Magic hour, the savannah is covered in purples and pinks with a thread of golden in the horizon.
Gavivi walks behind the seven cubs. She will get her own lecture for letting them slip away.
Dubaku flies above them. He will get his own lecture for letting them slip away.
Mufasa walks at the front, red and gold robes whispering against the grass.
Birds give their last chirps and whistles of farewell. Jackals howl. The night critters come out to breathe, take flight, run, sing in their own language. Some they can understand, others they don't, the ones of the human and the animal.
In the distance, the lights of the citadel come to life. Looking around, the lanterns of the herders headed back to put their cattle in their pens move like faraway fireflies. Light appears among the branches of some trees, from the earth, from other towns close to Pride Rock. They join the light of the stars and the receding sunlight.
"Gavivi," says Mufasa.
He stops walking, so do the cubs. Dubaku lands.
Gavivi covers the space between the back and the front and stands in attention before Mufasa.
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Take Tama, Nala, Tojo, Chumvi, Kula, and Prince Malka to Pride Rock. Make sure inform their parents I will join them shortly to talk about what happened, especially Queen Hafzah. I've got to teach my son a lesson."
Gavivi nods, walks back.
"Uh, sire?" asks Dubaku.
"Go with Gavivi."
Dubaku nods.
Gavivi very pointedly grabs Tama's and Tojo's hands, little cousin and little brother respectively. She whispers, "Good luck," to Simba and continues on the way to Pride Rock. Dubaku is human again and he puts a hand on Malka's shoulder.
Simba feels like hiding under the tall grass.
Mufasa waits until they have almost disappeared from sight before saying, "Simba."
As he walks, Simba feels his foot fall into a depression. Looking down he sees a massive pawprint, the toes point in the opposite direction he is headed. A pawprint of when Mufasa ran to the Elephant Graveyard. Crouching, Simba puts his hand on the middle. The mark dwarfs his little hand, and he knows his lion paw would be no different. He is supposed to be a prince but he feels small, helpless, less afraid than he felt in the Elephant Graveyard with the hyenas but still scared.
Simba stands next to his father.
Mufasa has his hands behind his back, one closed over the opposite wrist. He isn't wearing his crown but the golden ends of his dreadlocks enhance his regalness enough. Simba had never been so keenly aware of how tall his father really was.
Cicadas scream from trees. Crickets begin to chirp.
Mufasa turns to look at him. "Simba, I'm very disappointed in you."
Simba lifts his shoulders as if to hide. Quietly, sadly, ashamed, he says, "I know."
"You could have been killed, you deliberately disobeyed me." Simba is too busy trying not to cry to notice his father's tone isn't as angry as it was in the cave. "And what's worse, you put your friends in danger. You put Prince Malka in danger."
Simba swallows and swallows and swallows the lump in his throat, he feels tears in his eyes regardless. "I was just trying to be brave like you."
"I'm only brave when I have to be. Simba—" Mufasa put his heavy hand on Simba's shoulder. "—being brave… doesn't mean you go looking for trouble."
"But you're not scared of anything."
"I was today."
Simba wipes his tears. "You were?"
"Yes." Mufasa crouches to be eye-level with Simba. "I thought I might lose you."
"Oh. I guess even kings get scared, huh?" Simba risks a smile.
Mufasa smiles too, nodding and humming.
"But you know what?" Simba leans in to whisper.
Mufasa leans in too, and whispers back, "What?"
"I think those hyenas were even scareder."
Mufasa rumbles a laugh, something deep in his chest that is happy and Simba feels the dread in his stomach fade.
"'Cause nobody messes with your dad. Come here, you."
Mufasa traps Simba with one arm, rubbing his head with the knuckles of the hand not wearing any rings. Simba squeals, laughing with his father, he tries pushing him. Simba is nowhere near as strong as to push his father but Mufasa falls anyways and there's a man first and a lion second. Simba is a boy first and a lion second. Freer now in his movements that he has four paws, Simba chases Mufasa around on the grass, growling and trying to catch his father's tail or something.
"Ha! Gotcha!"
Simba throws himself at Mufasa, his father allows himself to fall and they roll around. Simba has his father's ear between his teeth when Mufasa settles calm on the grass, still laughing a little. Simba is laughing too. He takes his place on top of Mufasa's head.
"Baba?"
Mufasa hums in inquiry.
"We're pals, right?"
"Right."
"And we'll always be together, right?"
Mufasa lifts his head, forcing Simba to slide to his back.
"Simba, let me tell you something that my father told me. Look at the stars."
He lifts his gaze to the sky that has darkened completely, no traces of the sun left and now just stars to shine. The moon is but a thin smile tonight. Simba looks too, he has always liked the stars. A game he and his friends have is finding and naming constellations. They only play it on occasion, since their parents don't like them staying up too late.
"The Great Kings of the Past look down on us from those stars."
"Really?"
"Yes. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you… and so will I."