The scrawny lion crumpled in a heap on the rock, trembling in the shadow of his brother's muscular bulk.
"I turn your back on you, and this is what you do?" Mufasa rumbled at him. "You leer at my queen-to-be, as if she were yours?"
Scar turned away. His eye stung like hell and wept blood onto the stone.
"Let that be a lesson to you: Don't look at her that way again. By doing so, you defy her wishes, and in so doing, you challenge me..."
"So how'd you get the scar, Uncle Scar?" The cub smiled up at him. "Was it a snake?"
The lion's wounded eye gave a twitch. Mufasa was padding up and giving him a glare that made the blood in his veins go cold.
"Leave it alone, Scar," Mufasa said. "That conversation will be had...but not today."
Simba frowned. "Aw, Dad—"
"It's something you'll understand when you're older. Now come along."
With a nod, he turned and padded away, leading Simba down the rock.
What a shame, Scar thought as he looked on. There won't be another day for either of you...