The Endless Round

Simba, rapidly regretting coming down from Paradise:

The hush of a hot afternoon seeped through the forest, across the lowlands and into the distance like a blanket of fog. Simba lay hidden under a floor of bracken, soaking in the shade. Sweat made his fur stick, and his panting was so frantic his body rocked. Across the grassland, under a large tree, Timon waved frantically to get his attention. His sensitive hearing picked up the faint cry of Oi kid.

He had told Timon and Pumbaa his real name months ago, and to his relief not a hint of recognition flickered across their faces. As far as they were concerned, he was just a common lion from the surrounding plains with a past complicated enough that they were content not knowing.

They still tended to call him kid more than anything else, though.

Timon started jumping up and down, screaming louder and louder. Simba rose to his feet like a rolled hippo – angrily and with difficulty – and slinked away from the ferns and across the shredded grass. The hot sun burned his exposed golden hide, encouraging him to pick up the pace and jog between the two shady salvations.

Today had been a bit of a rude shock for Simba. The last five months of his life had been spent on the summit, where the nights were cool and the days pleasant. He spent his time swimming beneath waterfalls, dozing upon the soft mossy forest floor, constantly full and content from feasting on the banquet of bugs.

He had been excited about coming down to the lowlands. The last time they had gone, the rains had still been around, so the grass was green and thick and the sun sweet. He remembers racing along the lake's sandy bank, water flicking up and soaking him as he galloped in the shallows. He had never seen so much water in his life. He had tried to run around the entire thing, but gave up after ten minutes. He thought about swimming across it, but Timon had screamed at him that if he started drowning, the only ones rushing to grab him would be the crocodiles.

As he dipped into the shade, Timon jumped from Pumbaa's back to his with a nimble leap, swinging his arms as he tried to keep balance on Simba's much more narrow one.

"Took your time." Timon muttered as he pulled dead fragments of leaves from Simba's sweaty fur.

"I'm a lion, not a cheetah." He grumbled while walking slowly, trying not to tip Timon off.

"These days you're more of a warthog than anything." Timon slapped the tip of his ear, making Simba grunt and shake the tiny animal off him. Timon fell to the ground swearing, and picked himself up with a glare. "You need a bath, piglet." Simba chose to respond to the provocation maturely, by swiping Timon with his tail. The tiny angry creature spluttered as he tried to remain his balance. Pumbaa had been giving himself a dust bath at that point, but stopped to look up and proclaim dramatically.

"My son, finally embracing his true nature," he even threw in a few sniffles.

Simba turned his back on them, shoving his nose into the air. "Shuddap," he grunted as he licked some dust from his chest, though it smudged more than cleaned, and it tasted horrid. Timon and Pumbaa threw themselves to the ground laughing as he tried to spit some of the dirt grains out of his mouth.

With a shake, Simba walked away from them and up to the tree. He stretched up, digging his claws into the rough bark and closing his eyes to listen to the satisfying cracks and splinters.

He had grown a lot during the dry season, with time and food enough to get back to a healthy weight, and with his sores and infections healed, his body rapidly grew to the point where Simba would reckon that he was in prime condition. But that might be because he hadn't seen an actually predator for a whole season, and maybe comparing himself to a sleepy warthog and a jumping tick wasn't the best way to evaluate his size. He had doubled in size - no, tripled. Sometimes he even wondered if he had quadrupled. He was already starting to forget how big the lions of his pride were, only that his tiny paw sunk deep down into his father's footprint and fuzzy details of rubbing by his mother's leg.

Simba put those memories out of his mind; focusing on how good it felt to stretch, and how his skin felt where the sweat and dirt had dried. He really could go for a swim right about now.

They made their way down to the lake before the sun rose, so as to beat the crowds and save Pumbaa from a nerve racking and embarrassing experience. The lake was not as he remembered. It used to shimmer in the sun, with flowering mats of water weeds drifting along its surface and hundreds of birds floating on top. What Simba gazed upon now was an over glorified wallowing hole, shrunk in on itself. The land around was trampled and dried into ripples of hoof prints that jabbed and twisted his ankles as he walked over them. The soil was turned white by the herds and flocks who had spent days roosted by the water, their sun bleached dung making a rough mat over the dust. Dust and tiny inspects swirled above the feces, and when the first rays of sun caught them, it almost seemed there were more of them then there was air to breath. It was, unpleasant, to say the least. It tasted of slushy mud, not sweet like that from the summit, and not like the rich river water from the Pridelands. Not even like the alkaline cave water from the wastelands.

They sought out a good spot to watch the sunrise, and Timon and Pumbaa stretched out in the dirt, while Simba climbed high up into a nearby tree. He spent his time bathing, always a happier cat when dried and cleaned until his coat shimmered. From up high he had the perfect view as the sun climbed. With the revival of heat, the wind picked up as well. Instantly Simba smelt it. A kill. It was big too, bloody and nearby. Timon and Pumbaa didn't seem to notice.

A memory of a conversation flashed over his eyes, where Pumbaa was telling a joke that ended in him being distracted by a dragon fly. Timon raising a skeptical eyebrow as he cleaned his face of orange beetle guts.

Listen kid, I'm not an idiot, I'm a realist, the world ain't all showers and flowers. One day you're going to outgrow bugs, and you're going to start hunting. And let me just get this over with and say that neither me or Pumbaa take any offence. A lions gotta do what a lions gotta do. Like we say, Hakuna Matata, it's no use fighting the circle of life.

That had been the first time he had heard Timon talk about the circle of life.

Circle of life? You know about it?

What?

...what?

I just know about it like a phrase, you know, 'don't fight the circle of life, you'll just get squished' and stuff like 'what goes around comes around'. I mean, I was taught about the food chain, and warthogs like Pumbaa are taught survival of the fittest.

Oh...well, I was taught that when we die our bodies become the grass, and the antelope eat the grass, and we then eat the antelope. And so we are all connected in the great circle of life.

Fascinating... Timon had rubbed his chin, a focused expression deepening his frown. But incorrect.

Simba tilted his head to the side, How so?

