“Oooops, I forgot. Thinking requires a BRAIN, and you aren’t equipped with one, are you?!” Pipkah turned and scratched at the dirt with his rear paws, showering the young hyena with sand. “That’s what I ought to do with you, kiddo! When your father hears about this, I promise you he’ll-”
He was cut off as he beheld the hunt mistress emerging from the dust, eyes blazing with unrestrained fury as she took in the downed form of Ajenti lying atop Losara. She paused for a minute, then stalked towards the young hyena, who began scrambling madly, trying to push Ajenti’s bulk away.
“Oh gods! I’m sorry! It was an accident, I swear!” She began sobbing uncontrollably as Uzuri drew near. “It was all dusty and noisy and I thought she was the antelope, I mean they’re the same color in the dark, oh please don’t DO IT!” She tucked her head against her chest, shaking with fear as Uzuri stopped next to her. The lioness looked down at her for a moment, wrapped in a terrible cloak of silence. Lion and hyena held their breath, waiting for the blow to fall.
Uzuri sat up and walked over to Pipkah, who was still cursing softly under his breath. Lighting fast, she drew back and struck him in the face, sending him sprawling in the dirt.
“Great Roh’kash!” Pipkah picked himself up slowly, blood running from his torn cheek. “Why did you hit ME?! SHE’S the one who ruined the hunt!”
Uzuri looked at him coldly. “She made a MISTAKE. You were CARELESS.”
CHAPTER 48: THE NIGHT IS YOUNG
There was no levity on the way back to Pride Rock. Uzuri was going into a slow burn, thinking of a diplomatic way to tell Shenzi and Taka why there was no kill tonight. Of course that was taken care of by Pipkah who ran on ahead. He would find a very undiplomatic way to put it, no doubt. She sighed and resigned herself to the upbraiding she would no doubt receive.
She did not bother going to the cave atop Pride Rock, but went straight to her favorite resting spot and flopped on her side. Perhaps sleep would bring some relief if only Aiheu would catch her bad dreams on his claws.
Before she could surrender to oblivion, there was a rustling of a small body through the underbrush. “It better be a cub,” she murmured spitefully.
Just then a hyena came trotting out with a large legbone in her mouth. It was Losara.
“What are YOU doing here! This is MY bed!”
Bowing and scraping, Losara whined, “You had mercy on me, ma’am. I brought you something to help you sleep.”
She looked at the bone. “There’s no meat on it.”
“Not ON it,” Losara said. She began biting with her strong molars, pushing on the middle of the bone with incredible force. The bone began to notch, then crack. And before long, it split open. It was hollow, and the center was filled with fatty red marrow. “Try this.”
“What is it?”
“Try it and find out.”
Uzuri took a sporting chance and sampled the marrow. “Hey, this is not half bad!”
“Not half bad?? It’s one of the best parts!”
She smiled. “Go get the other leg and join me. I’m not used to eating alone.”
“Thanks, but Ajenti has the other leg. She deserves it.”
Uzuri smiled. “I take back most of the bad things I’ve said about you, Losara. I mean, it WAS dusty and it WAS our first hunt together.”
“You mean there will be others? After tonight?”
“You and I. Leave Pipkah and the others behind and we might catch something.”
She laughed uncomfortably. “That fool Pipkah! He got his job because he makes up stories about his own prowess as a hunter. Once he found a wounded rabbit and killed it. Every time he told the story, the rabbit got bigger and healthier. By the time he finished, it could shove the elephants aside at the water hole.” She looked down. “He made us look like fools out there! We’re good hunters, Uzuri. We’re not all like him, but all our best hunters were loyalists.”
“Loyalists?”
“Loyal to Amarakh, the true Roh’mach. Ber is one of the best. He’s a REAL hunt master. He had this move called Dhourba, the ring. But he gets stuck on guard duty in the East Meadow where NOTHING ever happens. All of our best hunters are on guard duty--Shenzi doesn’t trust them.
“Why not?”
