Hi! First things first. Most of the characters in this fan-fiction are the property of The Walt
Disney Corporation. I intend to make no money from the Internet-publication of this
fan-fiction. My only wish is to leave my footprints (or pawprints) and pay my own tribute
to the greatest animated movie of all time and one of the greatest movies of all time.
	The characters Hecate, Schala, Zan, Zu, Moraka, Tsidii, Jezebel, and Ebona are of
my own creation. If you would like to use them in a story, please contact me first for
permission. This is only a common curtsey. Again, I want no money. But if you want to
use these characters of mine, I’d like to add my own input on their development. Thank
you.
	I would like to thank the following people for helpng (in some way) with this
fan-fic.
	William Shakespeare - “For writing “Hamlet, Romeo & Juliet, and MacBeth.”
upon which the greatest animated movie (and my humble fan-fiction) were based. 
	Julie Taymor - “For directing the marvelous musical which I was fortunate to see.”
	My Dad - “For teaching me how to write better and read more even when I didn’t
want to.”
	Nightwolf - “For proofreading my story and drawing those awesome pictures! She
was a great inspiration to me. Thanks!” 
	
	And on with the story... It takes place right after Simba reclaims the throne and
before the birth of Kiara.

* SHADOWLANDS *

	“Empress Schala, I have urgent news from the east.” The empress sat regally on
her rock. With her tail lazily whipping back and forth the aging lioness looked into the sky.
Dawn was approaching. A rosy glow had already begun to permeate the night sky. The
stars were beginning to pale as dawn approached. In the distance, she heard the chirping
of birdsong. Such a beautiful morning...if under different circumstances.
	The empress spoke to her messenger without even looking at her. 
	“Yes, I know. Taka is dead, isn’t he?” Tsidii the cheetah was surprised to find that
Schala had already known, but she only nodded and continued.
	“Yes, my lady. His nephew, thought dead, returned last evening and besieged the
throne. He is now king of Pride Rock.” Schala only nodded at the cheetah, and had
dismissed her with the wave of a paw. Of course she had already known. She had felt the
loss of her beloved in her heart that night, though she hadn’t been able to understand why.
She still remembered him as though she had just left the Pridelands yesterday.
	He was very handsome. With his mud-brown coat and night-black mane, he was
the most awe-inspiring lion she had ever seen. His voice was like running water, and his
eyes were the piercing color of sunlit grass. And though he considered it a vile
defacement, she even loved that scar over his left eye. It had always given him a look of
distinguishment and experience. He was the only male she could have ever loved, and now
he was dead. Dead at the paws of his nephew. 
	Schala had not lived at Pride Rock long enough to witness the cub’s birth, but she
had heard all about the affair from her beloved. His brother and that wretched harlot
Sarabi had spawned this cub to keep Mufasa’s tradition of lioness subjugation alive and
well. Taka, or Scar as he was constantly called by his brother, had understood her plight
and had promised that if he became king, he would see that all lionesses would be treated
as more than food-gatherers for those slovenly males. Taka had promised her. But when
that vile cub had been born, that had toppled all of their plans. 
	Schala was forced to flee to the western savannas where she would be safe until
the time was right.
	“Don’t worry my dear,” Taka had told her, “I have a marvelous scheme for dealing
with my brother and his son. It’s only a matter of time.” 
	So Schala waited, living in exile from the place of her birth. Once Taka had
ascended the throne, she had assumed that she could return to her home. She was
drastically wrong. 
	Upon her arrival in the Pridelands, she had immediately noticed the change. The
grass had begun to die, the trees became bare, and the herds had deserted. When she
arrived at pride rock, it was late at night. She couldn’t find Taka anywhere among the
sleeping lionesses. Good. Taka always had, much to her disheartenment, always preferred
to sleep alone. 
	She found him in his old cave. He was lounging on the floor half asleep. 
	“Taka!” The lanky lounging lion woke with a start.
	“Muf- No I didn’t mean.” Taka opened his eyes. “Oh, Schala, its you. I was having
a rather...disorienting dream.” Schala grinned wickedly.
	“What’s the matter, Scarface? Guilt creeping up on you?” Taka was nervous, but
indignant.
	“Of course not! I have no regrets about what I have done.”
	“Good,” said Schala. Schala glanced around the cave. In the corner sat a hornbill
asleep in a cage of impala ribs. Skeletons of all sorts of fauna of the Pridelands adorned
the cave. Schala was disgusted.
	“Taka, look at this disgusting display.” Taka was chewing on a bone. “You
gluttony for power has ruined the land. I was considering coming back to stay, but now I
see that you lack the intelligence and responsibility to be a good king.” Taka blanched.
	“B-but my dear. This is just a drought. Please don’t abandon me now.” Schala was
