Chapter Text
Never be, never see, won’t see what might have been
What I’ve felt, what I’ve known, never shined through in what I’ve shown
Never free, never me, so I dub thee unforgiven
You labelled me, I’ll label you, so I dub thee unforgiven.
—Metallica, The Unforgiven
The pain was getting almost too much for even Janga to bear by the time she finally made it into the mountain pass. As she rounded the side of Mount Tempest, she was surprised and more than a little relieved to see the majority of the surviving Duara Vunja gathered on the plateau. I didn’t think so many of them would make it back. A flutter of hope arose from within her spent and dejected being, momentarily abating the crushing despair that dogged her through the mountains. I can still make this right, mother. I will, wait and see.
The lions watching the pass were hurrying over, soon joined by a few others who had noticed Janga’s approach. She could see confusion and alarm in their expressions as Kupinga rushed to her side, murmurs of concern sweeping through their numbers.
Janga shook her head, trying to clear her vision without success. “It’s alright, I can walk.”
“You look like you’ve walked a long way already,” said Kupinga firmly. “Keeled over a few times too, looks like. So if it’s all the same to you...”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine...” Janga wearily slumped against her, allowing the other lioness to walk her out of the pass. The rest of the Duara Vunja dispersed to give them some room, although they maintained a loose follow as they made their way up the plateau proper.
Kupinga eyed her leader’s considerable injuries, some of which were still rehealing after being aggravated more than once. “What happened? Where’s the rest of your team?”
“Dead. Buried in the gorge by...” Janga drew a slow breath, unable to even want to utter Kopa’s name. She had dwelled on little else in the last few days, and even with Sarabi’s death hanging at the forefront of her thoughts, the events of the gorge had not faded from her mind. “Has Kivuli made it back yet?”
Kupinga shook her head.
Janga’s throat tightened. “And Jeraha?”
“Haven’t heard anything from him either. Why, is there something I should know?”
“Never mind,” grunted Janga. “Let me know if he gets here, I–”
She broke off when she saw Hamu and a few other captives, huddled together on the other side of the plateau. Evidently the Duara Vunja’s efforts had not been in vain, because she now counted thirteen adults and five cubs between them. But what held her attention was the fact that they were being watched by only two lions.
Kupinga saw Janga’s reaction, and promptly explained, “We posted a heavier guard when more of them arrived, but that’s no longer necessary. They haven’t tried to escape even once.”
This came as a surprise to Janga, who recalled that Hamu had been less than forthcoming the last time they had a conversation. “And why’s that?”
Kupinga jerked her head toward the main entrance. “He showed up.”
No sooner had she spoken the words, a new scent caught Janga’s nose from within Mount Tempest. Not an unfamiliar one either – quite the opposite, to her immediate dismay. And in spite of her flagging condition, a lifetime of instinct sent her pulse spiking even before she saw them.
Two rows of wild dogs were lined against the walls leading into the fortress, standing in disciplined silence between the countless passages branching from the central corridor. They had not reacted in the slightest to Janga’s arrival, and in spite of how small they looked against the corridor, there was something unsettling about the stillness with which they stood, almost completely inert save for the occasional blinking of their eyes and the slight rise and fall of their torsos.
“We’ve kept them away from the captives, as per your orders,” Kupinga told her quietly. “But they’ve only been here a few nights and everyone is already on edge. Things are bound to get nasty if the Keepers don’t get here soon.”
Janga’s brow knitted, unsure if her pounding migraine was brought on by her exhausted state or the dread hanging over her. “Stay on the lookout. Report to me immediately if Kivuli or Jeraha make it back.” With a grunt of exertion, she managed to lift herself off the other lioness to stand on her own once more.
Kupinga gave her a look of consternation. “I’d hold off on seeing the Commander. He’s not happy with you.”
“When is he ever?” snorted Janga, hobbling toward the main entrance and fighting to keep her steps steady.
“At least let me call in a couple of lions to escort you.”
“No. I won’t need them.”
Janga could feel the wild dogs’ eyes following her as she marched past them, her vision slowly adjusting to the darkness as she made her way into the depths of Mount Tempest. She could taste cold moisture building in the air long before the last of the light faded behind her, and it wasn’t long before the corridor opened up into the monumental grandeur of the main hall before her. She maintained a steady gait, mouth tightening against the persisting ache in her paws and legs.
Standing dutifully against the intricately sculpted walls around her was another ring of wild dogs, their heads pointed at the raised floor at the centre of the main hall. The air was noticeably damper with each step she took, doubtlessly brought on by the frenetic downpour spewing from the elephant-sized hole in the ceiling. The majority of its contents, however, passed through the wide opening in the floor with surprising silence.
