Thought Of Changin' My Name (What's In A Name?)

Simba, by the Rotting Corpse:

The intense heat meant that the hippo rotted quickly. Its stink attracting everyone on the lowlands, and soon Simba and the pups were pushed out by swarms of vultures and jackals. Slinking away from the vicious fighting breaking out, Simba groaned as he heard eight sets of paws trotting along behind him.

"Don't you have a den to get to?" He licked old blood off his nose, and picked up his pace until it was a stalking stride. Still, the pups trotted in his wake, some starting to surge up and nudge against him.

"Mother and father left to find food, and they said it would take them days." One more colourful pup yipped. The brother beside him enthusiastically leapt over a clump of thistles that could have easily been side stepped, and those behind him rushed between each other to outdo him, sending dust flying along with squeals.

He was starting to appreciate how quiet it was on the summit, just him, Pumbaa and Timon. No herds, no vultures, no pups. He looked to the sky as another battalion of vultures came soaring in from the west; he studied each, wondering if Sili was amongst them - though he knew he wouldn't be able to tell, even if she was.

Full from his feast on the hippo, Simba went about searching for a safe patch of shade to sleep in. Pumbaa and Timon would find him soon enough, in their own time. He skirted around the outside of an alert antelope herd, who were busy watching the commotion on the swarmed corpse with wary eyes and stiffly upturned ears.

"My name is Moja," said the jumper. He raced to the particularly colourful one's side and tugged on his brother's ear. "This is Mbili, and him over there is Tatu, and next to him is Ne, the pup pinned down is Tano, and the one pinning him down is Sita, and one your other side is Saba, and the black pup is Nane." Simba kept his eyes straight ahead as the pup talked, his frown deepening.

"Yeah, that's great, but I'm not going to remember that, like... at all."

Maybe he shouldn't have been so friendly back at the corpse. He had to show someone the lung, and they had been a very appreciative audience has he explained what it was and what the empty spaces used to be. They told him all about how they were only just off their mother's milk, and the only meat they received was regurgitated chunks. It was then he had realised how awfully young they were, he worried that they shouldn't be out of their den, let alone wondering the lowlands by themselves.

He had been good at tearing apart tough meat where their puppy teeth could not. Big Brother Simba they started calling him. This relationship was moving along a little too quick for his liking.

"Oi Big Bro!" A different one yipped, leaping onto his back and bouncing off as Simba continued to walk. These pups weigh less than a leaf. That fact made him turn his head to make sure the fragile pup wasn't broken in half or something. Instead however, he got a face full of flying pup, whose tiny blunt teeth clamped onto his ear.

"Ow!" Simba snapped, shaking the pup off violently. Ears were sensitive. What were these guys, idiots? He breathed deep through his nose in an attempt to gather some wits, he could feel the rest crowding around him, curious to know what he was going to do. The pup lifted himself from the ground, tail tucked between his legs and his head down in shame. When Simba opened his eyes to glare at him, he got frustrated at the pups inability to look up from the ground. Gees these kid were nothing but hair and fish bones, and it made it worse when they tucked up like that.

"Forget it," he muttered, stalking off again. He swiped his tail in frustration, and he realised his mistake too late. Almost instantly he had a multitude of pups leaping after his tail, chirping whenever they managed to grasp it in their mouths and growling when he yanked it away.

"Stop it!" He spun on them, his shadow cast over their suddenly cowering figures. "Why are you guys following me? Go away already!" He had never interacted with other animals out here, everyone's tolerance was running spider web thin due to the overdue rains, and now Simba realised the desperation of the bone dry lowlands was taking its toll on him as well.

It wasn't nice to be reminded of the Wastelands and the sands. The way the heat felt upon his back makes his hackles rise, and no matter how grainy and dusty the ground was, it felt almost slimy against his pads. Bad memoires. Sometimes Timon goes as far to suggest he was traumatised by his experience as a young cub. But he denied that, after all, he was growing into strong lion now. Soon he would have nothing to fear. If the taste of dry air and the feel of sand struck him with fear, than that was just stupid. Simba backed away from the pups, sizing them up.

"Look, I'm going to take you home, okay? And you're going to stay put like your parents told you." His eyes drifted from one to the next, expecting, well, expecting them to agree and start on their way to the safety of their den. Instead they glanced amongst each other, expecting someone else to know the way home.

"Please tell me you know how to get home." Simba squeezed his eyes together and hung his head, trying to resist growling at the pups. A few squeaked in horror as they realised not even one brother remembered how to get home.

"Well, we hadn't eaten in days, and the hippo smelt so good." Simba softly nodded in growing defeat as the cubs tried to explain. Squaring his shoulders, he scanned the surroundings as he thought about where a dog would make her den.

"Well it can't be far, you smelt it early, and you don't look like you've walked that far." He regarded their small legs, causing a few to puff up in pride.

"Us dogs are the best endurance animal on the plains. When we grow up we'll be able to run the gnu to exhaustion." Simba raised one eyebrow as the pups squeaked amongst each other in agreement.

"Do you even know what a gnu looks like?" They all faltered a bit at his question.

"Well, no, but father talks about them a lot. He's going to train us when we get older." Several 'aha' and 'that's right!' echoed amongst the pups. Flicking his ear to get rid of some flies, Simba stepped close to sniff their scent. Maybe if he could trace their trail back... maybe that would work?

