The aftermath of the battle lay scattered around the base of Pride Rock: injured lions tended to one another, and the broken forms of countless hyenas littered the ground. Among the wreckage, one figure—Simba—stood bent over the lifeless body of his mother, Sarabi. She lay where she had fallen, not far from the towering rock that had always symbolized the pride's strength. Her death was a brutal reminder of the hyenas' cruelty. His deep, mournful cry echoed through the desolation, raw and unrelenting, carrying the weight of irreparable loss.
Simba.
The golden lion's head was bowed over the still body, his once-proud mother now lifeless before him. Her fur, matted with blood and rain, clung to her powerful frame. Even in death, she seemed regal, her expression one of fierce defiance as if she had left this world fighting until the very end. Simba's sobs were raw, a sound that seemed to tear through the hearts of every lion present. His mighty form trembled as he nuzzled her cheek, desperate for any sign of warmth, of life.
"Mother," he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking. "Please, wake up. Don't leave me. I… I need you."
Behind him, Nala watched in silence, her heart aching for Simba. They stood at the edge of the meadow that stretched beneath Pride Rock, the once-vibrant grasses now slick with rain and blood. She took a tentative step forward but hesitated, knowing there was nothing she could say to ease his pain. Beside her, Sarafina's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she gazed upon her best friend's lifeless body. Memories of their shared youth, their laughter, and the many trials they had faced together flooded her mind. Sarabi had always been the strong one, the unwavering pillar of their pride. To see her like this was almost too much to bear.
Sarafina lowered her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "You… you were the heart of this pride, Sarabi. What will we do without you?"
The pride gathered in solemn clusters around their fallen queen. The battle had been won, but it didn't feel like a victory. Every lion's gaze drifted to Sarabi's body, their expressions heavy with grief. The loss of their matriarch was a wound that cut deeper than any inflicted by the hyenas.
Days passed, and a pall of sorrow hung over Pride Rock. Sarabi's burial had been a solemn and quiet affair, the pride gathering beneath the shadow of Pride Rock as the rain-soaked earth welcomed her to its embrace. Flowers had been laid by her closest kin, and Simba had spoken softly of her strength and sacrifice, his voice trembling but steady. Her resting place, atop a hill overlooking the Pride Lands, would forever remind them of her unyielding spirit.
Inside the den, Simba lay curled in the shadows, his body unmoving. He hadn't spoken much since the burial, his grief rendering him silent. The pride whispered about his future, but Simba avoided the conversations entirely. He felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him, suffocating and unrelenting.
One night, unable to sleep, Simba crept out of the den and settled beneath the vast, star-filled sky. The moon cast a silver glow over the Pride Lands, its light reflected in his somber eyes. He tilted his head back, his voice breaking the silence. "Father, Mother," he whispered, his tone heavy with emotion. "I'm not ready for this. I don't know if I ever will be."
He closed his eyes, the memories of his parents flooding his mind. The lessons Mufasa had tried to teach him, the unwavering strength of Sarabi's love—all of it felt too immense to live up to. "How do I do this without you?" he murmured, his voice cracking.
The soft sound of paws on grass made him turn. Kula, a lioness he had known since they were cubs, approached cautiously. She settled beside him, her golden coat gleaming in the moonlight.
"Are you alright?" Kula asked gently.
Simba managed a weak smile. "Not really," he admitted.
Kula nuzzled his shoulder, a comforting gesture from a lifelong friend. "You don't have to do this alone," she said. "We all believe in you."
Seeing the distant look in Simba's eyes, Kula shifted, lying down beside him. "You know, the stars have a way of reminding us that we're not as alone as we feel," she said, her voice gentle. Simba glanced at her, his brow furrowing in curiosity.
"When we were cubs," Kula continued, gazing up at the endless night sky, "my mother used to say that the stars were the whispers of those we've lost. They're always watching, guiding us when we need them most."
Simba followed her gaze, his tense shoulders easing slightly. The soft shimmer of the stars seemed to dance with meaning he hadn't noticed before. For a moment, the weight pressing on his chest lightened.
"Do you think they'd be proud of us?" Simba asked, his voice quiet but tinged with vulnerability.
Kula smiled faintly, her head resting on her paws. "I think they already are. You're here, Simba. You're fighting to carry on their legacy. That's more than enough."
The two sat in companionable silence, the sky above them vast and infinite. Though Simba's heart still ached, Kula's quiet presence gave him a moment of peace he hadn't realised he needed.
Simba nodded, appreciating her presence. While he didn't see her as anything more than a friend, her words reminded him that he wasn't alone in this daunting journey. Still, his thoughts drifted to another—someone who had always been by his side.
In the days that followed, Simba couldn't help but notice the subtle ways the lionesses acted differently around him. They lingered close when he spoke, their eyes filled with admiration. They whispered about his future, each voice tinged with curiosity and hope. Simba couldn't blame them; the Pride Lands needed stability, and the pride's whispers about a queen were growing louder by the day.
Sarafina, catching on to the growing attention, couldn't resist a playful jab. "King Simba," she teased with a grin, nudging him lightly. "So, who's going to be your queen?"
Simba's ears flattened as a blush crept into his cheeks. He glanced away, mumbling something incoherent. Sarafina's laughter was light, a brief reprieve from the somber mood that had gripped the pride.
"Oh, come now," she said. "You've had plenty of admirers lately. Surely you've thought about it."
Simba's thoughts immediately went to Nala, her creamy fur glimmering under the sunlight in his memory, her aqua eyes always carrying a softness he could get lost in. She had been nothing but kind to him lately, offering quiet support when he needed it most. He could still recall the way she would glance at him, her expression full of understanding without a word needing to be spoken. The thought of her made his heart stir, but he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. Instead, he muttered, "I haven't decided."
Before Sarafina could press further, she noticed the faraway look in Simba's eyes and sighed softly. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," she said, her voice tinged with understanding. With a gentle nuzzle to his shoulder, she stepped away, leaving Simba to the quiet that wrapped around him.
A familiar voice broke through the moment. "Decisions of the heart cannot be rushed, young king," Rafiki said, his tone light yet filled with wisdom. The old mandrill stepped forward, his staff clinking softly against the ground.
Simba sighed. "I just… I don't know what to do, Rafiki. Everyone expects me to have all the answers."
Rafiki tilted his head, a knowing smile on his face. "Ah, but answers come with time. The heart, it knows the truth long before the mind does. Sometimes, you must stop listening to the noise around you and listen here." He tapped Simba's chest gently with his staff. "What does your heart say?"
Simba hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. "It says Nala," he admitted softly.
Rafiki's grin widened. "Then what are you waiting for? The stars, they do not wait for the dawn, and neither should you."
Simba blinked, a small smile tugging at his lips. The old mandrill's words, as cryptic as they were, had struck a chord. Without another word, Simba rose to his feet, his heart beating with newfound resolve.
The moon cast a silvery path as he padded toward the edge of Pride Rock. Below him, the Pride Lands stretched out, quiet and serene under the night sky. In the distance, he saw Nala, her golden coat luminous in the moonlight as she sat alone by the waterhole. He paused for a moment, gathering his courage, before making his way toward her.
"Hey… Nala?" he called softly, his voice carrying across the still night air.