Shadow of Makei cotpl-3

by John H. Burkitt

  “Girls! Oy!” Timon looked at him and shook his head. “Girls are trouble. Nothing but trouble. I mean, what girl ever took care of you the way we do?”

  Simba thought a moment. “My mother.”

  “Oh. Good point.” Timon looked down at his feet and shuffled them in the dust. “Well you know what I mean.”

  “Nala, too.” Simba took in a deep breath and let it out. “You know, we had this funny hornbill named Zazu. He used to watch out for us, and one day he said that Nala and I were—uh--I think the word was betrothed. It means we were going to be married someday.”

  “And what did you tell him?”

  “I said that was really weird. I mean, she was my best friend.”

  A look crossed Simba’s face as if someone had punched him right in the stomach. He turned around and looked back at the water. “Good old Nal. I guess she has another boyfriend now.” His lips tightened as a tear of regret ran down his cheek and splashed in the water, leaving little silver rings. “Gods, I wish I could see her one more time. And my mother.” He knelt and looked at his visage in the water again. “I’m so alone!”

  “Not that again,” Timon said with a sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you--you have us. We’re your family, kid. We won’t let you down.”

  Pumbaa suddenly erupted into tears, surprising everyone. "Ohhh, now you're gonna leave us!"

  "What??” Simba looked around. “Leave you??”

  Timon looked around. “Leave us??”

  Pumbaa said, "When your mane grows in, it means your grown up, right?"

  "Yeah.... So?"

  Pumbaa bawled with renewed vigor. "You’ll want to leave the nest! You won’t want a daddy anymore!"

  "What’s that got to do with it? I mean, we lions don’t go off alone unless we HAVE to. Well, I don't wanna leave.” He looked at them apprehensively. “You...you guys won’t kick me out, will you?"

  “Heavens, no!” Timon said earnestly, patting him. “We’re a gleesome threesome! I mean, hey kid, we, like, love you.” His face drew down in a set expression. “There. I’ve said it.”

  Simba regarded him silently for a moment, overwhelmed. “Well, I, like, love you guys too. There, I’ve said it back.” Simba smiled craftily and shouted, “Everyone into the pool!” Before Timon and Pumbaa could budge, he sprang, launching his body, now weighing well over a hundred pounds, into the air over the pond, sailing down to belly-flop into the water in a tremendous geyser that showered his companions. Pumbaa shrieked with glee, rolling delightedly in the muddy bank. His friend, however, was not so amused.

  Timon stood trembling, legs akimbo, his fur utterly drenched with mud and water. He uttered an incoherent growl as he gritted his teeth and shook his fist at Simba. “Oy! What IS it with you guys?! Are you part frog, or what?!”

  A small toad near the water’s edge emitted a small croak.

  Timon glared hotly at it. “Aw, shaddap!”

  CHAPTER 53: WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT

  Food was becoming scarce for the inhabitants of Pride Rock. They spent more time looking for their basic diet. But Uzuri and Losara still found time to hunt together on the sly, just for the companionship and to share what they caught with some of the cubs.

  Uzuri was in genuine awe of Losara’s focus and natural grace. She longed to see the loyalists together again, performing a star-and-four maneuver the way they once did under Amarakh and Ber. Losara was deeply touched when Uzuri added the move to her repertoire.

  Uzuri pawed Losara. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”

  Losara smiled warmly as she always did at that moment. “Bih ‘malan, Uzuri. Bih ‘malan!”

  They were about to leave for their hunt together when Pipkah recalled them. “In the cave, ladies. The King says we hunt again.”

  “What??” Uzuri looked around with anger. “Again??”

  They went into the cave at the top of Pride Rock. Uzuri did not dare anger Taka. He glared at her, obviously upset by her frequent absences.

  “It’s time for the traditional blessing,” Taka said.

  Pipkah had nerve enough to try and join the lions, sure that if Losara could, he could. As hunt master of the hyenas, Taka no doubt expected Uzuri to address her blessing to him. She didn’t feel like blessing him, but thought a good blessing might soothe Taka’s nerves. She decided to do something a little different.

  “Bih ‘malan, Pipkah.”

  Pipkah looked at her strangely, then grinned embarrassed, the tip of his tail wagging slightly. “Bih ‘malan, Uzuri!”

