"One lion against three?" the largest rogue sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're brave… or foolish."
Simba didn't reply. He let out a low growl instead, his tail lashing behind him as he sized up his opponents. The rogues spread out, circling him like vultures, their eyes glinting with malice.
The first attack came swift and brutal. One of the rogues lunged, aiming for Simba's flank. Simba twisted sharply, his claws flashing as they raked across the rogue's shoulder. The attacker roared in pain, stumbling back, but the second rogue was already upon Simba. Teeth snapped at Simba's neck, but he ducked just in time, driving his shoulder into the rogue's chest and sending him sprawling into the dirt.
The third rogue, the largest of the three, took his chance while Simba was distracted. He barreled into Simba with the force of a charging wildebeest, knocking him off his feet. Simba landed hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he rolled quickly to avoid the crushing weight of the rogue's paws.
"You're outmatched," the largest rogue growled, circling Simba as the other two regrouped. Blood dripped from a shallow cut on Simba's side, but his focus didn't waver.
"We'll see about that," Simba muttered, his voice low but resolute.
He darted forward suddenly, catching the rogues off guard. Simba leapt at the second rogue, his claws sinking deep into the male's side. The two tumbled together in a flurry of teeth and claws, but Simba emerged on top, his strength overwhelming his opponent. With a powerful swipe, he sent the rogue sprawling, leaving him dazed and bleeding.
The first rogue lunged again, but Simba was ready. He sidestepped the attack and drove his hind legs into the rogue's chest with a powerful kick. The force sent the rogue skidding across the dirt, groaning in pain.
But the largest rogue wasn't deterred. He charged at Simba, his massive frame colliding with the golden lion. This time, Simba wasn't quick enough to dodge. The rogue pinned him, his claws digging into Simba's shoulders as he snarled triumphantly.
"This is where it ends," the rogue growled, his jaws lowering toward Simba's throat.
For a moment, it seemed he was right. Simba's muscles trembled under the weight of his opponent, his vision swimming as exhaustion and pain threatened to overwhelm him. The sound of the other rogues regaining their footing sent a wave of despair crashing over him. Was this how it ended?
And then, in the dark corners of his mind, a memory flickered to life. Nala's voice, soft but fierce, echoed in his ears.
You'd better come back.
Her aqua eyes swam before him, filled with love and determination. Simba's breath hitched, and a surge of strength he didn't know he had roared to life within him. He wasn't just fighting for himself. He was fighting for her, for the Pride Lands, for the future.
With a roar that seemed to shake the very earth, Simba twisted beneath the rogue, dislodging him just enough to sink his teeth into the male's shoulder. The rogue howled in pain as Simba surged upward, throwing him off entirely. Adrenaline coursed through Simba as he turned to face the other two rogues, his golden fur streaked with blood but his stance unwavering.
The second rogue hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Simba took advantage of the moment, charging forward and delivering a crushing blow to the rogue's skull. The male crumpled to the ground, motionless. The remaining two rogues exchanged a glance before retreating, their confidence shattered.
Simba stood tall, his breaths ragged, as the two rogues disappeared into the night. But the victory had come at a cost. Blood dripped from countless wounds, and his legs trembled beneath him. His vision blurred as the adrenaline faded, and the world tilted dangerously.
He collapsed.
When the lionesses found him, their shock was palpable. Aniya stood frozen, her amber eyes wide as she took in the scene. The rogue's lifeless body lay not far from Simba, and the faint scent of the others' retreat lingered in the air. Simba lay in a crumpled heap, his golden fur slick with blood and his breaths shallow.
Sarafina was the first to move, her heart racing as she rushed to his side. "Simba," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Oh, no…"
Aniya's voice, usually so steady, was filled with disbelief. "He fought them alone. For us?"
Another lioness stepped forward, her gaze darting between the rogue's body and Simba. "Why would he do this? He owes us nothing."
Sarafina rounded on them, her eyes blazing. "Because that's who he is! He's not Scar. He's Simba. And he'd risk everything to protect those who can't protect themselves."
Aniya was silent, her gaze fixed on Simba's battered form. Finally, she nodded. "Take him inside. He's earned that much."
The den was quiet, save for the soft murmurs of the lionesses as they worked to clean Simba's wounds. Sarafina stayed by his side, her movements careful and practiced as she tended to him. Though his injuries were severe, they weren't fatal—a miracle, given the odds he had faced.
Hours passed before Simba stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and he let out a low groan.
"You're awake," Sarafina said softly, relief flooding her voice.
Simba tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side stopped him. "Nala," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "I need to see her."
Sarafina placed a gentle paw on his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back down. "Not yet. You're in no condition to travel. Rest first. You've done enough."
Simba closed his eyes, frustration flickering across his face. He hated feeling helpless, but he knew she was right. He needed time to heal.
The lionesses lingered nearby, their whispered discussions carrying a mix of awe and uncertainty. "He fought for us," one said. "But can we really trust him?"
"He killed one of the rogues," another replied. "If he hadn't, we might all be…" She trailed off, shuddering.
Sarafina's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you?" she hissed, her voice low but sharp enough to silence the murmurs. "He offered his life for your safety, and this is how you repay him? By questioning his motives while he lies there bleeding? You should be ashamed."
Aniya's voice cut through the heavy silence that followed. "He's proven his strength. But trust is earned, not given. We'll see what kind of king he truly is."
As the sun began to rise, casting warm light over the den, a small figure approached. A four-month-old cub with wide, curious eyes padded hesitantly toward Simba. His youthful energy was apparent in the bounce of his steps.
He stopped beside Simba, peering up at the injured lion with awe. "You saved us," he said, his voice small but filled with admiration. "Thank you."
Simba managed a faint smile, his gaze softening as he looked at the cub. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice rough butgentle
"Hofu," the cub replied, grinning brightly. "Mama says it means 'fear,' but I don't want to be scared anymore. I want to be brave, like you!"
Simba's heart stirred, a flicker of hope breaking through his exhaustion. Hofu's enthusiasm reminded him of his younger self, of a time before the weight of kingship and the scars of the past. For a moment, the pain and uncertainty faded, replaced by a quiet determination to make a future worth fighting for.
And so, as the first rays of sunlight bathed the den in golden light, Simba closed his eyes, ready to face the challenges ahead.