Trotting back the way they had come, he was the golden spear head of a squirming black tidal wave. They ran in such a light, bounding way that it seem like the wind was lifting them up half of the time. As the rounded the crispy trees and the hippo came within sight, Simba drew to a sudden stop, his eyes scanning the crowds with suspicion. There was a noise in amongst the swearing of the vultures...

There, by the great jaws.

Hyena. The jackals were long gone, and only the most experienced and the most desperate of the birds remained as a pair of hyenas ripped the hippo's shoulders to shreds. The meat there was so tough that not even Simba could cleaver it. But it was no match for the hyena, who sever into it easily. It gave him a little shiver as he watched the adults work.

He lay down at the safe distance he and the pups were at, below the trees.

"Who are they?" One pup asked him.

"Hyena," His word has a visible impact. They snapped around to give the hippo their full attention, floppy ears picked up and muscles tense and still. A few jumped to their feet, and they all turned into hyper alert statues before his eyes. It reminded him of the antelope from before.

"Mother and father warned us about the hyena." One with a white stripe above his nose whispered. The rest nodded in vigorous agreement. He could hear their little breaths puff quickly as they panted, and the tiny sound as the one closest to him swallowed.

"Our older siblings, the litter before us, they were all killed by the hyena when they were only pups."

He felt like telling them that they were only pups, and why the hell would they leave the den with this sort of family history. But he realised, maybe it wasn't the right thing to say to what was clearly terrified children.

"Come on, we'll circle around, and you can tell me if anything looks familiar." He paid attention to the smells as he breathed, trying to see if he could pick the scent paths. But the stink of the corpse, and of the vultures had saturated the land. He could pick the smells that he was familiar with, but the new scent of the dogs was hard. Especially with them all around him, rubbing their new scent everywhere. He was not, by any stretch of the word, a master tracker. Were dogs good at tracking? Could they help, or were they still too young? Circling at distance, they left the safety of the tree line and the grass for barren ground. He kept a wary eye on the hyena, knowing that if they bothered to look up and focus there would be no hiding. The pup's black bodies stood out like an oasis in the sands. At least they would have a good head start, and that would be enough. He found it hard to imagine that the hyena would abandon their digs to chase down some distant pups, but there was bad blood between the two clans, the extent of which he wasn't aware. If the horror story of the other litter was anything to go by.

"Pick up the pace guys," Simba told them as he noticed a few had begun to straggle behind.

"But I'm exhausted." One huffed, the other two slow pups squeaking along with him. Simba looked between them and the rest, who were keeping up without complaint. Most were running either with their heads turned and glued to the hyenas, or with determined eyes on the back of Simba's heels.

"Are we the best runners on the plains, or what?" The one girl amongst them snapped back at her brothers, her angry little eyes glaring holes into them. That made them pick up their heels, bounding extra long strides to squeeze up into the pack.

"Keep together," Simba warned as he turned back ahead, suddenly nervous now that he couldn't see them. Focusing on evening his speed, he kept running, paying attention to the scents and the prints in the ground.

He wondered if this is what Upweke had felt like.

They had circled half way around when one of the pups yelped. The rest skittered to a halt, and Simba spun expertly on his heels, charging the momentum into an attack as he prepared to defend them against... ah... there was nothing there. Simba circled around the pups, counting them. Finding all eight there, he paid attention to what the pups were discussing.

"Don't you think this looks like the way we came?"The one with a stripe by his nose asked, trotting out from the group to study the rocks and the growing amount of thistles. Half of the pups nodded, the rest looked confused.

"It's almost like it, but not really."

Simba resisted the urge to groan.


A Predator, stalking Close By:

One would think that the crushing dry was nothing but a banquet for the predators. But that was a horrid misconception. She watched from the shade as the masses fought over the remains of the hippo, their savage feeding caws making her heart heat in anticipation. The dead were thick, but the hungry bellies were thicker.

And the flies were thickest of all.

One missed meal and she would risk weakness, and once that set in she was doomed. The competition was simply too fierce to leave anything to chance. She watched as the hyena barrelled into the vultures, grappling amongst each other for flesh. It made her twitchy being this close to the skull crushers, but she knew she was concealed well enough among the dying grass.

She would never dream of fighting it out over some meal, like those brutes. Her body was a fine tuned legacy developed for speed and nothing else. If she so much as strained a tendon she would be out of commission for weeks, and that was simply not acceptable at a time like this. She had cubs to stay strong for. Her brothers had died because her mother had been careless and she was not about to let history repeat.

She had waited too long to be a mother, and worked too hard to let something as foolish as squabbling over food endanger her children's lives. She was not like those foolish antelope, who would just as carelessly abandon a child as they would birth one. Her mother and brothers were the only other cheetah's she had ever known, and they were all dead. Their kind was rare in these parts, and she had spent years finding and assessing the males who lived, sometimes, a months journey away. She did not settle for any male, her cubs had the fastest father in all the lands. She had travelled so far to find her mate that there was no chance of interbreeding, and she felt pride in her cub's strong immune systems. Not one had caught the cold yet. She taught and loved each cub like they were her only, and stressed the importance of strategy. They were the weakest predators in the lands, and so, they needed to be the smartest to get by.

Yes, she was a careful mother, devoted and well-planned. She had studied, and pretended one particular year that she was with cubs, and planned what she would do every waking moment as if she had them, complete with moving den every week and bringing home half alive hares for her imaginary cubs when they were old enough. With keen eyes she watched the commotion one last time before turning away, tail twisting to touch the sides of her four very real cubs to reassure herself that they followed as silently as she had taught them. She would not lose one, she had vowed to herself a long, long time ago. And so far her she was managing.

