Hey there, and welcome back to the Lion King novel. Yeah, the last chapter ended with a bit of a cliffhanger. But this is where it picks up from the previous chapter, so you'll see...you know...the sad moment.

Someone suggested that I put in one quote that Scar tells Simba, and my instant reaction is, "That's exactly what I'm gonna do." When I say that I'm making a hybrid of the original and remake, I'm going to do just that...mostly.

Uploading Date: August 21, 2019

Enjoy!

...

Death Of A King

In the meantime, Simba was climbing up the rocks, to try and find his father. Fear pushed him onward, fueled his heart like blood pumping into a cheetah's veins. He didn't care anymore if he didn't get a surprise; all that mattered was that he and Mufasa would get out of this mess together, alive and well.

The last time he saw Mufasa, he was climbing up higher and higher, towards a ledge. Simba felt his heart beat with relief. They were going to get out after all. It was going to be all okay. He climbed up higher until he came to a safer ledge, where he could get to see the gorge below. Just a little bit more, and...

But when he looked outward, his optimism turned into sheer horror. Mufasa - the lion who was believed to be powerful, his father - was now falling to his death, screaming and roaring.

"NOOOOOOO!" Simba screamed, but it was too late. Mufasa ended up disappearing under thousands of pounding hooves, his roars cut off by the thunder of the stampede.

Down below, the stampede was now starting to fade away. The last of the wildebeests were picking up the pace, sending up clouds of dust in the air. Once the last of the wildebeests were gone, Simba climbed down into the gorge to look for his father.

While the herd was no longer in the gorge, the dust still hung in the air. Hoofprints littered the ground like someone had dropped rocks onto the earth from on high. Simba darted around, trying to find the spot where his father had fallen. He mistook rocks, mounds of dirt, and even a few dead wildebeests for his father.

"DAD!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the walls. As he had yelled, he accidently gulped in some dust and coughed.

Suddenly, footsteps started sounding out, making Simba's head turn. "Dad?" he asked hopefully.

But all that appeared was a lone wildebeest, galloping down the path that the many wildebeest took. It made a sharp turn to run around a large mound on the ground and disappeared. Simba gasped when he realized that this mound had fur, running over...and stopping when he realized who that animal was.

Mufasa was there, all right. He was laying on his side, unmoving and not breathing. His eyes were closed, his whiskers were bent out of shape, and his fur and mane were ragged and patchy. Drying blood coated his golden fur, some from cuts on his sides and paws, and others from bruises that had been scratched open.

"Dad?" Simba mewled. He walked over and rubbed his head against Mufasa's mane, but he didn't stir. "Dad, come on, you gotta get up. Dad..." His voice cracked as he reared up to shake him awake. "...we gotta go home."

He tugged on his father's ear, just as he had done to wake him up before. This time, however, Mufasa wasn't getting up. Tears welled up in Simba's eyes. He wanted this to be a nightmare to wake up from, but this was real. His father was still lying motionless in the gorge. It can't be...

With a sob, Simba screamed to the sky, "HEEELLLLP! Somebody! Anybody..."

But no one answered. Only the blowing breeze filled his ears.

"Help..." Simba choked, the word caught in his throat. He was alone, utterly alone.

Sobbing, Simba padded back to Mufasa and tried burrowing through his thick reddish mane. He crawled up to his father's face, the whiskers brushing against his face. Then he lay beside Mufasa's head and hid his face in his mane, crying softly.

"Simba," a familiar voice sounded from behind them. Through his tears, Simba looked up at his uncle Scar, who was gazing down at him. He had a cold look in his green eyes as he watched the cub mourn for his father. "What have you done?"

"There was a stampede. H-He tried to save me," Simba choked out, the words threatening to lodge in his throat. "It was an accident! I-I didn't mean it to happen!"

"Of course you didn't," said Scar with sympathy, pulling Simba close to him. It felt like he had sensed the troubles Simba was now going through. "No one ever means for these things to happen. But the king is dead."

Simba felt more tears fall down his cheeks as he leaned against Scar's foreleg. It really was true. Mufasa was really dead. He would never see his father again.

Then what Scar said next chilled his blood: "And if it weren't for you, he would still be alive. Your father had such high hopes for you, gave you so many chances. And this is how you repay him. How could you even think of doing such a dreadful thing?"

Simba pulled away from his uncle, his heart threatening to shut down. He didn't want to believe it, but he felt that Scar was right. The stampede and Mufasa's death were his fault after all. He couldn't help but cry again.

"What will your mother think?" Scar rasped, stepping away from Simba as if he was a parasite. "She will be so disappointed, to learn that her son caused his father's death, a boy who had killed his king. What if she decided to hate you for what you have done?"

Again, Scar's words frightened and saddened Simba. His mother could indeed hate him for what he had done, want nothing more to do with him. "What am I going to do?" he whimpered.

"Run, Simba," Scar replied, staring him down. "Run away, and never return."

Simba was shocked at his uncle's suggestion. But after looking at his father's lifeless body, he knew that once again, Scar was right. The lionesses would be angry with him for killing their king. He had to leave the Pride Lands, now and forevermore, especially when he was responsible for Mufasa's death.