“Ber doesn’t believe Shenzi is God’s anointed. A lot of them don’t.” Losara drew close and said in a whisper. “I’m one of them, frankly. Amarakh was a true follower of Roh’kash. She didn’t like lions very much, but at least she was honest about it, not like Shenzi. Hon, you can’t turn your back on that girl.”
“Believe me, I won’t.”
“Amarakh looked like she smelled like she talked like she acted like she believed. And she believed in the true God, not in magic tricks and badger words. Like her or hate her, Amarakh was the real thing. She wouldn’t send a fool like Pipkah out there to lead a hunt, and she wouldn’t sass poor old Sarabi. Gods, what that lady’s been through, and all she gets from Shenzi is grief! And pardon me for saying so, but that King of yours is no Prekh Jakrel, either.”
Uzuri didn’t know who Prekh Jakrel was, but she got the general idea. She looked in Losara’s eyes. “You know something? I think you are the real thing too.” She stirred herself and rose, stretching and yawning. “The night is young. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Hunting. You and I. I’ll get you more than a legbone, I warrant.”
Losara was delighted. “Uzuri, if it’s just the two of us, let me teach you an old custom of our people. We have a blessing before the hunt that we don’t usually use before outsiders. I say ‘Bih ‘malan, Uzuri,’ and you answer, ‘Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
“I never thought I’d be speaking hyannic,” Uzuri said with an embarrassed grin. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”
Losara smiled broadly, her eyes looking directly into Uzuri’s.
“And you say?”
“Oh, forgive me! Bih ‘malan, Uzuri.”
Ajenti poked her head through the grass. “It will take three of us to do the Crescent maneuver.”
“Yeah!” Losara wagged her tail and her ears perked up. “Anything you say, Ajenti!”
CHAPTER 49: SEFU
Pumbaa and Timon were walking through the forest with Simba tagging along at their heels. Every day for a lion cub is full of new discoveries, but Simba’s friends were especially prone to throw him a curve just when it seemed like he had them figured out.
The day was going slowly, however, and other than a few extra things to eat, there was not much worth staying awake to see. Simba yawned and started to flop down, when suddenly a tall bird stepped out of the brush. “Can you dig it?? The gruesome twosome!”
“Sefu!” Timon cried with obvious pleasure. “Hey, what’s shakin! Good to see you!”
“Good to be seen!” Sefu ogled Simba. “Who’s the cat, cat?”
“That’s Simba, no lion!”
“Oooh, good comeback!”
Sefu timidly patted Simba on the head, then took Timon aside. None too discretely, he said, “Hey cat, he’s the deluxe model. Comes with large protective devices called ‘folks’ that eat Meerkats for less than this, you dig?”
“The little guy’s in trouble. We found him on the desert.”
“What’s the story?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”
“If it’s cool with him, it’s cool with me.”
Smiling broadly, Sefu stalked over to Simba on his lanky legs. “Yo, cubby! I’ve always wanted to be this close to a lion and live to tell about it. So have you always been this small?”
Simba thought for a moment, then he saw the mischievous look in Sefu’s eyes. “Oh, I get it!”
Timon said, “This is one hip hawk. One ravin raptor. One absurd bird! You ought to hear him groove.”
“What’s groove?” Simba asked.
“Show him, Sefu!”
Sefu waved his wings. “Just like that? Before the good vibrations?”
“Good vibrations?�
�� Simba was confused.
“Yeah. Cloud nine. Seventh heaven. Peace, love and the distinct absence of major irritation.”
“Oh! In the groove!”
“Yeah.”
Simba thought. “How do you start good vibrations?”
“You think about your favorite things. When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I’m feeling sad. I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don’t feel so bad!”
“Just don’t sing it,” Timon said quickly. “Once was more than enough!” The meerkat thought a moment. “What you’re saying is that you CAN’T do a groove from a cold start.”
“Oh yeah??”
“Oh yeah!”
“Well give me room! I need space!”
Sefu stood atop a log that acted as an impromptu podium. He looked into the sky and began to sway slightly. “Oh, I can feel it coming, cats! It’s coming!”
