Rifts in the Ice: A Lion King Story
Chapter One
Simba's tears dripped into dust as he padded across the parched desert. The sunbaked sand burnt his paws raw, and the arid wind choked up his throat. Scattered cuts and bruises marked his brown fur bloody while his head writhed faster than a headless serpent.
Yesterday was supposed to be something wonderful, like so many others in the Pridelands. Simba was supposed to experience a surprise with his father, practice new hunting skills with Nala, and then curl up for a well-earned, evening rest beside his mother. But the day's events quickly rotted, wilting faster than a plucked savannah flower, and the little lion cub now found himself without a home, a family, and a future.
Vultures circled overhead, lowering their altitude closer with each pass. Simba ran to get away from them, but he was running out of breath, running a fever, and the vultures wouldn't let up. With so many birds closing in, Simba figured shelter lay somewhere nearby; a jungle of sorts, some scattered trees, or even a small oasis. But no matter which direction he looked, only a vast ocean of sand and sky looked back.
As the cowardly scavengers readied their talons for an easy kill, the gruesome memory of Simba's dead father infested his mind. No matter how hard he banished such thoughts, the recollection of the once mighty king perishing endured. Simba could still smell the coarse dust kicked up from the stampede, still see his father's body careening off a cliff, and he'd never unhear the pursuing hyenas' sickening laughter as he fled into the wild.
The cub leaked more tears. "I'm sorry, dad," he said, collapsing. "I'm so sorry." Simba glanced back up at the vultures swooping towards his frail figure. Though it was the end, he felt some small comfort knowing his death would reunite him with his father. They'd shine bright together as stars, accompanying the rest of the former kings in the vast, night sky, and Simba could watch over his mother, his former pride, and his dear friend Nala until they were all ready to meet again.
Yeah, the young lion thought, shutting his eyes. That didn't sound so bad.
A bright flash engulfed the sky, and a sharp rattling sound followed. It resembled the kind of noise dry bones made when clattering to the ground. Simba squinted against the flare, but as the new source of light faded away, he immediately noticed the vultures were gone. The cub did his best to rise on all fours but stopped mid-rise when he saw a new figure approaching.
Turning slack-jawed, Simba stared at this bizarre creature. It walked upright on two legs like a monkey but never once switched to all fours. Its face was wrinkly, eyes both beady, and its body was coated head to toe in a thick, unkempt pelt. But its arms and neck bore numerous strings of silver orbs. They emitted a slight jingling tune as the brown thing walked.
Smirking its sharp yellow teeth, the being closed the distance between itself and Simba, and the poor cub winced at the putrid odor reeking out it's every which way.
"What's this? A royal cub groveling before famished commoners?" His voice carried a thick accent quite foreign to the young lion. "You must be eager for the petty experiences of the world. Either that, or you've lost your pride entirely."
Simba cocked an eyebrow, asked, "Famished what?"
The creature pointed towards a sand dune, and Simba gasped at the sight of the vultures stuck in its bank, nothing left of them save for a few dried remains.
"Well, no longer nearly as starving as you are now but take my word for it, you'd have to have the hungry little pecker to go after a princely predator, even one as petite as yourself."
The creature began to slowly circle Simba, his deliberate steps barely phasing the sand. The cub thought about running again, but his strength was utterly spent. Sinking back down, he asked, "How do you know I'm a prince?"
"Don't you mean exiled prince?" the creature replied, his cock mockery cutting deep. Simba looked down and nodded, empty of tears to weep. The being smirked and glanced towards the sky.
"Knowledge," he eventually said, savoring the word like a ripe berry. "It's a divine term, a powerful thing. Sounds just like advantage; the chance to win, unlimited potential. Consider how you can beat an opponent into submission, imprison them, or leave them out to shrivel under our copper sun, but you can never take away what they know. Once the goods are locked tight in here," the creature tapped its head, "they're impenetrable, and all you need do is keep breathing. Then one day, who knows what such advantages will do for you?"
