Through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

"Go Sarabi! I can look after Scar." Sarabi stood firm. Nala shoved forcefully past. "If you stand there much longer you'll begin to look like my mother. Now go."

"Are you sure you're going to be OK?"

"Yes! How hard can it be, looking after a sleeping lion? Where's he going to go?"

"Nala, the bluffs are still falling."

"Yes, I know. Look, I'll watch out."

"If anything happens, you get away. Leave Scar. You understand?"

"Yes Sarabi. Now go on, go."

Sarabi awkwardly backed a couple of paces away from Scar. Then, turning down slope, she paused and looked back. Nala, settling beside Scar, shook her head slowly then flicked it, quietly shooing Sarabi away.

Sarabi walked off, a little unsteadily at first; her accustomed poise returning as the stiffness in her legs eased. She had no real idea how much the awakened Scar might be able to do. Would he be able to walk as he normally did, or would Rafiki's unguent so cloud his mind that he would need guiding at every pawfall? Just what would he be able to do? There was little chance that he'd be able to run, nor even jump, so the way had to be easy.

Over time that made the lives of lions seem like fleeting moments, the rock of the gorge had crumbled down to coarse sand that filled any gaps in the bed rock, and made the path fairly smooth. At first it was broad enough for all three to go abreast, allowing the lionesses to support Scar if needed. Further down, the bed rock intruded more, both narrowing the path and making the going harder. Even so, Sarabi felt that Scar could most likely manage. He had to, there was no choice: there was no chance that he could have climbed out back up to the plateau. It was either this path, or not get out of the gorge at all.

Further down still, the path turned sharply back on itself, snaking down the gorge side. The way ahead was studded with rocks, many no bigger than a lion's paws. Some, much larger and reaching down into the ground, demanded careful pad-fall. Some were so big that they had to be walked around or over. All had been sculpted and smoothed by the wind, and felt warm but comfortable under pad. Some, cracked and broken, their once-smooth surfaces shattered into jagged, raw edges, ridged up painfully into Sarabi's tough, slate-dark pads. Beyond, the way broadened out, and the slope shallowed, merging into the floor of the gorge. Sarabi could see why Rafiki had chosen this way to come. If Scar could reach here, then he would most likely make it home.

Sarabi stood in shadow at the margin of the gorge floor. The walls towered over her. She felt small, but knew still that the gorge meant her no harm. Maybe it meant Scar no harm too, and had just been caught unawares by his impetuous decision to visit its edge.

The shade was slowly narrowing. By the time they got back here with Scar, they would most likely have to walk up the gorge in full sun. Sarabi's mouth felt dry, her dark lips, dusty. The waterhole felt a long, long way away, and they still had a hard, slow journey just to reach where she now stood. With a resigned sigh, she turned to walk back up the way she had come.

Nala lay a little way from Scar. "He was shaking – thrashing really – for a while, but he's calmer now. I thought he might wake, but no… he's restful now." Nala lifted her forequarters from the ground, curved her back in a stretch, and then drew herself up to her full height. "Sarabi, what if he doesn't wake?"

Sarabi walked over to Scar. She laid down beside him once more, her head by his hindpaws.

If he died, if Scar died, what then? What would become of the pride? A pride without a male lion was… well, what was it? It would have no cubs, and in time, no future, but then Scar had no cubs anyway, what was the difference? A pride without a male was defenceless. No it wasn't. It was the lionesses who defended the cubs. The males just defended their own pride, their territory and their property; their lionesses; not the pride. A pride without a king is still a pride. It's the lionesses who are the pride. The only thing we really need males for is… no Mufasa; there was more to us than that. There was much more.

Sarabi noticed the blood on Scar's thigh wound had congealed dark and hard. She licked at it distractedly. She was thankful that Sarafina kept her claws clean, and sharp. Sarabi doubted the gashed skin would hold until they got out of the gorge, nor even down to its floor. There was no doubt the wound would be painful. Sarabi knew it would be better for all three if the effects of the unguent blotted out that pain.

The far side of the gorge had lain in full sun for most of the day. As the heat built, so too did the stresses within the rock until, with a shattering report that rolled back and forth across the gorge, some of the rock gave way. Sarabi instinctively sprang up and dashed away. Nala, pacing the edge of the ledge, turned on her hindpaws with a powerful spring from her forelegs. Neither knew from where the sound came, nor what had made it. Both knew it was alien and roared "danger!"

Sarabi took hold of her fear ten or more lengths from Scar. Hearing nothing alarming, she pushed down her fear against her pounding heart and raging breath, trying to regain her composure. She cowered to the ground, straining to listen to any sounds of danger, pressing her chest against the dust in an attempt to control her breathing. Nala stood, wide-eyed but otherwise remarkably calm, some way beyond the still unmoving Scar.

We have to get away. Was that a shot? Had a shot taken Mufasa? Simba ran off terrified, not stopping until so far from home that he couldn't find his way back? No, it was the herd – the gorge. Was Mufasa really already dead as he lay there under that withered acacia trunk? Where were Simba's paw prints? Where had he gone?

"Sarabi!"

