Disclaimer: I do not own Lion King. Yes. That is all.

Wakati Wa Majaribio

The Lion King and the Time of Trials

Chapter Three

Soul Mates

The sun beat down on Mahro's shoulders. He felt as if it were soaking into his skin and permeating the very marrow of his bones. With a gruff harrumph, the young lion stalked into the shade of a nearby acacia tree, feeling the cool relief wash over his white fur. He drew his tongue across his nose, mostly out of boredom.

"What's taking so long?" he sighed. Hunting for herbs in the brush was boring, but hunting was proving to be just as monotonous. The waiting was simply intolerable. Mahro peeked over the brush at the herd of zebra they were stalking. Each of the proud animals held themselves with sure-footed grace. Their young were more clumsy, darting between the adults and throwing up awkward heads, and for a moment Mahro wondered if they had caught on to the lions' presence and were mocking their inability to act in the presence of such a large group of prey. The fur along Mahro's shoulders bristled indignantly at the thought.

"I'm expecting Tsyra hasn't found one to single out yet," Tylah replied, almost as if she too had sensed the smugness of the tightly-packed group of zebra. Mahro sighed and sat down, trying to calm his trilling heartbeat. He hadn't hunted in so long, every inch of his muscles pulsed with the eagerness to be used. Sahlen didn't seem fazed by the situation. He sat grooming his face by licking his paw and drawing it over his forehead. With a quick peek at the herd, he continued washing.

"How do you two keep so calm?" Mahro asked, almost growling out loud with impatience as he stood and paced the small patch of tree shade.

"Unlike you, we do this every day," Sahlen replied. "It gets sort of routine after awhile, you know?" Despite his nonchalance, the lion's muscles were tensed and ready to respond at any given moment. What Mahro perceived as relax and patient in the lion's posture was merely the practiced posture of a trained hunter.

Mahro sighed. He didn't know how this sort of thing could be routine. It all seemed so exciting to him, the idea of hunting down prey, of feeling its life ebbing beneath one's claws. But then, even learning his father's healing craft had been excited to him, at first. I guess too much of a good thing makes it seem boring, he thought, staring out at the nearby zebra thoughtfully. Still, it would be better to hunt every day than to sit around and look at plants like he did.

"Hey, look," Tylah said. Mahro followed her gaze and saw Tsyra stalking a female zebra that had wandered from the rest of the herd. Once she was in position, she lifted her tail and signaled to the others waiting in the brush.

"Come on," Sahlen said, instantly on his feet and ready to move. Mahro's insides seemed to flip-flop as he darted after the siblings, and together the three young lions moved into the open. They kept to the side, thrusting their way in between the zebra and its herd. The bulk of the herd shied away from the predators, and Mahro felt a burst of relief that they had not moved to protect their herd member. The sharp, dark hooves of the zebra seemed dangerous up close.

The panicked gaze of the lone zebra flickered across the three groups of lions that had surrounded it—there was Tsyra, of course, and beside her ran Nichru, who was Sahlen and Tylah's uncle. The dark lion's grey eyes flashed as he signaled to the next group to move in. This group consisted of Peni, a red-furred lioness, and a golden-furred lion named Lir, whose jaw was torn so that the gums and teeth showed. Together the groups surrounded the zebra, pressing in on each side so that the prey could only dance and rear in place. Mahro felt his heart pound in excitement as Tsyra crouched, ready for the kill. Her jaw parted, shining teeth at the ready as her shoulders lifted and moved beneath her pelt with the fluidity of a serpent. Her hindquarters rippled as she launched herself into the air, fastening her teeth into the zebra's throat with practiced grace. For a moment Tsyra's hindquarters hung in the air, but her spine curved with the momentum of her leap and her hind claws fastened themselves cruelly in the thick neck of the zebra. The other lions leapt onto the body one by one and brought the beast down. Mahro was the last to attack, and he flew at the zebra's flank, pressing himself onto it and riding out the harsh spasms as its struggles weakened. Mahro felt the very moment when the life left the creature and its struggles ceased forever.

"Good catch," Peni said with a lopsided grin as she stepped away from the bleeding legs of the zebra, which were rent with the marks of her over-long teeth. Lir dipped his head to Tsyra in acknowledgement, but he didn't speak. The wound across his jaws sometimes garbled his words, so he preferred to remain silent most of the time to avoid having to repeat himself when others didn't understand him. Blood stained his exposed gums and teeth and lingered around the scarred flesh of his muzzle.

"This will feed many bellies tonight," Tsyra purred. She turned to Sahlen, Tylah, and Mahro and smiled. "Good work, young hunters."