One of her best strategies yet was the very reason she had been lead to the hippo feast. The alliance with the dogs meant that her cubs had protection when she went out hunting, and when she had failed to kill too many times in a row, the dog mother was all too happy to nurse her young for her. It had been one of her smartest moments, back when she caught wind of the fact that the dog's first litter had been slaughtered by the hyena, she knew they would be moldable. She had sort out the mother when she was hunting alone, offered her condolences, told her she couldn't imagine what she was going through. She was the sole survivor of her birth litter, and she saw the effect it had on her mother, who grew wan. It was one of her deepest fears, she had admitted to the mother dog all those seasons ago, and had told her to never hesitate to ask her to cub guard if there was to be another litter. She had made a point to seek the dogs out at least once every month, and soon they were familiar enough of her they invited her back to their den. Sometimes she would come baring a hare as a gift, once even a little disabled fawn whose mother had abandoned her. It had been a quick death and a delicious meal.

When the dogs excitedly told her they were trying for a litter again, she had excused herself to seek out her chosen mate. She said synchronised litters would mean more milk to go around if anything was to happen, and the more young meant the safer they became as they grew. She told them that was what the lionesses did. Even though the dogs had never seen a lion in their lives, they knew the king of beasts reputation, and had thought it a very good idea.

There is was again, the trail. The pups and some sort of forest smelling cat. Originally she thought it was a leopard, but it was different from that as well. She invited her cubs to come up and sniff at the trail along with her, asking them what they could smell.

"The pups," one said, still sniffing curiously at a blade of grass.

"Moja and Tatu," her smallest cub noted.

"And can any of you smell the scent of someone else?" All their little brows furrowed as they crawled closer, trying to pick the smell apart.

"It smells of the jungle, very musky and deep, and smells of a cat," she explained to them, helping them pick it out.

"Is it a leopard, mother?" the one beside her asked quietly. She shook her head.

"No, it's different, more... dry and ... big." She doesn't know how something could smell big, but it did. Was there such a thing as a mega leopard? She eyed the grass around her warily.

"Which way did they go?" She asked her children questioningly, they took a few seconds to walk up and down the scent before settling on the correct direction. She purred in pride and followed the trail, twisting her tail to make sure her cubs were close on her heels. It was the only way she would know there were there - she had taught them stealth far too successfully


Simba, with Many Awed Followers:

He stepped away to cautiously sniff the thistles. He was getting the scent of those tiny grass birds, as well as rats. They must have a nest in amongst the thistles. Simba followed the one pup further through the grass, noticing that they joined onto a well traveled trail trampled with recent hooves.

"Do you guys remember this?" The rest followed him out and stood upon the trail, their heads either going up to scan the surroundings or down to sniff at the trail.

"Yeah, we did follow a trail. But was it this big?" They were all very quite as they looked between each other. There were plenty of trails around, it could easily be the wrong one.

"Well what was before the trail? Or on the trail? Do you remember anything else? Like a tree or something." That had them trotting in circles, as if something would just magically occur to them. Walking away, Simba called for them to keep close as he headed for a knobbly, broad tree. He paused at the base, carefully feeling how his claws felt in the bark, and judging his leap. With one strong push he soared above the first rung of branches and into the fork of the second, gripping his arms over the fork and digging his claws in, he slipped a bit before catching himself, causing some skinning on his soft underside. The pups were watching him with intense curiosity, a few circling as they looked for their own way up. Fat chance, thought Simba. This tree was not very pup friendly. Hell, it wasn't even Simba friendly, and he was good at climbing trees.

Easing himself higher and onto the fork, he wobbled out onto a slim branch before crouching and jumping onto a higher and more large one. Reaching up he started to push his way through the thickening cluster of higher and smaller branches. With a few more acrobatic positions to push his way through the thicket, his head pocked through the leaf layer and into empty air.

Alright, so the hyenas were still working on the hippo and the trail they had been walking along before lead to the watering hole. From this height he could even make out the beginning of the massive lake that sat around the mountain. Gees, how high was he? He could even just make out the massive crowds by the lake side, dark clusters of herds driven in from the surrounding lands. Just looking at it gave him a headache. Was he glad Pumbaa and Timon kept to the quiet side of the lowlands, the desperation and claustrophobia of the hundreds some five or so miles away was palpable. Swivelling around some more, Simba tried to pick some landmarks the pups might have noticed.

"Do you guys remember running downhill to get here?" He shouted down to them.

"No, it was rather flat," one shouted back. With his ears peeled, Simba managed to catch the softer words of another pup.

"But Tatu, we had to go down into a gully and we climbed out of that." Gully... gully... Simba scanned the land, which alternated between parched earth, grass clumps, and small groves of thorny trees and thistly undergrowth.

"Did you go across a lot of empty land, or through tall grass?"

"Ah, in the beginning there was this really tall orange sort of grass."

"Then a - then the trail!"

"Yeah, and the birds."

"And then we crossed the gully. There was, like, these four huge trees there, and then the grass was normal like this stuff here."

"And we followed our noses before climbing over some rocks, and then we just ran across the ground to the hippo."

"Yeah!"

Further north, he was sure of it, was the way to go. He could see four big trees, and the grass was thicker that way. With it being close to the watering hole, he knew there stood a better chance than most for there to be a gully worn into the landscape. Yes. Further north, towards the watering hole.

