one. As though Nala had been a newborn, Sarafina lifted her by the scruff of her neck and carried her gently to bed.

The night passed slowly. Lionesses lay awake, gazing at the sky, or wept themselves into an exhausted sleep at last. Small groups gathered and spoke in low, fearful murmurs of what Scar's reign might portend for the pride. Everyone was aware of the huge empty space that Mufasa had occupied at his mate's side, and avoided that area of the den as though it were haunted. Sarabi sat by herself, looking naked without the presence of her husband and the small form of her cub curled tightly next to her. least of all herself, but Nala became a lioness that night.

Gradually the rhythm of life resumed and the pride went about its business of hunting and patrolling. But not Nala. Too old to need nursing and too young to go after the herds with her family, the hours she would have spent playing and wrestling with Simba stretched lone and empty before her.

Before - in her old life, as she now thought of it - the days had seemed too short for all the mischief and adventure the pair would plot and carry out together. They had ranged far and wide, exploring Mufasa's kingdom and talking with the animals they met along the way. Every dawn had been the start of a new quest; every day had brought fresh surprises and discoveries. Now she seemed unable to do anything but lie near the sleeping-den and cry for Simba. There was no point sneaking off to the waterhole to taunt the fat crocodile who lurked in its depths; no joy in learning that the fuzzy, striped baby birds who ran comically across her path were ostrich chicks, for she had no one to share her triumphs or boast to of her achievements.

Nala had not been hunting since the day of Simba's death. Her mother and the other adults were too busy catching enough meat to satisfy the hyaena tribe for training the cub, nor did she feel any desire to stretch her powers. She could not help regretting that last trip with Sarafina; she remembered the furtive way they'd crept off, giving Simba the slip, and how happy she'd felt that it was just the two of them, mother and daughter. But if she had been with Simba in the gorge, their two pairs of ears and eyes might have recognised the danger earlier, giving them a chance to escape. Or else they would both have died - and Nala felt this would have been better than having to live without him.

Everywhere she looked a memory of Simba hit her and hurt her. He was everywhere - sunning himself across a rock, watching lizards scurry in and out of the cave walls, hiding in the long grass to attack Nala but given away by his twitching tailtip. Yet he was not there, and she missed him so much it was if a part of her own little body were gone.

Nala was not entirely alone on Pride Rock. The hyaenas were there, lolling about and waiting for the lionesses to bring them a share of their kill. But with the narrow escape from their clutches in the Elephant Graveyard fresh in her memory, Nala could not bring herself to approach them. Two of the females had pups, and the cub watched longingly as the fluffy bundles tumbled and played together. So had she and Simba been - playmates, companions, growing and learning.

And Scar was there too, of course. The leader of a pride does not hunt for himself; the females do it for him. So the lion king spent his day grooming his mane and sharpening his claws, or most often standing at the summit of Pride Rock surveying his territory.

He was kind to Nala, in his way. Though he had ignored his nephew as much as possible, he could not fail to notice how inseparable Simba and his friend were. He made a point of offering consoling words and putting his paw around the cub. But Simba had never got on with his uncle, and his dislike had rubbed off on Nala so she too was wary of the black-maned lion. There was something about his touch she did not like, and she wriggled away from his petting.

Everyone was sorry for her. The lionesses knew how hard grief can hit a child, and even in their own sorrow went out of their way to be kind. The choicest morsels of prey somehow ended up with Nala, and she was never short of licks and cuddles when the pride was home. But nothing could make up for the loss of Simba, and the more they tried to help her the more withdrawn she became.

As she stared at the dust between her paws, a rustle of blue feathers startled Nala. She looked up to see Zazu, Mufasa's servant and confidant. Zazu it was who would be dispatched to keep an eye on the prince when he roamed, and Simba and Nala had viewed his presence as irritating at best. Now, though, he was a link with the happier past, and Nala forced a smile to welcome him.

The hornbill perched beside her, smoothing out his plumage with his large orange beak. "Oh Nala, you're skin and bone," he said unhappily. "What wouldn't I give to see you romping over the hills again, so that I had to flap my hardest to keep up!"

