carrying me on her back straight to Pride Rock. I felt immense gratitude towards Sarabi, but before I could even say “thank you”, Sarabi roared in pain, and her pace slowed. I looked back and saw a hyena had latched onto her hindquarters with his claws. Enraged, I raised my knife and fiercely slashed the area between the hyena’s chest and armpit. It completely sliced through a tendon that connected his leg to his shoulder, and the hyena howled in extreme agony. Instantly, he released Sarabi and collapsed to the ground, whimpering and shuddering as he screamed into the ground, unable to stand.

Smiling to myself vengefully, I turned back and saw that Pride Rock was mere feet away from us. Sarabi rushed as fast as her legs would carry her and ran up to the entrance of the cave. She slumped to the ground and panted. I fell off of her as she did, and landed on my back. I gasped and panted for air as I lay there, thankful that Scar had forbidden these monsters from ascending any further. I looked up as I saw Ayana fling herself up from the slope and land next to me, panting uncontrollably. I looked around to see who else had made it.

It was only the three of us. The rest of the hunting party was missing. Sanjo, Zalika, Johari, and Sarafina had not returned. They had been the lionesses I saw disappear in the sea of hyenas that had chased us.

This took a moment to register in my mind. Sarafina...no, not her!

I lay my head down, tears welling up in my eyes. Of all of the lionesses who died, Sarafina’s death affected me most. She had been like an aunt to me, a very close aunt who I loved to hang out with. She had helped me with the hyenas back there. And now, I could not even tell her thank you for it. I couldn't thank her for her constant kindness towards me, or her encouragement.

And then my thoughts rested on Nala, and the tears spilled from my eyes. The thought of another young one losing their family pierced my heart with an icy dagger. I knew exactly how that felt, and I pitied Nala for what she was about to go through.

One thing became clear in my mind, and it was too much for me to bear.

Sarafina's death, along with the deaths of Sanjo, Zalika, and Johari were all my fault. This was the price I paid, the price Nala had to pay, for my foolish, cruel, and malicious reaction. Because of my selfish desire for vengeance, Nala was now without a mother.

This was the price of my vengeance.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 11 – Losing Hope

 

 

          

A full year passed, and time had finally begun to heal not only my soul, but Nala’s as well. Initially, she was completely brokenhearted at the loss of her mother, but after a while, she began to move on. Nala was a strong young lioness, and she did not let tragedy get her down easily. Sarabi took Nala in as her own daughter. I felt that Sarabi did this for two reasons. First, and foremost, she loved Nala dearly as her own, and she felt it was her duty, as she was Sarabi’s best friend. Second, I had a feeling that Sarabi saw a small bit of Simba in Nala, and she was sorely reminded of him.

 

Throughout the year, Sarabi and I would take Nala out on our hunts. These hunts would last over long periods where we would venture further out of the Pride Lands then we had ever done. Now the hunting parties were no more. We had lost so many of the pride from starvation, heat strokes, and even suicide. Sarabi and I would hunt together, bringing back whatever kill we could find to what remained of the pride.

 

Nala was a natural huntress. She had grown so much, that I found it hard to believe she was smaller than me when I first met her over a year ago. Her first week of hunting was very shaky and unpracticed, but after she got the hang of it, she was very stealthy and quick.

 

As it turned out, Scar was the one who caused the incident that threw the lionesses and me into a vengeance driven frenzy. Scar was still furious at the loss of his son and heir, and he desired a way to make Sarabi pay for it. He had set the hyenas on us, knowing that we would kill them when they took our kill. Then he set the larger and vengeful group on us as punishment for Sarabi. Scar had intended for Sarabi to die, but saw that her pain and suffering at the loss of her best friend and members of the pride was an even greater punishment.

 

When Sarabi relayed this information back to me, I was filled with that ever familiar hatred for Scar. The idea of overthrowing Scar myself made its way uncomfortably back into my mind.

