Our Waterhole

Nala was scarcely out of Moonsilver valley, a deathly-limp adult female impala dragging awkwardly at her offside, when dawn flooded over her. She had no time to stand and watch as the sky slid from deepest blue to gold, and none to listen as all around her, the air filled with birdcalls. No one saw her coat, radiant in the dawn light; felt the heat of her exertion; nor heard her snatched gasps for breath as she pressed on into the sunrise. She had to reach the still distant waterhole before the birds settled, and the heat and her hunger built, making dragging the impala impossible. Sarabi had told her to be there. Nala was determined she wasn't going to be late.

Nala caught her breath, and looked about. All around, the ground, not yet shimmering in the early morning heat, was greening. The earth had a give: a softness she had all but forgotten. The deep cracks in the sandy soil, which had only a few days before been breaking up in hardened plates, had almost closed. The cool air had an earthy freshness. She lifted a forepaw and, turning it over, licked and sucked at the earth between her toes. She expected it to be caked on, gritty and hard, instead it came away easily. She flicked it out with her tongue and then licked again, feeling only her own travel-hardened pads, cracked claws and short wiry fur.

Looking down to the kill, she batted its head on to its side with her now clean paw. "What are you looking at? Where did you come from anyway? I could have waited all day for you, but no, when Rafiki shows up, there you are, right behind him." She stooped down, to pick up her kill between her teeth. "Now Mother'll see I'm not a cub. You'll show her I can hunt. She never lets me lead. I'm just 'Nala'. I've always run with the lionesses. Now they can run with me."

The impala's head drooped along its stiffening forelegs as Nala lifted it. One hind leg, the flesh slashed below the hip to the broken bone, dragged well out to Nala's offside. "You're not going to feed the pride though, are you? How many of your friends have to die to feed all those stupid—" She knew what she wanted to say, but even alone she kept it in. Even grass had ears.

Ahead was one last rise. Over, lay the waterhole; what was left of it. Claimed and controlled by the hyena horde, it had dwindled to little more than a few slime-ridden puddles. No water meant no prey. With no food, how long could the Pridelands hold onto the pride? Clearly, Scar had no idea of what to do about the drought. A good king would have known. Mufasa would have. He would not have let the hyenas into the Pridelands, and never let them take over the waterhole: the one place to which all had a right.

The palms that, in Mufasa's time, had majestically lined the approach had long since faded and browned. One lay crashed across the path, near the crest of the rise. As she reached it, Nala dropped her kill close to the upturned rootstock, and then leapt over the trunk. Landing, she stopped smartly, turned and crept back on her underfur, pushing under the rough, skin-ripping, fibrous trunk. It pulled at her back painfully. Nala realised that had she caught a male, its horns might have jammed it tight. As it was, she was just able, with tentatively flailing, outstretched-clawed forepaw, to snag the impala's neck.

Pushing back with her free foreleg; Nala pulled the kill under the tree. Then its broken hind leg caught fast at the knee. Nala slunk down and crunched her teeth deep into its neck. She drew her hindquarters up, bringing her hindpaws forward under her. She took two, as deep breaths as the kill's neck in her mouth allowed. She extended her hind claws into the sandy ground, and putting all her strength into her hindquarters, rolled herself up and back. The kill held fast. Nala closed her eyes and pressed harder, recoiling when the torn flesh around the already broken bone, gave suddenly. Nala tumbled backwards, most of the kill springing free after her.

Nala kicked out wildly at the kill. "Get off me!" It slid off her belly, onto the ground at her hindpaws.

Nala picked herself up, shook the sand out from her fur, and panting, gathered up her kill. Having no means of carrying the parted hindleg, she left it wedged under the tree. "It's your fault. You shouldn't just leave bits lying around." She set off out into the open, a trail of fresh blood dripping from her kill.

Nala rarely went to the waterhole or the Nonda to drink. Like most lionesses, she got the water she needed from the fresh meat and blood of her prey. In the depths of the drought, desperation had forced her to drink, lapping at the foul water then looking up anxiously, barely raising her head. Her fear was not of being preyed upon or hunted; it was the hyenas she was wary of. They seemed to think they should be the ones to decide who drank at the waterhole. Any lioness could handle one or two, but more meant trouble.

Hyena trouble… it had all started with hyena trouble, and still it went on. Zazu would not be there this time, flapping impatiently, swooping down to remind of the love laid out on the path ahead. There was no path ahead anymore. It could so easily have all ended that day had it not been for the king saving… no, Mufasa saving his son - and… where was Scar? Where was he? Not saving his daughter. What sort of father leaves his own cub to the hyenas? No, he hadn't been there.