Simba blinked, his vision blurring. The creature knelt in front of him, gently lifting the cub's chin with skin-cracked fingers. They smelt of herb residue. "That was a winded response to your question didn't really answer much, but concerning yourself with how I know these things shouldn't bother you." The creature's face turned grim. "Your life is an uprooted Bunyan tree, clinging to the earth by a lonely root. You blossomed well in your old home, but springtime is past, and the winds of change demand you find new soil."
"What" Simba asked.
The being leaned closer. "You're going to die," it said, dicing Simba's heart. "And even if you weren't, you can't ever return home. That part of your life is over, buried and best forgotten. So, what is there to do now?"
Simba shook his head. "I don't know."
The creature brushed Simba's chin. "In the end, we live by our choices and our choices live by us. So, you have a decision to make." The creature lowered his hand. "I have the power to save your life, young one. I can whisk you out of here, send you someplace safe, a land where you can thrive rather than just survive. But my gifts do not come free, I always get what I'm owed."
"But I don't have anything to give you."
The creature chuckled. "Yes, exiled princes are short on lands and titles, aren't they? But I have no use for such things. No, what I want from you is a favor."
"A favor?" Simba asked.
The creature lifted a finger. "One. Magnanimous. Favor," it said. "You will carry out a deed I deem sufficient payment for saving your life. Once the task is concluded, we will go our separate ways, and you will live the rest of your life in happiness."
Simba started to cough. "What if I can't do what you want?" he asked.
"Oh, you will." The creature replied. "I never ask the world of someone; it'll be within your talents to complete." The creature then shrugged. "However, you can refuse. I won't force you to see things my way." The being looked back over towards the vultures. Simba's gaze followed in turn.
An air current swept the dune, brushing streams of sand over the vultures' bones. In a matter of seconds, their brittle skeletons lay buried under hot grains. The creature chuckled again, and said, "But if you want to save yourself, I'd say you're running out of time." His face moved mere inches away from Simba's. "So, how badly do you want to live, prince?"
Simba glanced back at the dune. The vultures' bodies were now completely concealed, and with them Simba's former resolve to die. In moments like these, he remembered death was so finite, yet life was full of possibilities. Was a set end really what he wanted right now? Was he truly ready to face the great kings of old? He couldn't do anything for his father, mother, Nala, or pride, but maybe he'd find other ways of redeeming himself if he kept breathing, kept learning, and kept going.
"How will I find you later?"
"I found you out here in this vast wasteland, didn't I? I'll find you again when the time is right. Now, give me your paw."
Simba hesitated. "Why?" he asked.
The creature cocked an eyebrow, and this time Simba obeyed. Without warning, the creature raised its free hand and slapped something down on Simba's paw. It stung worse than an insect's bite, and the poor cub yelped. But before he could recoil, the creature grabbed Simba by the scruff and lifted him into the air.
"You've made your choice, young prince. Now, go live with it."
He threw Simba into the sky, and the cub screamed as his wounded body flew higher and higher towards a lone cloud. The last thing he heard before making contact was the creature's voice whispering: We will meet again. And then came a splash.
Cold water hit Simba's face like a gust, and the young cub jolted alert. The creature was gone and so was the desert. In its place, Simba found himself lying cold in a dark cave. A pool of rippling water lay beside him. The cub acted on instinct and plunged his head into the source of nourishment, its contents fed by a small waterfall. He lapped up the water, quenched his thirst, and took several more laps for refreshment's sake. On his last gulp, he took in a little too much and started coughing. But as he gained back his composure, a light laugh echoed within the bowels of the cave, sending the cub's fur straight up.
"Whose there?" Simba asked, backing against a wall. "Who is it?" His eyes took their time adjusting, but soon the cub spotted two sets of reflective irises staring back at him, moving closer. He extended his claws, gritted his teeth, but immediate pain seared through his body, and Simba remembered he was in no condition to fight let alone flee from danger.
