Chapter 6: A Stranger in Our Mists

Mohatu's paws made crunching sounds upon the dry soil and dead leaves that covered the ground. Green, live grass and foliage had slowly began to deteriorate a few miles back, so Mohatu deduced that he was growing ever closer to the Wastelands. Not a moment to soon either. He had been traveling for nearly a full day, and he was exhausted. His lungs burned as he breathed in the dusty air. The seering heat of the sun had beaten down on him every inch of the way since dawn came upon the land, and his legs felt as if they would give out any second.

He forced his tired eyes forward, and moaned when he saw what lay ahead. A hill. It actually wasn't much more than a large incline, but after the journey Mohatu had weathered a incline seemed like a hill and a hill seemed like a mountain. He paused to catch his breath. He was half-tempted to just flop down onto the ground and sleep. But the heat would probably wither away at what was left of him as he slept, and would awake to the pain of the buzzards tearing the flesh from his bones. He looked to the sky. No buzzards yet. But they would certainly come if he decided to lay down. Though he didn't feel comfortable testing the limits of his body, he knew he couldn't quit just yet. He was almost there.

With a mental shove, he began to walk up the incline with slow, weary steps. One foot after the other. Slowly. Almost there. Mohatu mentally coached himself in such a manner until he finally reached the top of the hill. He continued to walk onto the ledge that jutted from the hill. He gasped in amazement. From that ledge, he could see the whole land. Miles of dried, dusty soil and dead trees, and a dried-up river that snaked throughout the valley. A monsterous gorge lay farther in the distance. There wasn't a blade of grass of a live tree in sight.

Mohatu squinted farther into the distance, near where the red sun was setting in the orange sky. Squinting against the glaring rays, Mohatu made out the shape of a large fortress of stone, much like Misty Rock. Only this rock was far, far bigger and had a very bizarre shape to it. The rock reached up toward the sky, and a long promontory jutted from the rock, just a few hundred feet about the ground. That could very well be where the resident pride lived.

He gave an exasperated sigh. The pride rock was miles away, and it would take him two hours, at the very least, to trek down the rocky slope and across the crumbling land. There was no way he could make it there on what little energy he had left.

Suddenly, he felt something hit him from behind with great force. With a roar of surprise, he sailed over the ledge and began to fall. He flailed his arms out, blinding trying to catch hold of something. Mohatu felt a sudden burst of pain on the side of his head as he hit a jutted rock. He let out a great roar of pain. His bones screamed for mercy as he collided with a bed of rocks and began to tumbled down the rocks, head over heels. After falling and tumbling for what felt like forever, he hit solid ground with a large thud. His landing disturbed a great amount of dust and debris, which enveloped him in a dark brown cloud.

Coughing and sputtering, Mohatu forced his legs underneath him and painfully pulled himself to his feet. His head throbbed intensely. His body hurt all over from tumbling over the hard and jagged rocks. What the hell happened? he asked himself. He blinked painfully at the dust, trying to see through the thick cloud. Out of nowhere, a sharp blow hit him along the side of his face, sending him flying and landing again, painfully on the ground.

This time, he made no effort to get up. Whatever sent him flailing over the edge of the ledge wanted him dead. At this point in time, he didn't care. The journey had weakened him to the point where fighting would be absolutely futile. The fall certainly damaged him, and he swore that his back, jaw, neck and legs were all broken. He couldn't fight. He wouldn't fight. He would just lay there, and let his assailant finish the job, hopefully, as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

"We've been expecting you," a dark voice hissed.

Mohatu groaned, in great pain, and opened his eye just enough to see who had spoken. A dark figure loomed over him. The figure had no mane, and was far to fair-built to be a male lion. The figure leaned in closer, and Mohatu was able to see that it was a lioness, and had a pale beige pelt. She also had striking green eyes, a color he had never seen before. It was almost a neon lime green, but somehow, they looked sinister.

"Let me tell you," the lioness continued as she began to circle him, "we don't take kindly to trespassers here." She stopped circling him, and leaned in. Mohatu watched from the corner of his eye as she unsheathed one of her razor-sharp claws and pressed it firmly against his jugular. He gasped in pain as she began to apply more and more pressure. The claw pierced his skin, and a drop of blood appeared out of the wound. Mohatu clenched his eyes shut, praying for the pain to be over. Death seemed like a reward compared to this. Please, please, he begged inwardly, just let me die. Just let me--

"Stop!" a bold voice commanded.

Both Mohatu and the lioness froze. The lioness turned to see who had dared to interrupt her. Standing just two meters from her and Mohatu was a group of four or five lionesses. A lioness with a dark beige pelt and brown eyes stared at her defiantly. It must have been she who had spoken. Withdrawing her claw from her victim's throat, she made her way toward the lionesses. "How dare you," she snarled, "what gives you the right to intrude upon my business like that, Bashasha?"

The defiant lioness--Bashasha--glowered at the lioness. "It's always been my job to keep an eye on you, Nyamavu," she growled back, "you know that as well as I do."

Nyamavu threateningly pressed her nose against Bashasha's. "Are you challenging me?"

Bashasha's brown eyes burned into Nyamavu's with great ire. "Do you feel lucky, Nyamavu?"

