care.”

 

                But moments later, he is outside, his spirit torn enough that putting up any more of a fight than he already had would be useless – plus, though he did not admit it, he was imperceptibly frightened of the lioness group as a whole, and his hyenas were nowhere to be found. A talk would be necessary with them once this blew over.

 

                However, once Scar was out and in the open, it became clear to him that merely waiting for things to ‘blow over’ would not be as easy as one might have thought.

 

                Across the burning land, a spell of animals dash in and out of the flames, some searching for family members, others trying to find refuge. Some have gathered around Pride Rock, seeking refuge within its bounds.

 

                Others, it is clear when the king looks across the lands, have not been as lucky.

 

                “Now do you understand?” Sarabi manages to ask this calmly. “The Kings are not pleased with you. And this is our repentance.”

 

                There is a stitch of distress within Scar, soon replaced with discomfiture. His focus has left the smoking plains, though. He glances over at Nala, who leans against her mother, her expression stern. He is unsure whether such an opportunity will present itself again. But he must not lose sight of that which is most important –immortality.

 

                King Scar turns from the scene, padding back toward the entrance to Pride Rock. Sarabi stares in disbelief. “Where are you –”

 

                “Have the hyenas cast out into the plains once the fires have receded,” he announces. “…we will dine well these next few moons.”

 

                He brushes past a glum mandrill, who had glanced at the king expectantly. Perhaps, if only the king had listened to his constituents, he would have understood what the shaman could do for him. Rafiki knew it was no secret that the Great Kings detested Scar’s rule. But had the brother of Mufasa aligned with him, maybe – just maybe – this tragedy could have been avoided.

 

                The lands are charred beyond recognition, and chances are they will continue to burn for weeks. Rafiki is confident that the blaze will die down soon enough, but once it does, the herds are not likely to return.

 

                While many can do no more but stand in awe of the astonishing scene, the shaman turns from the group and, walking stick in hand, a mournful song in his throat.

 

                “Tumewahi mabadiliko,

                kucheza katika mvua?

                Uchangamfu ngoma nafsi zetu,

                kiangazi nzito sisi wote tena,

                zote ni vizuri kwamba mwisho vizuri”

 

END

Summer Fires

 

 

A canvas of color paints the evening sky, strokes of violet and orange streaking across the vast plain in a flurry of sensuous shades. A slight breeze rustles the sparse trees in the summer Serengeti air. Animals old and young dash about the plains, their voices indistinguishable as they shout and call to one another. The glare of the setting sun is nearly spent. Nighttime approaches.

 

                A cloud of thin, black smoke is wafting lazily toward the colorful atmosphere – first translucent, but soon far more adversarial. A cacophonous cry can be heard nearby, a rising sea of voices which begs for mercy from the heavens above. The creatures of the Serengeti look up, up to the skies, yearning for a single droplet, and then an eventual, careening cascade that might save them. But it is all in vain.

 

                It has not rained in many cycles of the moon, and conditions have thusly become quite arid throughout the Pride Lands. There are murmurs, hushed as they are, that it is the fault of King Scar, whose indiscretions against the lands and its inhabitants have angered the Great Kings. As long as the ruthless tyrant remains in power, the kingdom will suffer.

               

                But at that very moment, the king is nonplussed. He has seen his empire decline and wither away, the golden lands becoming gray and dilapidated.

 

                Scar’s focus is on a completely different matter. His teeth clenched in concentration, tail twitching in anticipation, he awaits her at the entrance to his innermost chamber within Pride Rock. She will come, he thinks. It is only a matter of time.

 

                Outside, a din of voices shakes him from his tempered concentration. The king is frustrated at this, but yields not to the temptation of an enraged outburst. No, no, she will come. What is outside does not matter. She matters.

 

                He idly traces a claw in the dirt as he bides his time. She is late, he thinks. Did I not stress punctuality? Finally, there is a sound in the outer caverns, a pattering of steps, an approaching being. King Scar licks his lips.

 

                Sarabi enters. The king is disheartened.

 

                “Scar!”

 

                “I prefer king, Sarabi dear.”

 

                The elderly lioness ignores this. “Problems. In the savanna.”

 

                “Tell the wildebeest it is merely the… eh, circle of life…” he starts lazily.

 

                “No, Scar,” Sarabi’s gaze narrows. “Come outside. Now.”

 

                “But you see, I quite prefer the darkness, much easier to stalk one’s prey…”

 

                “The savanna is ablaze, Scar. As the king I thought you should know.” She darts from the cave, expectant that he will follow her.

 

                But Scar cannot budge. The news, in fact, barely registers with him, regardless of its weight. His mind, instead, is decidedly one-track, his attention focused on the ultimate prize.

 

                There are whispers outside. Shouts. Cries. Golden brown lionesses dart and dash all over Pride Rock, some calling to others to find family members and friends, others trying to hatch what would be a certainly-futile plan to extinguish the flames.

 

                The land burns; the smoke thickens. An untimely incursion of heat lightning is to blame, white-hot electricity striking a field of brush to the north of Pride Rock. The fire started almost immediately and spread quickly. What vegetation is left within the Pride Lands is either charred or shall soon be charred.

 

                Many of the herds that once dotted the lands have already moved on to much more fortified plains, causing food rations to deplete magnificently under the reign of Scar. This, fears the lionesses, will only further their pain.

 

                The lands will be a wasteland. A

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