Have you ever seen a dead body? Come on, you're a lion, or course you have. And your pride should have seen plenty of dead bodies, they should know better. Carcasses don't become grass. Bah! Even Pumbaa joined in, adding his own 'bah!' Timon had started strutting up and down the forest floor, a twig under his arm as he marched; chopping his hand against his other palm every time he made a point.

I eat the bugs, and the bugs will eat me. That's my second motto. You get devoured by flies, and the maggots, and the worms, along with the vultures and all those birds, they eat you all up! The hyenas break you bones into tiny pieces. I mean, their shit fertilizes the grass. But that means you become shit before you become grass.

The circle of life is complicated, more complicated than my father bothered to explain to a young cub. I'm sure it was simplified for me.

They had been quite after that, it was the first and last time Simba had ever mentioned his father.

In comfortable silence they watched the herds come down to the lake, and as the crowds grew, so did the drama.

May the rains come soon. Simba pleaded, looking up to the bone dry sky.


Maasi of the Thunderlands,Sister to the Thunder Chief, possible future Queen:

She studied the moon, full and heavy. So much had happened. The last time the moon had been this big, well...

On the last last full moon, she had been accompanying the princess south towards the Pridelands, under strict instructions from her uncle to get her there as fast as possible. Her uncle was desperate for an alliance with the powerful king, he bragged about his master plan all the time, with his young daughter Queen to the most powerful and frightening king since times bygone... well, we wouldn't have to worry about those damn leopards and the rouge prides that pressed around the edges of his slowly shrinking territory.

In her opinion, her uncle deserved to have the land ripped from under him, he was no chief, and no uncle of hers. He had forgotten that the last chiefs were killed for such greedy behaviour. He had forgotten the promises he had made, and why he had been elected all those years ago. His six wives was a testament to that, along with the growing grumbles in the pride. He would be safe while the pride ate well thanks to the coming of the gnu, but once they began their migration back to the Pridelands...

She prayed that the king refused the little princess, and they returned with no alliance. Even better, that the fearsome king declared war or something, offended by the prize offered to him. She listened keenly to the whispers in the trees on the journey; he had been sending lionesses away as often as he requested them. Some leaving with sour development in their wake. Was he flattering each one, taking them into his den, and then when he grew bored throwing them away? It was a possibility, but it raised the question of why he hadn't been ambushed and mauled yet. No many get away with scorning that many lionesses and live to tell the tale.

She had not been prepared for the fear she felt crossing into the Pridelands. She could smell the markings of the pride. They smelt strong. Why did the chief have to choose her to accompany his 'most beautiful' daughter and her three lion guards? Sure, she was experienced, the best at going unseen and undisturbed. It was with her help they got here so quickly, with not one incident, but honestly? She was one of the most anti-him animals alive. She was the reason he suffered nightmares of his throat being slit in his sleep. Which flattered her.

Maybe her uncle hoped that she would be killed. She did have a bad habit of disrespecting lions of higher status than her, but that was an intentional habit, and she had no illusions about being rude towards the king. He slaughtered lord's who disrespected him, let alone a messily lioness with a dodgy leg.

For the first time in a long time, she felt sympathy towards the princess. She was uneasy, but what must the princess be felling? She was young, hardly out of childhood. A virgin facing the reality that if the king liked her enough, she could be married and in his den, him above her, within the hour. She had stopped then, and turned around to look at her little cousin. She was small, and her shoulders shook with every step. She did something no lion could believe. She licked her on the head, and promised that, if she didn't want to, then all she had to do was say the word, and she would fight fang and claw to get her out.

She thinks that the princess must have really believed she could save her. Which was about as foolish as her actual promise. It must be nice being that young and sheltered. Maybe in her mind, if her father feared this lionesses, than the lion king would have something to fear of her too.

Her dodgy leg ached when they finally made it to the base of the massive rock. It had been a hard, long journey to get here; they had left when the moon was growing, and watched it fill before slimming to nothing before growing again. Last night she had watched it, and judged this night to be it at its fullest. Twenty nine days it had taken them, they had better offer them a nights rest before declining the princess and sending them back. Said princess was practically clinging to her side like a baboon to its mother, and she resisted the urge to shake her off.

She studied a male that sat by the base of the rocky tower. The rumours that the Pridelander's were some of the biggest lions in the lands was prove true when he got up to stretch. Interesting. Some of them were so golden that they glowed in the sun; she could see them, moving about above, their heads popping from everywhere as they peeked over to get a view of the new arrivals. The three guards were on edge, but her nerves were now honed to steel. She raised her chin and regarded the lion that had come down to meet them. Was this the king? No, this would just be some low ranking messenger. Or maybe a mid ranking ambassador? She was not sure how highly the Pridelander's valued her pride.

The oldest guard had take on the diplomat duties, since he was of the highest rank among them. They were lead up the hill, around the lionesses sun bathing on the rocks (some of which made the guards drool) and up a step that landed them on a large, flat plateau of stone. There were lions everywhere. Adrenaline coursed through her like gnu across a crocodile infested river, and that made her feel more watched and penned in then she actual was.

Her eyes landed on what had to be the king. He was reclining against a rock, relaxed in only the way pure confidence would create. He was massive. The biggest lion in the pride. Their escort went to the king's side, and even though he stood while the king lay, she could clearly see that the king was bigger, stronger and older.

Dear god, her little niece was going to be crushed and split in two. Even though she had been accused all her life of being a cold lioness, in her mind she had already decided that if the king insisted on taking her niece, it would be over her dead body. Unless the princess wanted to, of course, though she would caution like a weary aunt that she was, into waiting a few years until her body matured before starting to learn how to really enjoy a mate.

She didn't know what it was that made her look behind her. Maybe it was instincts learned from those five years she had run away and lived as a rouge, (curse this leg for making her return to the pride on her knees) maybe it was just an itchy sense of being watched. But she twisted her head to scan what was behind her, and there she noticed him. He was a handsome lion, hidden in the lean of a rock, easily looked over. She narrowed her eyes at him. Then he turned and his eyes met hers, and then they stayed.

