There lay Simba, unconscious. Nala trembled at what had unfolded before her. Trickles of blood gushed out of what seemed like hundreds of gashes all over the golden lion's body, only slightly nuanced by his red mane. However, this wasn't what had shaken Nala to her core. It was the carcass of her father, Scar, which lay just a few meters away. His guts sprawled out like patches of sugarcane and duck flowers that nestled on the calm hills of the Pride Lands. What Nala witnessed, however, was far from calm.
Adrenaline rushed through her feeble body, her claws poised and ready to strike, but it was too late. The remaining ounces of adrenaline merely added to her already vigorously trembling body. She had to care for her saviour, who now rested his life upon rapid, shallow breaths. Concern overtook her basal fighting instincts as the malodorous odor of the carcass swiftly diffused through the grim cave. She edged forward, one step, then another, tears now overtaking her already blurred vision. She whispered, "Simba?" stupidly awaiting a response.
In that moment, her prayers were answered—but not in the way she had hoped. Simba, barely opening his mouth, mumbled, "Run, Nala. Now," in an oddly reserved tone. He had made his point. The stench of Scar was bound to attract his hyenas, who were already locked in fierce combat with the other lions. Groans, yowls, and the occasional screech banged against the poor lioness's eardrums, providing a constant reminder that death was imminent and lurking just around the corner. Her slow trudge quickly turned into a jog, destination—unknown.
She had barely exited the cave when a clan of hyenas stormed into her once-beloved home. However, this was no home anymore. Home was where Simba would fall asleep under her paws, playing in the warmth and safety of their family. Her sobs soon turned into mortifying wails. The hyenas had cornered her at the mouth of the once-majestic Pride Rock. Unable to hear the shrieks and yowls from the fight, she realized this was it. Her only option? To bolt toward where the sun set—the horizon, Milele.
After a moment to recuperate, with hyenas whose hunger seemed insatiable closing in, she knew what had to be done. Head down, she transmitted every ounce of energy into her legs. Overhanging showers mingled with the sweat now covering every inch of her creamy fur. She ran.
The sun had long since set, and darkness draped itself over the Pride Lands like a suffocating shroud. Nala ran, her paws pounding against the earth with relentless urgency. Her lungs burned, and her muscles screamed, but she didn't dare stop. Not yet. Every rustle in the tall grass or crack of a branch sent her heart racing, her ears flicking toward the source of every phantom noise. The hyenas might still be chasing her. She couldn't risk slowing down.
Her creamy fur was soaked, not just from the rain that still trickled from the heavens but from the sweat that clung to her body. The air was heavy with the smell of damp earth and fear. Nala's fear. Each breath came in sharp, ragged gasps as she pushed herself further and further into the unknown.
Finally, her legs buckled beneath her, and she skidded to a halt at the edge of a gorge. She peered down, her breath catching in her throat. The abyss yawned before her, black and endless, the faint sound of rushing water echoing up from somewhere far below. The night was silent save for her labored breathing, and she twisted her head sharply to scan her surroundings. Were they still following her? Were the hyenas hiding in the shadows, waiting to pounce?
Her chest heaved as her wide eyes darted from shadow to shadow. There was nothing but the faint rustle of leaves in the cool night breeze. She was alone. For now.
Nala collapsed to her haunches, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion. The gorge stretched out endlessly before her, and for the first time since she had started running, she allowed herself to stop. Her trembling paws brushed against the jagged edge of the cliff as her head dipped low, tears welling in her eyes.
The memories came unbidden, sharp and raw.
She thought of Simba—Simba as a cub, with his bright eyes and mischievous grin. The way he had chased fireflies under the moonlight, their laughter ringing out across the Pride Lands. She thought of the nights they had lain together beneath the vast, starry sky, whispering dreams to one another.
"Do you think they can hear us?" Simba had asked her once, his voice quiet with wonder.
"Who?" she had replied, her gaze fixed on the twinkling constellations.
"The great kings of the past. My dad says they're up there, watching over us."
She had laughed then, playfully nudging his side. "You're going to be up there one day, aren't you? King Simba."
Simba had puffed out his chest, mock seriousness in his tone. "Of course I will! And I'll make sure everyone remembers it."
"I'll remember," Nala had whispered softly, her voice carrying a sincerity that had silenced his bravado.
Now, staring up at the heavens, her vision blurred with tears, she searched the skies for him. The stars were faint tonight, obscured by the lingering storm clouds, but one in particular shone brightly, piercing through the darkness like a beacon. Her breath hitched, and a sob escaped her lips.
"Simba," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You're up there now, aren't you? Watching over me? I… I don't know what to do without you."
Her body shook as she cried, the weight of everything crushing down on her. Mufasa , gone. Simba, gone. Everyone, gone . The Pride Lands, lost. She was all that was left, a lone lioness with nothing but ghosts for company.
"I can't do this alone," she sobbed, her voice a broken whisper. "I can't… I can't keep running. I—I'm so tired, Simba."
Her gaze returned to the bright star, her tear-streaked face tilted toward it as though it might offer her some kind of solace. "If you're really up there," she murmured, "give me a sign. Tell me what to do. Anything."
The star didn't flicker. It didn't move. The heavens remained silent, indifferent to her desperate plea. She lowered her head, her ears flattening against her skull as despair took hold.
"You're gone," she said bitterly, her voice trembling. "You're just like them. Just like all the others. Just… gone."
She closed her eyes, the weight of her sorrow pressing her down. The abyss below called to her, its depths promising an end to the pain, the exhaustion, the endless running. Her claws scraped against the rocky edge as she shuffled closer, her paws trembling under the strain of her emotions.
"Maybe this is where it ends," she whispered to herself, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. "Maybe this is how I join you."
The memories of her childhood flickered in her mind, moments of joy and laughter now tainted by loss. She thought of her mother, of Sarabi, of the pride. They were all suffering, all fighting for survival in a world that seemed determined to break them. What was left for her? What was left for anyone?
The night was cold, the wind biting against her damp fur as she took another step forward. The edge crumbled slightly under her weight, sending small pebbles tumbling into the void. She didn't flinch. Her gaze was fixed ahead, her resolve hardening with every passing second.
Her front paw dangled over the precipice, the sharp drop below swallowing the tiny stones that slipped from under her. Her breathing steadied, a strange calm settling over her as she teetered on the brink.
"Simba," she whispered one last time, her voice barely audible above the rushing wind. "Wait for me."
One paw left the ground, then another. Her hind legs trembled as she shifted her weight forward, the pull of the gorge beneath her undeniable. Her tail flicked behind her, the final anchor to the world she was about to leave.
Two paws left the floor.
Three.
Four.