"I don't know," Timon said, looking puzzled. “I must have forgotten their names.”
Simba cringed away from the huge hyenas as they moved closer. "I am Gur'bruk, and this is my bak’ret Kambra. We are--how you say--healers. We were sent by Minshasa, the lioness of white hair. You know her, don’t you?"
Simba’s eyes flickered for a moment, but another spasm of pain wrenched at him, and he simply moaned.
"I don't know any white lionesses," Timon said, puzzled. "But hey, I'm glad she sent you."
Kambra sniffed of the spots on the ground. “This is bad. We must act now.”
“I could have told you that.”
Gur'bruk frowned at Timon, and the meerkat silenced. Then Gur’bruk had Simba lay on his side. "Look at my eyes, son. Can you tell me what color they are?"
"Sure. They're brown."
"Are you sure? Are you very sure?"
"Well I--no, they're green. No wait, they’re blue. Hey, how did you do that?"
"I will tell you in a minute. But right now, what color are they?"
"They're still blue but there are little white things--oh, it's the sky! I can see the clouds move!"
“Very good. If you look at the clouds, some of them are shaped like things you know.”
Kambra was feeling over Simba's body with a paw. Though she was barely touching him, it was clear from her face that she was concentrating very hard.
"Look past the clouds,” Gur’bruk asked. “Are there birds in the sky?"
“Yes. Lots of them.”
Kambra’s roving ceased as she stared intently at a spot on Simba’s side. Nodding, she glanced up at Timon and winked. Then she looked at Gur’bruk oddly for a moment, and turned back to Simba.
"Are all of the birds the same?"
“Yes.”
“Every one?” Gur’bruk cocked an ear slightly. “How about the one in front?”
"I see it now. Most of them are black, but the one in front is red."
"That is your pain, Simba. See it fly away? He takes your pain with him. He is going far away, and he is not coming back. Do you feel the pain smaller?"
Simba's tense features softened. He had a relaxed smile. "Oh yeah. Oh that feels better! Make the bird stay away."
“I promise you we will. I had a little ban’ret like you in the past. When he hurted, I play the bird game with him. It made him feel better.”
“Where is your boy now? All grown up?”
“He go to died,” Gur’bruk said.
“That’s so sad. Gur’bruk, there are dark clouds in the sky now. It looks like a storm coming.”
“Yes, I feel it” Gur’bruk’s eyes misted up and a quiet tear trickled down his cheek. “His name was Gur’mekh. Simba is a pretty name. What does it mean?”
“Lion.”
“I think it fits you maybe.”
Timon moved forward as Kambra nosed Simba’s side again, her tongue flicking out for a second. “Hey! What’re you DOING--” He stared, gaping in astonishment as Kambra drew back and then plunged her muzzle inside Simba, her nose disappearing into him as if she were penetrating her reflection at a water hole.
“Oh my gods!” Timon wavered drunkenly and sat down hard, head swimming as he watched the impromptu operation in progress. There was no blood, and Simba certainly gave no sign of pain as he continued to stare into Gur’bruk’s eyes. Kambra pulled suddenly, and out came a pink growth which she discarded in the brush. Sitting back, she sighed satisfactorily. “All done.”
Timon glared at her suspiciously and ran over to Simba. Gritting his teeth, he felt around gingerly under the fur, expecting to find the matted wetness of blood and the ragged edge of a wound in his side.
Instead, he found nothing. he began combing through the soft fur, poking at the firm hide of the cub. “Where’d ya hide it?!”
Simba giggled slightly at the touch, and Gur'bruk smiled. “The game is over now. How do you feel, young ban’ret?"
Simba got up and shook off. "I feel hungry!"
Gur’bruk nuzzled him, as did Kambra.
Timon breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at Kambra. "I could just kiss you if you didn't eat carrion."
"I could just kiss you back if you did not eat the grubs."
"Good point." He patted her and pecked her cheek. "We owe you one."
“Owe me one what?” She thought for a moment. “Oh it’s a figuresque of speech.” She looked at Timon closely. “Now listen, old ban’ret. Fate the path goes--if you--how you say ‘ta’kher ohvi gabrukh....’” She stopped, putting her paw on his face and concentrating. “Your charge will find a glorious destiny,” she said in flawless Suricati.
Stunned, he dropped back into his native tongue. “I’d believe it. He’s a great kid.” Timon scratched behind his ear and shifted uneasily. “Tell me the truth: will the problem come back?"
"What is he eating?"
"Grubs and beetles, mainly."
"Oh gods! That's what caused it. You have to teach him how to hunt. Or at least how to scavenge."
"Scavenging we can do, but I'm no carnivore."
"Bugs are not what Roh'kash meant for lions to eat. You must change his lifestyle, at least a little. There are some herbs you can try to stall the problem, but someday you'll have to let him be what he was born to be, a hunter."
“I guess so. But hey, where did you guys come from? I mean, you’re not from around here, are you?”
“No.” Kambra closed her eyes and sighed. “But where we came from, we cannot go.”
Timon fell silent as he looked at her, recognizing a kindred soul of one who has been cast out. Yet he knew somehow that this was much more than a simple outcast before him. Gur’bruk came to stand beside Kambra, kissing her face and nuzzling her neck. Timon regarded them soberly, seeing the comfort they took from one another, but there was an evident look of sadness on their faces that was at once noble and poignant.
Reverting to common speech he said, “Look, why don’t you guys stick with us? I mean, we don’t have a home either. Not really.”
“We go where Roh’kash sends us, like the restless wind.”
“In a way, so do we.”
Pumbaa looked at them wonderingly. “Will we ever see you again?”
“If you need us once more, you will see us.” Without explanation, he looked up and said, “Yolanda, we paid the debt.”
The two vanished back into the undergrowth in a quiet rustle of leaves. Timon and Pumbaa stared after them for a long moment, until they were distracted by a cough behind them. They turned to see Simba rising unsteadily on all four legs, a look of disgust on his face as he spat into the dust.
“Yech! My mouth tastes like five day old pond scum!”
“Must’ve been something you ate,” Timon said dryly. “C’mon, kid, let’s go get some water.”
“Yeah!”
From the concealment of the lush undergrowth, Gur’bruk and Kambra watched the trio meander away, the cub leaning against Pumbaa’s shoulder as Timon perched on his head, directing the way to the water hole. Gur’bruk blinked as his thoughts raced unspoken to his mate. “Do you think they’ll be all right?”
“They’ll be fine.” She smiled at him. “Have faith, love.”
“I trust Roh’kash implicitly. THOSE two...”
“...are fulfilling their destiny. Just as the cub will one day, with their help.” She looked after the odd trio, her smile fading. Gur’bruk felt an odd feeling emanating from her, something akin to awe. He looked at her curiously, and she met his gaze, her eyes shining. “I told the meerkat the child was destined for great things, and he is. When I removed the growth, I was caught up in his Ka. He’s the one true king! And he is the anointed.”
“The anointed? What are you saying??”
“He bears the mark of Duhbrek. Roh’kash had chosen him from his birth to bring freedom to the captives and mercy to the oppressed.”