disgusted. Men could be so pathetic when they whined. “Please, spend just the night.” So
Schala did. A big mistake. 
	That was almost two seasons ago. She had always loved him. She just hated it
when his bravado melted away revealing  that scared little lion underneath. Sighing, Schala
knew that this indignity couldn’t go unpunished. She still had two bargaining chips left.
	Looking to her right, she saw a pathetic little cub crawling towards her. 
	Her son. Taka’s son.
	The cub was brown, with green eyes like his father’s. Schala smiled. This little lion
had been born while Taka was king and, by jungle law, was next in line to be king.
Unfortunately, when Simba destroyed Taka, Taka’s successors became void. Unless, of
course, something unpleasant would happen to the king. Then her son would be king. 
	Schala smiled wickedly. For once, she could take advantage of those disgusting
male-dominated rules and turn them to her advantage. The cub had begun to suckle. 
	“Grow strong, my son, for a king must keep up his strength.” The plains were so
peaceful at dawn. The warmth of the land had already begun to seep into her bones.
Schala stood, causing the tiny cub to fall away from her stomach. Submissively, it huddled
among the stones. Schala breathed deep of the morning. Soon, she realized, all of my
years of planning in exile will be over. The time of action would be soon. 
	An icy chill wafted up from behind her. Though it was the middle of the warm
season, the wind had picked up the frigid feel of death. While most animals would be
started, Schala had come to expect this weekly visit. In a crone-like voice the approaching
mandrill baboon cried with a dark glee. 
	“Good day, soon-Queen Schala, I trust you slept well.” Schala’s ears perked up.
Her second bargaining chip. Hecate.
	Hecate was a mandrill. Her face was a purplish red with the marks of a shaman( or
sha-woman as Schala preferred). In her hand she carried the skeletal foreleg of a lion. The
bone was covered with tiny baubles that Hecate had crafted herself. Her eyes were a fiery
orange, and hinted of a hidden power. She was old, but hey, most wizards were. She also
possessed a fearful dark power. The old baboon set down her macabre staff, and picked
up the cub. Twirling about, she chanted. 
	“Hail thee, Kube, Lord of the jungle!”
	“Hail thee, Kube, Squire of the Savanna!”
	“Hail thee, Kube, thou shalt be King thereafter!”
	Schala was pleased by the whole charade. Hecate always chanted like that after
sooth-saying, and, by experience, Schala knew that Hecate was right more often than not.
After she set the cub down, Hecate recovered her staff and began to shake it over the
small cub. Little Kube tried to run from the staff, but Schala, with her forepaws, kept him
in place. Schala whispered softly to Kube.
	“Do not be afraid, my son. This will soon pass.” 
	Hecate had begun to chant in the old language. Raising the bone in her hand, she
brought it down across the cub’s left forepaw. Kube screamed, and tiny droplets of blood
welled from the wound. Bringing her finger down to touch the blood, Hecate began to
chant, once again, in words Schala could understand. 
	“Now, a baptism of blood, a sign of your father, a symbol of power is granted to
you. As the weak one (Simba) was blessed with weak fruit, you, future sovereign, are
empowered through blood.” 
	Lifting a blood-marked thumb, Hecate drew her digit across the cubs face. The
blood left a barely visible stain in the cub’s brown fur. The cub hobbled away to whimper
by a rock. Hecate laughed and spoke to Schala.
	“The circle has begun. Simba killed your beloved, so you will kill him! How
beautifully vengeful!” The mandrill began to bound about the rocks. Schala scolded
Hecate.
	“The time for celebration is not yet at hand. We still have a number of difficulties
ahead.” 
	“Such as?” asked Hecate with a sense of mock inquisitiveness.
	“For one thing, the lionesses. There are currently seven of them, including Sarabi
and Nala, which would pose a definite threat to me. My subjects include a cheetah, you,
Kube, Ebona( the gray lioness), Jezebel( a leopard), and myself, hardly a match for
Simba’s pride.” Schala was disgusted. 
	Hecate merely pointed to the northeast. “Then find more allies, you must. Perhaps
your beloved’s former hench-hyenas?”
	Schala snorted. “Those three stooges? Shenzi, Banzai, and Ed are the incarnation
of incompetence.” 
	“True, not the best or the brightest,” spoke Hecate quietly, “But poor help is help
nonetheless.” Schala merely looked up at the rising sun.
	“All right, I send Ebona and Jezebel to recruit them. But there is still the matter of
Sarabi. If I am to infiltrate their pride, then she will have to be exterminated.” Schala
cocked her head. “But her death will have to seem natural. Can it be done?” Hecate
laughed. 
	“As you command, my queen.” Hecate was about to leave when she remembered
something. 	
	“Your eminence, what of the meerkat, warthog, and hornbill?” Schala burst into a
guffaw so loud it scared little Kovu into tears.
	“Hecate, I’m genuinely surprised with you. A few bug-eating mongrels will be but
flies to me.” Hecate bowed and left. Schala studied the daytime sky.
	“Now, my young king, you will soon join your father.”

