***********************
                              Chapter Four
                         Fire, Fire, Fading Out
                         ***********************

     Kublia glanced around at his surroundings. He was now
striding toward the north-and-east across the landscape, nearing
the edge of the Pridelands. 

     In the distance, the hyenas followed. He had intentionally
alerted the hyenas in the valley, and they had followed him. With
their attention diverted, the old tiger knew, Nala would have a
greater chance of escaping the Pridelands unscathed. As for his
own safety, he did not worry. Employing his superior quickness
and vast knowledge of the land, the old tiger had scaled down
hillsides, ran through forests, cut through the yellow grasses,
and generally outdistanced his would-be assassins.

     Several times when he had paused to catch his breath, the
hyenas had curiously approached him, but a snarl from him had
sent them fleeing. They dared not challenge him, for it was one
thing for the hyenas to hunt grass-eating prey, but entirely
another thing to attack a healthy meat-eating carnivore with
razor claws and teeth. But, nevertheless, they continued to slink
in the background, just out of sight, but not out of mind.

     He paused again for a moment, adjusting the grip of his
claws on the ground. The joints in his legs, the curse of the
elderly, were beginning to ache terrible, but he didn't dare stop
completely to let them rest. He glanced back thoughtfully towards
the waiting hyenas.

     They had been following him for almost twenty minutes now,
unable to screw up the courage to attack him. There were perhaps
ten of them, probably more, but enough to pose a serious threat
to him. Why they hadn't attacked already, he wasn't sure; maybe
they were waiting for the darkness that was already falling on
the Pridelands? In that case, Kublia thought, they were going to
be disappointed since he planned to be in a place of safety long
before he lost the advantage of daylight. The scavengers wouldn't
dare attack him now, but the fall of night would bring more of
their nocturnal brethren to join with them, and they might
discover courage in numbers.

     Kublia glanced sharply towards the iron-cast skies which
were slowly darkening as the unseen sun began to sink beneath the
horizon. It was time to go. He broke into a comfortable lope,
leaving the slower hyenas far behind, headed for the safety and
shelter of a nearby field of yellow grass. The landscape passed
beneath his padded feet quickly. The brown, lifeless dirt of the
Pridelands' heart eventually turned into the moist, green
carpeting of the fertile outer Pridelands.

     Just as he entered the transition zone between the heart of
the Pridelands and the surrounding grasslands, there was a
howling of rage in the distance. The hyenas had broken off the
pursuit; where he was going, they dared not follow. Kublia
slowed, glancing back through the yellow grasses, tail raised in
victory. Here, the old tiger knew that he was in his element, and
any hyena who tried to fight him would be at an enormous
disadvantage. If they came after him, he could pick them off one
by one at his leisure. 

     Kublia thought that the hyenas seemed to realize this as
they reluctantly crept into the coming gloom, eyes reflecting the
last rays of the sun. He glanced around, raising his head above
the tall grasses, observing the horizon, searching for a
particular tree. After a moment of gazing, the tiger found it,
standing just inside the boundaries of the Pridelands.

     Kublia turned his eyes to the ground, continuing on his way
at a pace that was more to his liking. Leaving the grasslands,
Kublia followed the turns and twists of a babbling stream that
would take him near the great tree. Before long, the river turned
a bend and emptied into a large pool of water in the center of a
clearing that was shrouded in shadow. The tiger skirted the edges
of the water hole, glancing around the empty area. The brown
earth beneath his paws was carpeted with pieces of dead wood,
leaves, and green vegetation, making his quiet steps somehow even
more silent. And, there, looming up before him, was his goal.

     It was a bayan tree, and Kublia was quietly awed at its
enormous size; it was easily the largest tree in the Pridelands.
It must be hundreds of years old for it to reach such legendary
proportions. Its canopy hung over the entire waterhole providing
welcome relief from the blistering sun, not to mention a
permanent home for birds, squirrels and a host of insect life. At
its base, stepping over the curled and knotted roots that spread
across the ground, Kublia stared up.

