paw.

                “My, how you’ve grown, Nala. You’ve grown into such a… nice lioness. A worthy prize for any lion, surely. Oh, too bad Simba’s not here to claim it…” He feels her body slacken under his at the mention of this name.

                “And I, well, I need a queen. Cubs. Immortality. Do you understand, Nala? Can you conceive what could be?” There is a maniacal look in his eye. “No king has ever assumed the throne in these lands without a queen. This must be the reason the Great Kings have been so adverse to my rule.”

                Since hearing Simba’s name, Nala has begun to sob. Scar feels her tears on both paws, along with another fluid substance on his right paw. He is pressing quite resolutely into her neck; he knows what it must be.

                “Sarabi is too old, and I would never take a female after my brother,” he growls. “But… who should appear this evening but you...”

                Voices outside.

                His voice is a whisper. “We all know full-well that no male lion resides in this pride, save for me. Think of it, Nala – you need me just as I need you. It is as though the Great Kings fated our union.” He relieves the pressure on her neck. “A union which we shall now consummate.”

                “Not now, you won’t!” cries a voice all-too-familiar to both lions.

                The blue hornbill soars at the king, talons outstretched. Scar is so occupied, so focused that he never sees Zazu coming until it is too late. The bird rakes at the king’s faces, causing him to roar in pain. His grip relaxes, and the young lioness skirts from underneath his massive body, rolling away, her breath heavy.

                The lioness known as Sarafina is close behind Zazu, with her the fury of a thousand kings. King Scar cannot react quickly enough, his face twisted in pain as blood pours from above his eyes, his black mane matted in clumps from blood and dirt. Claws meet chest, and the two lions are sent sprawling, the king landing on his back, Sarafina atop him, a crazed look in her eye.

                “Nala! Are you okay?” Zazu calls from the air, still facing Scar. She murmurs a reply which he cannot comprehend, and the hornbill moves to tend to her while Sarafina has Scar in submission. Luckily, other lionesses have heard the disturbance and join as well.

                “Insolent fools,” snarls King Scar. “You will pay dearly for this.”

                “We’ll all pay dearly no matter what if you don’t leave soon,” announces Sarabi from the mouth of the chamber.

                “If I have not been clear, the monkey can die for all I 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