Simba looked with fascination as the bird began to recite. Softly at first, but later with more volume and confidence:
In the dark heart of the forest
Where the apes and leopards roam
Is a bright spot that’s like paradise
And it’s there I make my home.
Kick back on a fern bed and listen
And I’ll tell you of subjects and kings,
Elephant nights and antelope days
And legions of magical things!
Simba was fascinated. Sefu stopped, and Simba asked, “How does it end?”
“The story is being written. It comes from the top of your head, from the depths of your heart. You just open your mind and listen to the voices in your head. Listen to the wordless chatter of the leaves. Jump right in when you can. Timon, you add some to it.”
Timon stepped forward and threw out his arms. “Give me space to live, and dig it.”
In the dark swirls by the riverbank
Rides a leaf that’s swept in thrall
It came from places dark and drear
And answered to the call!
Sefu listened carefully, and looked thoughtful. “Profound and very....very....uh....depressing. Let’s hear from the boy.”
Pumbaa pushed the reluctant Simba forward. “You can do it! Just make your mind a complete blank!”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Timon griped. “You’ve had plenty of practice.”
“Now hush!” Sefu said. “Let him have at it.”
Simba looked awkwardly at his paws and cleared his throat.
There’s a lizard on the baobab
There’s a snake upon the grass
He thought a few moments, and making the supreme effort, burst out with:
There’s a danger in the jungle
But I’m not afraid to pass
There’s a loud cry in the silence
There’s a strange scent in the winds
I’d be scared and yet I’m really not
All because I have my friends
“Groovy!” Sefu said. “Dig the chubby cubby--he’s a natural! What he ain’t got ain’t hot!”
Sefu gathered Simba under his wing. “Look here. You keep working on it, and some day you’re going to go places. There’s a spot out there for you. A spot for good lyricists. You do the words, and I do the little black dots.”
“Little black dots?”
“The music!”
“Do you really think I could?”
“Think? THINK?? You got IT, kid! I could make you a star!”
“A star? Me??” Simba’s ears flattened in fear. “I’m too young to die!”
“What?!” Sefu blinked. “No, kid: WE’LL be killin’ THEM. With an act like ours, we’ll SLAY ‘em!”
“Now hold on a minute here!” Pumbaa said. “That’s OUR boy!”
“Are you holding out on me, Pumbaa? You want to be his manager?”
“Not his manager!” Pumbaa said gruffly. “His father! I’m going to make sure he’s taken care of.”
“Okay, okay.” Sefu tapped a foot thoughtfully. “How does a flat rate followed by residuals grab you?”
“I don’t mean that kind of care. I mean love!” Pumbaa looked a little embarrassed. “Hey, I love the kid. I don’t want him to write songs unless it’s what he wants to do.”
Simba looked at Pumbaa. Then he looked back at Sefu. He stalked back to the warthog. “Maybe later, huh?”
“Sure, kid. Whatever floats your boat. I still think we could have made an awesome team.”
Sefu disappeared as quickly as he showed up. Simba looked at Timon with puzzlement. “Is he real?”
“That’s just him. Part philosopher, part musician, all mental case. But he’s really an all right guy when you get to know him.”
“So are you, Uncle Timon. You too, Pumbaa.”
Pumbaa smiled broadly. “Thanks!”
CHAPTER 50: THE CRISIS
Often a flood began with a few drops of rain, and a fire began with a few small sparks. The first few times Simba felt discomfort after a meal, he thought nothing of it. But finally as days passed into weeks, eating became an exercise in frustration for him. It finally got to the point where he had to be nagged by Pumbaa to eat enough to get by.
He was growing thin. Pumbaa looked at his ribs and said, “Hey, it’s not right for a young fellow not to be hungry like that.” He took Timon aside. “I’m worried about him.”
Finally even Timon became worried. He felt of Simba’s forehead and asked him to stick out his tongue. Everything looked fine, even when he peered at the whites of Simba’s eyes. Though he was no healer, Timon decided that it was probably nothing to worry about—just a childhood disease.