Where was he when Nala lay sick and shivering, hunched up tight at her mother's side; Rafiki unable to heal her? Had Scar feared for his daughter's life? No, he was playing at king, self-importantly welcoming some kudu new to the Pridelands. Where was he when Nala walked out on her first hunt, trembling with fear and pride beside her mother? Was he there when she brought down her first kill? What did he say? "That's good, now the others won't have to carry you." Who was doing the carrying now?

Scar had never been a father to Nala. He had never cared, but why should he? Nala had been just another mouth to feed for too long, and later, once she could hunt, and he was king, she had become just- just a lioness to use and take as a trophy.

It could have been so different, had Simba still been there. But Simba and Nala? Mufasa's son and Scar's daughter together just as Zazu had said; how could that ever have happened? How was that any better than Scar wanting his own daughter as his queen?

Nala stopped, and lowered her kill to the ground beneath her, its remaining hind hoof slapping against her flank. Unless… Sarabi had said that Scar was not her father. If not, then who? Somewhere out there, there was a father whose tail Nala had never played with, and a back she had never clambered over. A mane she had never snuggled into, and forepaws she had never been swatted away distractedly by. Her mother knew, and Sarabi too… and they had never told Nala. There must have been a very good reason for that, surely?

Nala left the kill on the ground and took the few paces to the top of the rise. She smelled the waterhole - warm mudded moisture tainted by hints of hyena - on the breeze from the other side of the rise. Standing on the ridge, she saw the water - more of it than she remembered - reaching almost to the wind-smoothed standing rocks to the right of the near bank. On the farther side, somewhat over to the left, were three unmistakeably leonine forms: two standing, the darker, Sarabi, the other Sarafina, and one lying at the water's edge, head surrounded by black: Scar.

Nala watched for a few moments as Sarabi lay down, hind first, then lowering her forequarters gently. A movement off to the far left caught Nala's eye. She looked over, barely turning her head. Three patchy-dark furred forms, high at the fore – hyena – were walking between scattered acacias toward the waterhole: stopping, glancing excitedly at each other, shaking their heads, moving on again. In the drought, Scar had let the hyenas watch over the waterhole. They now controlled who drank, and who went thirsty. While Nala could not make out whom these hyena might be, she knew they meant trouble. They must let Scar drink, surely; but what about lionesses?

Nala sprang back to her kill, picked it up, and hurriedly dragged it over the rise, and on down toward the waterhole.

Reaching the edge of the water, Nala continued straight on, splashing and dragging the kill through the shallow water over the still hard-baked, sun-cracked mud. Sarafina looked up, her ears tense. Nala slowed; the soaked kill slipping and dragging through the softer mud at the middle of the waterhole.

Sarafina ran out to meet her. "Where have you been? Sarabi asks you to do this one thing: just be there by dawn, but no, you couldn't do that, could you?"

Nala halted, all but exhausted. "But Mother-"

"Don't you dare 'but mother' me! Go on, drop it." Sarafina snatched the carcass from Nala before she could let go, dragging it from her mouth. "Well, what was it this time, mooning over that damned Simba again? You'd better stop that nonsense. Now see here my girl, he's gone! Get it? He's dead! Either that or he's lost an eye and an ear, and has already fathered twenty cubs on ten lionesses."

"Not now Sarafina!" Sarabi breathed out heavily, her shoulders sagging. "Please, not now. I said an hour after dawn, and we're still here."

Sarafina closed her eyes, shook her head and began dragging the carcass back toward Scar. Through the misty haze rising from the water, Nala noticed a blood-pinked patch on Sarabi's neck.

Sarabi sounded strained. "We can't go on with you two at each other's throats like this. Please, we have to work together. We have to be strong. We have to be one."

And another on her foreleg; partially cleaned off, but definitely blood. Someone had hurt Sarabi. Scar? Maybe, but lying a few lengths away at the water's edge, he seemed incapable of moving. Hyenas? Maybe, or maybe just a scratch or two from rough, thorny bush.

A distant echo of a memory floated over the waterhole to Nala. Do this one thing… Of a time when everything was better. Be there by dawn… When life was everywhere. Stop that nonsense... When there was hope. See here my girl… The colours of the memory: wet leaf, azure, crimson, acacia flower, and gold; faded to rain-drab grey. "What happened, Sarabi? Are you hurt? Was it those hyena?"