"Alright! We'll follow this path north." He announced down to the ground. Simba paused for one last second to admire the view before starting his slow way back. A few twigs snapped against his skin and cut him, making him flinch and be more cautious as he went, one paw at a time.

Someone was snarling, and it couldn't be any of the pups, because it was much too deep. Simba stilled in the tree and peered down to where the pups had crowded together against the trunk. A cheetah, beautiful and sleek, slipped through the grass towards the pups.

"What are you doing out here alone," she snapped, slapping a paw down and hissing.

"We're not alone!" A pup growled. Simba started to bunch up his muscles, preparing how he would leap to sail through the lower branches, and land on the cheetah perfectly enough to stun her.

"Oh? Are you talking about that jungle-cat?" She sniffed at the ground, where indeed his smell would be lingering. From up here he could see some younger cheetah's waiting in the grass, well concealed if it wasn't for their constant twitching, like they were waiting to be released, making the grass around them sway.

The cheetah took a step closer to the pups before suddenly turning her head up and meeting him. Her glare was unsettling, and she hissed as she registered what he was.

He hadn't any reason to snarl these days, not in the way he did now. He was slightly terrified, and slightly protective. He hadn't realised how much he had grown, truly, until he twisted and snarled down at her. He sounded grown. Not booming like the true lions could do, but vicious enough.

"Pups, get away," she hissed, starting to circle around the tree. They did as she told, shocked by the sudden aggression pressing down on them all. Simba panicked, worried that the other cheetahs would ambush the young pups. He didn't know exactly how big they were, but he wasn't about to take risks. Lunging down to the ground, he forced himself to land on his feet and retain a sense of balance. She was on him in a split second, slashing across his face. Leaping back Simba assessed her as she towered over him. Maybe he could chew on her ankles? It felt that way. No one told him how ridiculously tall cheetahs were, just that they were thinner and easier to push over then grass. He made to swipe at her, the action forcing her backwards. It became evident she was not willing to go hard, and looked slightly off put by the notion of a fight.

"I don't want any trouble," he told her, causing her ears to lift up a bit.

"Well, as long as you're not going to harm the pups, you'll get no trouble." Simba narrowed his eyes at how much her body language had changed. She looked generally sincere.

"Oh, okay. Good then." He nodded, stumbling over his words as the change of the conversations tone gave him whiplash. "I've been trying to get them home, but they don't remember which way their den is." The cheetah rolled her eyes and glared at the pups, but with the initial pulse of fear gone from both cats, it was far less threatening and more resigned exasperation.

"Well luckily I know the way home," she stalks over to the pups, eyeing them, "your parents are going to be very disappointed when they find out." All the pups wilted as one at the words. He suddenly felt very stupid when he realised she was a family friend. Gees, thanks for letting me know. Simba thought to himself as he glared at the pups. But he couldn't keep it up for very long. As the cheetah started to lecture about responsibility or some such nonsense, the others that had been hidden in the grass leapt out, tackling as many pups as they could with the element of surprise. He felt even stupider when he saw that the four cubs were only a touch bigger than the pups. The mother, having abandoned her lecture in frustration, turned to him and they talked for a bit about their mutual dislike for puppies and their mutual hope for the rains to come. It was pleasant enough, hell she was pleasant enough. After introducing him to her cubs, the mother started to get the pups on their way, warning them that there were hyenas close by. As they went into the grass after her, Simba hung back, trying to figure out how best to leave.

"Ah, I think I might go home now." The puppies whined and three in particular jumped on his back in an attempt to hold him down, but he just ignored them. "I got separated from my family a few hours ago, before these guys came, and I'm sure they'll be worried about me." The cheetah mother swallowed and wished him luck.

"Yes, it's best not to keep them waiting." She murmured. "If you, or your pride, ever needs any help, don't be afraid to ask. We help each other here in Arusha." Simba nodded his thanks and watched her go, disgruntle puppies and all.


Simba, returned home:

"Thanks for ditching me" He rasped, causing Timon to raise an eyebrow as he pulled a twig out from where it had embedded in his forearm.

"Well, honestly, we had been trailing you for awhile, waiting for you to ditch the pups before we got too close. Then you went and got yourself stalked by a cheetah." Simba laughed at Timon's hysterical expression, causing him to slowly relax and sag his shoulders as he sighed in defeat. "How did it feel to be the responsible one for a while there?" Timon asked, shaking the splinter at him. Simba knew Timon meant for him to admit that it was stressful, or perhaps nerve-racking. One of numerous attempts to laminate about the weight looking after Simba lay on his tiny shoulders. Simba just smirked.

"No different than normal, really." That caused the meerkat to scowl.

"Oh ha ha, you're such a funny lion." He threw the splinter over his shoulder, narrowly missing Pumbaa as he grazed on some tough grass.

"Hey!" the hog shrieked, Timon threw his hands up into the air.

"It was just a splinter! Get over it! Honestly I am this close to losing it." In all seriousness Timon did look on the brink of insanity. Simba considered his twitching guardian more carefully. "If these rains don't come soon I am gonna go so crazy I'll start stalking me some hyena for dinner."

Simba laughed at him, a good, endless belly laugh that made him roll on his side and sigh.

If these rains didn't come soon, the very air would crack. The herds were more aggressive by the day, and everyone was on edge. The delicate balance of life was at a tipping point. Timon and Pumbaa had been muttering about going back home if the dry continued to hold. Sure, the party that broke out when the rain started to fall was legendary, but was it worth this?

