Simba slipped into a loping run, the muscles sliding easily under his golden hide. Soft paws thumping the ground, he made straight for the Outland border. A hunk of granite shaped like a hippo marked the boundary. Drawing a deep breath, he bounded up to the rock - and straight into another lion coming round it the other way.

Both rolled on their backs, growling with alarm, then twisted quickly to rise and face each other.

"Simba!" spat the lioness, wild eyes narrowing. "Zira." the king replied in a deep rumble. They crouched and hissed like a pair of alleycats, circling each other.

"You're in my territory." Zira informed Simba, her tongue flicking out to moisten white teeth.

"You're in mine." Simba answered quietly, indicating Zira's hind paws, which were clearly in Prideland bounds.

"We both know the rules," Zira smirked as Nuka came crashing out of the undergrowth.
"Here I am, Mother! Wow, is that Simba?"
"And it looks like you're outnumbered." The lioness took a step forward. "Shall we?"

Simba roared mightily. "Damn you Zira, where's my daughter?" he burst out, raking the soil with his claws. Zira looked surprised, then her expression changed to one of deadly anger.

"Where's my son?"

The lions clinched.

"Go on Mother! Get him in the guts! Yeah!" Nuka danced about on the sidelines, unwilling to get involved. He had reached his adult size now, but it was distinctly unimpressive next to Simba and he had little experience of fighting. He would have been the lowest-ranked creature of his pride if he hadn't had Zira to protect him. Nonetheless he had a bloodthirsty nature, and the spectacle of a good battle excited him.

"He's gonna strike! Guard your throat! Ohboy!" He sucked in his breath as Simba rowled and swiped a paw at Zira, but the lioness feinted to one side and countered with a long slash down the male's ribs. The next moment they had locked together and Nuka had to leap to one side as they rolled towards him in a spitting ball of fury. Zira was trying for a grip on Simba's throat, while he with his greater weight was attempting to pin her. Back and forth they struggled, tearing up the scrubby bushes and spattering the ground with drops of blood.

Simba could hardly see. His mane was wet with blood and hung across his eyes. Zira was a greyish blur, writhing away from him like smoke and returning like lightning to rip and tear. He pounced blindly, and trapped her hindquarters under his paws. His teeth sank in as though she were a gazelle or antelope rather than his fellow lion. Zira screamed, and whipped round to pierce his nose with flint-sharp claws. Simba jumped away and the two stood watching each other; flanks heaving, tails lashing.

Nuka saw his chance. "Gotcha!" He sailed through the air with all four paws aimed at Simba, face turned to his mother and wearing a triumphant smirk. Simba grunted and swatted him in midair, his eyes never straying from Zira. The young lion turned a whimpering somersault and crashed backwards into a thorn bush with his legs sticking straight up.

"Heh. Hehehe," he said, before his eyes rolled back and he passed out.

Both lions were cut and bruised, but neither was badly injured. Simba, panting, licked his lips.
"We can end this now," he said. "You have the chance to walk away."

Zira snorted. "So the mighty king is backing down? Couldn't take the heat, eh, Simba? No match for a poor widow lioness?"

Simba's eyes glowed red and he bared his teeth.
"That's it, Zira! Only one of us leaves here alive."

He crouched to spring; Zira tensed to meet him. Then a wailing shriek met their ears - the sound of a lion cub in distress.