  All of the hyenas took in a gasp and smiled. One of them whispered something to Taka, and Taka smiled broadly, looking at Uzuri with mixed surprise and gratitude.

  Uzuri smiled a relieved smile and headed off with the others.

  The hunt was rather uneventful as hunts go, but Losara found an excuse to get near Uzuri.

  “Uzuri, I have to tell you something rather important.”

  “What is it, Losara?”

  “Well, that blessing is something just between the two of us. It’s not really traditional.”

  “Oh? You sound upset.”

  “More like embarrassed.” Losara scratched herself with embarrassment. “How can I put this?”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Well, when I say it, it means, well....” Losara swallowed hard. “It means something I really feel. It means ‘I love you.’” Uzuri simply stared at her, and Losara hurried to continue. “It was wrong of me, and I apologize. But I do love you, Uzuri.” Losara looked at her nakedly. “I thought if I told you it was a blessing, you’d say it back to me.” She looked down at the ground, feeling the shame sweep over her like fire. “I’m sorry--”

  Uzuri looked at her solemnly. “There, there, child. No offense taken.” Uzuri allowed a slight smile. “But I wish you’d just....oh my gods! Pipkah!”

  CHAPTER 54: GOING NATIVE

  “Awright, Simba. Ya ready?”

  The lion nodded and raised a forepaw.

  “Okay.” Timon squinted his eyes to slits, and Pumbaa did likewise. “Three...two...one...GO!!”

  The heavy paw swung down, slamming into the rotten wood and sending splinters flying in a spectacular detonation. Insects and grubs of all kinds sprayed through the air, falling upon the heads of the three companions in a bizarre rainshower as Timon hooted with obvious delight. “WAHOO! You hit a gusher, Simba!”

  “Thanks.” The lion grinned at his friend as Timon waded in. “Geez! Leave some for me, willya?!” Simba pounced forward and snuffled up a mouthful of the squirmy bugs, chewing with relish.

  “Me?!” Timon planted his hands on his hips in righteous indignation. “Look at you, big mouth! This from a guy who eats a whole nest of termites and comes back asking for seconds!”

  Pumbaa snorted and lifted his head. “Reawwy guys,” he said, chewing around a mouthful of chittering beetles, “it’s impowite to tawk wif your mouf full.”

  Timon wiped saliva from his face busily. “Thanks Mom,” he shot back. “Do you serve towels with your showers?” He picked the remains of a half eaten beetle from his face, then popped it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Hmmm....not bad.”

  “Timon?”

  “Yeah, Pumbaa?”

  “What’s a shower?”

  “Something you only take when it rains.”

  “Cool it, guys!” Simba lifted his head and sniffed warily, nostrils twitching in agitation. “I smell something funny.”

  Pumbaa blushed and lowered his head. “Sorry.”

  “Not you. This smells great!"

  “Hey!” Pumbaa grunted indignantly. “It’s not MY fault--”

  “Shhhh! Concentrate.” Simba turned and paced slowly around for a minute, scenting the wind. “This way. C’mon!” He padded off into the dense jungle, the swish and swaying of small branches the only sound of his passing. Warthog and meerkat looked at each other uncertainly, then followed.

  Simba pushed quietly through the undergrowth, pausing every now and again t
o scent at the air. The smell was tantalizing, filling his head with tingles of pleasure. Gods, the scent was alluring! It seemed so strange...and yet familiar all at once. Like...like...

  Simba stopped again, sniffing deeply of the air as Timon looked at him curiously. “What’s WITH you, kid?”

  “Can’t you smell it?”

  Timon sniffed. “Ech. Smells like a brushfire.”

  The thought sparked something in Simba’s mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  The three wended their way among the ferns for a few more minutes, the scent steadily increasing as they went. Timon perched precariously atop Pumbaa’s head as they followed, straining to see ahead, but the only thing he was permitted to see was the lazily waving tip of the lion’s tail ahead. He sighed and rested his chin in his hands, grumbling.

  Simba came to an abrupt stop, and Pumbaa scrambled to avoid collision. Timon, caught unawares, sailed from atop the warthog’s head to smack solidly against Simba’s rump, bouncing to the ground in an ungainly heap.