If only Scar had known; if only he could tell.

"Sarabi! Look!"

What's she looking at? She's… no-

Nala was staring at Scar. He was looking back: eyes open, just.

Sarabi blinked back at Nala. "Scar?"

"Yes, look at him. He's watching me!"

Sarabi turned her head to watch Scar's side. His dusted, counter-shaded underfur rose and fell with a new, quickened rhythm. "Scar?" she asked quietly. She knew if he replied, the pain would return. Hunting for the hyenas would be all the pride would ever do. That would be their life. None of the lionesses would give him cubs; cubs who would know nothing but toil and exhaustion, pain and hunger. The future of the pride lay in a sound; in a word spoken by Scar. Sarabi waited. "Scar?" she repeated with more insistence. The lion's forelegs shook momentarily, and he then lay still once more. No sound came from him.

With delicate care, Sarabi got up and moved slowly away. As soon as she came into his eye-line, Scar's eyes tracked her all the way to Nala's side. Sarabi though, had a distinct feeling that Scar wasn't with them at all; his eyes took in the light, but Scar, a lion as unique as any that roamed the savannah, knew them not. The two lionesses looked on, staring. Did Scar see them? If so, he showed no sign of recognising them.

"Why's he doing that Sarabi?"

"Get over there so he can't see you."

As Nala bounded off, Scar's eyes followed her as far as his still motionless head, lying sideways on the ground, allowed. Then they stared into the wall of the gorge. Scar had no expression.

"This is really weird."

Scar's upper ear twitched, putting several flies to flight. Then it turned to Nala.

Sarabi called deliberately, enunciating the words clearly, "Scar, can you hear us?" The ear stayed focussed on Nala.

"Scar, it's me, Nala. You can hear me?" Scar's head shifted slightly. Sarabi felt the pain the effort must have caused. The lion's lips quivered, maybe in an attempt to speak. All that passed from them was a plosive breath from deep in his throat. Nala walked back into Scar's eye line. His head dropped back to the ground. Nala went over to him, turning her head and pressing it gently to his. "Don't try to talk; just rest." She backed away, as soon as she got out of Scar's view, he became agitated, turning his ears and twitching his legs. Sarabi looked sternly at Nala. Nala slipped back to Scar's side and lay down beside him. "I'm here. It's all right, I'm here."

He's not going to be able to do this is he? He's not walking out of here. Did Rafiki give him enough? Was that all he'll do? He'll never lead the pride. Mufasa, what have I done? Sarafina was right; I should have left him down here to die. It would have been better for us, better for him. It was the sensible thing to do, wasn't it? But I couldn't. I couldn't just leave him here to die, could I? You wouldn't have left your brother to die would you? You didn't leave our son to die down there. No, you had to try to save him. I had to try and save Scar, and now I'd dragged Nala and the whole pride into this. Will we get out of this? Will we even get out of this gorge? What then? Help me Mufasa, I need you. I need you so much.

After a moment's silent thought, Sarabi walked round behind Nala and Scar and lay down on the loose earth half a length from Scar's back. The blood matting Scar's mane had long since stopped flowing. That much was good, but it had oozed into and become part of the sandy ground. His attempt to lift his head had left his mane coated in browned sand. That only made the full extent of the blood stain more evident. Sarabi sighed to herself, and turning her head away from Scar, tried to rest.

The shadows caught up with them, the stack top was bathed in searing midday sun. Sarabi couldn't sleep, she writhed and rolled, trying to get comfortable: first on her side, then on her back, then forelegs under, then stretched out to one side. Once she rolled over and her hindlegs struck Scar's hindquarters roughly, but he, at least, slept on. A while later, she got up, and walked off, noting Nala was still asleep just as she had lain beside Scar.

When Sarabi returned, she stopped as she came into Scar's view. His eyes were open once more. She moved forward slowly. As before Scar tracked her. Then he lifted his head clear from the ground and looked at her straight with his left eye, his right looked beyond.

"Scar, how do you feel?"

He opened his mouth as if about to speak, but once more, made no sound. He looked confused as if his lack of speech bewildered him. He tried to lift his forequarters, but Nala's weight on his forelegs held him down. She roused, and on feeling Scar's attempts at movement, snatched herself up. "Scar, no! You don't need to move. Stay still and rest!"

"No Nala, it's working. We need him up. Come on Scar, we've got to get you home."

Freed of the burden of Nala's bulk, Scar attempted to rise. His hindlegs appeared not to respond and his forelegs couldn't hold him; he slumped back down.

"That's it! Come on Scar, get up!"

Scar tried again, lifting his upper body off the ground, just about managing to lock his forelegs underneath. Then, straightening his back, he strained to get up on to his hindlegs. At first they wouldn't move. Sarabi feared that he might have broken his back, but surely Rafiki would have seen that? No, Scar had no broken bones; Rafiki had said; he could walk.

Nala stood close to Scar as he made another pained attempt to get to his feet. He closed his eyes, seemingly to gather his strength, and then brought himself to a near-stand, his hindlegs not fully extended. He swayed and then staggered forward. Nala rushed to his side to support him. He stemmed his forward movement and straightened himself up roughly. He was slumped a little on to his right side. His right eye still looked away from Sarabi, but he stood, just about.

