Chapter 5
I said the name over and over in my head, "Simba, Simba, Simba." It had a nice ring to it. Once I said it aloud and one of the African men said, "Simba? That is the Swahili word for lion." I shrugged. It was his name, so what if he was named after what he was. The man retreated to his tent and I found a chair. I pulled it up and sat in front of Simba.
"So where did they find you?" I asked, only realizing it was a stupid question after I'd said it. He was unconscious when he'd first come, how was he supposed to know where they'd picked him up. But he did. "Somewhere in the desert. I was running away from..." he paused and a distant look came upon his face. "I'd rather not talk about it right now..." he said. I nodded.
Simba looked up. "What am I doing here anyway?" he asked after a few minutes. I sighed, did I dare tell him the truth? How would he take it? I couldn't lie, it just wasn't in my nature. "You're, you're," I stuttered. I wanted to say it, I knew I had to. I took a deep breath. It wasn't easy. Simba frowned. "You don't have to tell me, I'm sure I'll figure it out." I shook my head.
"No, it's better if I tell you," I said. Was it though? Either way it might come as a shock to him. I sighed once more. "The truth is, my dad and those other men are just going to wait till you're older and then..." once again I paused. I got this far, I could go on. "Skin you and sell you to a taxidermist." Simba gasped at first and then he cocked his head to one side.
"Taxi-what?" he said. I nearly hit myself. How would a lion cub know what a taxidermist was? I sighed and then forced a smile as I laughed at myself. "it's not funny, I'm only laughing at my mistake." I told him, making sure he knew. "a taxidermist is a person who stuffs animals once they're dead and then sells them to other people who hang them on their walls for other people to see and admire. I don't admire them though, I don't even agree with the idea."
Simba sat and gave me a quizzical look. "Then why are you here?" he asked. "My Dad made me come." Simba flinched at the mention of the word, "Dad." I pursed my lips. I made a mental note not to say Dad or speak of mine that much. Not that I really wanted to anyway.
"Diana! Get away from him, it's time to eat!" I heard Dad yell. I sighed. "I'll be back. That meat there is for you, it's probably not what you're used to, but it's all we have." Simba nodded and then lay down and began to knaw on the meat. I made my way over to the fire my dad had going. I grabbed a plate of food and ate absentmindedly.
I watched the flame as I ate. The flames danced and flickered. I sighed and then paused as I lifted a forkful of food. "Dad," I paused as I thought. Dad looked up. "Hmm?" he asked. I put the fork down. "What are you going to do with the cub?" I asked. Dad sighed. "We'll probably take it back with us and raise it, or I'll just sell it to Mr. Bigly and let him do whatever he wants with it." "NO!" I shouted before I realized what I was doing.
Dad gave me a quizzical look as did everyone else. "I mean, we should just stay here in Africa and raise him, after all he was born here. And besides, it's nice here and I'm enjoying myself." I said through gritted teeth. Dad smiled. "Well if you like it so much I don't' see any harm in staying." He nodded. "Sure, why not." He glanced toward the cub. And then he frowned. "Now don't go making a pet out of him. I guess if you want to talk to him go ahead, but don't cry to me when he's sitting in the taxidermy shop stuffed alright?" I nodded, although in my mind I thought, he'll be free if I have any say in the matter...
I said the name over and over in my head, "Simba, Simba, Simba." It had a nice ring to it. Once I said it aloud and one of the African men said, "Simba? That is the Swahili word for lion." I shrugged. It was his name, so what if he was named after what he was. The man retreated to his tent and I found a chair. I pulled it up and sat in front of Simba.
"So where did they find you?" I asked, only realizing it was a stupid question after I'd said it. He was unconscious when he'd first come, how was he supposed to know where they'd picked him up. But he did. "Somewhere in the desert. I was running away from..." he paused and a distant look came upon his face. "I'd rather not talk about it right now..." he said. I nodded.
Simba looked up. "What am I doing here anyway?" he asked after a few minutes. I sighed, did I dare tell him the truth? How would he take it? I couldn't lie, it just wasn't in my nature. "You're, you're," I stuttered. I wanted to say it, I knew I had to. I took a deep breath. It wasn't easy. Simba frowned. "You don't have to tell me, I'm sure I'll figure it out." I shook my head.
"No, it's better if I tell you," I said. Was it though? Either way it might come as a shock to him. I sighed once more. "The truth is, my dad and those other men are just going to wait till you're older and then..." once again I paused. I got this far, I could go on. "Skin you and sell you to a taxidermist." Simba gasped at first and then he cocked his head to one side.
"Taxi-what?" he said. I nearly hit myself. How would a lion cub know what a taxidermist was? I sighed and then forced a smile as I laughed at myself. "it's not funny, I'm only laughing at my mistake." I told him, making sure he knew. "a taxidermist is a person who stuffs animals once they're dead and then sells them to other people who hang them on their walls for other people to see and admire. I don't admire them though, I don't even agree with the idea."
Simba sat and gave me a quizzical look. "Then why are you here?" he asked. "My Dad made me come." Simba flinched at the mention of the word, "Dad." I pursed my lips. I made a mental note not to say Dad or speak of mine that much. Not that I really wanted to anyway.
"Diana! Get away from him, it's time to eat!" I heard Dad yell. I sighed. "I'll be back. That meat there is for you, it's probably not what you're used to, but it's all we have." Simba nodded and then lay down and began to knaw on the meat. I made my way over to the fire my dad had going. I grabbed a plate of food and ate absentmindedly.
I watched the flame as I ate. The flames danced and flickered. I sighed and then paused as I lifted a forkful of food. "Dad," I paused as I thought. Dad looked up. "Hmm?" he asked. I put the fork down. "What are you going to do with the cub?" I asked. Dad sighed. "We'll probably take it back with us and raise it, or I'll just sell it to Mr. Bigly and let him do whatever he wants with it." "NO!" I shouted before I realized what I was doing.
Dad gave me a quizzical look as did everyone else. "I mean, we should just stay here in Africa and raise him, after all he was born here. And besides, it's nice here and I'm enjoying myself." I said through gritted teeth. Dad smiled. "Well if you like it so much I don't' see any harm in staying." He nodded. "Sure, why not." He glanced toward the cub. And then he frowned. "Now don't go making a pet out of him. I guess if you want to talk to him go ahead, but don't cry to me when he's sitting in the taxidermy shop stuffed alright?" I nodded, although in my mind I thought, he'll be free if I have any say in the matter...