"I'm sorry. I just don't feel like romping any more," Nala apologised. Zazu clicked his beak. "Silly girl, nothing to be sorry for. We all miss Simba - yes, even me," he added, chuckling a little at her surprised look. "Just because I scolded the two of you and corrected your manners, doesn't mean I didn't love young Simba like my own chick. I was just doing my best for him - and, may I say, I failed miserably."

Nala raised her eyebrows, intrigued in spite of her apathy. "You failed him?"
"Alas, yes. If I had been keeping an eye on him...if I had seen what was happening and flown for Mufasa...if I had remembered that it was the migration season and warned Simba to be on the lookout...Every day I think of all the things I might have done to save his life."

"I feel like that too!" Nala confided, and told Zazu of her guilt at being absent the day Simba strayed into the dry river-bed. Unexpectedly, he laid his wing across her shoulders - it was tickly, but comforting - and Nala saw tears in the haughty eyes.

"My dear, dear child. We mustn't blame ourselves, you know. No one can change the past; not even Rafiki, with all his spells and potions. We must learn from it and move on to the future. You are young, with all your life ahead of you. Though you may never forget Simba, there will be other friends who will grow to be just as important."

"I -" Nala shook her head in denial, preparing to tell Zazu that nothing could ever make up for Simba. But a shadow dropped in front of her, and the hornbill gave a strangled honk as Scar's body smothered him.

"Ah, the old cubhood games never fail to amuse!" the lion smirked, releasing his major domo.
"Your Majesty is a great deal heavier than when he was a cub!" snapped Zazu crossly, only to find a royal claw pressed against his throat.
"Big mouth for a small birdie, haven't you? Flap off and find out what's happened to those lazy lionesses," Scar purred. "I'm hungry. And I'm sure little Nala could do with a snack." He patted the cub's head, hard enough to flatten her to the ground.

"Yes, Sire," said the hornbill smartly. Before he took off he winked at Nala and gave a little jerk of his head. Nala knew it meant 'keep your chin up!'. But she was finding it hard to do.

Sarabi and the others brought back a fine fat waterbuck, to Scar's satisfaction and the hyaenas' joy. Nala nibbled delicately at the liver; she had no appetite, and every mouthful she swallowed threatened to come back up, but she knew it pleased the lionesses to see her eat. When she had eaten as much as she could bear, she pushed the rest aside and slipped off back to her lookout spot.

Her mother found her there, staring out across the plain as the shadows lengthened. "Nala, we have to talk. I can't watch you wasting away like this. It's as if you don't want to live."
"I...don't." Nala said woodenly, looking at her paws.
"You're being very selfish, you know." Sarafina spoke sharply; the first time since the tragedy that she had sounded angry with her cub.
"No I'm not!" Nala denied the charge automatically.
"You are. You don't realise how much you mean to the pride, as the only cub."

Nala started crying again, hopelessly, at this fresh reminder. She had wept so much already that it was incredible she had tears left. Yet somehow more always came. Her mother shook her shoulder.

"You're our hope, our future. You're precious to Sarabi because you remind her of her son. And you're precious to me - more than you'll ever know." She held her daughter and rocked her. Nala clung, the lioness' tan fur soaking up her tears. "So try to live, Nala, please. Don't leave me," Sarafina begged, holding on tight.
"I won't, Mom. I promise. But it hurts, every day."
"It will hurt less, in time. It may always hurt a little, but it will get better, love."
"How do you know?" Nala knew the promises of adults and did not always believe them.
"Because when I was a little older than you, I was in love with a lion. But he didn't love me back, and he chose a different lioness to be his mate. When he told me, I wanted to die. But I went on with life, because I had to, and one day I found I hadn't thought about the other lion for hours. From then on, every day I missed him less until at last I could think about him without pain, just happy memories. And in time, your father came along and I knew true love."

"But I don't want to miss Simba less!"

It was out. Nala had not voiced the thought before; she had not even known it. Yet somewhere in her mind was the idea that if she stopped mourning Simba, if she was happy again, it would be disloyal to her friend's memory. So she sank deeper and deeper into her misery instead of climbing out.

Sarafina looked at her daughter, comprehension and sorrow mingling in her eyes. "Well, if you just want to torture yourself, there's nothing more I can do for you," she said softly. She turned her back and walked away, head low, leaving Nala alone. She could not help her daughter, but she knew someone who