			*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	The scarlet fingers of daybreak had already curled over pride rock that day. Seated
at the pinnacle of pride rock sat the king himself. Everything was decimated. The ground
had broken and the trees were bare and lifeless. Last nights storm had caused great
flooding, and the river had almost filled with sediment saturated sludge. A very depressing
sight. The king sat mournfully and wondered if it was all worth it.
	“Well Father,” said the king, “I’ve come home and faced my destiny. I had to
defeat someone who I thought cared for me, and I think the lionesses have all accepted
me.” Simba was quiet as he spoke. “But...was it worth the bloodshed and pain? Will I
have to leave the home I’ve just begun to know again?” There was no answer. No face in
the clouds, no deep rumbling voices. Simba started to walk down the side of the cliff when
he met Nala on her way up to meet him. 
	“Hello, Simba. I thought I’d find you here.” Simba merely nodded his head. Nala
turned around and started to walk away. “C’mon! We have to meet with the other
lionesses to discuss where...” 
	“I know. I’m on my way.” Simba spoke softly, almost as if he didn’t want to even
hear himself speak.  The lionesses would meet inside of the main cave. Simba had almost
reached the cave mouth when he heard a deep quiet voice in his head.
	Face your fear...Complete the circle.
	“Father?!” Simba shouted excitedly. “Are you there?” He was answered by silence.
	
		*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

 	The lionesses were waiting for him in the main cave. Sarabi came across the room
to greet her son and his wife. “Good Morning, my son.” Sarabi rubbed her face across
Simba’s mane. Simba only looked down. 
	“Can’t see what’s good about it.,” Simba mumbled. Sarabi pretended she hadn’t
heard. 
	“We have important business to discuss,” Sarabi called to the group. “We must
decide if we are to stay here, this decimated savanna, or leave the place where we were all
born.” The lionesses began arguing with each other. The vote was split in half. Of course,
no matter how they voted, it was the king’s decision. Nala spoke loudly so that everybody
could hear her. 
	“Listen, I know it looks bad, but with the hyenas exiled back to their own realm,
the land may heal itself.” Maraka, one of the older lionesses, chided her.
	“Don’t be a young fool. This land is so decimated that only scavenging vultures
await here to devour our carcasses. The plants are all dead, the herds have vanished, there
is no chance of us surviving here.” Nala turned to her sovereign. 
	“Simba, it is your choice. Stay or go?” Simba didn’t respond. He was still hearing
voices in his head.
	Face your fear...
	“What fear,” Simba asked to himself, “are you talking about?” Simba knew what
things still scared him. He didn’t like snakes. Once in a while, he’d have a dream about a
painted violet face attacking him in the night. But his biggest fear was that he’d let down
his pride. He’d dream about them all falling from ledges and crumpling in death below. 
	Your father will forever be a part of you...
	“My father... What about my-”
	Come to final terms with his death. Let him rest.
	“What? He had died in that gorge when...” Then he knew. Looking up, he saw the
lionesses looking at him. Nala looked worried.
	“Simba, what are you mumbling about? We have to decide-” Simba turned out of
the cave. 
	“I have to go do something... Be right back...,” Simba ran out of the cave. As he
ran, he bumped into Timon and Pumbaa who had just awakened.” 
	Timon wailed. “Whoa! Whoa! Jeez Louise! Where you goin’?” Simba continued
running until he was out of sight. Pumbaa looked sadly at the running lion.
	“Gee, he had that ‘lost’ look on his face that he always had when he was alone in
the jungle. Almost as if he’s realizing somethin’ bad.” 
	Timon crossed his arms. “All right, Pumbaa Freud, that’s enough.” Nala stepped
up to the cave’s exit. 
	“He ran out saying something about his father’s death and he- Oh my goodness! I
have to go to him!” Nala breezed out of the cave. The force of her motion caused Timon
to twirl and fall on top of the warthog. 
	“What’s goin on?” He asked. “Is this the Kenya Derby or something?” Pumbaa
looked at his friend.
	“Gee, Timon, do you think Simba carries a lot of emotional baggage?” 
	“Pumbaa, let’s face it.” Timon said. “The kid’s samsonite with a mane.”  

