It's all dark. I see nothing. My paws, my face – numb. The last thing I remember is my mother, my sister, my idiot brother and the False King. What was I doing again? Oh yes – my pride had attempted to kill the False King. Of course, it didn't work. I already assumed as much, but the Outsiders needed something to hold on to.

Right now, I have no idea what's going on. I know where I am... at least, I think I know. My breathing is laboured and wheezy – that's because I'm trapped under a mile high pile of logs. It's all my fault; I shouldn't have gone up after Simba. But if I hadn't, he would've escaped unchallenged. Kovu was too weak to kill him.

I try and open my eyes. A small flicker of light filters through my eyelids. My eyes widen and adjust to the light. I blink a few times, absorbing all that I can. I look around, bewildered. I am no longer trapped under the logs. Instead, I am sprawled out on the ground. There is nothing around but two large, rocky walls. I am in the gorge.

Funny, a few days ago I thought I heard water and I know I felt movement, but this? Strange.

I feel myself drifting off into sleep. I probably should rest, might be good for me. I can't do much of anything anyway.

My eyes snap open. Moonlight is ebbing into the gorge, illuminating every crag and crack. I try and lift my head. The effort is tiresome, but I can see better now. I swing my head to the right, to the left. I see nothing of significance.

Save one thing.

A pair of bright blue eyes are staring right at me. I try and growl to ward it off, but the sound escapes me. I have not the strength. The eyes blink and continue staring. I hope it quits, I need to sleep again.

Daylight. The red hue in my eyes is too much to bear, and I open my eyes. The blue eyes are gone. At least, I think they are. I can't see them, that's for sure.

I try and lift my legs. My right foreleg lifts without too much effort. I examine the damage. Splinters, but that's about all. I prop myself up on my right foreleg and try with my left. It is hard to lift, but I eventually manage to sit up. I have no idea whether or not my hind legs function, but I guess I'll have to wait and see.

I lower myself to the ground and sigh. My stomach rumbles. I can't remember the last time I ate. I should probably just wait until I starve to death, there is no help for me here.

Night again. I wish I wouldn't keep waking up in this pattern. Ah well, nothing I can do.

I look around, my eyes adjusting to the dark. The blue eyes, they have returned. I try and meet their gaze, but it takes too long to sit up. Instead, I cry out, “What do you want?”

My voice is weak and hoarse. It hurts to speak, but I have to keep trying.

A growl answers me. I call out again, but the blue eyes blink and fade into nothingness.

Day. My stomach aches. I need to eat. I moan and look around. Is there anything here that I can eat?

Yes.

A small zebra carcass is plainly laid out in the gorge. Dead. It's an easy, plentiful meal. I lick my lips and try and prop myself up again. My back legs are shaky, but they can hold. Good. I stand and hobble towards the carcass. I bend down and examine it, sniffing around like a hound on the hunt. I open my jaws wide and try and bite down on the soft, tender meat, but a paw meets my head. I feel the ground slip away from under my paws as I tumble to the ground.

I open my eyes groggily. The same bright blue orbs are glaring right at me from the shadows. My breathing quickens and my heart races. I've never fought another lion in one-to-one combat before. The stranger will probably kill me.

I growl, trying to entice the strange out of the shadows. A few moments pass, and a small, dark figure steps out from the shade. His pelt is brown, darker than mine. His mane is barely grown and his shape is slightly muscled. He's no older than I am. Perhaps I can try talking with him.

The stranger sidles closer, a snarl curling his lips. I look into those bright blue eyes. “I am no enemy.”

“I can see that,” the stranger growls. “But one can never be too careful.”

“I agree,” I reply warily. “Wh-what do you want with me?”

“To investigate. I noticed you a few days ago. You were just laid out on the ground, totally unconscious. You're the first company I've had in ages.”

“I see...” I nod solemnly. “Would you tell me your name?”

“Sure,” the stranger says. “When you tell me yours.”

“Nuka.”

“Mwokozi.”
We look at each other for a few moments. He seems to be telling the truth. “And where do you come from, Mwokozi?”