Maybe he thought it was a staring competition for dominance or something, and that was why he didn't look away after eye contact was held far longer than acceptable. For her, it was because every muscle was frozen, and her brain was in meltdown.

If she was honest, she had never felt attracted to a male like this before. And he was obscured in the shadows! Sure there had been those hot flings when she was a rebellious young lioness. But, upon the soul's of her ancestors she hone-

Massi, her niece had whispered in her ear, nudging her to get her attention.

Huh? She was intelligent, she was strong, she was mature and experienced and she was not going to be affected by the fact she was in the presence of someone that scratched all her itches. She glared at her niece in frustration, before catching herself and smiling softly at the nervous cub. She would solicit the attractive male for sexual favours later; right now she had to concentrate.

The king was talking with the senior guard, making one of their most experienced fighters look like a shivering wreck. He looked in their direction, and asked for the intended. Her niece did not respond, not lifting one muscle to step forward, so she nudged her, which gave the cub enough comfort along with force to go up to the king. It looked a sight. The lions of her lands were much darker than the Pridelanders, and they had a more distinct pattern and colour difference between their underbelly and back. The princess was an ideal beauty of their lands, dark with lighter fur underneath and along with a black stripe down her forehead. She contrasted sharply to the king, with his golden coat and fiery red mane. It was almost a headache inducing clash. The king, who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, regarded her kindly before apologising that she was just not acceptable. Much too young, he reasoned. She breathed a sigh at the same time her niece nearly collapsed from relief. The guard reacted much more... violently. He started growling, how dare they suggest their most beautiful and radiant princess was not good enough, how dare they ask them to come all this way and turn them away after two minutes of appraisal. How dare they! At least a day of appraisal, nay, a week!

She was not paying much attention to what he said next, because the attractive male in the shadows was now trotting across the yard. She couldn't believe her eyes. Silky black mane billowing around him, earthy red hide, a massive male, just like all the others, but not brutish like them, more... she didn't know, her train of thought wasn't too on track right now. He walked right up to the king and bent down to counsel him. To which the king listened intently to. Why did that turn her on? Maybe because he looked wise and powerful?

Thankyou hateful uncle for casting me away on this trip. How's the weather back there?

Her and the other two guards observed the hushed meeting with intensity, for different reasons. When the senior guard started growling, her ears perked up in curiosity. Obviously he was under extra orders from the chief, and things were not going to plan. It struck her as weird, in that moment, that the King had not moved so much as to shift his weight, and that it was weird he would tolerate the male from the shadows to stand beside him like that, higher than him and in a more dominate position. Her niece snapped around with startling speed to stare at her, horror growing on her face. She looked back, trying to read what the cub was trying to tell her, urging her with her wide eyes. What had the handsome male just said? Why had everything changed so suddenly? Why was the senior guard speechless? She started to glare, not happy being left out of the know. The handsome male looked up at her, inquisitive, sparkling eyes meeting her glare and never shielding away.

You want her? The senior guard sneered.

She had not liked that. The handsome male was sly, she could sense it, there was something wrong with this scene, she could feel it. The senior guard looked over at her, and in response to her glare, which intensified just for him, he smiled from ear to ear.

Oi, Maasi, you lucky cat.

She had started stalking over then, shaking the guards off her when they tried to hold her back. She wedged herself between her niece and the males, not even the prime male safe from her snarl.

No. She had growled, firm, sharp, scary. Her ears flat against her skull, and her tail slipping violently. She positioned her body better to shield her niece.

You don't even know what it is.

His voice was raspy, he was looking at her with undivided attention - ancestors take her now.

If he is happy about it, then it's not going to turn out well for me. She turned away from the hot male to glare at the stupid male. He took offence and swiped his paw down, claws extended, inches from her face. It was a common bluff within her pride, she flinched only an inch before swiping her own claws out in turn. What was also common within the pride was the knowledge that she rarely bluffed. He jump back violently, lips peeled back in a fearful snarl.

Bitch, he muttered, his pride bruised, and in front of such esteemed company as well. Her face softened to one of impassiveness, showing that she couldn't give less of a flying hippo's warted ass about what he had to say of her.

The King cleared his throat. A sudden sense of shame fell over her as she shifted with downturned ears to regard the king.

Had it only been a single moon phase? Only twenty five days ago? Now, though she was loathe to admit it out loud, she was in love. Ancestors save me. In the same time it took her to get to the Pridelands, she had managed to catch the eye of a male who she was equally interested in, and they went on to win each other over in such a easy fashion that she didn't even know how it had happened. Though she wasn't too happy that it took him three whole weeks to actually tell her he was the king. He had earned a swipe across the head for that. Rafiki was talking about when they would officially announce her as the queen, hopefully far, far in the future. It was intimidating thinking about how fast they were moving. But even that wasn't the reason she was out here, so scared she was shaking, the reason she couldn't get to sleep tonight.

She was counting down the days until Taka returned, her mate had been gone for three days, and was due back in two. She sighed at the thought of two more days, then sighed even deeper as she was reminded what was upsetting her so much that she had come to pace all night long around Priderock.

She had never been a maternal lioness, and had never really wanted cubs. She had completely forgotten the existence of such little creatures, and if it did occur to her briefly while dozing in the sun or being bathed by her mate as they relaxed by the cave mouth, she always disregarded them. It look time to fall pregnant, it took careful effort (right?), if she wasn't ready for cubs then her body would respect that (right?).

Right?

She felt like spewing. The night was hot and the crickets were loud, and the moon was full. She should have had her low time by now, but she didn't, instead when she stretched that morning three days ago, her nipples had hurt, and she had hissed in confused. Had she been bruised during the hunt of that buffalo yesterday? She smelt different too, she had thought it was because of the changing from being on heat to her low time, but it wasn't the same as a low time...