			*	*	*	*	*	*	*
	The gorge was as deep and wide as Simba had ever remembered it to be. It’s sandy
colored walls rose up along side him. The trees that usually speckled the gorge’s bottom
were all broken and dead.
	Broken and dead... Like something else that was in this gorge...
	This time the voice was Scar’s. It spoke softly in his head. Simba squeezed his eyes
shut and gritted his teeth.
	“No, you’re not going to start this again. Be strong. He’s dead.” Ahead of Simba,
the gorge dogleged left. Simba knew that around that corner was where his father had
died. He started to walk towards the bend, but his legs wobbled and he was forced to
steady himself.
	“C’mon! Are you a lion or a mouse? Do it!” But he couldn’t do it. The pain was
like a force field, blocking him from the sight. Every time he tried to walk forward, he’d
feel a nauseating sickness in his vitals and a cold grasping on his heart. He had just put his
head down when he felt a soft hand touch his back. 
	Turning with a start he saw the aged form of Rafiki. The mystic baboon carried his
staff with the dried gourd tied to it. 
	“Go ahead,” the monkey whispered to the lion, “it is time to let him go.” Simba
sobbed.
	“I can’t... It hurts too much...”
	“No!” commanded the monkey, “It is imperative that you reconcile with your
father’s death. Otherwise, you will be weak and afraid forever.” 
	“But...I feel so alone. Even after seeing my father in the sky, I still miss him. I just
feel abandoned.” Simba felt a smooth lioness head rub his ear. Nala turned to look in his
eyes. She had tears in hers.
	“So, this is why you didn’t want to come back.” Simba nodded and sat down on a
rock. Nala spoke soothingly to him. “I remember when Scar told us about how the
wildebeest had trampled you and your father to death. I cried myself to sleep every night
for a whole moon cycle. I even talked with Scar about it.” Nala’s voice grew tempered
with anger. “He sounded so bloody sincere. He patted me on the head and told me to
forget about you and your father, and that I should cheer up because I would be his queen
when I was old enough.”
	“What?!” Simba shouted angrily.
	“Yes. In fact, before I left the pridelands, Scar became quite lecherous with me and
told me that I was going to be his queen. I scratched him, and fled.” Nala put her head
down. Simba’s sadness turned to anger.
	“I can’t believe- No matter. He’s dead, and good riddance too.” No sooner had
Simba said this than a staff smacked him on the head. The mandrill was quite upset.
	“Silence! You must never praise death. On the Pridelands, death is a necessity, not
a pleasure. When you enjoy destruction, you violate the circle and become an agent of evil
like your uncle.” Simba paused.
	“I’m sorry, Rafiki, but it’s just that I’m so angry..” Rafiki nodded.
	“Yes! You are angry and have every right to feel in such a way. However, you
must never let your anger control your actions. You must learn to control your feelings if
you are to become king. Anger, hatred, lust, all must be in your control. Even fear...”
Rafiki pointed around the bend in the cave. Simba sighed.
	“All right, I’ll do it.” Nala stepped up beside him. 
	“You don’t have to do it alone.” 
	Rafiki smiled. “Good.. good. Life is a road, but not so narrow that two cannot
walk side-by-side.” Simba steeled himself, and walked around the bend.
	He’d expected to see a mummified corpse, or a skeleton, or something. Instead
what Simba saw made him and Nala gasp.
	Amidst the desolation and destruction, a small patch of grass had grown. Simba
ran forward and sat by the grass. It was lush and green, unlike anything else in the
Pridelands. Simba closed his eyes and remembered...
	When we die, our bodies become the grass...
	His father’s words of wisdom. Rafiki spoke quietly in Simba’s ear.
	“You see, your father was such a great king, he still serves the land.” Simba only
nodded. Nala, melancholy yet happy, sat next to her beloved. After a while, they stood up.
Simba was smiling.
	“The land is healing,” he thought. “My father will forever be apart of this land and
myself. And even though I’m afraid to go on without him, the future waits for me.”
Turning to his beloved, he said.
	“We’ll stay.” 
	Laughing with tears of joy, Nala nuzzled Simba’s mane. The lovers walked back
toward pride rock. Rafiki merely laughed and went back to his tree. Simba would never
hear his father’s voice again, or see his face in the clouds. But he was all right with that.
His father could now rest...and so could he.