Encircling the aperture were eight carvings in the floor, each depicting the various stages of the lunar cycle, but it was not the craftsmanship of the hall that held Janga’s attention. It was the lone wild dog who sat facing away from her, and she had no trouble recognizing him even if she hadn’t spotted the three gold stripes painted on his shoulder – a Commander of the Keepers. And though the days when he could trespass upon her nightmares were long behind her, the chill of the air seemed to catch in her throat as his eerily soothing voice reached her ears.
“Go on, Anga,” murmured Bane to the feebly stirring martial eagle lying at his paws. “Drink... right there...” He gently nudged her beak toward the carving of the full moon, which was filled with a small deposit of clear liquid.
“No...” Anga groaned deliriously, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Feel... sick...”
“It’ll make you feel better, trust me. You do trust me, right?”
She turned her head slightly toward him, her breathing shallow and irregular. “Kion...?”
“That’s right, it’s Kion,” said Bane. “I’m trying to help you.”
Slowly, Anga tipped her beak over and took a drink of water. She coughed immediately and curled up against herself, talons clenching in agony. “Taste... awful...”
“I know, but you’ll be okay,” he insisted. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
“Need to... warn them...” she struggled to gasp. Her words were becoming fainter now.
Bane leaned in closer. “I’ll warn them for you, don’t you worry. But I need you to tell me who you’ve been talking to.”
“Who... I’ve...?”
“Yes. They’re in trouble, but I can’t help them unless you tell me who they are. Come on, Anga, we’re all counting on you.”
If the wild dog’s masquerade had convinced Anga, it was hard to tell, for just then her head slumped to the side with a slow exhale as she slipped into unconsciousness.
Bane straightened briskly but did not turn to face Janga, who was observing him silently. When the wild dog spoke again, his voice became cold and hard. “I didn’t send for you, whelp.”
Janga pressed her paws against the floor as if trying to root herself into the stone. “My lions tell me otherwise,” she intoned, relieved that her voice held steady.
“Then they should learn not to conflate my words so heedlessly. I thought Majonzi would have to drag you back here, and yet it seems you’re capable of returning on your own.” Bane turned his snout upward and inhaled deeply. “You’ve spilled a lot of blood, Janga, mostly your own these last few days. You’re determined, I’ll give you that, but without the Keepers’ guidance, you’ve always been aimless. Disobedient. And now your ambition has finally outpaced you, as I always knew it would one day.”
“I believe I’ve done you a favour, Commander,” she muttered tersely.
He reached into the deposit Anga had been drinking out of and swatted a pawful of water at Janga. She immediately reared back with a hiss at the sensation of poison stinging her half-healed wounds, and before she knew it, Bane suddenly stood before her with his claws prickling the underside of her chin. “Drop the act, you insolent pup,” he snarled, all traces of restraint dashed away. “You reek of loss and desperation, don’t think I couldn’t smell it on you the moment you walked in. You wouldn’t have come crawling to me if your plan hadn’t failed.”
Janga glared down at him, still refusing to show fear even if she wasn’t sure she could quell it for much longer. “I accomplished in one night what your ancestors couldn’t for generations – I gave you Mount Tempest. You always said I was worthless, so you should be glad it was my blood that was spilled and not your wild dogs’.”
With a disgruntled snort, Bane withdrew his claws, though he did not break his contemptuous stare from hers. “You’ve learned well from the High General. Keep it up and you might be just as duplicitous as her someday.”
She scowled in response but said nothing. Instead, she turned her attention to Anga’s listless form. “Who is she?”
“A protector from the Tree of Life. Majonzi caught her posing as one of our soldiers.” Bane nudged the eagle’s shoulder, where a half-healed burn revealed the edges of an inscrutable symbol within her indigo feathers. “Claimed she was struck by lightning. More likely she was hiding this mark.”
“The sigil of the Night Pride,” Janga observed. “She thought you were her leader.”
“She’s been feeding information to someone, but she won’t say who. Seeing as you’re here, you will make yourself useful and get it out of her when she wakes up. I’ve wasted enough time on this already.”
Janga nodded, well aware that Bane was not asking.
“And send your lions out to hunt. My battalion has eaten nothing since we left the Viridian Plains, thanks to your reckless actions.”
“Fine.” She turned to walk away.
“Hold it, I didn’t say you could go. You’re going to turn the lions you’ve captured from the Mtera Pride over to me.”
Janga turned about at this. “Why?”
“So my people can finally have their justice in full.”
She needed no further elaboration to understand his intentions. “The Mtera Pride didn’t slaughter your people, they drove you out. Their punishment should reflect that.”
“Punishment?” Bane laughed harshly. “No, punishment is what’s waiting for you when the Keepers arrive in full. My people have fought to reclaim Mount Tempest for long enough. It ends with me.”
“Be careful what you wish for, Commander,” said Janga ominously.