She turned around and vaulted up the side of Priderock, not caring for the usual paths, instead latching her arms over whatever edge she could find and pushing up with her hind legs. Racing up the steep steps, she ran to the mouth of the Big Den. Most lions had gone on the envoy with Taka, and the rest were out hunting, but one or two had the night off, and a pile of half grown cubs snored in a corner. She was scared stiff by the sight of them, but pressed on. She had to talk to Sarabi, she had to. The older lioness had been a mother before. She had heard stories of the little Simba, and one of the older lionesses called her mum, and that young male from the Lakelands was supposedly her grandson or something.

Like always, she found Sarabi resting protectively by her mate's side. She eyed Mufasa wearily. It's not that she didn't trust the male - she spent most of her time with the couple - heck she spent all of her days with the two. Since Mufasa moved slower than a snail, even with Sarabi acting as a crutch, the two rarely left Priderock, and she often found herself alone with the old king and queen, everyone out hunting or patrolling. The pride was busier than usual, with the cubs hungry and growing, a large chuck of the pride's time was spent taking them out into the lands and teaching them the ways. Soon they would be apprenticed out to whichever lion's skills best matched theirs, and the strain on the pride would lift to be deposited directly on the shoulders of a sorrowful few. Sarabi and Mufasa had laughed about it, apparently Sarabi had been considered to mentor one of the smaller boys, but she had declined. She spent her days by Mufasa's side, grooming him, feeding him, talking to him, helping him walk two meters to a sunnier patch. They seemed perfectly content simply being in each other's presence. She had wondered if she and Scar would ever grow old together. Back then there had been attraction between them, for sure, but love hadn't truly started to grow, and she had always been a highly realistic, if not a cynical lioness. Now, as she nudged Sarabi's shoulder and struggled to hold down vomit, she knew that they stood a good chance of lifelong love. They clicked, it was very strange. If only she could...just...not puke... all over her friend...


A Spy, hiding in Priderock:

Sarabi looked down at where Maasi sat with perfect regal pose. Excitement bubbled within her as she watched Scar approach, drawing close to his mate and nuzzling her. A moon ago she wouldn't have believed Scar capable of such love, but a moon ago they hadn't met Maasi. Sarabi didn't know what it was about her that had caught Scar's eye, but he knew how to pick them, she would admit.

Though that raised the question of why he mucked around so long with that horrid Zira lioness nearly five months ago. Scar had seemed happy to continue along whatever weird game the two were playing, it was only through Mufasa's counsel that he realised he had to turn her away. Back when Mufasa had only just awoke and was struggling to relearn how to talk, Zira had mocked his lisping and halted speech whenever know one was around. Maybe she thought Scar wouldn't mind her belittling his only rival for the throne, or maybe that Mufasa would never recover enough to tell anyone.

It had been the final straw for Scar, who hadn't taken kindly at all when Mufasa could talk competently enough to tell him.

She is a sly lioness, would the pride benefit from a lioness like her?

No. It needs a trustworthy queen.

Most importantly, she needs to have your trust. I know that you don't trust Zira, or even consider her kindly. She does have the ability to lead.

She has the ability to manipulate, and seduce whoever she wishes, that is true, but rule fairly?

I never imagined you would be so picky Scar.

Well I didn't have the gods speak through the bloody baboon and point me in the direction of my soul mate.

It is strange, why they have not done so for you yet.

Don't beat yourself up over it Mufasa.

The escort looked tired and ragged, and after embracing their loved ones, went into the Big Den to sleep and groom the day away. Sarabi stayed, discreetly watching as her brother-in-law and his mate continued to embrace. Mufasa was there too, flattening himself to the ground and peeking underneath the very rock she was peeking over. Would Maasi tell her mate of what she suspected? It was still early days, there was no way to be sure, but Maasi had seemed so sure... so upset...

Sarabi studied the pair, fantasying about what sort of little nieces or nephews they could make. Scar had filled out to be a handsome male once he stopped spending his days slinking around the borders and actually started eating at the pride's kills, and when in the presence of Maasi his constant smile (or smirk, depending on what sort of mood the extremely sexually active pair was in) made his face so much softer and pleasant.

Thinking back, that was probably why there were cubs on the way already. Maasi had been shocked, but honestly Sarabi had been half expecting, half hoping for this. It had been her and Mufasa who pushed Scar to continue his search for a mate so ferociously. Well, less like pushed and more like continued to organise without his approval. She and Mufasa had had many deep, long discussions about them, Simba, their future. Eventually, in time, they had decided that they wanted one last child. It had been a hard decision, but they felt like it would help the pride move on, and Sarabi hoped it could do something to ease the hole in her heart. The only hold up was that Mufasa refused to have a cub older than Scar's eventual heir.

They harassed Scar to find a lovely lady and produce a heir as quickly as possible. Which embarrassed him, and sometimes made him yell at them go away. Sarabi could not thank Maasi enough. She didn't think she had ever seen Scar look at a lioness like he did with Maasi, and he had seen all the beauties the surrounding lands had to offer.

They would space the cubs a year apart. Sarabi already felt broody thinking about it. It was beyond nice to have something to look forward to - to be excited about something again.

Obviously her little niece or nephew would be dark like their parents. Scar had that nice copper coat, and Maasi was more of a milky version of him. But she had the nice, soft white underbelly and neck, and her coat had more shades in it. Her ears had these sweet little dark dots on them, along with the classic stripe down her forehead that all her pride sported. That little niece of hers had had a really bold one, Sarabi remembered. And of course Sarabi prayed that the cub inherited their mother's pattern. It was the envy of all the lionesses, some muttered that she had to have a bit of leopard in her, but Sarabi knew it was much more detailed and barred than a leopards. More of a lion pattern. She had seen quite a few with bold patterns like Maasi's back in the Lakelands, where it was more common.

Hmm, yes, it would be a beautiful cub. She hoped Scar didn't freak out as much as Maasi did, that was, if she ever got up the nerve to tell him. If she knew Maasi well enough, the cub would be having cubs of its own before she got up the nerve to tell Scar about it. Mufasa seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"She's not going to tell him," he grumbled. Sarabi rolled her eyes. "We should tell him," he suggested.

"We promised not to tell," Sarabi snapped, kicking him softly with one of the hind legs she stood up on, gripping the rock with her front two to keep balance.