			*	*	*	*	*	*

	In the dismal elephant graveyard, hyenas quarreled.
	“C’mon, Shenzi, you got the last drumstick.” 
	“What are you talking about? We haven’t eaten like this in cycles.” The uncouth
hyena trio devoured the body of  a dead zebra fawn. Standing next to the mangy cretins,
were a leopard and a lioness. The gray lioness spoke.
	“Glad you like it.” 
	Shenzi, remembering what little manners she had, looked up. A piece of flesh hung
from her mouth.
	“Oh yeah, thanks! Whoever you are.” 
	The leopard spoke. Her eyes, shadowed by the cave walls, twinkled.  “My name is
Jezebel. You may call my friend Ebona.” Banzai gorged himself. 
	“Well, right now (munch) youz the most (snarf) beautiful creature in (snap) the
world, for a lioness and a leopard.” The lioness smiled and spoke in a voice like a stage
whisper.
	“We have come in behalf of our lady, Schala.” Shenzi and Banzai were puzzled,
but Ed shrieked and ran behind a rock. Shenzi called after him.
	“Ed! What on earth are you doin’?” Ed trembled nervously. Banzai stopped
gorging himself long enough to speak coherently.
	“Name sounds familiar. Where’d I hear that before?” Ed’s head peeked up over
the rock. Using one of his paw’s digits, Ed traced a line over his left eye. Shenzi stopped
eating and looked coldly at the leopard and lioness. 
	“Yeah! Thanks Ed. Now I remember.” Banzai, interested, stopped eating. “She
was Scar’s girl. He told us about her that time in the cave.” Ed nodded and ducked again.
“You gotta be her cronies, ain’t ‘cha?” Ebona looked angry, but the cooler Jezebel spoke.
	“We prefer the term, assistants, but call us whatever you like.” Shenzi snorted.
	“Humph! The only time lions talk to me like that is when they want somethin’.
C’mon, spill it. This ain’t no neighborly visit.” 
	Ebona spoke. “You are quite correct, my dear Shenzi. The truth is that our
mistress would like your assistance in some...matters of royalty.” Shenzi rolled her eyes,
Ed peeked up over the rock. Ebona scrutinized Shenzi. “I can see that you haven’t eaten
well in days.” Banzai spoke quietly. 
	“I don’t know. Ol’ Scar tasted pretty-” Banzai was silenced by a smack of Shenzi’s
paw. 
	“Will you shut up!” Shenzi looked back at the lioness and leopard. “W-what my
stupid friend said was, “Scar WASTED his time as king!” Ebona nodded. 
	“Agreed. Which is why Lady Schala proposes the following deal...” Shenzi
laughed.
	“Like what? That we’ll ‘never go hungry again’? Sorry, sister, heard that before.
No dice.” Jezebel stepped forward. 
	“We can offer you something better.”
	“What?” asked Shenzi.
	“Revenge. Revenge against the lions of pride rock. It’s their oligarchic lifestyle
that has cursed you to a life of destitute squalor among the skeletons of elephants.”
Shenzi’s eyes grew dark and cold.
	“Where do we meet this, Schala?”