“If that’s a threat, whelp, you’d better take a good look around,” he sneered. “No one’s here to protect you, so surrender your captives to me. Now.”
A rumbling of low growls arose from every direction within the main hall, and Janga could see that the other wild dogs’ teeth were now bared in her direction. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, her ever-bleeding resolve urging her to do as Bane ordered. Clenching her jaw, she calmly turned about to face him and reopened her eyes. “No. It’s been nearly sixty years since your people inhabited Mount Tempest. If you want to know all its secrets, you’ll need the Mtera Pride – alive and unharmed. I’ll make sure they oblige.”
Bane took several measured steps toward her, closing the distance between them again. “Now I understand. You came here first because you knew I’d kill them all,” he scoffed. “Pathetic. Did you think that small act of mercy could outweigh all the worst things you’ve done? The things you’re about to do? What convictions are you still clinging to, Janga? What is there left for you to prove?”
“That I am not here to conquer,” Janga replied unflinchingly. “Like you, I intend to break a cycle that has gone on for far too long. But unlike you, I will not indulge your vindictive cruelty. I do not prey on those who can’t fight back, and I will not allow you to–”
“You, allow me?” snarled Bane. “You’ve got some nerve. You talk a big game, but I can see right through you. You’re still the same frightened cub who was desperate to gain the Keepers’ approval – who wanted to be seen as anything but the daughter of a tyrant.”
Janga felt a strange calm come over her. “I am the daughter of a tyrant. You and many others made sure I never forgot that. But this isn’t about me. Simba knows we’re coming for him, and so he’s coming for us first.” With a bitter smile, she added, “I guess we are alike in that way.”
“How touching.”
“I doubt he thinks so. My mother – his mother – is dead, and if he sees me the way you do, then he’s going to think I killed her. So threaten me all you want, but you don’t scare me, Bane – not when I’ve looked death in the eye time and time again, daring her to try and claim me.” For the first time, Janga leaned down toward Bane, towering over him without a shred of misgiving. “You are not taking those captives, do you hear me? I’ll kill you myself before I let you, no matter what your horde does to me afterward. You got what you came for... it’d be a pity if you didn’t live to enjoy it.”
The silence stretched on between them as they glared at one another. None of the other wild dogs moved a muscle, holding their collective breath in unison. Finally, Bane looked away with a low growl. “Bring them inside the mountain. I’ll have a security detail accompany yours, no arguments.” Seeing Janga’s hesitation, he snorted impatiently. “I won’t lay a claw on them, not yet. But if I have any cause to regret sparing them, it’s on your head. Remember that, whelp.”
Janga’s shoulders eased ever so slightly, hardly able to believe Bane had actually backed down for once in his life. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. A fight, most likely, not that I’m complaining. In some way, she was disappointed it hadn’t come to that, the promise of relief held just beyond her reach like it always was. She wordlessly padded out of the main hall, wondering if death really was waiting impatiently for her – or it was the other way around.
•••
Though it had been a lifetime since Sarafina last set paw inside the Nami tribe’s camp, it was still exactly as she remembered it, every rock and tree down to the last overhanging branch. Still not much for change, I see, she thought to herself, noticing the way the warriors’ eyes were unanimously fixed upon her. The younger ones looked perplexed at the sight of an apparent stranger in their camp, while the older ones’ expressions contained realization, disbelief, and even outrage.
Sarafina’s attention was not on them, however, but on the other outsider standing by the mkukusu tree; a grey-furred lioness who was immediately recognizable despite the fact that she had been a mere adolescent the last time they had seen each other. Evidently the reverse was also true, for no sooner had they locked eyes did the younger lioness utter her name. “Sarafina.”
“Kivuli,” Sarafina said frostily. “Still skulking about where you don’t belong, are you?”
“The only one who doesn’t belong here is you,” retorted Kivuli. “I’ve learned such interesting things about your history with this tribe, and from the way they’re all looking at you, I’d say they’re as surprised to see you here as I am.”
“I’m here because of what you’ve done. What you and the rest of the Duara Vunja intend to do.”
“Honestly, I don’t care. Your family drama is the least of my concerns right now. I look to the future, while you’re still fixating on the past.”
Sarafina rounded on Safina. “What is she doing here?”
“Your pride does not take care of its own, it seems,” the chief snorted. “Not even after your misfortunes ended.”
“They were welcome to come back anytime they wanted. They chose to do so violently.”
Her sister’s face broke into a bitter smirk. “You’re the one who challenged me to a mashindano.”
“Is that what interrupted our talk?” asked Kivuli, silver eyes gleaming in anticipation. “In that case, I can wait until you’re done.”
“No,” said Safina flatly. “Go back to your leader and tell her we will stay out of your way.”
Kivuli raised an eyebrow. “You seem awfully confident about winning this fight.”