     Rafiki had shown him a way to ascend the tree, shown him
secret cracks that his claws could slip into, for the bark of the
tree was of an exceptional hardness that even claws would not dig
into. Unless a cat were invited, he or she would not enter
Rafiki's home, for they would not know the way up the trunk to 
his platform high in the branches.

     Grunting, his old strength severely tested by his enormous
weight, the tiger ascended, and was soon pacing the platform
nestled in the branches of the tree impatiently. Kublia glanced
around once again, noticing the strings of unusual fruit that
Rafiki craved, the bowls stacked neatly in one corner, the
strange orange and brown drawings of animals and symbols that
anointed trunk, ground and even the branches that surrounded him.
But of the old one himself? Not a whisper.

     "Rafiki?" he said uncertainly into the air, speaking for the
first time.

     There was a movement of shadow, a shuffling of feet, and the
startled old tiger pulled back instinctively on his back legs.
But it was a moment too late, for a long stick swung from out of
the darkness, inserted itself behind his hind legs, and neatly
twisted his feet from beneath him.

     He fell backwards, crashing onto his back. "Oof!" he managed
to gasp before all the air rushed out of his lungs. For a moment
Kublia lay there stunned, stars clouding his vision, but
otherwise completely unhurt. Then, after he had the opportunity
to shake his head and clear his vision, the old tiger rose and
glared at his attacker. 

     "Oooh!" The baboon clucked its tongue in sympathy as he
emerged from the shadows gathered in a corner. "Those long years of 
easy living have slowed you down, my friend! Are you not the one
who taught me to always be aware of his surroundings?!"

     "You caught me by surprise!" Kublia growled.

     "Mm-hm," The baboon said knowingly. "My point exactly! Hmmm,
well, do not glare at me like so! I thought that you were a
hyena, old tiger!"

     "Like a hyena could get up here?! Why, you old doddering
baboon!---" Kublia stopped, rubbing his aching head with a paw,
snapping at the baboon testily. "Do you always treat your guests
like this?"

     Rafiki chuckled, then shook his head as he set his staff
against the wall. "These are dangerous times now, Kublia. An old
doddering baboon like me cannot be too careful! Well, I hope that
you bring me good news, because, like they say, I'm all ears!"
The baboon chuckled again.
 
     "Well," Kublia dragged his words, staring at the canopy
above him as if he were suddenly confused. "Due to this blow to
the head, I don't really remember---"

     "Oh, come on! Come on!" the baboon snapped, eyes narrowed,
gesticulating wildly with his arms. "Are you going to tell me or
not?!"

     "Well, if it'll keep you from hitting me," The old tiger
smiled as he gave the happy bit of news. "Know that Mufusa's son
lives!"

     The baboon closed his eyes in relief. "I knew it---" he
muttered quietly, then his eyes opened wide in triumph, and he
shouted: "I KNEW it! Ha ha ha ha! He's alive!"

     The baboon leapt from his sitting position and sprang over
to Kublia, and before the old tiger could move, the baboon had
caught him in a bone-crushing hug such as only a baboon could
give. Gasping for breath as his bruised ribs struggled to rise,
Kublia fell back. The baboon was old and frail-looking, but the
arms had not lost an ounce of the legendary strength that baboons
were famed for.

     "Well, do not just stand there! Tell me something!" The
excited baboon was saying, prancing around Kublia in joy. "You
spoke to him, did you not?"

     "Indeed I did." The old tiger nodded, breathing much easier
now. "He is a fine lion now, full-grown. You would be surprised
to see how much he resembles his father."

     "Hmmm. Well, that is no surprise! He is his father's son
after all! And, what else did he say---" Rafiki left the sentence
hanging, his jaw dropped, his hands motioning, as he impatiently
waited for Kublia's response.

     Kublia glanced apologetically at the baboon. "It doesn't
seem like he wishes to return to the Pridelands anytime soon,
Rafiki."