"Thanks," Sahlen said, puffing out his chest proudly. He had tackled the zebra's shoulders—a difficult task, usually reserved for much larger hunters. Mahro felt a pang of jealousy at his friend's skill, but it passed quickly beneath the feeling of pride for a denmate's success.

"One day you'll make that killing blow yourself," Nichru said, smiling at his nephew as he ruffled the young lion's head fur with his large paw.

Lir made a growling noise in his throat and glanced at Nichru.

"Yeah, taking this back will be a pain," the dark lion sighed. Mahro thought it was weird how Nichru always seemed to know what Lir was thinking. But he supposed that was what old friendships looked like. For a moment the young lion thought of Hatima. Where was she, what was she doing? He wished he knew. It felt like he knew her well sometimes, like he could tell what she would say, and at other times he felt like he didn't know anything. It was frustrating to stand on the precipice of friendship, never fully understanding each other and yet feeling the bond of close friends all the same. Was this merely a transition that all good friends underwent? Or was the dream world keeping them apart?

"Hey, are you going to help or not?" Sahlen's voice snapped Mahro out of his thoughts. He saw that the other lions were staring at him, waiting for him to help lift the prey to carry it back to the oasis.

"Oh," he said sheepishly. Without another word he darted forward and helped to lift the heavy creature. His thoughts were still with the beautiful dark lioness of his dreams, though. Would he see her tonight? His heartbeat quickened at the thought, racing faster than it had even when he had joined his friends in the chase after the prey they now carried. He was glad to have the excuse of the hunt's excitement, otherwise the lions around him might have grown suspicious at the energy that caused his body to feel light and his heart to soar.

When the lions reached the oasis, they carried their prey to a large den carved with sure paws into the clay dunes. There they kept their kills to be shared among the pride. The hunting group stretched or roamed into the camp to talk with others, resting after the hours of waiting and the exhaustion that often accompanied the kill. Mahro did not feel like resting. He wanted to go back out, to feel the excitement of the chase again. But another part of him longed for the time when he would close his eyes and meet Hatima in the dream realm.

"That was a good hunt," Sahlen said.

"The wait wasn't terrible," Tylah agreed as she sat beside Mahro and began licking and rubbing at her muzzle to get the stains of blood out.

"It felt like forever," Mahro grumbled.

"That's because you haven't had to wait all day, like we have sometimes," Sahlen said. He rolled onto his back and lay there staring up at the clouds. Tylah kicked at his side and he wriggled around so that he could bat at her paw. Soon the inexhaustible pair were rolling about in the sand, their play fight attracting the attention of some of the young cubs of the pride.

Baako and his sister Adisa trotted closer, tripping over their own paws and each other's as they approached. Adisa's golden eyes shimmered as she watched, while Baako tried to copy Sahlen's movements with his over-large paws. Mahro padded over to them and sat just behind them, so as to have a good view of the play match himself.

"I'm going to be big and strong like Sahlen one day," Baako said to no one in particular.

"Betchu I'm gonna be bigger," Adisa said.

"Nuh-uh!" Baako countered, promptly tackling his sister. The two flailed and rolled about much less gracefully than Sahlen and Tylah, despite the lack of limbs and size that the young cubs had compared to the older siblings. Mahro watched the two scuffles with an amused expression on his face. Suddenly he heard his name and turned, ears pricked and eyes searching until they rested on the face of his mother.

Lesedi stood with her calm, beautiful grey-blue eyes resting on her son's face. Her smile beckoned him closer, and Mahro trotted up to his mother.

"What is it, Mama?" he asked.

"What is what, little one?" she purred. "Does a mother need a reason to talk to her son?"

"I guess not," Mahro said. He sat beside Lesedi and followed her gaze. She was watching Hashiki, who was sunbathing beside the den she shared with Kuzan. The lioness' round belly seemed to emit a glow that the rest of her fine, honey-gold fur did not. Mahro wondered if this happened to all expectant mothers. He did not remember what Kayin had looked like before she gave birth to Adisa and Baako. What had his mother looked like when she had been pregnant with him?

"You are full of thoughts now," his mother said. Mahro looked up at her wise face as her eyes traced their way back to him. "You are often full these days, always thinking. I wonder what you think of. Will you tell me?"

Mahro was silent for a few moments. Then he said, "Just now I was thinking of Hashiki. Are all mothers like that? All… happy looking?"

"Sometimes they are," Lesedi said. "And sometimes they are not. It is different for every mother, just as their experience with child raising must be different."

"I suppose it would be," Mahro murmured.