 

Zira became pregnant with Scar’s cub again. Three and a half months after Sarafina’s death, she gave birth to another male. The process had been long and difficult, and it cost Zira and Scar dearly. The cub, dubbed Nuka, was very weak and sickly looking. He was very thin and looked as if he would not survive. Scar was severely disappointed at this cub, and denied him the title of his heir and son. Scar decided he and Zira would simply try again.

 

But Rafiki, who had helped Zira give birth to Nuka, told Scar some distressing news. Apparently, because of the damage Sarabi had done during their fight those many months ago, Zira was now unable to deliver a healthy cub.

 

Needless to say, Scar was most displeased at this news, and he forbade Sarabi from eating anything for the next two kills. She and I both knew that while this was a temporary punishment, the cause for it was something to be glad about. Scar could now never have an heir to the throne, which meant that whenever he stepped down or, (the thought crossed my mind) died, then I would step up and take the place of king. With this thought in mind, I decided that I may not need to try and overthrow him, but simply wait for him to succumb to the starvation that he, as did the rest of the pride, felt.

 

At the same time, we had survived for over a year, scrounging whatever food we could get. So perhaps Scar would last longer than I expected him to. So the prospect of having to take him on was still there.

 

            On a cloudy and shadowed day, Sarabi, Nala, and I were wandering around the Pride Lands, searching for field mice to eat. They were the only source of food that remained in the Pride Lands. We finally found enough to satisfy the immediate stomach pains, and sat down to eat.

 

I had now run entirely out of matches and my lighter ran out of fluid. Cooking now became a more difficult process. I needed to find dry grass and branches to light, which was no problem in this time of drought. Once the necessary tools were gathered, I struck a rock against another rock to try and light a spark. After a few minutes of this, it worked, but the job was not over yet. I needed to tend to the fire to ensure that it would blaze, and not burn out within a few minutes.

 

Eventually, I had my small mice cooked, and was savoring them slowly in my mouth. The intense hunger pains were not those that one feels at mere lack of food. I was suffering from malnutrition, and I was sure that within the next few months, I needed to find something to really sustain me. If I did not, I would surely die, and I had no intention of dying. I had come too far, suffered too much, to simply let death take me.

 

…and yet.

 

Dying seemed such a wonderful prospect. It would surely end the suffering that I was going through. All the pain, the hunger, the hurt, the sorrow; it would all end if I should succumb to death’s embrace.

 

I forced those thoughts out of my head, not wanting to even accept it. I WOULD not die here.

 

Sarabi and Nala were both reminiscing about Sarafina, but I was only vaguely paying attention. My thoughts were swimming through my memories. Simba’s face came into view, and I suddenly realized that for the longest time, I had not even thought of him. I had not thought of what he would be if he were alive today. I hadn’t even thought of what he would have looked like. I tried to picture him in my mind’s eye. He would be as big as Nala. He would have a mane; that was for sure, though how far along it would have grown, I had no clue. I pictured that it would extend to the end of his neck, and end there. The final image of him that I could conjure up with my mind was very close to that of what I pictured Mufasa to have looked like in his younger days, though I figured he would be less muscular than Mufasa. My image of Simba had a nice flowing rust colored mane, was well built, had a kind and rounded face, ruby eyes, and a smile that could make even the most sneering frown in the world break. At this, I could not help but smile.

 

I looked over at Sarabi. There was something different about her. She bore the same hopeful air about her, but its glow seemed to have diminished greatly; more so than it usually had anyways. Ever since the Pride Lands had been ravaged, her hopeful air was always less than what it used to be, but today it seemed even less than that. I knew instantly that something was wrong with Sarabi. But I would not push the matter. If she did not feel the desire to tell me, then I would not pry. Her secrets were her own, and I respected that.

 

Behind us, I heard something approaching. I turned to see Kala padding to us happily, accompanied by another; a male. My hand instinctively twitched towards my pocket, but I made no move. This lion was clearly with Kala, and therefore showed no sign of harm.

 

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