The Lion Queen

Chapter 12

After I'd burned off the worst of my temper, I stopped to collect myself. I looked back over my shoulder at Simba's paradise. For a moment I was tempted, but it wasn't possible. Unlike Simba, I couldn't leave our pride to die.

What happened to him? I thought. He was like a completely different lion. I wanted there to be a reason for it, and I rushed to make excuses. It didn't take long to think of the most likely answer. Simba had been there when Mufasa died. Most likely he'd watched his father die in front of him, probably trying to save his son. Something like that might have made Simba associate responsibility with danger, and at such a young age it was just too much for him. I could understand that, even if it was wrong. I'd built Simba up in my head just like I'd built up his father. He just wasn't the hero I thought he was. He was just a lion, and sometimes lions fail. As I watched his oasis grow smaller in the distance, I didn't feel the disdain I did when I first left. In the end, I was only disappointed. I hoped he'd be happy with the life he'd chosen, and I hoped I was strong enough to shoulder his burden.

I didn't know where to go after that. I started off heading north in my initial exodus, and I didn't see any reason to change. I'd eaten so much with Simba I wouldn't have to hunt for days, and I wanted to get away from him before I weakened.

The desert wasn't as long as it seemed, but I could see how difficult it would have been for Simba as a cub. He was lucky that meerkat and warthog found him. Even if they were bad influences, they were good friends for him. After I crossed the desert, I was back in wide-open savannah. Even though it felt like home, it seemed even more desolate after being with Simba. I yearned for just other lion to be with me, so I could be in a pride again. It wasn't right for a lion to be alone.

The days grew less lonely as they went on. The first night seemed to last forever. I longed for Simba's comforting, warm fur beside mine. The savannah seemed desolate and empty without Mwali or my mothers. I watched lines of wildebeest file by in the distance and wished I was like them, surrounded by my family. When I stalked one and snatched it away, I felt a flash of perverse glee that one of them was now alone like me. But afterward, I was just sorry again.

I didn't notice all at once how much I'd changed. It only happened when I thought what was happening back home. I thought of Scar and what I'd have to do to oust him, and I realized our relationship had changed. Before, I'd thought of him as an authority- someone I had to respect and obey. He was higher than me, and that was why I was scared of him. Things were different now. I'd grown, both in size and responsibility. I was hardly the lion I was when I left. I was so different, I didn't know if Scar would find the new me desirable. I wasn't meek and innocent anymore. I wasn't his subject. I was his opponent.

It must have been a month before I found anything. The savannah gave way to arid desert, and food became harder to come by. I grew leaner, and then I grew more crafty. I felt my muscles getting tighter and wirier as I worked harder for leaner meat. Necessity made me faster and hardier- sometimes I went three days without water. But even as the land grew harsher, I was glad. Harsher land meant fewer water holes, and that made each one more likely to harbor a pride. I was getting closer.

When I finally saw the lion, I thought it was a mirage. It looked too large compared to the tree next to it. It must have been half again my size, and there was something strange about it. Its size suggested it was female, but its mane was so small it was barely there. I saw it after I looked up from drinking at another tiny water hole, and it was looking back at me with as much confusion as I looked at it. It didn't shimmer like the mirages I'd seen before. My heart fluttered and I knew it was real. After so long, I'd found them. I wanted to cry out in joy and run toward it, but I stopped myself.

I should have been cautious, but I was overjoyed to see another lion after so long. I took one step forward and paused in case I alarmed the other lion. It smiled and mirrored my movement. I smiled back, and we drew closer.

"Hello, stranger." the voice was feminine, and it was strange. The consonants were soft and the vowels were longer. It all sounded rounded-off and alion. "How are you?"

"I'm... all right, I guess," I said. I hadn't realized it had been so long since I'd last spoken. I felt out of practice. The other lion rubbed her face on my shoulder in a friendly greeting.

"You speak strangely. Are you from far away?" she asked. I returned her greeting and relished the feeling of lion fur against mine.

"Uh... yes. Very far," I said. "I'm Nala. I came from across the desert, in the savannah."

"That is very far," the lioness said with wide eyes. "I am Laith. Will you visit our pride? You must be tired and lonely."

"I am," I said. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

If you're interested, I did some research. After comparing pictures of Mufasa with various subspecies of lion, I decided he looked most like a Northeast Congo Lion, putting the Pridelands somewhere near the savannahs of Uganda. Laith is a Barbary lioness, as evidenced by her large size and female mane. Since her species is extinct, my story must take place before 1960, and I assumed records may have been imperfect. Barbary lions lived in North Africa, so Nala would have had to walk from Uganda to Algeria. But I fudged the numbers and assumed some outlying prides were farther south, bringing them close enough for her to travel in a month. This also explains Laith's accent and why her name is Arabic and not Swahili.