Lesedi tipped her head to one side. "This is not what troubles you, though. What is it you have been weighing in your mind recently?"

"Well…" Mahro listened to the noises of Tylah and Sahlen playing, of the two little cubs rolling about in mimicry of the older pair. He thought of Nichru and Lir, always aware of each other, always knowing what the other is thinking. Mahro sighed. "I think everyone must have a close friend except for me. And when I want to be close, I feel that there are too many obstacles in my way…" Like Reality.

"Ah," Lesedi said. "You seek something that is much more meaningful than the friendship you share with Tylah and Sahlen."

"They're littermates, so I guess they have a special bond because of that," Mahro said. "But Lir and Nichru are close like that, and they're not related."

"It is true," Lesedi said. "This friendship may arise from the bonds of blood, but this is not always so. The connection you seek is one of soul mates."

"What, like… mate mates? That doesn't make sense," Mahro said.

Lesedi laughed, and the sound was silvery and beautiful. "Mates do not need to be soul mates, and soul mates do not need to be mates, my son. A soul mate is someone who shares your heart, your mind, and who connects with you on a level that is quite beyond blood or ties of physical love. It is much more rare than bonds of kinship and romance. And therefore it is much more precious."

Mahro thought again of Hatima. Could they be soul mates, as his mother described? Perhaps that is why they found each other in the dream realm. A small flicker of some emotion—like hope or joy or love, but harder to name—stilled the unrest inside of Mahro's heart. He watched the siblings playing and then looked as Kuzan stepped across the camp to join his mate by their den. The gentle fondness with which he greeted her made her smile, peacefully and naturally. Perhaps they were soul mates, as well as mates, Mahro thought.

"Be patient, my son," Lesedi said. He looked at her and thought that her expression seemed sad. "Such bonds are blessings, when they come. But do not force them, for these bonds are fragile, and the loss of a soul mate is a terrible loss, indeed."

I searched for him through the dark, but the visions closed in on me. The voices of the Dark Place reached out into my mind, pulling at my attention, luring me in.

I shook myself as I tried to forget the dream of last night. I had so hoped to see Mahro again, but instead I had found myself once more trapped in the Dark Place. Now, the sun warmed my pelt as I sat on the stone outcrop overlooking the camp. My parents were gathering some of the older members of the pride for a meeting of some sort. Whispers and secretive looks had been common of late, ever since the sickness had broken out. I hadn't thought much of the ailment before—it had not seemed serious, just a cough that some of the older members of the pride had caught. But after the sick members had been quarantined, something must have happened. Why else would my parents refuse to tell anyone anything about it?

"I wonder what's going on," Nefti said. I glanced at her and at my brother. It seemed unlikely they had connected the meeting with the illness that had begun spreading. I would have not made the connection if I had not seen that vision while I wandered in the Dark Place…

Corpses lined the edges of the camp, the faces horribly marred by foam that clung to the jaws of my friends, my family… As I looked around me I felt the pull of those shadow voices. My instincts told me to flee, but the blood from the dead rose up around my paws, hot and sticky, swallowing up my paws and sucking them in. The stench of sickness filled my nostrils, and my eyes widened in horror as I saw my own body lying dead at my paws…

"Hatima?" My brother's voice snapped me out of my reverie. I was aware of the warm stone beneath me, the wind pulling at my fur, and I let out a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"

"I just asked if you had any ideas about all the fuss," Jua said. His expression was guarded, and I suspected he had guessed at the cause of my distraction.

"I'm not sure," I said after a brief pause. It seemed unwise to hint at the cause I felt had brought the pride together in this fashion. If I was wrong, or even if I was right, my brother was bound to wonder why I thought the sickness among our elders was the cause of this sudden meeting. And he would not be happy to here the truth, and certainly he could not be fooled by a lie.

"Well, let's not linger," Nefti said. "I want to take a walk. What do you say?" She smiled at Jua, and I felt that her invitation was more for him than for me.

"How about it?" Jua asked me.

"No thanks," I said, glancing at Nefti and then back at the gathered lions below. "I'm fine right here."

"Okay," Nefti said. "You in, Jua?"

"Let's go," he said with a nod. With one last glance at me he followed his friend down the slope towards the paths that led to a stream. I watched them go, and then got to my paws. I wanted to know what the adults were saying, and I knew how I was going to find out. Following the curve of the canyon, I wound my way to the outcroppings above the dens. It took some sure-footed climbing, but I managed to slip into a alcove near the elder's den. The crack in the cliff was just big enough for me to squeeze through, and as I neared its end, I found I was close enough to hear the voices of the gathered lions.