“I will share my history when yours has been shared.”

I narrow my eyes. “Awfully secretive, aren't you?”

A faint smile curls his lips. “You could say that. But, go on. Tell me about yourself.”
And so I tell him of my birth, under Scar's Reign. I tell him of my exile, along with the other Outsiders. I tell him of my mother, and her cruel, unjust training. I tell him of Kovu, and the fire plot. I tell him of the ambush... and how I ended up here.

Mwokozi looks solemn as he takes in this information. Then he looks directly at me. “My tale is this.

“I was born into a kingdom far from here, where all of our pelts are bright and brilliant. My father was king there, and he ruled fairly and justly. I had two brothers, and we were all perfect candidates for the throne. I was the favourite of the three of us, and I was to be king. Until my youngest brother murdered my oldest. And I was blamed. My father exiled me to whatever land was far from my own. I have been here since then. It is a wonder that the king of this land hasn't found me yet.”

I look away. “That is a... a sad tale, Mwokozi.”

“Indeed.”

We are silent for a few moments. Mwokozi then looks up, at the edges of the gorge. “Say, how would you like to stick with me? I'm sure we could both use the company.”

I nod slowly. “I could use the help. My legs aren't what they were, and I'll need some support until they heal.”

He smiles briskly at me. “Then we shall be off, my friend. For I'm sure you'll agree when I say that the gorge isn't exactly where we want to be staying.”

I laugh and nod. “Let's be off then.”

He helps me to my feet and we walk off towards the edges of the gorge.

Evening. There is nothing yet. Myself and Mwokozi still aren't out of the gorge. And still we walk, with the hope that there'll be higher ground, or an easy way to climb up.

My feet brush up against something. Mwokozi stops and looks down at his feet. He's seen something. I look to where he looks, and I gasp. Lying there at his feet is the broken, battered body of a lioness.

I shove him out of the way for a second and look at the body. The dark fur, the sharp nose, the short stripe down her forehead. There is no doubt. The lioness is my mother.

A tear trickles down my cheek. How could this happen? How? My mother is... was the strongest around! And she is gone...

Mwokozi presses his shoulder to mine. “Nuka, do you know this lioness?”

I swallow back my tears and nod slowly. “She was my mother.”

My friend's eyes widen and he looks down. “I'm sorry, Nuka.” We stand and stare at her lifeless form for what seems like hours, then Mwokozi sighs.

“Nuka, we cannot stay here,” he says quietly. “Painful memories will not help you heal.”

I nod slowly, tears now drying on my face. Mwokozi pats me on the back and steps over Zira carefully. I follow him, silent and distraught.

Morning. The sun casts an eerie red glow over the gorge. I stifle a yawn and plod on after Mwokozi.

Suddenly, he stops abruptly beside me. “Nuka, look at this.”

I look forwards. “There's nothing there, Mwo'.”

“No, look!” He points. A small column of light between the gorge walls. Could it be? An exit?

I smile and laugh. “Wow!”

“I know!” Mwokozi grins wide. “Let's hurry!”

He take off, paws barely touching the ground. I follow, the aches in my feet suddenly easing. Hope gives me strength now.

I catch up to Mwokozi, laughing. His dark mane flies in the wind, and my scruffy tufts are buffeted by the gusts. Sunlight floods into my eyes. I lose my footing and tumble forwards, feeling the ground slip away beneath me. I'm falling. I hit land and the breath shoots out of me. Then I roll, down what seems to be a hill. The grass is soft, a much needed relief from the rocky floor in the gorge. I stop rolling and lay in the grass, feeling the wind roll over my fur. I spot Mwokozi – he obviously managed to spot the hill. He runs down, blue eyes wide. He pulls to a stop beside me and helps me to my feet.

I look around. Before is is a great valley, wide and open. I smile; it's so peaceful here.

Mwokozi steps forwards and gestures for me to follow. “Come on, my friend.”

I smile and trot after him. It feels good; after all this time, full of pain and hardship, famine and strife, there is peace. It feels good to be free.