"Please, please stop." A lioness who had the palest pelt of all of the lionesses stepped forward. "I can't stand fighting, Bashasha. You know that."

Bashasha paused and looked to the lioness for a moment. She then glanced back at Nyamavu, who still seemed ready to fight. "Utisho's right," Bashasha said to Nyamavu. "We haven't the time for this."

Without so much as a second glance at her opponent, Bashasha brushed past Nyamavu and over to the barely-concious Mohatu. She leaned over him. "Now who do we have here?" she asked, in a remarkably tender voice. Mohatu creaked open an eye and looked up at her. Bashasha smiled. "What's the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?"

Mohatu blinked quizzically. He was having a hard time absorbing all that was going on around him. Between his exhaustion and his head injury, he was simply unable to think clearly. Giving up, he shut his eyes and lost consciousness. Bashasha's smiled faded. "Poor thing," she cooed. "What on earth happened to you?" She turned to the rest of the lionesses. "Let's bring him back to the cavern. Hopefully he'll come around."

Mohatu awoke to find himself laying on a cold stone floor in a well-shaded area. Slowly opening his eyes, he made a vain attempt to make out his surroundings. His eyesight was quite poor, probably the handiwork of his fall. Hitting one's head hard enough could probably impair many things. After such a fall, he only prayed that he wasn't paralyzed. He hadn't been able to move at all between the time he hit the ground and the time he passed out.

Focusing so intently that it was painful, Mohatu tried to see what was around him. He turned his head slowly, looking around. Thank gods, he thought to himself, at least the neck is working. He observed that he was in a cavern of some kind. But from his ledge earlier, he couldn't see anything that would possess such a cavern save for the pride rock. Could this be it? How could he have gotten here?

"Well, well, well, look who decided to wake up."

Startled, Mohatu snapped his head around to see who was intruding on him. Five lionesses stood in the mouth of the cavern, grinning at him. He licked his nose. Who were these lionesses? Should he know them? Mohatu realized that his curiosity was getting the better of him. The real question was not who are they?'. The vital question right now was friends...or foes?'

The lionesses slowly padded toward him. Mohatu just watched as they all came to him and sat in front of him, politely. The darkest of the five smiled to the others. "See, I told you he'd come around any day now," she said.

Mohatu blinked. Had he heard her correctly? Any day now? he asked himself. Had he really been out for that long? He pondered the question for a moment. From the time he blacked out to now, it had seemed like a short nap. But this lioness was implying that he had been out for far longer than he realized. The lioness must have read his confused expression, and gave him a sympathetic look. "You don't remember us, do you?" she asked. Mohatu lifted his head with vague interest and shook his head. The lioness smiled. "My name is Bashasha. That's my friend, Utisho"--she nodded toward the palest lioness, who gave Mohatu a wary smile--"the others helped to bring you into this cavern." She gave an exhausted sigh. "Believe me, that was no small task. You have quite a bit of bulk and muscle on you."

Mohatu just stared. He may have had bulk, but these lionesses certainly didn't. All of them were very slender, so slender that their ribs were visible. But his eye was drawn to one lioness, who was thinner than her pride sisters. The lioness had striking light green eyes, and two horizontal brown stripes on each of her forelegs. She noticed his gaze and grimaced at him with obvious distaste. "What are you looking at?" she challenged. Mohatu quickly averted his gaze. Bashasha chuckled. "Oh, don't pay any mind to Nyamavu," she advised, "she's really quite sweet once you get to know her."

The other lionesses giggled. Nyamavu shot a look in Bashasha's direction. Bashasha noticed, but decided to brush it off. Apparently, she's used to such treatment, thought Mohatu, she seems quite indifferent about it.

Still baring the friendly, gentle smile, Bashasha nudged Mohatu. "So, we still haven't managed to get a word out of you, stranger," she said, "what's your name?"

A bit of doubt crept into Mohatu's mind. He was unsure whether revealing his identity to these strange--yet friendly--lionesses would be a good decision. They might be familiar with his royal position, assume that he was coming to take over, and kill him on the spot. He gave them all a once over. Even though their looks may have deceived his eye, none of the lionesses appeared to be vicious enough to kill him. Except for Nyamavu, that is. "Mohatu," he replied, casting his doubts aside.

Bashasha bowed her head respectfully, and all the others--save for Nyamavu--followed her example. "Pleasure to meet you, Mohatu. Tell me, where are you from?"

While disclosing his name may not have placed him in any immediate danger, Mohatu had a feeling that telling them where he was from and what his position was might be a bad idea. Thinking fast, he replied, "I'm a rogue. I've been living on the border of this land, and the western land."

The lionesses seemed convinced, but very interested. "What on Earth would bring you to this place?" inquired Utisho.

Mohatu swallowed hard, realizing that he would have to come up with another lie. He wasn't comfortable with lying, and rarely ever did it. This situation was certainly rubbing him the wrong way. He forced a smile, hoping that it would hide his nervousness. "Well, I noticed how barren and game-less this land was compared to its neighboring land, and I was curious about what was happening that would cause this land to plummet into such a condition."