Pumbaa came and lay down beside him, snorting to himself as he settled into a comfortable position.

"Hey Pumbaa," Simba asked his guardian quietly.

"Yeah?" he grunted, lifting his heavy head up.

"What's it like? When the rains fall?" Simba closed his eyes, listening to the trees rustling above them. Timon, who was making himself comfortable in the crook of Simba's folded arms, snorted at the question.

"It's like taking a giant dump after keeping it in all day." Pumbaa stretched his legs out and sighed as Timon chuckled. Simba peeked one eye open to look at the little creature reclining in his fur, hands behind his head and chin resting on his chest.

"That sounds about right," Timon chuckled, before lapsing into snores.

Simba didn't go to sleep that afternoon, he listened to the distant calls of the animals, and the sound of the wind, and the comforting snoring of his family.

He wondered if he would get to see the pups again. Maybe even those cheetahs too. He would like to race them, see how fast they really were.


A Nine Year Old Elephant, feet dusty from the Outerlands:

Tembo was the first one to spy the storm clouds. His small trunk pointing at where they gathered on the edge of the mountain ridge. Grandmother grumbled that the mountain would keep the rains at bay for another night, but soon they would grow so much they would push each other over the bank, and it would all tumble down suddenly into Arusha.

Mother said that was why they always came here, it was all so theatrical. The Arusha Rain Festival was one of the most joyous times of the year, and the crowds drew together for it. She had been coming every year since she was a calf and this will be her twelfth. It will mark her procession from calf to halfling. She trumpeted at the sky, and some of her younger cousins squealed in excitement as well. She couldn't wait, because after halfing it was mistress, then elder, and maybe one day, matriarch. She followed closely behind her grandmother, watching closely, as she does every day, to everything the matriarch did.

One day she's going to be the biggest, most feared elephant in all the lands, and she'll lead the biggest herd in history. Her mother told her that wasn't a very matriarch-y thing to say, and that maybe she was a bit confused. She said that a warrior was more fitting for her.

Pah! She wanted to lead! Lead into war! Yeah, that was a good idea. She could conquer some new land for her cousins. Who were they kidding? She was totally matriarch material.

Grandmother lead them to the lake and waited patiently for the herds to move along before taking the family to the lake edge. Frustrated by all the standing around and looking at water instead of drinking it, Masikio snuck away from the herd and plowed her way down a different embankment. The cows gossiping about the water's edge didn't know what hit them. She sucked water up and snorted it out over her, enjoying the cool trickle of water along her skin. It had been hard out in the plains, and the dry had cracked all water from the land. She submerged herself, standing mouth deep in the lake and swallowing the water down. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she went out further and squealed when she couldn't touch the bottom anymore. She breathed through her trunk as she held it carefully above the water, and went around in a big circle back to the bank. Emerging out, she rolled on her back and grinded herself into the muddiest patch.

It became obvious to her, somewhere between lathering herself with mud and attempting to drink half of the lake, that she had drifted much further down that she intended in the first place. She heard the trumpets of unfamiliar elephants close by, and was in such a good mood she didn't question the wisdom of her decision to go and introduce herself. Climbing up the bank and into a heavy bushland, she used her trunk to push branches out of the way. On the other side she came out into a clearing where four young bulls were playing. She was instantly curious. Bulls sometimes joined her herd for a few days at the time, making love to whatever mistress was interested in him. But she had never seen them in herds like this. Trumpeting a greeting, she walked up to them without hesitation, looking to see if she recognised any of them.

"Who are you?" One asked, paused from snapping a small branch of a tree.

"I'm Masikio," she answered chirpily, "me and my herd just arrived. How long have you guys been here?" The closer she came the bigger they got. Maybe they weren't close in age at all. But still, they weren't full grown bulls either. Old halflings, she reasoned.

"Masikio?" one echoed, turning his head to the side to regard her. "From the Pembe tribe?" Her ears rose in delight.

"Yeah!" She trumpeted, before narrowing her eyes as she thought long and hard about his face, failing to recognise him. "Do I know you?" He smiled, reaching his trunk out to boop her head affectionately.

"You're my baby sister. You were only a tiny calf when I left the herd. Even then you were causing trouble." He laughed, and as if that was a signal, his three friends reached forwards to greet her, booping her on the head and making her swipe her trunk at them in protest.

"I'm not a calf anymore, once the rains fall, I'll be a halfing." She threw her head up in the air, demonstrating her monstrous size.

Which was about half as big as them, but she didn't let herself get bogged down in details.

"Oh, my apologies," her brother laughed, reaching forward to greet her in the proper halfing way, placing his trunk between her eyes and slipping it down.

"So who are your friends?" She asked, looking at the other three nearly-bulls.

"Some idiots that keep following be around," her brother grunted, one swiped him in response with his trunk, and her brother head butted him back.

She eyes went wide in awe. They just, fight? They could fight and there was no mothers to yell at them about kindness and generosity? These guys were cool!

"You should come and say hello to the herd, I'm sure mother would like to see you." She was half turned around, ready to lead the way, and frowned when she noticed they didn't move an inch to follow her.

"I don't think that's a good idea," one of the friends grumbled.

"Well I wasn't talking to you, was it?" She informed him, before turning back to her older brother. Their eyes meet, and it seemed like he was trying to gauge her.

"He's right, Masikio, we won't be welcome. It'll just make grandmother upset." She couldn't believe her ears.

"But your her own grandson, she should be happy!" She whined. Her newly found brother took a very final looking step back.