"You promised," he sulked under his breath. Sarabi snorted, and they both feel into silence as they focused on Scar and Maasi, who seemed to have fallen into a serious discussion.

"Can we go visit Simba today?" Mufasa asked her softly. A small smile grew on her face, she was happy he had asked. She felt like visiting her son too. Rafiki had made a beautiful memorial for Simba at the big climbing tree the cubs played on. Though they didn't spend much time there anymore, with them growing up and all. Rafiki had painted the tree in beautiful colours, and hung hundreds of those long streamers he made from grass all along its branches. It looked beautiful when there was a breeze, and the birds loved to play in it. The next generation of cubs will lose their minds when they see it for the first time.

She knows Simba would have loved it. He always loved exploring.

It had been a meditative exercise of Rafiki, the monkey said that there was many things to meditate on these days, and a lot to learn from the ancestors. The baboon seemed more confused and frustrated than mournful about Simba, which didn't offend Sarabi, it just perplexed her.

"Yeah," She looked down and watched as Mufasa smiled a very hesitant smile.

Mufasa's memory was very patchy after he awoke, some small things recovered, but large chucks were gone. His childhood he remembered with clarity, his relationship with her and some key moments of his life he could recall easily. But the last few years was blurry, he only remembered friends when they came to see him. He hadn't known who Rafiki was until the monkey had come into the cave and sat down with him. He had confessed that he remembered Rafiki from childhood, but couldn't connect Rafiki of childhood and Rafiki his good friend together. It was like half of the connections in his memory had failed to reboot.

He didn't remember Simba, and Sarabi knew he was deeply troubled by it. He spent a lot of his time asking her questions about their cub, and a lot of time sitting in some of Simba's favourite playing spots. But he never could really recall his own son.

Sarabi wondered if it was worse, or better that way.

While spying on Scar and Maasi, Sarabi noticed a young lioness coming in from the plains. It was Nala, proudly carrying a peasant home. She was young, but already honing her hunting skills, and showing signs of promise. She knew quite a few of the high ranking hunters were fighting amongst each other to win Nala as an apprentice. Emerging from the grass behind Nala was her sister, the gentle Berta. Surprisingly the other lioness had a kill as well. Berta was never much of a huntress, but maybe she was picking up some skills from spending so much time with Nala?

More likely it was Nala's second kill, and the creamy cub had gotten her sister to carry it back home for her. Sarabi chuckled as she saw some of the other cubs sniff at Nala's kill, curiosity in their eyes.

Simba, what would you have been doing, if you were still alive?


Simba, crawling into a Rotting Corpse:

"Look at this Timon!" Simba yelled from inside the hippo, chuckling when he heard Timon groan outside.

"No! It's disgusting. How do you lions consider this appealing? Maggot's work, I tell you, maggot's wor-" He was cut off by the sounds of retching.

I think it smells alright.

Simba moved along the hippo's ribcage, pushing some half digested grass aside so that he got a better look at the lungs. The vultures and jackals hadn't managed to eat all of his insides. The heart was gone, and all the rich bits like the liver and kidneys were long gone, however some of the less nutrition, but still interesting stuff, remained.

"Simba! Oi, get out of there!" Pfft, as if.

Simba tuned Timon and Pumbaa out as he grabbed a mouthful of lung. He tried pulling it out to show his hypocritical friend, who happily chewed on squirming worms but couldn't stomached a dead hippo. But the lung refused to budge. Simba didn't want Timon to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity to know what a lung looked like, so he dug his claws into the insides of the hippo and heaved, trying to break it free. There was no air down in the hippo, just gas and steam. Panting from a combination of the effort and the lack of oxygen, Simba turned around and jumped up out of the hole the vultures had made in the hippo's side, intending to catch his breath and make fun of Timon at the same time.

Instead Simba looked down at what appeared to be a sea of round black ears and skinny legs. If he narrowed his eyes he could just make out Timon and Pumbaa in the distance, arms flailing and kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. Gees, some guardians.

"Woah! What are you!" Exclaimed a high pitched voice, at once seven (or was it eight?) pairs of eye were glued to him, some squealing or yelping at his sudden appearance.

"I'm a lion," he told the speaker, confused, didn't they know what a lion looked like?

"Whoah!" They all chorused at the same time, though one to the left cocked their head and muttered what's a lion?

"Is this your kill?!"

"Did you kill mister hippo?!" Before he had time to answer, they seemed to have assumed.

"Whooaahh!"

"So strong!"

"Teach me your secrets, master!" They all started howling and squeaking at the same time, jumping around like crickets. Simba tried to count them all, but it was impossible. Some sort of cub? No, puppies more likely.

"Are you a mutant cheetah?" Was it because he was covered in congealed blood that they were so confused about his identity?

"No, I'm a lion."

He watched as one took a running leap, trying to join him on top of the hippo corpse. He fell back on his bottom, and all his litter mates laugh-squeaked at him.

"You're lucky father isn't here to see that!"

"You're lucky mother isn't here to stop be from ripping out your throat!"

Simba looked on in horror as the two brothers lunged at each other, squawking louder than parrots as they wrestled.

"Are lions meant to look like you?" One asked from right beside him. Simba jumped and eyed the little pup, sitting beside him with inquisitive regard.

"I would assume so, yes." Simba told her.

Simba watched on with a sense of growing dread as the rest of her litter mates learn from her and climbed up the hippo's head first and scrambled up the incline of his body. It was like watching a forest fire surge towards you, just an unstoppable line of black and varying shades of yellow.

"Lions look weird," she huffed, scratching her ear.

"That's a matter of personal preference."

She stopped and seemed to think about what he had said deeply.

"What's personal preferences mean?"

Ergh.


The King and his Current Lover, Upon the Flat Top of His Throne:

The afternoon sun burned their exposed backs, but it was a pleasant and familiar sensation. At this time of year, her homeland would be experiencing thunderstorms every night, the herds would have arrived, and the great rivers she talked about would be gushing against their banks. She was used to being able to see the horizon - her pride ruled the largest, flattest grass plains in all the lands - but not from up high.