			*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	In a cave in the side of a mountain just north of the Pridelands, Hecate chanted.
Over a glowing green circle that she had drawn in the ground, Hecate screeched and
waved her bone staff. 
	“Forces of darkness, send me a creature of contagion. May it be swift and skillful
so that it may bite a queen and poison her blue blood. Let it invoke terror into even the
most brave heart. Forces of the underworld, I command you!” 
	Wispy green smoke rose from the circle. Hecate could feel the dark energy flowing
through her. In the center of the circle, a coiled form took place. 
	It’s scaled body was black as midnight, and it’s head like a dagger. Behind it’s
head, was a hood of flesh with a parabolic marking on the back. Once the green smoke
dissipated, Hecate smiled at the creature. A beautifully deadly cobra. Bowing its head, it
spoke in a slithery voice.
	“Nagiana at your service.” Hecate laughed. Nagiana had once lived in India, in a
garden with her beau, Nag. Her and her husband were both killed by a mongoose for
attacking humans. Now they lived in the underworld, damned to serve under the thrall of
such mystics as Hecate. The witch-monkey had expected to see Nag with her.
	“Where is your significant other?” 
	Nagiana recoiled. “He is currently indisposed on a more pressing matter. You
require my services?” Hecate picked up the cobra gently. 
	“Yes, pretty one.” Hecate made a toothy grin. Her teeth were green and rotten,
like her soul. “I need you to kill a queen for me....” Hecate smiled. 
	“Yes... I heard all about the new king from a certain new arrival to the underworld.
You want me to kill his mama, don’t you?” Hecate nodded. As much as she’d like to just
send the snake after the king, as long as Simba had a paternal guardian, evil power
couldn’t touch him. But if mommy was dead.... Hecate chuckled. 
	“Go! Strike down Sarabi and return to me.” The snake bowed its head, and
slithered away. 


			*	*	*	*	*	*
 
	It was a cold, starless night. The lionesses had retired to the main chamber while
Simba remained outside. Zazu flew in behind him. 
	“If it pleases his majesty, I’d like to offer the evening report.” Simba yawned. 
	“Sure, Zazu, make it quick. I haven’t slept in days.” Zazu smiled and bowed in
servitude. 
	“Well, Sire... It’s evening. That’s it. Sorry that I can’t offer you much more, but
there are no animals to discuss.” Simba sighed.
	“All right, Zazu. Let’s just go to bed.” As Simba walked up pride rock, his mother,
Sarabi, greeted him.
	“Still up, sweetie?” Sarabi nuzzled him. Simba looked perturbed. 
	“Mother, please. I’m a king now.” Sarabi only laughed quietly.
	“King or vagabond, you are still my son.” Simba only smiled. It was good to be
back home. Sarabi told Simba that she felt hot and was going to sleep outside of the
chamber. Simba just nodded and went inside with Zazu. None of them saw or heard the
cobra.
	
			*	*	*	*	*	*	

	Rafiki sat in his baobab tree. He had felt strange sensations, like tremors, through
the land. He had felt something cold and wicked, and he planned on finding out who or
what it was. 
	Readying his mixing bowl, Rafiki tossed some dust into the air and let it fall into
his shell-bowl. Using his finger, he stirred the dust with some pollen and flower petals.
Next, he poured some of the mango fruit juice into the bowl. He then began to chant.
Imploring the spirits to let him see what the source if these tremors were, he dropped a
small white flower into the mix. 
	As if the flower had touched acid, it withered and blackened, Rafiki shouted in
surprise and tossed the bowl away letting it clatter in the tree limbs. Covering his eyes, he
tried to repulse the vision.
	“No.... no. Not her. Oh......” Rafiki then raised his head as if he’d just heard
something. Picking up his staff, he hurried towards the Pridelands. “Must hurry, or else,
everyone will die!”  