Sarabi shook her head. "Don't worry." She paused, breathing heavily. "It's OK now. I'm fine. Nothing happened."

"Damn him! See? He can't even smell fresh meat right in front of him." Sarafina shook her head and then looked toward Nala, her eyes narrowing. "What hyena?"

"Three, they're coming here. I didn't get a good look at them."

"Three you say? It's them. 'Course it is. Who else goes around in threes? You led them here."

"No I didn't, mother! They were coming here anyway. I do everything you ask, take down a kill for you and Scar, don't even take any myself and what do you do? A simple 'thank you' would be something."

"Didn't take any? They're not the only ones to go around in threes, apparently. Just how many three-legged impala do you-"

"Saffi! Please, no more. Not now." Sarabi seemed agitated, distraught even. "Just stop this, both of you. Please!"

Sarafina blinked and sighed, dropping her shoulders. "Nala, how far away are they?"

"Not far. They'll be here soon."

"So, what do we do now, Sarabi?"

"Stay here. They're only three hyena and we have every right to be at our waterhole. Let's get into that kill. Nothing scares them more than well-blooded teeth, and they can hardly begrudge their own 'leader' eating and drinking."

Sarafina brightened up, snapping up her head and peaking her ears. "Now that's more like it! Go on Nala: I suppose it's your kill; you're in first."

Shaking her head, Nala turned. Scar lay by the water's edge, his tail stretched out into the shallows. He looked directly at the kill, drops of saliva running down over his heavily bearded chin. Nala crouched down, her head at the kill's belly. Thrusting forwards, she knocked the gaping hind leg stump out of the way and bit down on the patch of thinly white furred skin of the kill's other thigh. She pulled her head back, ripping open the skin and taking a mouthful of muscle from the leg. She took the still warm meat; fur, skin and flesh; into her mouth with a backwards snap of her head.

Sarabi joined her, taking meat from the fore-flanks and shoulders. She tried offering some to Scar, but he didn't seem to know what to do with it, dropping it between his forelegs. With Nala hurriedly taking her fill, and Sarafina standing guard to one side, waiting for the hyenas, Sarabi pulled off a smaller piece of meat, offering it to Scar with it hanging between her front teeth. He tilted his head and tried to take it. Sarabi leant forward, pressing her muzzle to his. When she pulled away, Scar had the meat in his mouth. He swallowed it whole.

The air grew heavy in the morning sun. Nala looked up from the kill. Shimmering through the haze rising over the waterhole, three dark forms appeared. They closed for a few seconds, and then stopped. Two sat, the third stood, its large, angular ears dark against the sun.

Sarafina stepped forward a pace, thrashing her tail. "They're here."

Nala knew it could only be a matter of time before the hyenas showed up. She had hoped that it wouldn't be this soon. Scar had barely eaten anything. She hoped he had already drunk.

"Well, Sarabi, shall I run them off?"

"No Saffi. Who is it?" Sarabi rose and stiffly moved over to Sarafina.

"Who do you damn well think it is? It's Shenzi, Banzai and what's-his-face… you know, Ed."

Sarabi peered into the haze. "Sure?"

"I've got eyes! Of course I'm sure."

"Then let them get closer. I need to talk to them."

"You'd better know what you're doing, because they're coming."

Nala got up, standing by the remains of her kill, her belly heavy with meat. The hyenas closed to about ten lengths then split up, circling round. Sarabi and Sarafina watched Shenzi and Banzai while Nala tracked Ed.

"So Banzai, what's this eh? Lionesses at our waterhole?"

"Yeah Shenzi, and with food! See, they've finally brought us breakfast."

Sarafina called out to them, "It's not for you. It's for Scar! You're not getting any!"

"For Scar? You got him there? I reckon he ain't eating anything no more."

Nala looked to her side. Scar was nudging the kill with his nose. "Yeah, we got him, and he's eating, so you'd better back off!"

"Banzai? Can you see him? Is he?"

"Yeah Shenzi. He is, sorta."

Shenzi called out through the haze. "Hey Scar! You feeling all right?"

Sarabi stepped forward. "Scar's had an accident. He won't answer you."

"Accident? What kind of accident?"

"He fell from the top of the cliffs into the gorge, hit his head badly. He's lucky to be alive."

"Yeah? But your crazy monkey can do something about it, right?"

