vein, his father is no longer in his grasp, but it still kills him to watch him go away for the second time. As the form of Mufasa in the sky disappears, one word keeps echoing to the atmosphere and in Simba's head: Remember. "Father!" Simba calls out. Remember is his reply. "Don't leave me" Simba begs but ultimately he gives up.
Remember.
Goodbye dad.
One last light breeze swoons over the tiny bodies of the high grass, Simba's gaze remains frozen to the sight of the heavens above. "What was that?" says Rafiki as he comes to stand next to Simba and he lets out a small laughter. "The weather - Pbbbah! Very peculiar. Don't you think?" he adds with a meaningful tone lingering in his voice. "Yeah. Looks like the winds are changing" says Simba contemplatively. " Ahhh. Change is good" says Rafiki and strokes the white fluff of his beard in a thoughtful gesture. "Yeah but it's not easy" Simba adds with a grin.
A million thoughts are dancing restlessly around his mind at the moment. He feels as if his eyes have been opened widely but also at the same time that one small thread of fear is still holding onto his heart. "I know what I have to do. But going back means I'll have to face my past" he is more talking to himself than Rafiki, he is saying his thoughts out loud so as they can make sense, so as he can find a solution. He didn't know what a self-revelation truly meant until now. "I've been running from it for so long". And at that very moment a banging sound was heard and a great deal of pain strikes Simba's skull. Rafiki had just hit him in the head with his cane! "Ow!" he exclaims. "Geez, what was that for?" he shoots a death glare at the wacky old fellow. Rafiki throws his hands in the air in a expressive gesture. "It doesn't matter. It's in the past" he says and laughs. Simba rubs the top of his head where the cane hit him. "Yeah, but it still hurts" he says with a grin. He subconsciously tests the inner part of his hand for blood – that's how hard the strike was! But thankfully the crazy man did not manage to crack open his skull with his shenanigans.
Rafiki places a comforting hand on Simba's back. "Oh yes, the past can hurt" he says, his voice lacking his usual cheer and being more serious. And then it's back. "But from the way I see it, you can either run from it or –" he smirks "– learn from it". He attempts to hit Simba again with the cane but this time the lad is prepared and he instinctively ducks out of the way. Rafiki smiles in triumph. "Ha. You see? So what are you going to do?" he says with a smirk. Simba gives him a menacing grin. "First, I'm gonna take your stick" he hisses and before Rafiki has any chance at reacting, Simba takes a grip of the cane and tosses it away.
"No, no, no, no, not the stick!" Rafiki exclaims and rushes to picks it up. When he turns his head around to face Simba, he is running away. "Hey, where you going?" he calls out. Simba begins to shift. " I'm going back!" he shouts before he shifts entirely at a lion. "Good! Go on! Get out of here!" Rafiki bellows and ends up screeching loudly in exhiliration.
And so he runs free to the far horizon, a proud, wild and untameable lion, finally free of all restraints and fear. He marches with an aim and he is determined to make it. He is unstoppable.
Timon and Pumbaa are enjoying a little late morning nap. They are lying on their opposite beddings, both snoring rhythmically, murmuring random things in the haze of sleep. Nala approaches the two sleeping friends with caution. She doesn't want to upset them, especially after their nasty first encounter, but this is important. She had lost touch with Simba since their fight and she was starting to get worried. She didn't know what he'd do, how he'd act...and she just wanted to see him again. She wanted to talk to him, to make things right.
She nudged Timon at the shoulder lightly. "Hey" she whispered so as not to wake him up too roughly. "Hey wake up".
Timon lazily cracks his eyelids open and some drool falls off the side of his lip. His vision is not yet used to the morning light so when his gaze rests on Nala's blue eyes, the only thing his brain does is to wake up the memory of the stone cold blue-eyed lioness who tried to kill them not long ago. Then his eyes open widely and a scream surfaces from his chest. His scream wakes up Pumbaa too who joins in. "Hey, guys it's alright! It's me!" Nala shouts so as to be heard over their screeches. Once the two friends realize that the harmless and friendly Nala is standing before them and not the blood-thirsty lioness, they put their minds at ease. Timon pants. "Don't you ever do that again!" he says "Wild Cats" he slams a palm against his forehead. Nala rolls her eyes and sighs. "Have you guys seen Simba?" she asks softly. Timon gives her a puzzled look. "I thought he was with you" he says. "He was but now I can't find him. Where is he?".
As if on cue a laughter echoed from above, causing Nala to lift her gaze. The sound is familiar, although she never expected to meet this fellow here. She sees Rafiki – the old druid who had always been a dear friend to the pride and a helping hand at the difficult times they lived in – sitting on the branch of a near tree, the cane with the secret spheres attached to his hand. "You won't find him here" he says and chuckles. "The King... has returned" he takes a bow, a gesture of respect. Nala's eyes shine overjoyed, the corner of her lips twitch at a hearty smile. "I can't believe it. He's gone back!" she says in a burst of exhilaration – an emotion she hadn't felt in a really long time.
Timon grins and gets up with a hop. "Gone back? What do you mean?" he says. He glances at the tree where a weird old guy was sitting a moment ago but now the branch is empty. "Hey! What's going on here? Who's the grandpa?" he snaps, both arms stretched, pointing at the tree. "Simba's gone back to challenge Scar" says Nala.
"Who?"
"Scar"
"Who's got a scar?" Pumbaa adds himself in the parody of communication/conversation.
"No, no, no. It's his uncle"
"The monkey's his uncle?"
"No!" Nala snaps, hushing both of them. She gives them her most serious look. "Simba's gone back to challenge his uncle to take his place as King".
"Ohh" say the two friends in synch.
