and turned to walk west.

I’m not sure why, but my instincts told me to go west. A voice in my head told me that was where I needed to go. Somehow, I knew that help would be there. But I was unsure of what kind of help I really needed.

With every effort, I pushed all thoughts of my family out of my head. If I let my grief cloud my judgment and integrity, I would end up dead out here. Even with all that I had lost, I had an initial instinct to survive. I would not let myself die out here in this foreign land. My pride would not allow it.

 

 

Days passed as I trudged westward. The burns began to blister and the bruise started to fade. I used whatever medication that I had packed in my bag to ease the pain and stop infection. All I had was a small tube of Neosporin and a small box of ibuprofen.

            I had a limited supply of food and water in my backpack, so I rationed it as much as I could. After doing so, I counted how much I had. If I did not get help within three weeks, I would die of starvation and infection.

            As the days turned into weeks, I slowly became weaker and weaker. The bruises were completely gone. My burns had healed now, save for one. The only problem was the gash on my arm. It did not heal, and I felt the pain every time I moved my arm. I knew it was infected, and I was out of medication. The rationing of food kept me alive, but it was not enough to satisfy the pains of hunger. My legs and arms were shaking with such a violent force that I needed to rest. I sat down on a log and looked around at my surroundings.

            There was grassland as far as the eye could see. The landscape was populated with occasional Acacia trees. Off to the south in the distance, there seemed to be a cluster of them. I could only assume that this meant water. Still, there was no sign of plantation that grew anything edible. Then to the west, there was a silhouette of an “L” shaped rock. I could only imagine how big the rock was up close. The sun then peeked over the eastern horizon, and cast an orange light over the entire landscape.

            The sight would have been beautiful, let go.

Into the darkness, I screamed and sobbed until I had no energy left. I sobbed until I succumbed to the pain in my body, and I passed out.

 

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

 

When I awoke, it was still dark, but only just. The sky was held faint traces of pink, signs of the coming sunrise. I sat up, and groaned as the pain of my bruises and burns ached me.

Not even wanting to look at the disaster around me, I stood up, and ignored the pain of my burns.  I hobbled over to my backpack, which had miraculously survived the inferno, save for a few minor burn holes. I hitched it onto my back, which had surprisingly suffered no damage, and turned to walk west.

I’m not sure why, but my instincts told me to go west. A voice in my head told me that was where I needed to go. Somehow, I knew that help would be there. But I was unsure of what kind of help I really needed.

With every effort, I pushed all thoughts of my family out of my head. If I let my grief cloud my judgment and integrity, I would end up dead out here. Even with all that I had lost, I had an initial instinct to survive. I would not let myself die out here in this foreign land. My pride would not allow it.

 

 

Days passed as I trudged westward. The burns began to blister and the bruise started to fade. I used whatever medication that I had packed in my bag to ease the pain and stop infection. All I had was a small tube of Neosporin and a small box of ibuprofen.

            I had a limited supply of food and water in my backpack, so I rationed it as much as I could. After doing so, I counted how much I had. If I did not get help within three weeks, I would die of starvation and infection.

            As the days turned into weeks, I slowly became weaker and weaker. The bruises were completely gone. My burns had healed now, save for one. The only problem was the gash on my arm. It did not heal, and I felt the pain every time I moved my arm. I knew it was infected, and I was out of medication. The rationing of food kept me alive, but it was not enough to satisfy the pains of hunger. My legs and arms were shaking with such a violent force that I needed to rest. I sat down on a log and looked around at my surroundings.

had I not been immersed in a blanket of pain and grief. My mind was fighting a mental battle with itself.

            You’re not going to survive…you’re gonna die here.

            Don’t think that!!!

            But no matter what I told myself, the thought popped back into my head. I sat on the same spot for a while, arguing with myself whether or not just to succumb to death or to try to keep going.

            And then, I came to the decision that I was not meant to live. I was supposed to die in that explosion with my family. I had cheated death, and now death was going to find me. I would die here, alone, friendless, no family, and nobody to wonder what happened to me.

            I hung my head down, and accepted my fate. But as I hung my head, I saw something moving among the tall grass in front of me. I immediately snapped back to attention. It was big, yet graceful. Its tan color clashed greatly against the green of the grass. And on the thing’s face, were two red-orange eyes staring right into mine.

            A full grown lioness was watching me intently, moving silently so as not to alert me to her presence. I stared at her for a moment, looking fixedly into her eyes. Her glare held a fierce familiarity, and it brought tears to my eyes again. I wiped them quickly, and slowly stood up. I began to back away carefully, but she remained still. Her eyes were still pouring into mine, as if she could see right through them and into my soul.

            As I backed up one foot at a time, I felt my foot dip down further than I had intended. I slipped of the log, and knocked myself out. The last thought I had was that I would be this lioness’s meal, but it would reunite me with my family.

 

 

When I awoke, I was sure I was dead. The pain in my body was gone. I kept my eyes shut, not knowing what I would see if I opened them. My backpack was off of me, for I did not feel the straps clinging to my shoulders. I was sure that I had died and moved on. Why else would my pain be gone?

I must have moved, because the second I did, something stirred to the left of me. Then, out of the darkness came a deep, calm, and comforting voice.

“Do not be afraid, young one. I mean you no harm.”

I lifted my head and opened my eyes. I was lying down in the middle of a semi-dark cave. There was a patch of light casting downward from a crevice in the ceiling. Standing in the pool of light, was a powerfully well built lion with an auburn mane and a stern face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 2 – The Pain of Familiarity

 

 

My eyes grew wide, and I jumped up and backed away as far as I could. It wasn’t far to the wall though. The lion was still in range to attack me.

The lion stared at me, and he smiled and chuckled. If possible, my eyes grew even wider and my jaw fell. He smiled like a human! What was going on?

Then, to my complete astonishment and fear, the lion opened his mouth.

“Calm down young one. You have sustained some injuries. It would be best not to move around the way you are now. You could damage yourself again.”

Nothing could have prepared me for this. If at all possible, my jaw fell even more. A talking lion? Was I going insane?

As these thoughts bounced back and forth through my head, I realized that what the lion had spoken of, as creepy as it was to see and hear him speak, was true. My right arm that was burned, which was scabbed and blistered, had broken open and began to seep blood. I closed my eyes and slid down the wall to sit on the floor.

I heard the padding of footsteps come closer to me, and my eyes snapped open. The lion was standing feet away from my face. Fear flooded my mind, and I shut my eyes again, waiting for him to chomp at my face.

Instead, I heard him lean forward. Then I felt a large tongue lick at my arm. I opened my eyes, and saw him cleaning the wound. Then he backed away, but only a few feet. I looked into his eyes to see if I could see his intentions. There was comfort and kindness in them. And, as I had with the lioness I saw earlier, I saw some familiarity in his eyes.

He looked at me and smiled.

“W-who are you?” I asked, shakily.

“I am King Mufasa, the ruler of these Pride Lands.” he replied.

It took me a moment to make the connection. Then I remembered what I’d learned in elementary school all those years ago;

The lion is the king of the jungle.

I had never thought to take such a statement so literally. I always believed that it was merely a

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