A New Life in Exile… Hakuna Matata.
Simba looked around the beautiful oasis with both happiness and sadness - happiness because he had a place to live after he had found himself in the desert after Scar had urged him to run from the rest of the Pride - well, that and the hyenas chasing after him - and the rest of the Kingdom would never accept him, not after the death of the King, and sadness because he would never again lay eyes on his mother or Nala again.
That depressed him even more.
But as he looked out over his new home, listening to the rumbles of Timon and Pumba as they slept nearby - the warthog's stench was overpowering, but after being around with the warthog and meerkat for the last few days, Simba had become used to it, and since his diet had changed to include bugs and creepy-crawlies (he might've been grossed out when the idea was first posed to him, and he wondered where in the desert Timon and Pumba had first come up with the idea in the first place) he no longer looked at them hungrily - he wondered what would happen with his life now.
There was no doubt in his mind Scar had already become the King of the Pridelands. He hoped and he knew that his uncle would do a good job, after all, he was not a murderer.
Simba closed his eyes in regret, thankful neither of his new friends was awake to sense his mood. The last thing he wanted was to talk about his problems, although he had come to know Timon and Pumba had both run away from their own problems long ago, he just didn't want to dwell on his guilt and he didn't know enough about either of his new friends to feel comfortable going down that path.
Not that he had any right to judge, considering how he had run away himself from the judgement of the kingdom for the death of Mufasa in that stampede.
When Scar had talked about what he had done after his uncle had comforted him shortly after he had found his father's corpse and had failed in waking him up, Simba had panicked as he realised that there was no chance he could go back home to Pride Rock, especially with the news of what had happened to the king, but when Scar had mentioned his mother… that was the last straw.
Simba and his mother…
He could imagine and see the bond between them breaking due to his actions in the death of her beloved mate. Simba had not wanted to leave, a large part of him had actually wanted to stay, to be judged, so justice could be served. But he had run away with no plans of ever returning to Pride Rock, to the pride lands, the kingdom…
But he had run, and in his fear and panic, he had managed to get a good distance away from the gorge where it had happened when he had heard the familiar sounds of the hyenas he was willing to bet were the same ones he'd met at the elephant graveyard. Where had they come from? Why had they been near the gorge? Had they just been near the gorge and had gone near it when the stampede had taken place and they'd tried to get hold of an easy meal or two, only to find him on his own and hopeless?
It didn't matter, not anymore.
He had managed to outrun them, mostly because he'd had the head start and he had gotten a fair distance away from them before he realised they were there. Fear and panic coupled with his survival instincts urged him to run faster. But they had been closing in on him, and if it hadn't been for that thorny thicket then they would have caught him. Simba knew he had been lucky, but the scariest part was he wished the hyenas had caught him so he could just brush away the pain he felt.
Simba sighed and he looked out over the oasis. It was beautiful, no doubt about that, but for a long moment, he imagined he was standing proudly on Pride Rock, overlooking the pridelands as he had always pictured. But now it was never going to happen. The lionesses would never accept him as a King, not after what he had done to Mufasa.
"Zazu, mum…Nala," he whispered, "I am so sorry."
Simba lay down and curled himself up to sleep, but sleep would never come. He only hoped in the years to come that
Author's note - We never saw a great deal about Simba's life in the oasis although we know despite his joy of having friends he was melancholic as well. I hope that's come across well. Please let me know what you think.