"No, there are laws, it wouldn't be right." He told her, making her squawk.

"What?! Laws? Against visiting your own family?"

"You're only a calf, you're not meant to know." Masikio jabbed her trunk up at where the dark clouds gathered.

"Look, you see those clouds? You can see," she stretched her trunk out even further, "see! I am THAT close to being a halfing so I won't tell anyone if you told me early."

Her brother roared with laughter, shaking his head as he did.

"No, its tradition for the matriarch to tell you. It's part of the ceremony. I won't ruin your festival just because you begged me to.

"No fair."


A Cold Bloodied, by a Quiet Den:

Naja lay stretched out in the sun, the sparrow he had caught before digesting nicely in his stomach. Today had been a good day, quiet, peaceful, uneventful, quiet, cal-

He lifted his head and listened to the patter of paws and a monsoon of squeals. His good day had ended. Drawing himself back up, Naja rested his head on the pleasant sand and sighed as the tall, elegant figure of the cheetah mother emerged from the shrubbery, a plague of cubs and puppies boiling around her feet.

"Naja," she said with false sweetness, her eyes landing on his black body. He was probably shinning a bright copper along his sides from the intense sun, and so he flexed and inched along a bit trying to display his size. He had known Chordata for years, and he knew he didn't stand a chance of intimidating her, but some instinct always made him subconsciously try to. If you couldn't run, than intimidate. Even his hood was starting to stretch out a bit. "Mind telling me how the puppies got away?" She walked over to where he was on top of the den, the end of her tail twisting and catching his eye, distracting him for half a second.

"I'm a rat catcher not a baby sitter; if those numb skulls want to go off and get eaten it ain't my problem." He rose up to be on eye level with her, his grey underbelly and white jaw on display. "What am I going to do? Hold them down?" He hissed sarcastically. Chordata rolled her eyes before muttering.

"They're scared of you, if you were to have at least scolded them when they started to leave, I'm sure they would have stayed. They could have died out there Naja." He scoffed, avoiding her eye, and instead glared at the puppies wrestling one another in the sand nearby. Half had already gone down into the burrow, along with all of Chordata's cubs.

"I was off hunting some breakfast, and truth be told I suspected they were waiting for me to leave before making their escape. They are getting smart and devious now. My poor old bones can't be in two places at once." Chordata sighed deeply and looked to the clear sky above them in frustration.

"These pups are going to make me chew my own tail off," she groaned.

"Hey, you don't get to talk. I have to live with them." He corrected her, grumbling an additional, "thanks for that by the way."

"My pleasure," she purred, smoothing over his acidic sarcasm. "You were homeless after that Nyegere evicted you from your old burrow, and I happened to know someone with a rat problem that was happy to share their den." She leaned forward to lick the top of his head, and like always he recoiled from her in disgust, making her laugh. Sadist.

"Well it would have been nice of you to warm me that they were expecting the spawn of hell." He hissed. She continued to laugh.

"Her belly was almost bursting! How on earth did you miss it?" He debated whether or not to dignify her with an answer. She made fun of him all the time for his 'selective blindness' as she called it.

"I'm a reptile, not a mammal; I don't understand those sorts of things." She continued to laugh at him, making his hood puff up in indignity.

"Well if it ever gets too rough around here for you, I know of some abandoned warthog burrows to the south. But the Nyegere might claim those too. Both of their young survived the season," she purred, twisting to groom some fur of her chest down. Naja prayed those overgrown savage weasels inbred and died out while he scanned the area, looking to be considering Chordata's proposal.

"Nah, the food's too good. The dogs are so grubby that all the rodents swarm this place. I've never eaten this well in my life - I'm growing faster than flies on a corpse." He eased up some more and stretched his long body out. "What do you think? Biggest cobra you've ever laid your eyes on?"

"Oh, definitely." She purred, going in to lick to his head again, making him leap back. "The most ferocious snake in Arusha, for sure. Pest catcher, puppy watcher, all round lazy waste of space."

He settled for hissing at her.


A Disappointment, caught in the Hunt:

Under the cover of night they slipped out, the nervous giggle of their war cries echoing into the dark. She could hear the crashing of spooked animals throughout the woodlands as they frantically fled before them, but no one else in the party seemed to be paying attention. They were out for one thing only tonight.

Lion.

Some scouts had sighted them, two kings, coming in from the plains. They would be at their weakest, tired from the journey into Arusha, desperate from whatever conditions on the plains was driving them in. If the pack wanted to maintain alpha status in the cradle, they couldn't simply allow two kings to march in under the cover of night. Or so the pre-battle speech had gone.

She ran at the heels of Bo, a half rate hyena no one truly respected. She didn't like him either, some of the things he said were downright un-hyena, but he was the only one willing to accept her as their backing for the hunt. Her mother was taking her perfect in every way daughter, and her father was too unimpressed by her to give her a chance, opting instead for one of those big butt-head young males borne from aunt Gilt and what she claims was a passionate affair with a black lion. She glared at where he ran beside her father. That was her father, she deserved to be at his side. If he was half lion then what the hell was he doing going on this hunt?! None of the pack acknowledged her, too afraid of her parents to step out of line. The alpha pair was ashamed to have a daughter like her. She knew. She was lucky Bo was crazy enough to go along with her, muttering something about vipers in the night. Keeping up with the fast pace of the pack was demanding, and sometimes Bo would start to fall behind. She would growl at him, and when that stopped working, started to run ahead of him. She was not going to let this old flea bag humiliate her any more than she already was. As he started to tire more and more, she left him with a vile insult about his mother, and galloped across the land to catch the tail end of the pack. She glued her eyes to her sister, whose tan pelt shone against the moonlight, and forced herself to keep running even as she started to lose all feeling in her paws.

