"Mother! Mother! Do you have to bathe me again today?"
"Yes, dear."
"But I just took a bath last week!"
The lioness scoffed. Then she carried on licking her child.
"As well you should," she said. "Perfect mind, perfect heritage… but you won't have the world handed to you on a silver platter, my daughter. You deserve nothing but what you earn, and you must earn everything for yourself. With each hunt, with each breath you take, earn every ounce of respect you are given."
Nala agreed that there was value in being clean, and that a girl of her birth ought to have a certain image… but this was a little too much. Her fur was so polished it practically shone, and besides, there was no one there, enjoying the shade under the juniper tree, except for her and her mother.
"Ah. Sarafina. I thought I'd find you here."
That voice-Nala was out of her mother's grasp and on her feet in a heartbeat. When Sarabi drew closer, she bowed. And behind her, her mother did the same, though she didn't trouble herself to get to her feet.
"And here I am," she said. "Do you need something?"
"I was looking for Simba."
"I haven't seen him. As you can see," she said, snatching Nala just before she managed to escape, "I've got my paws a bit full right now."
"Mother-Mom, I'm clean-"
"You're clean when I say you're clean," said Sarafina in her mothering, no-nonsense voice. She started to groom her daughter again, eyes shut until she realized that Sarabi was still there, staring at them.
Then, finally, Sarafina stopped, looking up at the Queen of the Lions. "Well, Sarabi? How can I help you?"
"If you don't know where Simba is, do you at least know where my husband is?" she asked smiling sweetly.
"The king? Oh, he's out with the cheetahs. Settling some territory dispute. He should be back with us any minute now."
"Do you think Simba might have gone with him?"
Sarafina let Nala go. "You know what? He might have," she said, turning look at the queen fully. "Maybe. Tell me, do you lose your son often?"
Sarabi's face darkened.
"I'm joking, Sarabi," Sarafina said, laughing pleasantly.
Sarabi half growled. Nala didn't know what the queen had to say-but it wasn't being said.
"Now, if you don't mind, I'm a bit busy with cleaning my daughter. Having some alone time," Sarafina said pointedly.
Sarabi snorted and left the two alone, the smile fading from Sarafina's face as she went.
"Mother, why's the queen unhappy?" asked Nala.
"Who knows?" scoffed Sarafina. "Some people just don't get along with others, I suppose. Now roll over so I can do your tummy."
Nala made to comply, but something caught her eye. Something in the grass, not five yards away. What was it? It twitched, and it turned, and then she understood what was going on.
She counted to three, mentally, and then leaned back, controlling her back, her legs, and the result was that Simba's pounce was reversed and she ended up on top of him, holding him to the ground.
That move her mother had taught her. But the sweet soft lick she favored the Prince's cheek with was a creation of all her own. It was only after the gesture of affection that she let him up and bowed her head.
"Our Prince graces us with his presence. How are you, my liege?" she said. She stared at his feet throughout this statement until the end, when she made eye contact with him. That way, he'd see her smiling.
"Nala, stop talking to me like that, you know I don't like it!" he said. When Nala laughed, he clouted her on the shoulder, friendly-like, and in a moment the two cubs were play-fighting each other again.
Nala was the clear superior, but the workout regimen Mufasa had his son on saw Simba losing by less than he tended to. And the whole while, Sarafina sat watching and grooming her paws.
At last the affianced children finished their play. For sportsmanship's sake, Nala allowed Simba the final victory; he ended up pinning her down and nipping at her throat in a way that, already, was intimidating. He was just a boy without a mane-what would happen when he was a fully grown lion, with the muscle and the voice of his father? How many hyenas, Nala thought, would be in precisely the position that she was? The view that she enjoyed… this would be the last thing that so many of them would ever see.
Finally he let her up. They spent a moment nuzzling until Sarafina laughed, softly, and stood up.
"I have patrol duties, so I'll give you two some privacy. But remember, don't go far. Right, Nala?" she said.
The young lioness met her mother's eyes. She nodded once and then Sarafina left without another word, leaving the cubs alone.
And for some reason, that made Simba nervous. To be with that precocious young girl, without the supervision of an adult? And already she was licking her lips and drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer to him still.
Then she laughed and rubbed her head against his. She pranced off, laughing the whole while, and Simba found himself following her. No matter where she went, he'd follow.
The sun had nearly peaked in the sky by the time they reached the waterhole, an outlying oasis some distance from other major landmarks. Technically, it wasn't exactly close to where Pride Members tended to frequent, but it was deep in lion territory and everyone knew who Nala and Simba were. As such, the often crowded oasis became remarkably empty as they approached it.
Simba was dusty and a bit tired by then. He trained for strength and bursts of energy, rather stalking for hours in the hot sun, as they'd been doing that morning. Nala was still as fresh and clean as she had been when her mother finished with her. As such, she deferred to him and allowed him to touch his lips to the water first. At least, until…
"Wait," Nala said. "Simba, have you ever heard of the Run from Hell?"
"The Run from Hell?" Simba repeated. "No, what's that?"
"It's just something lions used to do in the pride to prove their bravery," she said. "Years ago, I mean. Some of the old lionesses told me that their husbands did it to win their hands in marriage."
Simba arched a brow. "Then why haven't I heard of it?"
"Because when your father and uncle were starting to come of age, your grandfather banned it," Nala said. "It's pretty dangerous… the way it works is that you have to spend a morning out in the sun, and get nice and tired, and then-without drinking water-you have to go into the west side of the gorge, and run all the way to the east.
"And in the middle of the day, that crevice is like an oven. It gets monstrously-unspeakably hot in there. And that's why your grandfather banned it," Nala said. "Too many lions were trying it before they were ready, and dying."
"But that's what bravery is all about," Simba said. "You can't be brave without taking any risks, can you?"
"I don't think so either," Nala admitted. "But I guess it's for the best. Your father didn't do it and neither did your uncle-well, at least not until they were fully grown, and not just cubs-so it's okay if you don't do it, I'm sure no one will call you a coward-"
"Me? A coward?" Simba said. "I'm the heir to the throne of the Lion King, so one will will dare to call me a coward. And I won't let them think it, either."
Through the course of the conversation, Simba's chin had dipped into the water. When he realized this, he slapped the moisture from his face and struck the liquid surface with his paw. And then he turned toward the mouth of the gorge and started to march.
"But wait, Simba!" Nala said. "It's banned, remember?"
"Only by my grandfather," he retorted. "And since my father has never told me not to do it, I'm unbanning it now. If my father wants to punish me for it, he can-after I'm finished."
And then he marched on with his head held high. A gaggle of trees might have offered him shade, but he rejected them, electing to walk in the face of the sun, straight to the gorge, straight to his run, straight to Hell.