     The baboon gave a noise of disgust, threw his long arms into
the air, and turned away, muttering to himself. Kublia's ears
pricked up as he thought he heard something about `knocking some
sense into the boy'.

     "So;" The word escaped Rafiki like steam hissing from a
kettle. "He doesn't want to be King! Well, it is his destiny!"
Kublia smiled inwardly as he saw that Rafiki was arguing with
himself again. "Does he not realize that? The time is *now*, and
*now*  can never come again if the silly boy allows it to pass by
him!" Rafiki suddenly spun around, glaring at Kublia, his
white hair whipping in the wind. "Where is he now, old tiger?" 

     "You were right, you know." Kublia replied calmly, leaning
back to recline on his side as he admired his claws. "He is in
the west, beyond the boundary of the Pridelands, beyond the Great
Desert itself. Seek a great river, with blackened silt, that runs
through the very center of the jungle, and then follow it to its
source. There you will find your wayward lion king."

     "Hmmm. Well, good!" the baboon murmured, nodding wisely, his
eyes narrowed in deep thought. "Very good."

     "Rafiki," Kublia asked after a thought suddenly occurred to
him. "What happened to the blue bird that summoned me forth from
the Winterlands?"
     
     "The---eh?" Rafiki was momentarily startled at the sudden
question. "Blue bird? Oh, Zazu, you mean?"

     "If that was his name, then it must be so."

     "The truth be told," Rafiki murmured worriedly,
gesticulating with his hands. "This old baboon is not so sure! I
have not heard from him since he returned to Pride Rock. Hmm! I
do not think Scar took too kindly to his majordomo flying off on
him like that!"

     "But, why in the world would he go back to Scar?" Kublia
replied with some disbelief. 

     "Why, because he insisted!" Rafiki laughed. "And would you
like to know what he said before he left?"

     The tiger shrugged in indecision.

     "Well, I will tell you! `Sire,'" Rafiki imitated the bird's
voice, making such an outrageous expression with his face that
even Kublia smiled. "`It is my duty to serve the Pridelands, just 
as my father did, and his father before him. Nothing you can say 
will convince me to ignore my duty. Shame on you for thinking like 
that!'" Rafiki chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. "He said it just 
like that!"

     "It sounds like something he would say. He is loyal, that
one." Kublia replied. "But your Scar---"

     "Nein! Nein!" Rafiki shook his head, muttering as Kublia
spoke. "Not *my* King, old tiger!" 

     "---is undeserving of such loyalty! Surely, Zazu realizes
that?!"

     Rafiki paused for moment, then sighed, and began to explain.

     "Kublia," Rafiki began. "Zazu's family has served as
advisors since the very beginning of the Pridelands. One-hundred
and-fifty years ago, in a faraway land, it was a majordomo who
advised a lion, barely mature, to fight his way up to be the
First King of the greatest of the Lion Prides. Then, with the
help of this majordomo, the First King established himself in
this land, christening Pride Rock his throne; it was thus that
the Pridelands were born. From that time forth, in honor of the
original, a majordomo is selected as advisor in each generation,
through all the generations of the Kings of the Pridelands. He
cannot help his loyalty, Kublia, because it is in his blood." 

     Kublia sighed, shaking his head, and Rafiki continued
quietly, staring into the distance.
     
     "Zazu's ancestors have advised the Kings for more than
twenty generations; they have served heroes, they have served
cowards. They have served loyal Kings, and they have served
traitor Kings. Saviors and murderers, good Kings and evil Kings.
And through it all, they have maintained their loyalty to the
throne and whomever sits on it. But the devastation spreads with
each day of Scar's wrongful rule, and the land slips more and
more into decay. If this is allowed to continue, I have no doubt
that Zazu's generation will be the last."

     "Didn't he betray his King by coming to you for help?"