The lionesses raised their eyebrows, seeming impressed by Mohatu's answer. He looked from one lioness to the other, hoping that one of them would tell him why the famine existed. It was common knowledge that the best way to find a solution to a problem was to find its source and go from there. Finding the source might help the carrying-out of his plan in the future.

"None of your business!" Nyamavu snapped, startling them all. "Who do you think you are?"

"Easy, Nyamavu--" Utisho warned.

"No!" Nyamavu strode over to Mohatu, standing over him threateningly. "Listen to me! This...this...rogue...trespasses onto our land, then has the nerve to try to stick his nose into our business. The nerve!" She gave Mohatu the death glare. "You better watch your step, Rogue. You're behind enemy lines."

Bashasha lept to her feet and stared angrily at Nyamavu. "That's not true!" she exclaimed.

Unfazed by Bashasha's exclamation, Nyamavu continued. "It is, and you know it!" she shouted. She gave Mohatu a disgusted look. "Another hungry mouth to feed. His Majesty will not be pleased."

"Leave His Majesty' out of this!" retorted Bashasha. "He has nothing to do with this."

Nyamavu gave Bashasha a cold look. "It's his kingdom, isn't it?"

A silence fell upon the lions. The remaining three lionesses watched intently to see whose logic would prevail, while Mohatu squirmed nervously, frightened that all hell would break loose any moment now and he'd be caught in the middle of it.

"That's right," replied Bashasha quietly, "it's his kingdom. Not yours." The lionesses raised their eyebrows, impressed by Bashasha's statement. "You have no right to say what is and is not."

Nyamavu scowled, knowing that she had been beaten. There was a brief pause, then Nyamavu stormed past Bashasha toward the mouth of the cavern. She paused just after stepping outside the cavern, and looked over her shoulder at Bashasha. "Just wait." With that, she was gone.

Mohatu looked to Bashasha, and was surprised at how tranquil she looked. She merely shook her head, rolled her eyes, and sat down next to the other lionesses. He was surprised that she could just ignore a threat such as just wait'. Nyamavu sounded quite serious when she had said it, too, and Mohatu couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about causing such a commotion between the two. He turned to Bashasha with a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "I honestly didn't mean to--"

"Oh, don't you worry about it," Bashasha said, smiling warmly, "Nyamavu and I have never gotten along." She looked over at Utisho and the other two lionesses thoughtfully. "As a matter of fact, Nyamavu doesn't really get along with anyone. Except for, of course, His Majesty'." Bashasha's face turned sour. The other lionesses looked equally disgusted at the mention of their king, which caused Mohatu to wonder if it wasn't the king himself that was responsible for the famine. He had heard many a tale before of kings who grew too power-hungry and ended up destroying the kingdom, and ultimately, killing off his own pride members.

Bashasha sighed, and shook her head slowly, as if trying to qwell her anger. She then smiled sweetly at Mohatu as she rose to her feet. "I'll bet you're hungry," she said.

Mohatu nodded eagerly. It had been days since he had eaten, and he was willing to bet he could eat a whole hippo had it been provided to him. The lionesses laughed at Mohatu's reaction.

"The hunting party brought down an elephant calf yesterday," said Utisho, "it was pretty thin, but it will be enough to fill you up for now."

Mohatu smiled. "That would be wonderful."

As the other lionesses rose, Bashasha gave Mohatu a look of admiration. "Such manners!" she exclaimed. "I'm surprised you aren't a king yourself."

If only you knew, thought Mohatu, with a small grin. He rose to his feet and followed Bashasha and the other lionesses out of the den.

Nyamavu watched the pride feast on a previous kill from the ledge of the promontory. The lionesses were scattered about the rear end and legs while Mohatu was gorging himself at the belly. She growled in contempt, then spun on her heel and trotted at a brisk pace down the side of the rock toward the king's cavern. This rogue was really starting to get to her, and she decided it would be best to discuss it with the king and see what should be done with him.

"Permission to enter, Your Majesty?" she inquired impatiently from the mouth of the cavern.

"Granted," replied a deep voice from within.

Nyamavu wasted no time and trotted into the cavern. A small figure ran toward her. "Mommy!" it squealed.

With a smile, Nyamavu leaned down, caught the cub in her arm, and licked its head. "Hello, my daughter," she greeted lovingly. The light cub nuzzled her arm, and Nyamavu turned to the large lion laying before her. "I hope she wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all," replied the lion. "So, tell me what you've found out about our visitor."

Nyamavu snarled a bit. "His name is Mohatu, Sire."

A smile began to form on the lion's face. "Yes, yes. And did he state his origin?"

"He claims he is a rogue, come to see why the condition of our land is so poor." Nyamavu furrowed her brow in irritation. "As if it concerns him anyhow."

"A rogue, he says," replied the lion thoughtfully. He extended his claws and absently ran them along the floor of the cavern. "Very interesting."

Nymavu scoffed. "Interesting. Sire, he's truly wearing away at my nerves. Can't we just kill him?"

"No," replied the lion, causing Nyamavu's face to drop in disappointment. He grinned, his white teeth glowing in the darkness of the cave. "Come here and I'll tell you why."