  “Hey! Why don't you watch where you’re goin’--”

  “SHHH!” Simba peered ahead. The plants were thinning slightly, and he saw a faint glow from ahead. The scent was stronger than ever. “Check it out, guys.”

  The three crept closer, stopping at the edge of a clearing. Timon and Pumbaa peered agitatedly at the sight before them, unaware of their companion’s rapture.

  A small area of the jungle had been cleared to the dirt, the soft loam of the forest scraped aside to the hard dirt underneath. A strange hedge of sorts ringed the clearing, odd for the fact hat it appeared to be made of dead limbs and sticks rather than live plants. Peeking through the holes in the hedge, the three saw the twisting and writhing shape of an enormous bonfire in the center of the clearing. Around it stood what appeared to be large bushes made of the same dead sticks. And around the fire paced strange animals of a type that Simba had seen only rarely. They reminded him of monkeys, somehow, what with the way they walked on their hind legs, but the funny thing was their skin. Simba snickered in spite of himself. “Lookit that, fellas. They don't have any hair!”

  “Like they need it,” groused Timon. “Those are people, Simba, remember? I told you about people. They’re as noisy as badgers and twice as mean. We better get outa here.”

  “Oh, man,” Simba breathed. He had spotted the source of the scent. Over the fire stood a couple of sticks, and on them was perched an enormous antelope, sizzling and spitting in the flames. His tongue rolled out and he licked his lips slowly, never taking his eyes from the meat. “Oh gods, I would give my whiskers for a taste of that.”

  Pumbaa shook his head, then glanced to one side, where the humans were hoisting up another animal by the hind legs to cook. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the tusks of a warthog protruding from the snout. “Yeesh! I’m outta here!”

  “No, wait.” Simba licked a forepaw and slicked back the fringe of mane on his head and shoulders. “I want to make a good first impression.”

  “Are you crazy?” Timon said. “They’ll hang you right next to the pig.”

  “I don’t see how. I’m stronger and I’m faster. And all I want is the meat. They won’t follow us to get it back.”

  He roared fiercely and strode forward, splintering the wood boma as he shouldered his way through. A second roar sent the humans running, jabbering excitedly as they ran into their huts.

  “Hey, that was easy enough! Come on, fellows! Let’s eat!” Simba padded over to the fire, wincing at the heat, and peered upwards, wondering how to get the antelope down. Glancing about, he saw the gleam of the firelight from the eyes of the people hidden in the huts and grinned.

  His grin faded as they emerged, the light now glinting off the tips of spears, all pointed at him. “Uh oh!”

  The lion turned and bolted, rear paws spurting up dirt as he ran for the hole in the boma. A whirring sound filled the air, and spears began to fall around him, their sharp tips whickering evilly through the air as they passed. Bursting through the gap, he shot away into the jungle. “C’mon, guys! RUN FOR IT!”

  Warthog and meerkat followed obligingly as the humans emerged from the encampment, jabbering furiously and waving their weapons. A hissing sound filled the air, and a spear blurred past Simba to bury itself in a nearby tree, quivering angrily. Redoubling his speed, he crashed through the undergrowth, ripping vines and sticks asunder as he fled. Pumbaa ran alongside, Timon astride him and waving his arms wildly.

  “Come on fellows!” Timon yelled mockingly. “Let’s eat!”

  Pumbaa panted as he struggled to keep up with the terrified lion. “I think the natives are restless.”

  “No darned kidding!”

  CHAPTER 55: SETTING LIMITS

  Simba’s brush with humankind left him scared but still hungry. Somewhat pensive, he sat on the bank of a small pond, watching the fish swim in the crystal clear water. Some of them were rather large, and he felt that it would be a shame to waste all that meat on the bottom of a cold pond when it could be inside a nice warm lion.

  He considered his approach. As slow as the fish swam, they would perk up substantially the instant his paw entered the water. As he saw it, there were so many fish that if he jumped in the middle of the school and grabbed, he ought to catch at least one.

  After a while, the fish seemed to forget that Simba was there and began to behave normally. One of the came alluringly close to the surface, then snapped up a hapless fly that had fallen in the pond.

