Chapter 21: Zira Van Gough
Zira stretched her lithe frame as her claws scraped against the bark of the log, sending small splinters flying. She glanced around the Lion Guard's lair, her sharp eyes flickering with mild annoyance. The lair was a fascinating mix of old and new, with the ancient, weathered walls bearing the tales of Lion Guards past. The murals depicted their heroic deeds—stories of bravery, sacrifice, and unity that had shaped the Pride Lands for generations.
Her gaze lingered on the painting of Obasi's guard. The bold strokes depicted his team in dynamic poses, a testament to their strength and bond. Zira's tail flicked irritably as she turned her attention to the blank wall that should have displayed Taka's guard. The absence gnawed at her. Despite everything they had achieved together, their victories and their camaraderie, they were still unacknowledged in the grand history of the Pride Lands.
She muttered under her breath, "We've done just as much as any of them. Where's our legacy?"
Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft rustling of leaves. Zira glanced toward the decorated members-only area. The large pool in the center shimmered with reflected light from the shaft above, casting rippling patterns across the walls. Mossy stones and lush foliage gave the lair an almost sacred feel. Yet it was also undeniably practical, designed for both comfort and function. Each corner bore a personal touch from the guard members: Shenzi's corner was cluttered with bones and shiny trinkets, Dio's with smooth, dark stones he had collected from the jungle. The others had left their own marks as well, from Asani's vibrant collection of gourds and flowers to Kondo's neatly arranged training equipment.
Zira's own space was modest but distinct, with neatly scratched stones forming a makeshift resting spot and a collection of small crystals she had scavenged over the seasons. Her claws tapped rhythmically against one of the stones as she cast a glance toward the overlooking rock pedestal—a miniature Pride Rock of sorts—where Taka usually stood to address the guard. The shaft of light pouring from above highlighted its prominence, a symbolic reminder of the responsibility their leader bore.
Her ears twitched as she heard faint laughter from the cavern below. No doubt Asani was racing again, pushing himself to his limits in the underground track. Zira shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. That lion never stopped moving.
"Hey, Zira," came a voice from behind her. She turned to see Shenzi padding in, flanked by Banzai and Ed, who was gnawing on a particularly large bone. The hyena cackled softly. "You look like you're plotting something again. What's got you so worked up?"
Zira's expression hardened slightly. "The murals," she said curtly, gesturing to the wall. "Our guard isn't there. We've fought, bled, and held the Pride Lands together, and yet, we're treated like a footnote. It's insulting."
Shenzi tilted her head, her grin never fading. "Eh, who needs a painting? We know what we've done. Besides, it's not like a mural's gonna make your claws any sharper."
Zira rolled her eyes. "It's not about that. It's about respect. Legacy. We're part of this land's history, and we deserve to be remembered for it."
Shenzi shrugged. "Then maybe you should paint it yourself. You're the best artist here, after all." She said it lightly, but there was an edge of sincerity in her tone.
Zira glanced at the blank wall again, her mind racing. Perhaps Shenzi had a point. If no one else would recognize them, they would have to carve their own place in history—literally. A slow, determined smile spread across her face.
"Maybe I will," she said, her voice firm. "It's time the Pride Lands knew who we are."
The moon hung low in the sky as Zira slinked through the shadows, her amber eyes glinting with determination. Her paws moved silently over the grass, carrying her swiftly toward the sacred Mjuzi tree. The ancient tree stood tall and gnarled, its branches adorned with trinkets, gourds, and bowls of paint prepared by Rafiki for his rituals and murals. It was a repository of the Pride Lands' wisdom and tradition—a place few dared disturb.
Zira, of course, was not "few."
With one last glance over her shoulder, she leaped nimbly up the tree, her claws scraping against the bark. Her heart pounded with exhilaration as she reached the stash of paints. She sniffed at the gourds, her tail twitching in excitement. Reds, yellows, blues, and greens—all the colors she needed to bring her vision to life.
"This will do nicely," she murmured to herself, her lips curling into a sly grin.
Carefully, she grabbed several gourds and bowls with her teeth, making sure not to spill them. Then, clutching her stolen treasures, she slipped back down the tree and darted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.
--
Back at the lair, Zira set her spoils down and stared at the blank wall with a crazed intensity. Her mind was racing, her vision already forming. She dipped a paw into a bowl of red paint and smeared it across the wall with a dramatic flourish. The vibrant streak stood out starkly against the stone, the first step in what would become her masterpiece.
Shenzi, lounging nearby with Banzai and Ed, raised an eyebrow at the scene. "Uh, Zira? What exactly are you doing?"
"Making history," Zira replied, her voice brimming with manic energy. She grabbed a gourd of blue paint and splattered it across the wall, letting it drip and blend with the red. Her golden fur was already streaked with splashes of color, giving her a wild, chaotic appearance.
Shenzi snickered, elbowing Banzai. "Look at her! She's gone full cub mode."
Banzai chuckled, while Ed let out an unhinged laugh, rolling on the floor as he watched Zira smear pawfuls of yellow and green paint over herself and the wall.