     Rafiki shook his head. "Once I told him of what I had learned,
he volunteered to bring you to me. He knows that Scar isn't the true 
King, and will never be, as long as Simba lives. Zazu doesn't recognize 
Scar as King, but his loyalty to Pridelands itself holds him here."

     "Is that why you brought me here?" Kublia asked. "To find
Simba?"

     Rafiki nodded. "Time is running out for the Pridelands,
Kublia, and it needs its true King now, more than ever. I needed
your help because you know the land like no other, you know its
twists and turns, its complexities; that is because you are a
Seeker, born to find things. *That* is the reason why I sent Zazu
to summon you from the Winterlands, so that the lost King could
be found to return life and hope back to a dying and despairing
land."

     Kublia was silent, regarding Rafiki with thoughtful eyes.   

     "And what of Nala?" the baboon suddenly asked, an eyebrow
rising in curiosity. "Have Scar's hyenas found her yet?"

     "No," the tiger shook his head. "I found her first---"

     "Hmm!" Rafiki whispered, a smile on his lips. "But, of
course!"

     "---and she told me that she believes that another male
could be found to challenge Scar and reclaim the Pridelands. To 
to which I responded that one might be found in the jungle to the
west. She has left the Pridelands, and where she goes, the hyenas
will dare not follow." the tiger cocked his head, looking
curiously at the baboon, who was in deep thought. He asked, "Do you 
think she will succeed where I failed, in convincing Simba to return?"

     "If she does not," the baboon replied, turning to gather up
his staff which was leaning nearby, and shaking it in the air
with one fist as he glanced back to Kublia. "Then I'll knock some
sense into the boy. You watch me!"

     "As much as I would like to see that, Rafiki," The old tiger
yawned, exposing yellowed teeth and canines worn down by years of
use, glancing towards the sun that was already sinking towards
the horizon. "I must regretfully decline. The journey pulls me
back to my path, and I must obey its call. The object of my quest
remains unfound, the road that stretches before me still goes
ever on, and my Seeking is never done."

     "Thank you, my old friend, and I hope you find what you are
looking for. " the baboon patted the tiger's foreleg. "I don't
know how I could have done this without you---"

     "It was nothing, Rafiki." the tiger replied as he rose. "The
old debt has been repaid. We are now even." Kublia prepared to
descend down the side of the tree, to resume his journey, then he
halted as he recalled something that had been burning in his
mind. "But before we go our separate ways, old monkey; one final
question." 

     Rafiki turned to him with a questioning look, stick in one
clenched hand. 

     "How did you know that Simba was alive?"

     "Hmm! Well, I suppose you deserve a straight answer, old
tiger!" Rafiki looked craftily at Kublia, rubbing his chin with
one of his long grey fingers, then he spoke. "It was simply an
accident of the most miraculous sort. You see, one day, while I
was sitting in my tree, a strong wind whipped up from the west.
The winds can say much, if one knows how to listen to them, and
what they carry can tell you even more, if one knows how to
look."

     "What was it that the western winds brought?"

     "Why, it's in my bowl right now!" The baboon gestured to an
overturned turtle shell some distance from the two.

     The tiger glanced at the bowl, then back to Rafiki. "May I?"

     Rafiki gave out one of his cackling laughs. "By all means,
look for yourself, old tiger!"

     Kublia approached the bowl cautiously, and peering curiously
into the overturned turtle shell, he sniffed as a strange organic
scent met his nose. At the bottom of the baboon's divining shell
lay tufts of pollen, leaves and seeds; seemingly ordinary objects
that had once been borne along the wind. Surely, Kublia thought, this was 
not what alerted the baboon! He glanced back to Rafiki, an odd   
expression on his face.

     "Your eyes are failing you, old tiger!" Rafiki chuckled, a
knowing look in his eyes. "Look again! Look harder! Do you not
see what I saw?"

     Then, after the old tiger turned and looked closer, his eyes
suddenly widened as he understood. For entangled with the
contents, wrapped around the dried vegetation, were long strands
of golden hair.