I'm sorry, Dad, he thought with a sob before turning away. I'm so very sorry.

And with that, he began to run away.

Not far away, Scar watched the cub leave, a small smile crossing his muzzle. This was far easier than he had thought. When he had first come up with this idea to kill Mufasa, he had hoped for Simba to die as well. After all, both needed to die to ensure that he was next in line for the throne. But guilt-tripping Simba and sending him into self-exile? That was a plan that went off without a hitch.

But then again, Scar guessed, having Simba alive would lead to complications. He could return one day to take the throne from him, being a secret trump card for those loyal to Mufasa, and he didn't want that. No, there was no need to risk Simba coming back and dethroning him. He needed to be gone. Scar needed to take the throne, to make sure that he would become unchallenged.

Growls behind him signaled the arrival of the hyenas. Shenzi walked up to beside Scar and nodded, pleased that he was keeping his end of the deal. In return, Scar looked to where Simba had fled and ordered two words:

"Kill him."

...

Simba ran as fast as he could. He couldn't get the image of his father's lifeless and mangled body out of his head. No matter how fast he ran, he could not get rid of images of Mufasa's death, Scar's accusations, and Sarabi's possible heartbreak. At the thought of his mother, he stopped and looked around at the walls surrounding him.

What am I doing? I can't leave yet, he thought. I gotta go back, apologize for what I've done. Maybe Mom will understand. I gotta be there for her.

But as he was turning around, he wished he hadn't. The five hyenas he and Nala met in the elephant graveyard were slowly approaching him. They were blocking his only way out, licking their chops, eyes glowing yellow in the shadow of the walls.

Simba spun around and started climbing up the mound of rocks, up towards a crack. He felt the hot smelly breath of the hyenas behind him; which one, he didn't care to look back and find out. With a grunt, he squeezed through a crack and made it to the other side, away from the gorge and at the edge of the Pride Lands.

But his triumph was short-lived. At the edge of the Pride Lands, it opened up at a cliff, which was a long fall to the bottom. If that wasn't enough to kill anyone foolish enough to fall, the thorns at the bottom could. Before Simba could find another way around, however, the hyenas were already running towards him. Shenzi was at the lead, her fangs bared and her tongue lolling out.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Simba leaped forward, towards the thorn patches at the bottom of the cliff. He tumbled and bumped against the rock, getting bruises all over his body. Behind him, the hyenas found an easier path, bounding and cackling. Simba eventually fell into the thickets, scratched and bloodied from the thorns around him, but it gave him brief protection as he tried navigating his way through to the other side.

All of a sudden, Banzai yelped "Whoa!" the closer they got to the edge of the thickets. He stopped in time, but the extra force of four other hyenas slamming into him sent him sailing into the thorns. Just a few seconds passed, and Banzai shot out of the thicket, yelling as he was prickled by the thorns. While Shenzi and Ed laughed at Banzai, who climbed out all prickly but alive, Kamari walked over to the edge, trying to sniff out Simba. Azizi joined him, nosily siding up beside him and looking down as well.

"Seriously?" Kamari snapped, irritated at Azizi's nosiness. "Are you for real?"

"Sorry. I'm gonna go right here," muttered Azizi. And he walked to the side, away from Kamari and near Ed.

Kamari nodded. "That's a good distance right there," he growled. "Keep each other company."

"Hey, there he goes! There he goes!" Shenzi suddenly barked. The hyenas looked to where she was glaring. Simba had pulled himself out of the thickets and was making a run for the desert, in the direction of the setting sun.

Banzai was too busy plucking thorns off of his body. "So go get him!"

"There ain't no way I'm goin' in there!" Shenzi scoffed. "What, you want me comin' out lookin' like you, Cactus Butt?"

With a frown, Banzai spat the thorns in his mouth at Ed. It hit Ed on the nose, making him yelp, and he worked on getting those thorns out. "We gotta finish the job," Banzai exclaimed.

"No cub would've survived a fall like that or the thorns. We should tell Scar that we went down there and ate him," Kamari advised.

Azizi licked his chops. "That's good. Because I'm starving."

Kamari turned on him, growling. "We're not gonna eat him! He's already running off!"

"Well, Simba's as good as dead out there anyway," replied Shenzi, staring out to where Simba was leaving. "Like you just said, Kamari, we can just tell Scar that we ate him. That's all he needs to know. And if he comes back, we'll kill him."

No one spoke for a few moments. Finally, Azizi shrugged and said, "Works for me."

"Yeah," agreed Banzai with a grin. He looked back to where the cub was fleeing. "Hey, you hear that?! If you ever come back, we'll kill ya!"

As Simba ran, he heard the hyena's threats and laughter echo in his ears. He should have been dead from that fall he had taken, from the cliff and into the thorn thickets, bruised and scratched. Yet he was still alive. For some strange kings-knew-what reason, he was alive. Right now, he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the hyenas as much as possible.

It was foolish to think he could go back. He could never return.

He was exiled from the Pride Lands.

To be continued...