In fact Simba’s appetite kicked in when Pumbaa uncovered a whole nest of Cleoptrid Beetles. They were large, crunchy, and actually had a taste that appealed to Simba. While Pumbaa and Timon were very hungry, they were so glad to see their friend actually eating like his old self that they let him have his fill, even though he ate every last one.
It wasn’t very long until the nausea came back. “Maybe I overate,” Simba said. “I need some water to wash this down. Or I need something.”
“There’s a stream not far from here. Come on.”
“No, Timon. I don’t think I can make it.”
“Do you want to up chuck? Hey, we won’t watch, will we Pumbaa?”
“Just let me....” Simba’s face was a picture of suffering. He coughed, then wretched. “Oh no,” he stammered. Another great heave nearly bent him in two. His meal came up, mixed with a few spots of blood. “Help me! Oh gods, help me!”
“What can I do?” Pumbaa was in despair. “Can I get you anything?”
“No!”
Simba fell on his side and curled up. He wretched repeatedly, splattering the ground with the rest of his meal. But the contractions did not stop.
“Is it gas?”
“Pumbaa, with you, everything is....” Timon looked at the pain in Simba’s eyes. “We have to do something!”
“Let’s pray,” Pumbaa said.
“It’s been so long. I wonder if God still knows I’m here.”
“There’s one way to find out.”
Timon put both of his small hands on one of Simba’s paws. “Don’t you leave me, pal! God, give the little guy a break. He’s had a hard time of it, and he needs something Pumbaa and I can’t give him. Give us a clue. I mean, even if I could help, I don’t know how.” He started as Simba’s paw quivered in his hands, the cub’s muscles flexing with the force of his exertions.
Pumbaa began to cry. “Look at the little boy, God! He’s hurting. Make him stop hurting, please?”
Simba broke out in a sweat. He still retched, though nothing came up but a yellowish drool.
Timon looked up at the sky. “Look, God, I don’t mean to rush you or anything, but if you don’t do something quick, it’s going to be too late! Geez, he’s only a little kid! He deserves a fighting chance.”
A rustling in the underbrush startled them, and they turned to see two hyenas step
out slowly, scenting the air. The bigger female stepped forward and spoke, stumbling slightly in the common language. “We take care of him.”
“Hey, you’ll have to kill us first!”
“You’re Timon, are you not?” The male saw by his startled expression that he must be right. “We here-” He shook his head and tried again. “We are here to help you with the sick child. You were the one that asked God to give the child a fighting chance, aren’t you?”
“You could have overheard us. That’s not a miracle.” Timon did not trust them. “Get lost before my buddy here stomps you flat.”
The male fixed Timon with his gaze, stilling the meerkat as he stared into the deep set eyes of the hyena. Sparkles winked on and off in there, a dancing firelight of silver as the hyena spoke softly. “There is nothing whatever to fear from us."
Timon answered back, "I'm not afraid."
"We trust we will have your full cooperation."
Timon nodded. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."
The male said, "You will introduce me to the child."
"Sure. Simba, these are two good friends of mine. They have come here to help you."
"Who are they?" Simba asked, cringing from another spasm.
"I don't know," Timon said, looking puzzled. “I must have forgotten their names.”
Simba cringed away from the huge hyenas as they moved closer. "I am Gur'bruk, and this is my bak’ret Kambra. We are--how you say--healers. We were sent by Minshasa, the lioness of white hair. You know her, don’t you?"
Simba’s eyes flickered for a moment, but another spasm of pain wrenched at him, and he simply moaned.
"I don't know any white lionesses," Timon said, puzzled. "But hey, I'm glad she sent you."
Kambra sniffed of the spots on the ground. “This is bad. We must act now.”
“I could have told you that.”
Gur'bruk frowned at Timon, and the meerkat silenced. Then Gur’bruk had Simba lay on his side. "Look at my eyes, son. Can you tell me what color they are?"
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