"Laugh all you want," Zira said, not breaking stride. "When this is done, no one will forget us." She stepped back to admire her work so far: abstract shapes and lines beginning to take form, resembling her team.
Shenzi couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst into laughter, doubling over as Zira smeared a pawprint on her own forehead in a moment of inspiration. "You've got paint everywhere!" she howled. "You look like a cub who rolled in a rainbow!"
Zira shot her a glare but couldn't suppress a small, amused huff. Her tail flicked, leaving a streak of red on the ground. "This is art, Shenzi. You wouldn't understand."
"Sure, sure," Shenzi said, still chuckling. "Whatever you say, Picasso."
Despite the hyena's teasing, Zira worked through the night, her paws flying across the wall. By dawn, the mural was nearly complete: a vibrant, chaotic depiction of Taka's Lion Guard in action, each member rendered in bold, dynamic strokes. It wasn't perfect, but it was unmistakably them.
As she stepped back to admire her handiwork, her fur a mess of dried paint and her legs aching from the effort, Zira couldn't help but smile. She glanced at Shenzi, who was still grinning, and said, "Now let's see Rafiki try to top this."
The morning light crept into the lair, casting a soft glow over Zira's mural. The vibrant colors gleamed in the daylight, and although the work was rough and chaotic, it captured the spirit of Taka's Lion Guard—bold, unpredictable, and fiercely unique. Zira's chest swelled with pride as she examined her handiwork.
Shenzi, now perched on one of the moss-covered rocks, wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. "Alright, alright, I gotta admit, it's kinda impressive. But Rafiki's gonna blow a gasket when he sees his paint's gone."
Zira's smirk widened. "Let him. He's not the only one who can tell a story with paint. Besides," she said with a dramatic wave of her paw toward the mural, "this is a legacy. Something we made. Something that says we were here."
Banzai wandered over, squinting at the mural. "You made my ears way too big," he grumbled, poking at his exaggerated figure on the wall.
"They're accurate," Zira shot back, rolling her eyes.
Ed, meanwhile, was hopping excitedly in front of his depiction, pointing at his goofy grin in the painting and cackling like a maniac.
Shenzi snorted. "Looks like Ed approves, at least."
Asani entered the lair next, his sleek frame moving gracefully as his sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the mural. He paused mid-step, his mouth falling slightly open. "What… is this?"
"Our history," Zira declared, standing proudly in front of the wall, still covered in dried paint.
Asani tilted his head, his nose wrinkling slightly as he surveyed the chaotic splashes of color. "It's… unique."
"It's us, all thirteen of us, Taka, me, Asani, Zumaridi, Jabari, Kondo, Dio, Shenzi, Banzai, Ed, Kamari, Azizi and Sarafina" Zira said firmly, turning to face him. "Not some story about the past. This is about what we're doing now, what we're building."
Asani's expression softened, and he gave a small nod of approval. "Fair enough. Though Rafiki might not see it that way when he finds out."
"He can take it up with me," Zira said with a dismissive flick of her tail.
--
Not long after, the rest of the Guard began to trickle into the lair. Taka was the last to arrive, his emerald eyes widening as they landed on the mural. He stood frozen for a moment, taking in the bold depiction of himself and his team.
"Zira…" he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.
"What do you think?" Zira asked, her tone almost daring him to criticize it.
Taka stepped closer, his gaze scanning the vibrant colors and dynamic figures. "It's… incredible," he finally said, his voice quiet but sincere.
Zira's ears perked up, and she turned to him, her expression softening. "You really think so?"
Taka nodded, his tail flicking thoughtfully. "You captured us. Not just what we look like, but who we are. It's... perfect."
Zira's chest swelled with pride, and she allowed herself a rare, genuine smile. "Good," she said, her voice gruff but warm.
--
Of course, word of the mural spread quickly. By midday, Rafiki had heard about the theft of his paints and stormed into the lair, his staff clacking loudly against the ground.
"Zira!" the old mandrill bellowed, his eyes blazing with fury.
Zira turned to face him, her paint-streaked fur and unapologetic smirk a clear indication of her guilt. "Morning, Rafiki," she said casually.
"You dare steal from the sacred tree?" Rafiki demanded, his staff shaking in his hands. "Do you have any idea—"
"Relax, old monkey," Zira interrupted, gesturing toward the mural. "I put it to good use."
Rafiki's eyes followed her gesture, landing on the mural. He froze, his angry words catching in his throat as he took in the vibrant depiction of the Lion Guard.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then, to everyone's surprise, Rafiki let out a soft chuckle. "Hmph. You have spirit, Zira. And perhaps… you are not wrong. This is a story worth telling."
Zira blinked, caught off guard by his unexpected approval. "So… you're not mad?"
"Oh, I am very mad," Rafiki said, his tone light but firm. "But I can appreciate good art when I see it."
As he left, muttering under his breath about "young lions with no respect," Zira couldn't help but feel a spark of satisfaction. She had made her mark, and for the first time, it felt like the Pride Lands might remember her story, too.
To be continued…