			*	*	*	*	*	*

	Nagiana slid across the stones. “This is too easy,” she thought. Seeing her intended
target, she slid quietly towards Sarabi. The aging queen was sleeping on the tip of pride
rock. Her breathing made her belly go up and down. Nagiana could hear the queens breath
going in and out of her lungs. Slithering stealthily towards Sarabi, Nagiana could almost
taste the blood. She was almost there when a twig snapped. 
	Eyes widening, Nagiana saw the forms of Timon and Pumbaa walking out onto the
ledge. Nagiana ducked behind one of the small stones. She could hear the two conversing.
	“Gee, Pumbaa, you really think we should stay?” Pumbaa looked surprised.
	“What do mean, Timon? Leave Simba and his family?” Timon wrung his hands.
	“Well, Pumbaa, let’s face it. I mean, there’s no grass, a few bugs- hardly an
appetizer- and a couple of starved lions. Not my idea of a good time.” 
	“But, Timon, these are our friends. They wouldn’t eat us. Look at that bird, he
seems to get along all right.”
	“I don’t know,” Timon said uneasily, “that one lioness was sort of- well, drooling
when she looked at me.” Pumbaa became sad.
	“But Timon- we can’t just-” Timon cut him off.
	“Look, all I’m saying is that we should keep our distance. That’s all. Look, let’s
just sleep outside tonight, OK?” Pumbaa sighed.
	“Whatever you say, Timon.” They started to walk away when Pumbaa stopped, his
nostrils flared. “Timon....you smell that?” Pumbaa said at almost a whisper. Timon put his
hands on his hips.
	“Pumbaa, I do recall the age-old maxim, ‘He who smelt it, dealt it.’, applies here.”
Pumbaa turned around and walked toward the sleeping Sarabi. Timon became anxious.
“Pumbaa! Are you out of your skull? ‘Let sleeping lions lie!’” Pumbaa was about to shush
Timon when a quiet voice rose from the rocks.
	“You should listen to your friend, warthog.” From behind the stone, like a black
shadow, rose the malignant form of Nagiana. Her hood was extended and her eyes glowed
with a deadly emerald flame. Timon squealed and ran up to Pumbaa who was standing his
ground. Pumbaa spoke in a cold, precise voice that was quite uncharacteristic for himself.
	“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” The cobra responded as if her
presence were the most natural thing in the world. 
	“Why, my name is Nagiana, the deadliest cobra that ever existed, and the motive
for my presence? I am here to kill the lions of pride rock.” Pumbaa gasped and Timon sat
by the pig’s ear. Recovering, Pumbaa whispered to Timon.
	“Wake Simba and bring him out here, but leave the others be. We can’t afford a
panic.” Timon was momentarily surprised by Pumbaa’s  coolheadedness, but hurried off
into the cave. Nagiana slithered towards Sarabi. 
	Pumbaa advanced. “Leave her alone!” 
	Nagiana laughed. “Or what, warthog? Pass gas on me? Sorry, but I have business
that needs to be attended to.” Nagiana had almost reached the soundly sleeping Sarabi
when Simba emerged from the cave with Timon. 
	“What’s wrong, Pumbaa is there-” Simba gasped and quaked at the sight of the
cobra. Nagiana looked up at him. 
	“Well, If it isn’t his majesty. So pleased to meet you.” Nagiana’s voice took a
mocking tone. “Look a little scared, Simba. Are you afraid of me?” Simba steeled himself
and regained his composure.
	“No! Fear and guilt no longer control my destiny! Now leave!” Nagiana laughed.
	“Bra-vo, Simba, didn’t think you had it in you. Unfortunately, all of the courage on
the planet couldn’t save you now, or your precious mother.” Nagiana was silenced by a
slash from behind. An awakened Sarabi had smacked her on the head causing her to fly
forward.” 
	“His mother doesn’t need saving,” Sarabi said angrily, “Simba! Run while you
can!” Nagiana recovered and attacked Sarabi. Sarabi tried desperately to move out of the
way, but her aged bones failed her as the lethal snake bit her on the leg. Simba wailed.
	“Mother!” Sarabi crumpled. Filled with rage, Simba advanced on the snake.
Nagiana screeched with laughter; blood dripping from her fangs.
	“So, your highness, you think you can destroy me? Fat chance.” Simba stood
roughly three feet away from the coiled viper. “You truly are pathetic. Couldn’t save your
father... Couldn’t save your mother... and now, you won’t be able to save yourself!”
Nagiana sprang at Simba, she was nearly upon him when a staff smacked the snake away.
	Nagiana fell hard against a rock. Only to look up into the fiery eyes of Rafiki,
Nagiana could only wail. In a fury, Rafiki grabbed the snake around the neck. He stared
into the cobra’s eyes.
	“Who has sent you on your mission of evil?” Nagiana could barely squeak out the
words.
	“Ohh wise one.....can’t ..figure...it out...yourself?” Somehow, the serpent managed
a wicked smile. Rafiki only continued to stare. 
	“I do now. Such arrogance could only come from one tainted soul’s summoning.”
Rafiki’s eyes became dark and cold. “You have shed the queen’s blood. There is only one
punishment...to die...again.” 
	With a flick of his wrist, Rafiki snapped the serpent’s neck. Nagiana hung from his
hands like an old, black rope. Startled Rafiki dropped the serpent to the ground. Green
smoke rose from the creature’s body until it had evaporated. With a sigh, Rafiki bowed his
head. 
	Simba, horrified, ran to his mother. Her leg where the snake had bitten her had
turned black and decayed. He nuzzled her head, like he had when Scar had beaten her, but
this time, she didn’t stir. Rafiki put his hand on Simba’s shoulder.
	“I am sorry I was not here sooner,” Rafiki said quietly. Simba could barely speak. 
	“How...Why...That snake...my mother...Gods, my mother!” Rafiki spoke quietly.
	“It was not your fault. You are not to blame.” Simba sobbed.
	“No! It is my fault! If I had acted properly, maybe she’d still be alive.” Rafiki
shook Simba.
	“SILENCE! It was unjustified guilt like that which caused you to flee before when
your father died. You must remember!” Simba squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Rafiki
hugged him. “This is a devastating blow to you, I know. However, I think I know who
sent the snake.” Simba shook his head.
	“No. Not now.” 