The pack stopped to search for a scent trail, allowing her just enough time to catch up before they ran off again, faster than before as they chased a hot scent. Her mother, leading the pack, screamed and yowled into the night as they drew close and her sister imitated her, causing the pack to giggle in anticipation and a few to start frothing at the mouth. There was nothing more fearsome than a lion hunt, and no place better to increase your honour and standing within the clan.

After a couple of minutes of running and stalking, the pack split in two, one lead by her mother and the other by one of her oldest aunts. She followed the hyena in front of her, shadowing them closely so as not to break formation and stand out too much. It was against the rules to go into a battle without your allocated mentor. She let her eyes drift across and settle on her father, who was watching her with furious eyes. There would be a scolding later, and if the way foam was spitting from his mouth as he growled, she could be in from a smacking. Setting her mouth in a firm line, she concentrated on keeping to the pack, keeping out from under the more experienced fighter's paws and hanging back with the other cubs who had come as backings. She could hear the screams as the other half of the pack engaged, and the roars of the lions made her blood run cold.

She had never hear something so loud in her life, it sounded like thunder right next to her ear. But being only three months old, she had never heard thunder in her life. Heart racing she leapt and surged with the pack as her aunt gave the signal, and they moved in to capture the lions from the other side, circling around them and trapping them in. Poking her head between two of the bigger males, her eyes struggled to process what she was seeing.

Even when skinny and ragged, the kings managed to dwarf the hyena, their long, lean bodies at odds with the robust, stout shapes of the hyena. The glory-hungry ones would break from the circle to attack, and the kings would make short work of them, swatting them away. One they managed to hold down and bite at, twisting and tearing one of his legs from his body. The pack's screams raised an octave after that, and teams would charge in, sometimes a whole wall of the circle charging together. Once she had been caught up in it, and it was terrifying.

The circle was a constantly shifting, interlocking beast, and often she would have to run and turn around the other way to find a new space to look through. Rain started to hammer down and it washed the slime of blood over the ground, making the whole land slick with it. As more hyena got beaten and eased up to the backlines, she was pushed closer and closer to the front. Lighting struck and blinded her, and the following thunder paled in comparison to the kings. Her section surged forward again, those behind her forcing her forward like a stampede, her heart stuttered to a stop as she became within attack range of the kings. The female beside her got attacked, but his large paws sailed over her head harmlessly. For once she was glad of her unhonourable tiny size.

Just as the section was sent skittering back, someone barrelled into her, forcing her off balance and flying forward into the blood-mud. She twisted back as she skidded to a stop, glaring at her sister who stood where she once was, a cunning smirk playing across her face. She stood a chance of going undetected if she remained still, her black coat hiding her well against the darkness. However, another lighting strike cracked through the sky above them, and one of the king spun and threw her like a clump of sand, his claws digging deep into her on impact, and one catching around a rib. Her scream was drowned out by the thunder and the war cry as another section came forward, trampling her where she had landed. She felt someone grab her by the scruff, and drag her through the mud, away from the death circle. Her last clear memory was of mud scooping into where the king had ripped her side open and the laboured breathing of the hyena as he tried to lift her up and carry her away.

She hated her sister. She hated, hated, hated her sister. It was not uncommon for hyena siblings to kill each other, but that was at birth, when they were small and stupid. That first month was called 'the pit' and most times only half of the litter would survive. But that was normal. That was just the strongest sorting itself from the weakest. That was hyena tradition, passed down from old times. She tasted blood in her mouth, and spat it out in disgust. Attempts on your siblings life was frowned upon outside of 'the pit', but, welcome to her life. Her sister was perfect, growing quickly into a big alpha female, vicious and bloodthirsty. Her parents just loved her. And then there was her, stunted they said, small, weak, where are her spots? Her sister already has her spots.

She woke up after sunrise, hidden underneath a large log. A slither of hippo meat lay beside her, covered in flies, and wearily she tried to sit up and scoff it down. Her side shot with pain at the movement and she curled in on herself, whimpering. The grass outside rustled as someone moved forward and stuck their face down underneath the log. It took her a few seconds to focus and recognise the hyena.

"Mu," she whined, her memories of last night coming back and making her wish she could just hide under this log and never come out.

"Bina," he greeted softly, "I wasn't sure you would make it through the night. Tiny bodies don't handle wounds well." She blinked several times, trying to figure out if she was hearing things. Mu had never said so much as three sentences to her, and certainly never seemed the sort to talk to her kindly. "Grandpa Bo told me what had happened," her cousin paused and frowned, "you shouldn't have gone off like that, you know. The pack thinks you've crawled off and died somewhere, your father is furious, I think he wanted to kill you himself." He didn't look like he was joking.

"Tell him to get in line." She laughed darkly, making Mu scowl before drawing his head back out from under the log.