She rolled in her sleep, more restless than usual. She had been doing a lot of pacing as well, and often got lost in her thoughts while he was talking to her. Was she unhappy? Was she regretting her relationship with him? Scar sighed deeply, a frown worrying his face. He watched her sides rise up and down as she breathed, and the way her muscles sometimes twitched. Her coat shone a beautiful warm brown in the sunlight, and the perfect whiteness of her undercoat glowed. With her stretched out like this, outlines of her lean muscles were visible. Scar leaned over her and licked a patch of fur that had been ruffled. The muscles underneath shivered in reaction, and the lioness grunted, but she didn't wake up. Instead she finally relaxed, tension leaving her shoulders, and slipped away into sound sleep. Scar watched over her for a few moments, before turning to stare at empty air, his glare prepared for when three hyena heads appeared.

"Ah, there you are Scar." Banzi yipped happily, leaping up the last step and trotting across the plateau, half way across, he stopped and shivered, looking around him. Ed sniggered from back on the steps. "How do you enjoy this? I feel like the winds going to blow me away!"

The wind was stronger than usual today, but it wasn't unsettling to Scar. Instead he preferred it, it kept the bite of the heat off the land, and he liked the feel of it throwing his mane around. Tenderly, Banzi kept walking towards him, this time with his whole body lowered and constant vigilant looks around him, like he would be able to catch the wind sneaking up on him. In contrast to Banzi's height phobia, two little pups raced through his legs, taking flying legs for Scar. Usually he would have side stepped them, but he was a bit too close to the edge, and didn't want to have to explain to an enraged Shenzi why her maniac pups had become nothing but black little splats upon Priderock. Even though it would probably be an improvement.

Of course their screams woke up Maasi, along with his snarl at them to stop pulling his mane. She snapped up in shock, her eyes passing straight over the black hyena pups, who blended into Scar's mane, and going straight to Banzi, who was slowly creeping towards them.

"Ah, you woke her up," Banzi exclaimed, "bad pups!" One snarled, the other jumped off Scar and raced for Banzi, running circles around him and yapping. They started chanting throw him off the rock, throw him off the rock. Banzi collapsed, pressing himself tight to the ground and bared his teeth at them.

"Brats!" He hissed, growling when the circling one starting darting in and nipping him. Scar felt a headache coming on.

"What do you want, Banzi?" He growled, shaking the sibling pup from his mane. He rolled across the ground with a little giggle, stopping a second to sniff Maasi's paw. The lioness acted like the pup was poison, yanking her paw away and curling her leg close to her body. The pup didn't notice, instead he howled and raced off to join his brother.

"I wanted to beg you to look after the brats tonight." Ed pleaded from his position on the ground as the tiny black devils circled and howled. Scar raised on eyebrow, not amused.

"Don't joke." He noticed from the corner of his eye as Maasi shifted uncomfortably, her eyes tracing the pups. Scar's frown came back onto his face. Were they upsetting her?

"Ed bet you would fall for it," Banzi grumbled as Ed started to giggle hysterically from the step. With a huff, the hyena growled. "There is a meeting on."

"Tonight?"

He really didn't feel like it, he just wanted to curl up with Maasi and have several rounds of passionate sex. Was that too much to ask? Could a lion not be left to spend time alone with his mate after five days apart? God those five days had been hell.

"Yeah." Banzai confirmed. Scar closed his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to snarl.

"Hmph. Fine. I might be a bit late."

"You're always late, ever since..." even though Banzi had caught himself before he said it, his eyes still drifted to Maasi, making it obvious what he meant. The pups had started running right along the cliff's edges, and Ed had come out to growl at them, managing to catch one in his jaws. Banzi got to his feet and went back to the steps, the other brother already following Ed and the trapped, howling pup down.

"Tonight then," he confirmed, then his eyes turned to Maasi, and he awkwardly nodded to her before disappearing. There was a minute of silence as they both listened to the yowls of the pups slowly fade.

"Were those his pups?" She asked, head titled to the side.

"No. Their Shenzi's, you met her before, the big alpha." Maasi nodded her head, a little frown creasing her brows together.

"She's a mother?" She actually looked more intrigued than shocked, her tail flicking as she concentrated on the place the hyenas had disappeared down. Scar wondered what she was thinking about.

"Yeah, caused a huge fuss when he got pregnant to. Half the hyenas wanted her dead. The father is from some creepy rival clan beyond the shadow lands or something, it's all really frustrating."

The fifteen hyenas loyal to Scar, or more appropriately, loyal to Shenzi, had their own area behind Priderock where they dug their dens and dust baths in the ground. Apparently they were much happier with the new arrangement Scar and Shenzi and worked out together. Having them in the Big Den had just been weird for everyone. They were around, but the lions and the hyenas never really intermingled much anymore. Sometimes when there was a large kill, they would let the lionesses know, so as to show their loyalty, but nothing much else happened. With Mufasa awake they kept their distance, even as a crippled he struck fear in them. It was helpful that Mufasa had forgotten his grudge against the hyenas along with most things, but none were too keen of getting within ten feet of the King who had exiled them to the shadowlands. Sometimes Scar saw some of the cubs playing with the two pups, but all other interactions were strictly tense and formal. They were sworn guardians of the pride, and many had suffered serious injury due to their aid during the Gnu Massacre, so the pride knew they deserved to be there. They just couldn't get used to it. Scar wondered if Maasi had any grudges against the hyena. She never seemed to react so violently to them before. Maybe it was just the small ones? Maybe it was just small things in general?

Scar could stand the pups, and he could stand the older cubs. But he didn't know how he would go with young cubs. After Simba he had felt chills whenever those little lions had come close to him. He felt chills just thinking about it. Memories of Simba by Mufasa's body, his claws scrapping the rock where the little cub had just been, the sound of his crying, the rasping breaths, the feeling of his claws finding purchase in his nephew's back, before gravity ripped him off his claws and sailing down into the thorns.

Everything went cold in Scar, he couldn't breathe. He buried his face into the crook of Maasi's neck, trying to focus on her scent and the feel of her, and ignore the fear that crept into him whenever he remembered those times.