			*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	After telling the pride of his mother’s death, the entire clan of lions spoke nothing
the next day. Often Simba would pass by Nala, but she would only nod and move on
sympathetically. That night, they held the funeral.
	Sarabi’s body was taken behind pride rock, and Simba gave an elegy. He talked
about how she had stood by him ever since he had returned. That night Simba sat with
Nala by the water hole. Simba stared down into the water. Thanks to the rain, the water
hole had once again filled and began to revive some of the nearby trees, but it still seemed
desolate. Nala spoke quietly.
	“Simba, what I remember best about your mother was how she comforted me after
Mufasa died. She’d nuzzle my cheek and tell me how everything would be all right.” Nala
sighed. “But, I guess, everything wasn’t all right. She told me that to make me feel better
even though she was broken up inside.” This story seemed to make Simba smile a little.
Nala took it as a positive sign. She had been so worried that he would have gone into
depression again that she had fretted all day. After exchanging a few anecdotes about
Sarabi, Simba leaned against Nala.
	“I love you so much,” Simba said quietly, “you are my light in this crazy world.”
Nala smiled and looked at Simba seductively.
	“If you love me, why don’t you show me how much you love me?” 
	The two lions stole off into the night. Watching from a tree, Zazu and Rafiki
shared a mutual grin. The reports would have to wait.
	
		*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Jezebel and Ebona had succeeded in recruiting the hyenas, and Schala had just
received the delicious news that Sarabi was now vulture meat. Shenzi, Banzai, Ed, and a
dozen other hyenas were wrestling by a water hole. Schala scoffed and turned to Ebona.
	“Such uncouth creatures Hyenas are. Still can’t see what Taka saw in them.” 
	Ebona spoke quietly. “Because they’ll fall for any good pitch, and they’re cheap
labor. They’re used to starving, so we don’t have to share much food with them. All in all,
I’d say they make excellent foot soldiers.” Schala had to concede that point. The hyenas
were useful in their own right. Next, Jezebel turned to Schala.
	“So, Empress, What is our next plan of action?” 
	Schala had to smile. The cool Jezebel made for such an excellent contrast to the
tactically minded Ebona. 
	“Well , Jez,” Schala spoke coolly and casually, “Now Kube and I are gonna put on
the best starving-waif-please-help-me act you’ve ever seen! The lionesses will find me
while hunting, and take myself and Kube back with them into the pride.” 
	Ebona looked worried. “But, your majesty, what if you are turned away?” Schala
laughed.
	“Ebona, you are too paranoid. That young fool Simba won’t be able to resist
aiding a starving mother and her sickly cub.” 
	“Very well, your majesty,” Jezebel and Ebona said in tandem. At that moment,
Tsidii ran up to the trio.
	“Your highness, the lions of pride rock are on the hunt!” Schala smiled. 
	“Well, that’s my cue isn’t it?” Picking up Kube in her mouth, Schala looked up at
the night sky and winked at a star.
	“This one’s for you, Taka.”