Sarabi paused, and sighed. "He can't do much. Scar needs time, maybe lots, to recover. Until he's well, I've got to keep the Pridelands going."

Banzai stopped, staring at Sarabi. "What? You mean you're going to be king?"

"No. I'm going to look after the Pridelands until Scar's better."

"But what about us? You're still going to hunt, right?"

Ed nodded.

Sarabi stepped forward again. Sarafina followed. Sarabi shook her head, saying quietly, "No, stay back," and then called to Shenzi, "Of course, some things will have to change."

"You mean like the old way?"

"Like when Mufasa was king, yes."

Sarafina thrashed her tail again, the hair on her back rising. "Sarabi, what do you think you're doing? No way are they going for that!" Sarabi ignored her.

Banzai lifted and pointed a forepaw. "That old way? I only just got used to the new old way."

"We have to look after Scar. We can't do everything. We've all got to work together for the good of the Pridelands."

"What's with that 'pride lands' thing? You may call it that, but we call it-"

Shenzi cut across Banzai. "So, I'm kinda just guessing here, but you mean you want us to get our own food. Like that old way?"

Sarabi lifted her head, brought her ears fully forward, and looked straight at Shenzi. "We lionesses can't hunt for you as well as look after Scar."

"You think we're going to just stand here and take that?"

Sarafina stepped forward, quietly saying, "Damn you Sarabi, you're going to get us all killed." Reaching Sarabi's side, she called out, "Yeah. There are three of us, and only three of you. Do you really think you'd stand a chance?"

Ed shook his head. Shenzi and Banzai stared at him.

"Hey, there's no need for a fight! We're down with that. Ain't we, Banzai?"

"Without a fight? Oh – yeah, I reckon without a fight."

Looking at each other and then to their side, Shenzi and Banzai said together, "Ed?"

Nala, even from a distance, clearly saw Shenzi's high shoulders drop a little as Ed nodded enthusiastically.

"Good," said Sarabi. "Then we all understand one another."

"So, what about our breakfast? You've drunk from our waterhole. You owe us."

Nala's heart fell for a moment: their waterhole. Then she remembered. "There's a leg of impala just over that rise, trapped under a fallen tree. Even you can't miss it." She nodded to the far bank of the waterhole. "Just look for blood."

Maybe they would let their stomachs rule their heads – they normally did. Shenzi turned away, but Banzai stood for a moment. "Hey, 'bout this 'accident'? How do we know you didn't push him off?"

"Know? You don't know. Just like I'll never know how Mufasa died…" Nala could sense the strain in Sarabi's voice. "And I'll never know what happened to my son."

Sarafina could clearly sense it too. She called to the hyenas: "So, are you sure you're with us?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but that leg had better be there."

Banzai got up and walked over to Shenzi. Ed joined them and together they began to walk off toward the end of the waterhole. Banzai shouted after the lionesses, "You ain't got the cojones-"

Shenzi elbowed him sharply with a foreleg.

"Err, it's cool with my homies if you wanna be King, err, Queen!"

"Until he's well enough to rule in person, Sarabi's the one you have to listen to. You got that?"

"Yes, we 'got it'. Haven't we Banzai?"

"Sure, and yeah, we know what happened. Scar set it up. He used Simba to lure Mufasa to the gorge. Then he set off the stampede to kill them both!"

Sarabi surged forward. Sarafina growled after her, "Forget it! They're only trying to wind you up." Sarabi slowed and stopped, dropping her head. She turned back and joined Nala and Sarafina at the kill.

When they had finished, Sarabi tried to get Scar up, but the trip to the waterhole, eating and the hyena encounter appeared to have exhausted him. She urged him up: "Come on, get up! It's time to go home." Scar shook his head. "Please, it's not far; just over there." Scar dropped his head to the ground. Sarabi lay down beside him. "You two go on. I'll stay with him."

Nala was not looking forward to the trek back to Pride Rock with a full belly. "No, Sarabi, you can't keep doing this. You said we have to be one, remember? I'll stay."

Sarafina stood impatiently. "Nala, are we going, or hanging around here all day?" She turned away, not waiting for an answer.

"Just once more," Sarabi said quietly to Nala. "One more day, then we'll be home. I'll find Scar some shade when he wakes. And anyway, wasn't there something you wanted to ask your mother? About Scar?"

"Ask mother? … oh, you mean that, don't you?"

"Ask her; for me."

When the haze lifted, all that was left of the impala was a mess of disarticulated bones and a wide blood-stained patch of sand.