Out of the darkness walked two large felines, one an adult, the other a cub. Though Simba never saw the likes of their species before, he knew they weren't lions. These large cats sported grey fur, spotted with black rosette patterns. Their eyes were a soft blue and green while both their noses looked violet even in the dark.
The adult was half the size of a grown lion, while the cub reached Simba's height. Both flicked their bushy tails every which way, and Simba swallowed what felt like pits of sour fruit. If this was the best help the hairy, ape-like creature could've offered, he should've just stayed in the desert.
"You're awake and drinking." The adult feline said. "Thank the Watcher."
"And you sure drink fast," the young feline said, smiling.
Both felines walked closer. "What's your name, little one?" the adult asked, her voice soft.
"S-s-stay away from me," Simba jittered, backing himself into a corner. "I'm not afraid t-t-to..." The poor cub shivered uncontrollably. "Ah, why is it so cold?"
"You're in the Snow Lands, sweet heart." The adult feline sat herself in front of Simba.
"And if you can't remember your name, can we call you guzzler?" the cub feline asked, laughing. "I've never seen a creature drink so fast. You'd think you just trekked a thousand miles."
Simba made a face. "What are you?" he asked.
Now, it was the adult feline's turn to laugh. "We're snow leopards," she said. "My name is Nia, and this is my daughter Karina."
"Nice to meet you, guzzler," Karina said, padding beside Simba.
Simba shivered, tried to create some space between himself and these new animals, but there was no more room to maneuver. Instead, he curled himself up, tried to look small, the illusion of invisibility, and Nia's expression turned worried.
She lowered her face in front of Simba's. "You have nothing to fear from us," she said. "I swear it." With that, she extended her long, wet tongue and licked a warm kiss squarely on Simba's face. The young cub felt his muscles relax, and Nia took the opportunity to lift Simba up by the scruff. She carried him over to the cave's front, Karina following close behind.
The mother leopard stopped at the mouth of the den before placing Simba gently between her paws. Sitting the cub up right, she began to bathe the little one thoroughly, brushing her long tongue up his back. Though Simba would've normally complained over such attention, the female snow leopard's warm breath and licks felt refreshingly soothing. So, he accepted the situation and did his best to hold still. Anything to stay warm.
Outside, snowflakes fell in blizzard heaps, coloring the landscape a thick white. The trees bent to and fro under the wind's quick blows, and the moon phased its dim light into the cave.
"Do w-w-we have to do this r-r-right here?" Simba asked through gritted teeth.
"Some of your cuts run deep," Nia replied. "I need to see where I'm cleaning." She turned the cub over and ran a few licks along Simba's belly. The cub squirmed, but Nia's hold on him remained strong, comforting even. When his forearms and legs were clean of dry blood, Nia brought the cub back into a sitting position. She wrapped her paws gently around his waist and resumed lapping his back.
"Hey, mom! I can help!" Karina said, moving over to Simba's side. She likewise went to work on the poor cub, licking his cheek gently with her own warm tongue. Simba felt a growl rising at the back of his throat, but he found he didn't have the strength to resist and kept quiet.
"Sweetie, that's enough. I've got this," Nia said, shooing her daughter back a few steps.
"Aw, alright." Karina made a quick pout before smiling. "So, do you remember name?"
"It's Simba," the cub said, weakly.
"Simba," the snow leopard cub repeated. "That's cute, I like that name. So, how'd you end up here?"
Before he could even attempt an answer, Nia spoke up. "That's enough questions for now, Karina. Go fetch us some meat from the last kill. And be quick about it."
"Okay, mom," Karina replied, padding off.
The adult leopard finished her work and pulled Simba close, cuddling him against her chest. With closed eyes, Simba basked in Nia's shared warmth, purring and quivering nonstop. Nia took advantage of the moment and bent her head down, tracing another lick up Simba's cheek.
"We'll speak more in the morning," she whispered. "But know this, you are safe, little Simba." She paused to nuzzle him. "You are safe."