  “I guess it’s now or never,” Simba said. He tensed up, poised like a statue, then sprang.

  SPLASH!!

  Timon and Pumbaa watched in awe as Simba grabbed, missed, and grabbed again. Flailing about in the water, he chased fish around until he was covered in mud. The slippery algae on the rocks proved a bit much, even for his large paws. He slipped and fell over on his back.

  “Thunderation!”

  Some monkeys began to laugh in a nearby tree. “Fresh fish! Fresh fish!”

  Simba tried to ignore them. He concentrated on the task at hand, but with mud stirred up in the water it was almost impossible. Still he thrashed about, finally managing to chase a fish into some very shallow water. A quick smack of his paw pinned it to the bottom.

  “Gotcha!”

  He looked up proudly. “Hey guys, look what I got!”

  The fish thrashed around, and as slippery as it was, it worked out from under Simba’s paw. The lion made another quick jab, but only managed to get water in his eyes. He rubbed his face with disgust.

  “Hey guys!” one of the monkeys said. “Look what I got!” Gales of laughter erupted in the tree.

  “Shut up!” Timon shouted from the nearby riverbank. “We’ll have gibbon instead of fish!”

  At that remark, one of the monkeys pulled a ripe fruit and tossed it with almost flawless accuracy. At least it hit Pumbaa....

  Others began to pull fruit, and Timon sounded a quick retreat. It was just in the nick of time, too. Fruit began landing all around them as they scrambled to put distance between themselves and the troop.

  As Simba ran, he began to dwell on what he had lost. That fish meat would have tasted good. A curse on those monkeys! Maybe with a little more time things might have been different.

  As Simba checked behind him to see if the monkeys were pursuing, he failed to notice the thinning trees around him. He absently noticed the light level increasing, but it failed to register until his front paws sank into soft grass instead of the spongy mat of leaves on the jungle floor.

  He turned his head to look and sucked in a deep breath of awe. “Oh!”

  Arrayed before him was an immense expanse of grassland, stretching out as far as he could see, the gentle fingers of the wind stirring the ground restlessly into a panorama of motion. He paused for a moment, the stepped out tentatively into the open.

  Timon glanced at him apprehensively. “Hey? What’re ya doin’?!”

  “This is beautif
ul!”

  Timon and Pumbaa felt naked and exposed without the canopy of trees. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Simba had only good feelings. The cloying scent of rotting vegetation, ever present in the jungle, was gone, whisked away by a clean wind that brought the earthy smell of grass and ground, an ambrosia of scents that made his nostrils twitch with excitement. The last time he had breathed such scents, he had been but a child, the tall stalks of grass towering over his pudgy body as he waddled through the flora. Now he stood upright, the tops of the plants brushing his shoulders as he surveyed the plain, and nothing wad hidden from him. The faint flash of a thunderstorm on the horizon winked at him from far to the southwest, and a small herd of zebra paced leisurely a few miles off, bobbing their heads and gossiping in their singsong voices. He raised his head to look at the sky and grinned, settling down and rolling onto his back as he watched the clouds scud slowly by. “Oh yeah!” He sighed. “Come on, fellows! It’s OK. It’s great out here!”

  “No thanks. We’ll stay here and watch.”

  “Jeez! What is it with you two?” Irritated, Simba started to rise. Pushing himself up on his forepaws, he shifted, preparing to get up, when his ears flicked towards a sound from the grass behind him. He turned, seeing the stalks rustling and waving, but not from the wind. What breeze there was shifted slightly, and his nose twitched as he caught the long forgotten but unmistakable scent of a lioness. “Who’s there??” he said, frightened.

  “Hey, it’s OK. I’m not going to rush you.” Timon and Pumbaa quivered in the underbrush as a golden face appeared. “My name is Sasha.”

  Simba stared, entranced by the lovely visage. “Pretty name.”

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled. “Hey, it’s been a long time since I’ve talked to another of my own kind.”

  “Are you a rogue lion?”

  “Worse,” he said broodingly. “There’s something natural about a rogue lion. I’m--well--oh forget it.”

  “You’re lonely? I can understand that.” She stepped from the grass, the entire length of a fully grown lioness revealing itself as she came to sit beside him. “How long has it been? A moon? Two?”