Timon shouted, "What makes you think you can talk to us like that?? Why, Simba here will use you for a beanbag!"
The shine left the lion’s eyes, leaving them flat and deadly. “So it’s Simba, is it?? Well, Simba, why don’t you prove it!” His tail stiffened slightly as his shoulders hunched, and he began to stalk slowly towards the terrified youngster.
Sasha stood aside fearfully as Simba gathered his legs under him in a crouch, creeping backwards towards the treeline. “Hey, no need to get huffy, sir.” He looked back at the meerkat. “Cool it, Timon! Hakuna Matata, remember?"
The adult lion grinned humorlessly. “You have a lot of worries if you ask me. Or maybe just one big one. Me.”
“We were just leaving.”
“I’d bet my next kill on it.” As he spoke, the lion flattened his ears and swept towards Simba in a deadly rush, fangs bared fully, the light gleaming off them in a promise of death. Simba gave a roar of surprise and jerked away, scrabbling for purchase as he tried to turn and flee. The monarch’s paw whipped around and struck the young lion, his claws scoring crimson furrows in Simba’s haunch. Simba cried out in pain and fear, the lion’s roars thundering in his ears as he sprinted away towards the safety of the jungle. He glanced back and saw the lion still pursuing, the sight goading him to run even faster.
Finally he stopped, unable to run any longer, his sides burning with pain as his breath whooped in and out in great tides of air. He turned slowly, expecting to see the great brute bearing down on him for the kill.
Instead, he saw only empty jungle, a very relieved warthog, and an indignant meerkat who sat astride Pumbaa’s head, glaring at him.
Timon asked, “Why did you run away like that?? That dope was a softie; you coulda thrashed him easy!”
Simba licked the bleeding claw marks on his injured haunch and wondered at that. “Once a very wise lion told me he was only brave when he HAD to be. You don't go asking for trouble.”
“Simba, I don't think you should go back there for awhile.”
The young lion grinned shakily at Pumbaa. “Good idea.”
The rest of the afternoon passed blissfully uneventful, and the trio even managed to scare up enough insects that evening to go to bed relatively full. But Simba lay awake long after the others had passed into sleep, his head on his paws as he thought about that beautiful sky above, and the wonderful feeling of space around him, unobstructed by vines and trees. As his eyes began to close, he wondered idly what Nala was doing right now, and if she was as pretty as Sasha had been, her tawny face framed by the waving stalks of the grasslands.
CHAPTER 56: SIGN OF POWER
Nearby, Timon lay enraptured in dreams of a different sort.
“The rhinoceros beetle, my dear, IF you please.” Timon grinned, as he lay back, literally in the lap of luxury. His head was pillowed on the legs of a meerkat female who sat cross legged, tickling the fur on the top of his head. Giggling, she nodded, and picked the struggling insect from a pile of bugs that lay nearby, popping into his mouth delicately. “There you go.”
He chewed, savoring the delightful crunch. “Thanks, babe.”
“Of course.” She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, admiring the beautiful white fur that enveloped her whole body. “You’re kinda cute, you know that?”
“You too.” Bending over, she rubbed her nose against his, making him chuckle with laughter. “You’re really special, you know that?” He blinked. “What makes you say that?”
“The way you and your friend took care of that lion cub.”
“Oh, Simba?” Timon shrugged. “Least we could do. You know, when we first found him, he was almost dead. We saved his life!”
She nodded. “I know. that was very thoughtful of you.”
“We practically had to teach the kid everything; what to eat, where to sleep...” Timon sighed. “He’s gettin kinda big now though.”
She remained silent, stroking his cheek quietly, waiting for him to continue.
Finally, he did. “He’s gettin kinda big, all right.” Timon examined his hands uncomfortably. “Pretty soon he’s not gonna need us any more.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Really?”
“Oh, there’s a few things that still have to be done.”
He looked at her strangely. “Like what?”
By way of answer, she leapt out from under him, sending his head to the ground with a dull thump. “YEOWCH!” He sat up rubbing his head, and was immediately flattened again as she tackled him, sending the two of them rolling through the grass until she finally pinned him to the ground with her weight, holding his shoulders tight with her hands. “You silly little fellow!”
“Whaddya tryin ta do, kill me--” he trailed off, entranced by her beautiful eyes, gleaming silver-blue as they stared into his own. “Pretty eyes.”
“Everyone says that.” She chuckled, then looked at him intently. “Your friend has reached a turning point in his life. He needs someone to walk with him across the bridge. Great things lie ahead for him, but there are forks in the path. You must help guide him along the way.” She reached down and played with the fur on his cheek, sending shivers down his spine. “You’ll do that for him, won’t you?”
"You betcha. What do I have to do?"
"First of all, he has grown his mane. You need to give him his mantlement. That's the leonine coming of age ceremony. You'll pray for him, stroke his mane, and pronounce him an adult. Then you will help him find his destiny. In his case that will involve some risk for you."
His focus on her wavered slightly. “Risk??"
She stroked him under his chin, riveting his attention on her again. "But you will be very brave and won't let me down. I know this for a fact."
He looked at her spellbound. "I will be very brave," he stammered.
“You will help him."
"I will help him."
"I knew I could count on you." She looked penetratingly into his eyes and drew very close. He could feel her soft breath on his face, enveloping him in the smell of wild honey. "Daima pendana," she whispered, kissing his cheek.
Timon jerked awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes in the first gray light of dawn. Gingerly, he rubbed the back of his head and looked at where he had been lying, seeing the rock protruding from the ground.
“Stupid stone.” He rose, stretching and yawning with exaggeration, feeling the stretch and pull of his muscles as he stood. He was standing there, glancing about blearily, wondering where he might find a good bit of breakfast, when his eyes fell on Simba. He stood still for a long moment, then pattered over to the lion and yanked on his whiskers. “Up and at ‘em!”
“WHAAAA!!” Simba’s eyes bulged and he jerked back, his claws splaying involuntarily. “What the--”
“C’mon! Get up, ya bums! It’s daybreak already! We ain’t got much time.” Scampering over, Timon took a deep breath and nipped Pumbaa’s tail lightly, waking the warthog with a shriek and sending HIM running into Simba. Lion and warthog stood trembling at the tiny apparition which ranted at them.
“C’mon! We gotta get goin!”
“Where, Timon?”
“The waterfall, knucklehead! It’s the only place high enough!”
“For WHAT?!”
“Your mantlement, dummy!”
“My wha--” Simba froze. “Gods, you’re right.” He lowered his head. “But I know so little about it; my dad only told me a little about the ceremony.”
Timon glared at him. “Are you a lion?”
“Yeah.”
“You got a mane?”
“Well, yeah...”
“We can fake the rest. C’mon!” He smacked Simba’s rump and trotted off into the forest, grumbling.