The Lion Queen

Chapter 9

The days were quiet and the nights stretched on. They blended together, and it must have been day ten or so when the land started to change. The grass started to grow thin again, and the ground was flat and cracked. If it had gone on like that I would have switched directions, but I saw a bunch of lush trees on the horizon. Their closeness appealed to me, even though the Pridelands were wide and open. I felt exposed on my own, and the deep forest was like a hiding place. There probably wasn't another pride in there. It was too small for a large group and the forest was no place for a pride. I might find another lone lion, though. It was just the sort of place lions like us would end up. If there weren't any lions, there would at least be a lot of prey.

The parched ground burned my paws as I walked over it. As I went, I tried to imagine what I would even say if I met anyone. Hello. Want to fight a bunch of hyenas to help a bunch of lions you've never met? It didn't make any sense. If it was a smaller pride, I might be able to convince them we could merge, but then they wouldn't be large enough to fight Scar. It was all a long time in the future. I had to focus on the present. I reached the edge of the trees, and it was nothing like I'd expected.

The forest went on forever. The trees I'd seen were just the edge of a cliff that dropped into a sweeping valley filled with greenery. A waterfall led into a river that snaked through the entire thing, and as far as I could see there were more trees. It was gorgeous, and it was like nothing we had back in the Pridelands. Simba and I used to play in some trees, but they were nothing compared to this. Mists rose from the cool water and birds dotted the air. If I wasn't a lion, or if lions weren't made to live on the savannah, it would have been paradise. Even as it was, I couldn't imagine growing tired of it.

I slipped into the trees and they closed around me like a protective wall. The shade cooled my fur and the damp ground soothed my cracked paws. The treetops were alive with noise and movement. The calming atmosphere let me realize how weary I was, and I spent the first night curled up under a tree covered in sweet-smelling flowers. I woke up the next afternoon refreshed and energized, and I was ready to hunt.

It hardly took a minute to find some prey. A plump warthog was dancing around in a patch of tall grass at the edge of the forest. He looked like he didn't have a care in the world, suggesting that I was indeed the only lion around. I crouched low and shifted my shoulders as I honed in on him. The instant before I would have pounced, he saw me and shrieked. He turned and bolted back into the forest, and I darted after him with a roar. He was fat and slow, and I quickly started to catch up to him. I chased him up and around a wide tree trunk and hit the ground inches from his rump. He found a second wind and pulled a few feet ahead of me, but then he ran under a root and wedged himself in. As I barreled toward him, a random meerkat ran in and tried to push him out. It was too crazy to even think about, so I ignored him. He couldn't stop me anyway.

I was five feet from the pair of them when another lion jumped at me head-on. I dug my claws into the ground and yanked myself to a stop. He landed on me and bowled me over onto my back. I jammed my paw against his neck to stop him from biting me. I'd wanted to find another lion, but not like this. He looked furious, and his claws were out when I reared up to fight back. I clawed him across the face and he tried to bite my head. We circled around each other, snarling and roaring as we fought. He was bigger and his mane made it impossible to go for his throat, but he fought like it was his first time. He was hesitant and barely put any force into his blows, like he had no idea what he was doing. I was holding my own in the fight, and I didn't see the need to back out yet. He bit my ear and I pulled away. We glared at each other with bared teeth until I clawed his mane over his eyes and he pounced at my neck. He flipped us both over and we turned entirely in the air. I landed on top of him and pinned him against the ground in a painfully familiar way. He relaxed a bit and looked up at me with nothing but confusion.

"Nala?" he said. What? How did he know that? I looked at his round, yellow eyes and his mane. His mane, the reddest I'd ever seen... I pulled my claws back in and backed off of him. I retreated next to another trunk and tried to make sense of it. Ancient ghosts were reappearing in my brain, and I shoved them away. Lions didn't come back from the dead.

"Is it really you?" the other lion asked. All the anger was gone from him and he looked like he'd found a long-lost friend.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"It's me," he said, explaining nothing. But then he continued. "Simba." I looked closer at him. Age couldn't hide the resemblance. He looked so much like his father- Like Mufasa, I corrected myself. There was the same merry sparkle and the same careless pride in his eyes. But how could it be?

"Simba?" I asked. He smiled and nodded. Nothing made sense anymore. Ghosts were coming to life and the friend I'd lost forever was in front of me. I knew it was him, back like he'd never left. Things I thought were laws of nature broke in an instant and there was nothing to do but go with it. I smiled like I didn't have a care in the world and threw myself at my friend.