"This is like nothing I've ever seen," Sein said. His old voice was familiar and deep, and I shuddered at the foreboding gravity with which he spoke. I did not need to see his face to know how solemn his expression must be.

"The sickness will spread." This voice belonged to my father. He sounded uncharacteristically troubled, and my fears and the images from my vision plagued me. I strained my ears to listen, hoping I was wrong but knowing in my heart that what I had seen in the Dark Place was the truth.

"Kala has a cough," Laktta said. "The elderly and young are susceptible. We must keep those who are still healthy away from the infected."

"That may be difficult if this sickness is airborne, as it seems to be," Sein said.

"What can we do?" My mother's warm voice was quiet, and I had difficulty making out the words. If I had known her voice less, I would have been incapable of deciphering anything.

"I have been trying different herbs and remedies, but so far nothing has helped," Sein said. "Maybe you should send someone to the Southern Pride to see if Rafiki knows a remedy?"

"It's worth a try," Basrun sighed. My father sounded so defeated.

"Two have died already," Aliona murmured. "Anything is worth an attempt, if it will save lives."

"Then I shall send Miska to the Southern Pride," Basrun said.

I bit my lip and began slinking back through the crack towards the slight ascent I knew I could climb back up to the top of the cliff. My thoughts buzzed about in my head, as difficult to catch as a fly. When I finally reached the top of the cliff, I sat down and panted, tired from the climb and from the trying emotions that coursed through my body. What were we going to do? What could we do, in light of this terrible unknown disease? My vision flashed before my eyes, and I remembered the terrible film over the eyes of my loved ones, the foam even at my own lips as I stared down at my own dead body. This was not going to be just any illness. This was shaping up to be an epidemic.

"Mahro," I said breathlessly. I closed my eyes and felt my heart constrict as my thoughts turned to my friend. His father was a healer, I knew, and he had some knowledge of sickness. Would he know how to treat this disease? Would he be able to tell me what it was? I could only hope. And hope I did. It felt like the only thing I had to hold onto, the only guard I had against the terrible vision I had seen.

"Please," I murmured, speaking to my ancestors, to the earth, to anyone who would hear my prayers. "Let me see him tonight. Let him know how to stop this… before it's too late."

She had not appeared last night. Mahro worried that it would be the same now, as he stood among the serene trees, watching the soft grasses stir in the gentle breeze that so often touched the Clearing. The grasses just beyond stirred, and from the forest she emerged. Mahro felt his spirits lift, and he made his way to her quickly.

"Mahro," she said, and her voice shook with the emotion that brimmed in her eyes. The breath stopped in Mahro's throat, and his heart sank.

"Hatima, what's wrong?" he asked, terrified by the fear in her gaze. What had happened? He thought of waiting the previous night, and wondered if she had lost herself in the Dark Place again. If so, perhaps something had happened in that dark place. It was hard to tell what—the Dark Place rarely ever kept its shape, so every experience in that blackness was different than the last.

"It's my pride," she said, and her panic seemed to choke her. Every word she spoke was a difficulty for her, and she paused many times before she was able to string together the full sentence: "There's… a sickness… it's… we've never seen anything like it. No one knows how… how to heal it…"

"A sickness?" Mahro echoed. "What kind of sickness?"

Hatima shook her head. "We don't know. No one knows. Some of our pride just started coughing, and then they were quarantined, and I don't know anything else."

Mahro frowned. "There aren't any other symptoms?"

"I don't know," Hatima said. She had begun trembling, and Mahro felt the urge to protect her from this unknown danger. But what could he do? She lived in a world far from him, only seeing him in his dreams. He couldn't help if he didn't know anything about this sickness, and certainly he couldn't see it for himself.

"Listen, Hatima," Mahro said. She looked up at him with wide, helpless eyes. "You have to observe those who have this disease. Make a note of everything, everything you can notice about their condition that seems different than usual. Observe closely, and then tell me what you find out. I will try to help you if I or my father has any idea about this disease."

Hatima nodded. "I'll do that… Thank you, Mahro."

"Of course," he said. The two shared a sad look, and then Hatima turned and disappeared into the forest. Mahro stared after her before he closed his eyes and wished himself away from his dreamland.

Author's Note:

So, it's been awhile. But here it is, the third chapter. I think I got back on track, though the story is bound to be different since I lost my notes on what was supposed to happen. Well, I'm quite a different author now, so who knows, maybe the direction I'm going now will be more interesting than what was meant to happen before. We can always hope haha. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter. As always, feedback is much appreciated! Thanks for the support :)