"Hey, Taka, what's wrong?" She whispered, both concerned and confused. He loved the way his name sounded in her voice. He loved hearing it over and over again, in casual passing or whispered softly like now. He especially liked when she screamed it.

He was glad he had introduced himself to her as Taka, and made sure she remembered to call him that. Maasi purred as he started to groom her fur, her eyes shut in pleasure.

It was always hard to leave her. Usually he tried to exhaust her before watching her drift off into sleep. He didn't want her waking up in the middle of the night and realising he wasn't there. She hadn't known about this meetings until Banzi went and mentioned them in front of her. He appreciated that she wasn't asking questions, but he knew they were on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be asked. She respect that some things he wasn't ready to tell her about. And this was one he had never wanted her to know. How did he go about explaining everything he had done? No even he forgave himself for half of what had happened. He would just lie and act, like he had done all his life, and pray nothing fell through the cracks which she was slowly prizing open.

It was one of the worst plans he had ever had, and he knew it.


The Dark Forces, Inside A Volcanic Spring:

"He's chosen a mate?" It was one of the rare times she didn't manage to pacify her emotions, and looked visibly shocked. The monkey sitting before her adverted his eyes, like he knew he wasn't meant to see what he did. His fingers played with the dirt on the ground.

"Yeah, and the druggers refusing to get within a thousand yards of him after he caught a glimpse of her." The monkey pulled back, his tongue darting over his lips. "Apparently there is some history between them. He said she needs to be out of picture before he even reconsiders working for you again."

He held his breath as she sat stoically. She had instructed him that there was to be no disruptions, and this was a major one no matter how you looked at it.

"No loss," she huffed, "we've got another."

"He's the best there is, losing him will only delay our plans more. I advise you to get rid of this new lioness as soon as possible." He had been going to say more, but her glare burned when he glanced up.

"And we will," she snapped. "And we've got the second best working outside as we speak."

He had been about to object, but wisely chose to duck his head and leave. She was tense tonight; plans had been unraveling through her hooves ever since they took Scar off the drug. He was more competent that she had ever given him credit for, and the underestimation was hurting her. Some plans had been set back years. Scar was cutting the heads off snakes all across the Pridelands, and even venturing into the otherlands. The recent mission he lead into the shadowlands had been more damaging than she cared to admit, and had been in a cut throat mood ever since she received word from her ravens. For a long time she had been at the top, her web was spun to perfection and moving in for the killing blow. Then she made the mistake of thinking Scar would be more useful off the drug, more passive and lazy, better conditions for her to usurp. For a week the withdrawal nearly pushed him to a point of madness, the Gnu Massacre was legendary. It was said that Scar himself killed six bulls on his own that night.

He walked out of the cave system, carefully scoping out the area. He leapt up onto a rock ledge, and sat on his thoughts, watching the new drugger work over the freshly killed warthog.

There was a big difference between the best in the business, and the second best. He had a bad feeling about this, but she just wasn't open to suggestions. Putting Scar back onto drugs he had spent five months off and over a year on, was a procedure best left in trusted hands, not this 'second best'. Where did she pick him up from? The wastelands? He looked like a wasteland creature, all scaly and bloodshot. Everyone knew the best came from up north, that's where all the poisons grew. He felt like burying himself in a hole. Whatever would result from this night, he guaranteed it to be messy and violent. This smelt like another miscalculation of the queens, especially with the unknown lioness in the mix. If the best drugger in all the lands was running for the hills, he wondered if they should be taking the hint and following his lead.

The most unholy chorus started up, and he knew without looking up that the pride hyenas had just arrived through the steam, and already the others were jumping to get at their throats. It bewildered him how something which had once been one pack, could split to become two that so viciously hated each other you couldn't keep them in the same room. He watched as Shenzi lead them through, growling at any cousins that got too close to her. He had never trusted her, too loyal to Scar. They say her cubs were born strong and healthy, two midnight sons rapidly gaining their sand and muscle. His eyes strayed to where the old leaders circled, saliva dripping from their jaws. She would be dead if it wasn't for Scar, that he knew. He would bet that as soon as the pups grew up enough to venture out, they would find themselves assassination within hours. The feud was already bloody, a few hyenas from each side caught alone and mauled to death on the Pridelands.

But the hyena's business was a hyena's business, and he was just a monkey. A thousand good monkeys had tried to understand the politics of the hyena, and all had died with hopeless hearts.

A raven flew down and into the caves, calling out the alarm as he went. Scar was on his way. The drugger had cleaned up any trace of himself the instant he heard the pride hyenas coming through the steam, and now the warthog sat innocently, guarded by four young male monkeys. He frowned at them. What was the alpha thinking, bringing them along? This was turning into a comedy of errors. With a weary shake of his head, the monkey watched as the main coalition members started to unfold and go inside the caves. When the alpha appeared from wherever he had been watching from, he exchanged a worried look with him.

So the alpha was feeling uneasy as well. It had never been the monkey's intention for things to get like this, and he hoped the alpha was planning something to settle it all. Scar's ability to throw them all into panic, whether he was aware of the big picture or only knew of the small cuts he was making on the ground, was remarkable. In five months the scheme had sprung more holes than his wife's handmade baskets, and they stood at the cross roads of making it more water tight than it had ever been, or watching it all backfire into their faces. Violently.

He twirled the fur of his chin, and scanned the night, wondering when Scar would appear from the tall African grasses. He was in the middle of studying the slimming moon when the lion finally appeared, a quiet shadow slipping across the ground. He almost didn't recognise him. For the first time in his life he could see the resemblance between the two royal brothers. No longer did his bones poke through his skin, or did his hair look so ragged. He couldn't wait for that idiot buffalo's reaction. For a long time Scar had been a whispy rag, a high strung basket case in everyone's minds. It was only now as he looked down that he realised how much the lion had been wasting, how deteriorated the drug had made him, how clouded his eyes had been. They shone sharply, with such cruelly intense intelligence that it left him ashamed he had ever thought of this lion as a joke.