"Grandpa Bo cleaned your wound last night when you were flaked out, but give it another wash would ya. And eat all that meat there. I'm going to go see if there is any more left, those greedy buggers had him pretty well stripped this morning." That last part seemed to be directed more at himself than her as he trotted off, leaving her alone with only the snoring of another close by. With the chunk of flesh held firmly in her jaws, she eased herself out from under the log and surveyed where the two males had stashed her. It looked a lot different to the dry landscape of home. The trees were green and the leaves were huge. The land was steep and the ground a dark soil instead of sand and dust. She looked around, noticing the sky was grey and overcast, and the sounds of cheers and song was drifting along the wind. Settling down next to Bo, she started chewing on the hippo meat, enjoying the view she had from the new height. They seemed to have taken her to a hideout that was halfway up the slope of the mountains. From up here she could see large puddles that had grown from the vicious rains last night, their surfaces shimmering as the herds walked through them and swam in their deeper parts. The unfamiliar sounds of the jungle buzzed behind her, making her hair prick in excitement.

"Hey Bo," she asked, after she had been a good pup and eaten every last bit of her food. Bo stirred and cracked one eye open to watch her.

"What, exactly, did you see?" She asked attentively, unsure if he had seen all of it.

"The rat grows fast, and the elephant grows slow," he tilted his head to the side, studying her. She scowled at him, that wasn't much of an answer. "But which is the greater beast?" he heaved his old body up, wrinkled rolls of loose skin swaying, and looked out over the lands. "Grow fat on the sweet fruits, or grow strong on the tough grass?" She scrunched her face up at him.

"What are you on about?" She growled. He leaned closer to her, his milky eyed boring into her.

"Your brothers did not survive the pit, but you did. Curious. You are the runt, yet you survive. Size truly means nothing."

"Well size sure helps a lot," she grumbled, shame faced, understanding he was talking about her and her sister. He must have seen it then.

"If size mattered, then the elephant would be king," and then he got up on his unsteady legs and left her, disappearing down the slope and into the sub-jungle bracken.

Half way through licking her wound, it started to rain again. It made the nicest sound against the broad leaves of the jungle trees, and the air seemed to sigh as it cooled instantly. The grass danced in the calm breeze and the frogs sung from where they were hidden all around.

The rat grows fast and the elephant grows slow. But which is the greater beast?

Did he really expect her to believe that her sister was a rat, and she was an elephant? No wonder the pack thought he was crazy. What was cousin Mu doing, sneaking around with this guy? Bina shook her head, deciding she wouldn't say anything mean. At least not out loud. She probably owed them her life.

Bina closed her eyes and listened, enjoying the feel of the warm rain water against her black fur.


Simba, joining in the Celebrations:

He paddled through the fresh water, Timon swimming alongside him like a frog.

"Ah, Simba, could you not," he spluttered, spitting water from his mouth, "your waves keep dunking me under". Simba raised an eyebrow at the meerkat.

"It's not my fault you're so tiny," he teased, watching Timon struggle against the waves. Close by an elephant collapsed into the water, making the zebra freak and creating an tsunami that was quickly rolling their way. "Argh, brace yourself," Simba laughed, watching as Pumbaa got hit first and was pulled under the water for a few seconds. Timon had just enough time to turn around and scream before a wave as big as Pumbaa's belly rolled over him. The wave forced Simba onto his side, and pushed him a paw length under the surface. He opened his eyes and looked around in awe at the grass below him. Yesterday this had been a parched stretched of land, and now it was at the bottom of a winding river. Pushing himself down to get a better look, he startled a frog from the grass, a trail of eggs following her up before breaking and floating gently along in the current. Surging back up to the surface, he had just enough time to gasp for air before water was blasted at him. Choking, Simba blinked his eyes open and stared at the trunk that hung in front of him, confused.

"My name is Masikio and I'm a halfing!" The trunk announced loudly. Simba paddled forward until his paws could touch the river bed, and looked up at the young elephant as he caught his breath back.

"Congratulations," he said stupidly after finding her eyes, which were a striking shade of orange in their center.

"I'm an elephant," she trumpeted, "at that's my family," she turned to look at the elephant herd away down the river, the ones who were probably responsible for drowning Timon. Simba looked across the surface of the river and whispered a silent little 'rest in peace' as he imagined Timon rising from the bank any moment now, demanding a fight with whatever creature was responsible for the massive dive bomb.

"What are you, some sort of otter?" Simba laughed at her innocence. Weren't elephants meant to be, like, smart or something? Maybe she had just never seen a lion cub drenched to the bone before.

"I'm the best swimming cat in all of Arusha," he acclaimed proudly, puffing his chest up. She raised her trunk and curled it back to rest against her forehead while flapping her ears out.

"You wanna race!" She squealed.

"Oh, you bet," he smirked. Were elephants good swimmers? Rule of thumb said desert animals were not very good at swimming, and they didn't look like they would make good swimmers. Simba grinned deviously at her as a soft smirk started to grown on the small elephant's face.

Turns out she was a very good swimmer.

After a few hours of racing (being dunked underwater by her waves) and searching the river bottom for treasure (they found three frogs, one skull, one burrow turned underwater cave and five pretty stones) he was exhausted. Simba glared at Masikio as he paddled frantically while she simply strolled along the bottom of the river. It got deeper and he was sick of being dunked under all the time, so he climbed on top of her head and let her float him around, enjoying the view. Sometimes she would climb up the bank and across the grassland to another river nearby. It felt so good being up high, but she swayed so much sometimes he nearly fell.

He had a feeling she was doing that on purpose, because his terrified yelps made her giggle.

Later, while she and Pumbaa wallowed in the mud and he bathed his fur dry again, Simba apologised to Timon. It wasn't his fault that some creatures were so freakishly big and weren't respectful of their smaller friends.

Timon looked at him like he had grown another head.