The sun rose over the hot, dry plains of the Riverlands, casting a golden glow on the figures emerging from their peaceful sleep. The zebras lifted their heads at the sound of birds gliding overhead, singing their morning song. The African savannah was slowly coming to life. This peaceful land was home to a pride of lions, who had called the Riverlands their home since the first sunrise graced the lands. Outside the prides’ den, a wise king gazed thoughtfully out into the horizon, thoughts swirling through his mind; his thick, black mane glowed a brilliant gold as the sun rose higher into the sky. A tan-brown lion emerged from the den, head lowered, a nervous expression on his face. The king tilted his head to the side as his friend drew nearer.

“Tojo is everything alright?” he asked, rising from his position sprawled out on the hot rock.

The tan-brown lion looked up with a surprised expression, flipping his red-brown mane from his face.

“Malka, I didn’t see you there, uh, your highness!” Tojo replied quickly, the surprised expression fading.

“Now Tojo, don’t give me that ‘your highness’ business. You’re my best friend. Now tell me, what’s up?” Malka said, concern for his friend creeping onto his face.

“It’s just that… Tama’s cub is coming. My cub… I’m just nervous I guess.” Tojo replied. He turned his head away, and sat. Malka walked over and sat in front of him, bending slightly to see the other male’s face under the tangle of red-brown mane covering his vision.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine. Trust me. I went through this when Nala had Sambi. What are you worried about anyway?” he asked, a reassuring look on his face.

“That I’ll fail at being a father. I don’t trust myself! What if I mess up!? How the hell did you manage!?” Tojo started to pace rapidly across the rocky ground. He cast a glance at Malka, who was rolling around on the ground, laughing so much it hurt his sides and he was soon left gasping for air.

“What is wrong with you!? This is terrible, what do I do!?” Tojo said, obviously irritated at Malka’s immature display.

“Tojo, you’re thinking too much. Relax. For God’s sake, stop pacing!” Malka replied. He jumped at Tojo and pinned him down when he didn’t listen, a thud resounding as the large male hit the rock.

“Now, breathe. Calm down.” Malka said softly.

“It’s a bit hard when you’re crushing my lungs” Tojo wheezed. Malka climbed off and Tojo rolled to his side, panting as he regained his breath.

“Now, would you care to explain why this is troubling you so much?” Malka inquired, raising an eyebrow and smiling jokingly. He couldn’t believe Tojo. In all the years they had known each other, he had never been such a drama queen.

Tojo hesitated with his answer. “Well, my father wasn’t exactly the best… I hardly knew him as a cub; I only met him a few times. I don’t want my cub to go through that.” Tojo explained, ears pinned back and tail curled between his sturdy legs.

“You’re going to be a great father. You’re here for your cub, and you can start by being there for Tama when it’s born.” Malka soothed, glancing to the side as Kula ran out of the den, a huge smile plastered across her face. The dark lioness gleamed a bright tan colour in the morning light, her build slender but still fairly stocky. The sound of paws thudding on the hot ground echoed across the rock as she came nearer to the two males.

“Tojo, come quickly. It’s time.”
 

“Nala, sweetie, wake up…” Simba nudged his mate. Her aqua blue eyes flickered open and a yawn escaped her slender maw.

“Mmh, yes Simba?” she asked sleepily, her eyelids struggling to stay open as she lifted her head from the cold, hard floor of the royal den.

“Tama and Tojo just had their cub. We have to go congratulate them. We’re going to the Riverlands” Simba explained as he turned to leave. Nala groaned as she struggled to get up, her legs shaking with the strain of her bodyweight. She was heavily pregnant with a cub of her own. Simba returned to help her get up from her position on the den floor of Priderock.

“Maybe you should stay here… it’s a long way to go, especially in your condition” Simba advised, leaning up against Nala’s side as she pushed against the ground in an effort to rise.

“No. I’m going. I went to Maua’s ceremony; I’m going to this cub’s ceremony too.” Nala replied, a determined tone in her voice.

“If you’re sure you’ll be alright,” Simba said, knowing this was a battle he wouldn’t win, just like all the others. When the queen was determined, there was no changing her mind. She was very strong-willed and, at times, stubborn. Nala emerged from the cave behind Simba, his royal golden pelt glowing as brightly as the very sun that cast the glow. A soft, cool breeze blew through his mane, carrying with it the scent of the savannah. The trees, ripe with fruit and budding flowers, the fresh kill of a nearby predator, scents of life within the Pridelands that Simba had been familiar with since the day of his birth. The regal king inhaled a breath and sighed deeply, taking in the freshness of the new morning. Simba helped his mate down the rocky path that led to the top of Pride rock and they started their journey to the Riverlands.

 

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