The monkey's chattered excitedly as he came over, and the pride hyenas who had taken up guard of the cave mouth yipped in greeting once they sensed him.

"A meal, for you, the queen had it killed especially." The queen always had meals readied for him especially, so it wouldn't have struck Scar as odd. But the lion raised his eyebrows at the warthog. It sent a little lightning of fear through his heart.

"Such a tradition keeper, that old goat," Scar chuckled, before walking past it.

So the drugger didn't know how to make it smell irresistible. Already the queen was taking damage from the loss of the original. He knew it was going it be this bad, but he wasn't happy it was actually being proven before his eyes. He watched as Scar disappeared into the tunnel. The original had been drugging Scar for over a year, he grew to know exactly how to entice the lion, and what dosage was best to cloud him, but not poison him.

He sat outside and worried for three hours, diligently paced around on his knuckled, glaring at the hyenas who tried to steal bites of the warthog, and watching the stars. What would his father think of him? He was just staying loyal to the alpha, like a good monkey, but he had realised for the first time tonight if loyalty to the king was more important in the long run.

When they emerged, the queen took one look at the untouched warthog before starting up a light conversation with Scar. She went to stand beside it.

"Don't eat it if you want, Scar, have your hyenas eat it for all I care, but I suggest thinking about what we discussed on a full stomach. It could lead to gut pains if you pace too much on an empty one."

He watched Scar study the warthog. There had to be some subconscious want to eat it. Something in there must remember how much relief the meals the queen provided for him gave him. He had been an addict, and these meals his drug. There had to be some thought in the back of his head that he had always been so content and happy after her meals.

Sure enough, when the rest filed out, he sat down to chew on it, his eyes watching the night with contemplation.

Say goodbye to that sharp wit, he thought sadly as he watched on. Scar allowed a few of his hyenas to join him, and together they polished most of it off within minutes. Then they disappeared into the grass, two of the youngest hyenas were fighting amongst each other for who got to carry the skeleton.

He would have to talk to the alpha, and soon. Because he was suddenly starting to wonder if they had laid their children across the wrong back.


Maasi of the Thunderlands,Sister to the Thunder Chief, Carrier of The King's Heir:

He always responded when she said his name, sometimes she could just feel him respond to his name on her lips, but something had changed. He got angry at the name. His hot breath fanned against her neck, and she stilled, listening to his breathing.

It was wrong. He was breathing wrong. He was being rough, and so far she had been happy to play, but it was all wrong. He had come home semi-Taka, and within the last half an hour changed into a different beast. She knew Taka would have communicated more, she knew he liked for her to be in charge. Whenever she moved to respond to him, he growled. If she made a noise, he bit her. This was not how Taka liked it, something had changed. He was being violent just for the sake of violence. Maasi twisted to get away, but he roared, making her ears ring. His paws slapped to her sides quicker than she could think, and his claws sliced deep into her sides.

This was not happening. This was not her lover. Something had happened to him at that meeting. She threw her body up, her skull cracking against Taka's jaw, and twisted her head around to bare her teeth at him. They competed for who could roar the loudest for two seconds, as he slowly dragged his claws down her ribs, cutting long lines in her flesh. In one slick motion she threw him off her and onto his back, and racked her own claws across his soft underbelly before he could recover and grapple her back to the floor. She went for his eyes next, always a soft target. He tried resuming the mating, but she was adamant, as she twisted again from him and pressed herself against the cave wall. She would not allow him to finish inside her. She didn't want whatever was in his system to enter hers. She knew there was only a slight chance of such a transfer, but she didn't take kindly to chance, no matter how slim.

"Taka!" She snapped, her roar making him freeze. "What have they done to you?" She tried to find her lover in those eyes, but what used to be brilliant green, was now nothing but clouds, his eyes bloodshot and yellow.

She had seen enough of poisons to last her a life time. They were widely used up north where she came from, especially among the rouges. Druggers and Assassins. She could see it clear as day.

Like hell she was letting them get away with this. He was obviously just freshly drugged, and it was at its most potent. In the morning he would have settled down, and now the drug would be making him sleepy. She watched as he struggled to keep his eyes open, even tilting a bit to his side.

She hated this.

Quietly she left the cave, her lover too out of it to notice. the deteriorating stage kicking in. As she emerged into the night, the screams of the hyenas was carrying along the wind.

So the probably meant that the guards that went with him were tagged too.

She returned midday to a very angry Scar. But she smiled and nuzzled him, which pacified him somewhat. She told him she just had to get some space after last night, and he seemed to understand. He apologised and promised never to do it again, but she knew it would. Every night after those strange meetings, it would happen. She had tracked his scent back to the place, but the sulphur and steam in the air made it impossible to tell who he was meeting with. She didn't dare break from the cover of the grass. There had been ravens roosted in the trees, and she had lived long enough to know every eye counted.

After that Scar had wanted her by his side all the time. He stopped leading missions out and responding to his messenger birds. Instead he moped around, growling at anyone that came within five meters of her, and slept mostly. An aggressive that dissolved into a depressant. Expensive. It was good, but not the best, his eyes had cleared of blood shot, but if it had been who she originally suspected, there would have been no physically signs at all. That stinking rat prided himself on his work, and this didn't carry his signature.

After a few days of careful planning, she decided that all this sitting around was driving her insane. When she told Sarabi that she would be gone for a few days, and to keep an eye on Taka for her, the lioness had nearly cried.

"What! You can't go, not in your condition, and you'll be out there all alone! At least take another lioness along." She had even tried to bar her from exiting the den. Maasi sighed and tried to be patient.

"Please Sarabi, I was just imagining things. I don't feel it anymore. Besides, I can handle myself, and you're not, in fact, my mother." The older lioness had saddened as she denied the notion of cubs.

"Maasi, I know your scared -"

"Sarabi, please, don't act like you know me. Because you don't." Shouldering past Sarabi, she left Priderock before the lioness could think about chasing after her.

First stop, the Wastelands. Those ravens had mentioned something very interesting about a hyena, a kudu and a little lion cub.


AN: (nervous laughter)