Sarabi moved toward him, slipping to his left. His left eye followed. His right stayed where it was. The patch of blood where he had lain was extensive. His left shoulder was caked in his own blood. Looking up, Sarabi soon saw in horror from where it came: Scar's left temple was blooded, and worse, noticeably dented where he had crashed heavily into something as he fell.

"Nala, stay there, please. Keep him up."

Sarabi turned to Scar and closed to his left side. She whispered into his ear, hoping he could still hear. "I'm so sorry Scar. Forgive me." Scar shook and leant heavily on Sarabi. "Can you walk?" He seemed to nod. "Let's go." Scar did not move. "Over there, down that path to the gorge floor." Still Scar did not move, though he did pull himself up to a straighter stand. "Nala, you'll have to show him. Go on!"

Nala moved a length forward, then another. Finally Scar lumbered forward. Sarabi stayed tightly with him. Nala moved on, paused and looked back.

"Don't worry Nala, the way's easy enough. Just follow that path and we'll get down. Go on." Nala nodded and walked forward again. "Not too fast though!"

Scar followed Nala down the slope. His walked soon gained strength and balance, though there was still something not right about it. The two lionesses called to each other often, Nala ahead, unsure of the way, Sarabi at Scar's side, guiding both. Scar though, sleepwalked his way along, saying nothing, oblivious to all pain; such as his thigh wound; and seemingly to anything at all.

The three lions reached the gorge floor much later than Sarabi had expected. Rather than the full midday sun Sarabi had wanted to avoid, they reached the easier going of the sandy floor late into the afternoon. Scar seemed to want to walk out unsteadily to the centre of the gorge, toward a flat platform with a broken spindly acacia stump. Sarabi had to push roughly on his side to steer him away and keep to the side. Above a hawk screeched. Sarabi realised where they were; she pushed much harder, determined not to go to that place again.

"Nala, lead him away. Keep to the side; don't let him wander out there."

"Is that so Sarabi?"

Sarabi's heart shook and held for a moment. She knew that voice. She wanted more than anything to hear it again: smooth, deep, dignified with a hint of playfulness. She closed her eyes. Her heart thumped back into her, racing like her pawfall as she closed on a gazelle. No, this couldn't be. It was everything she had ever asked for come at once. It was close, so close she could lean out and sink herself into that mane again. She breathed in the unmistakable scent, not daring to open her eyes, not believing that it could be real.

"Sarabi-"

"No, not now. Say nothing; just be here." Pressing herself to his side, she felt his heartbeat; his heartbeat, here with her; strong and steady; her head in his mane; his scent all around, enveloping her. "Please be here."

He laughed gently, Sarabi felt his ribs lifting. "Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

"I don't want to say this, but you're…"

"Sarabi, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me. Then tell me what I am."

Please no. Let me stay here. I know you're here.

"Open your eyes. You can't hide away for ever. You have so much life still to give."

"I don't… I don't want to be disappointed; to have my heart shattered again."

The voice lifted; lightening almost into a laugh. "You won't be Sarabi. Now then, let's open your eyes and tell me what I am."

Against all her instincts she opened her eyes slowly. Brightness poured into her. It was true.

"You are my king."

"No. You are my queen. The sun has long set on my time as king."

"No, you're here, this is the brightest day."

"Please Sarabi, listen. It has been a long night. You must be ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

"The sun will rise again soon, at dawn, after the darkest hours of the night."

"It can never be dark with you here."

"It's darker than the blackest lion's mane. I was afraid I'd lost you. I was lost too but now I know I'll always be with you, but I must go."

"Go? But you've only just come back. Don't go, you don't have to go. Please don't. Mufasa, please!"

"I must. I have duties I must attend to. I cannot help you. You're on your own. You must make your own choices, remember? You always had so much more life than I. Don't hide yourself away; give yourself to others. How many cubs have you had since I… left?"

"Cubs? None, you know that. Without you, and Simba, it seemed so… wrong."

"There is still time. Remember, you have so much life to give; you're so alive. I… I am empty."

Sarabi slowed, lifting her head from out of his mane, letting him move ahead, slipping away from her….

"Sarabi?"

He called back, not breaking his stride, "I am dead Sarabi. I died here in the gorge. You are still so wonderfully, beautifully alive, you must let me go. I don't belong here anymore. I still have work to do."

"Mufasa!"

"Sarabi? Are you alright? What's going on?"

Nala stood wide-eyed a few lengths ahead, alongside Scar. Mufasa was gone.

Sarabi collected her thoughts and feelings, ones she'd thought she'd never feel again. She put them aside and lifting her head called back to Nala, "Nothing. It's all right now. I just felt…"

"You don't look alright Sarabi. When was the last time you ate?"

"Two, three days, no, I don't know… a long time."

"Far too long. Look, I'm sure mother'll have something stashed away somewhere; in one of her trees most likely. I'm sure she's part leopard."

"Look out! Scar's wandering off again!"