“And you won’t want to be here if I lose. You’ll know about it soon enough if that is the outcome. Now you can leave or I can have you escorted out.”
The hard look Safina wore was one Sarafina knew all too well, and Kivuli clearly understood also, for she turned away without argument. However, Sarafina held out a paw to stop the grey-furred lioness before she could pass, her voice quiet with foreboding. “Where is my son? Why isn’t he with you and Janga?”
Kivuli’s gaze met hers once again, though her expression gave away nothing. “You really want to know, you should go look for him yourself.”
Sarafina bared her teeth, restraint threatening to break from her voice. “Tell me what happened to him, or I’ll–!”
“Sarafina,” interjected Safina sharply. “There will be no violence in my camp unless I allow it. Now come, my patience grows thin.”
Without another word, Kivuli stepped around Sarafina, who did not stop glaring after her until she trotted out of the camp. As the older lioness finally turned her attention forward once more, she saw that the warriors had laid out several leafy bundles of berries around the mkukusu tree where Safina was waiting expectantly.
“Ready yourself,” the chief instructed. “We fight here, in the heart of the camp.”
Sarafina stepped forward to stand opposite her sister, pulling a few leaves toward herself and crushing them beneath her front paws. For the first time in years, she painted a series of crisscrossing lines across her face and pelt, tracing out the familiar patterns as if she had worn them only yesterday. The tribe gathered around her and Safina in a circle, closing them off and beginning a droning chant in unison.
Once Sarafina was done, Safina shifted into a ready stance and spoke the first part of the tribal mantra in kila. “Our blood is the river.”
“Our bones are the mountains,” continued Sarafina, now matching her stance as well.
“Izwe lethu.”
“Mhlaba wethu.”
Both lionesses recited the final line in unison. “Fatshe leso lea halalela.”
The leaves were promptly shuffled out of the way, and the two sisters began circling one another while the chanting grew steadily louder. Sarafina waited unblinkingly, silently inviting Safina to make the first move.
Sure enough, the chief dove forward in a flash, aiming for a tackle at Sarafina’s midsection. The older lioness backed up while simultaneously turning to meet her head-on, though she had only so much space to manoeuvre within the enclosed circle. Her front paws instinctively came up to protect her face, clenching her jaw as Safina slashed her across the paw pads. In retaliation, Sarafina made a swipe at her face, claws ripping into her ear while simultaneously swatting a pawful of blood into her eyes.
Safina furiously shook her head, momentarily blinded from the unexpected move. A painful stinging flared from Sarafina’s paws as they touched the ground, but nonetheless she closed in to press the offensive, knowing that her sister had deliberately meant to slow her down. However, Safina had recovered her wits and swiftly headbutted the charging Sarafina under the chin, sending her sprawling onto her back. The chief wasted no time and pounced forward in an attempt to pin her down.
But Sarafina was quicker. She planted her front paws against Safina’s torso and slammed her footpaw into her abdomen, using the younger lioness’ momentum to flip her headfirst to the ground while leveraging Sarafina up at the same time. Safina snarled, writhing and trying to free herself with her sister now on top of her. “You never get tired of that trick, do you?”
Sarafina smiled teasingly, though it was also half a pained grimace. “Not if you keep falling for it.”
Safina’s back paw swung in abruptly, tripping Sarafina and sending her rolling off to one side. Now lying next to each other, the sisters exchanged a flurry of blows, trying to scramble to their paws while fighting to keep the other down. Sarafina flinched as claws raked across her snout, but managed to block the next attack by wrapping her foreleg around Safina’s and holding it away from her face. Her other paw flew out, deftly striking her opponent in the chest and across the throat.
Safina coughed, momentarily stunned, giving Sarafina the opportunity to rise while keeping their forelegs entwined. The movement forced Safina to turn away to avoid dislocating her shoulder, and the older lioness held her other paw out, claws drawn and panting vigorously. “Yield.”
“Are you mad?” sputtered the chief. “Have you forgotten we’re fighting to the death?”
“No. I don’t want to kill you if I don’t have to.”
“Well, you’ll have to.” Safina leapt upright, rolling into Sarafina’s grip rather than breaking out of it. She untangled her paw by positioning herself behind her sister and sinking her claws into her foreleg in the same movement.
Sarafina roared but did not withdraw, swiping and snapping at the air next to Safina’s head before being thrown onto her front. Unable to break free, Sarafina rolled over, pressing her head under Safina’s chin to keep her opponent’s teeth pointed away. But her sister staunchly refused to loosen her grip, crossing her forelegs over Sarafina’s throat and pressing inward. Both lionesses held fast and stubborn, straining to push the breath out of one another.
“You don’t want to be chief,” grunted Safina, struggling to prise her neck free. “You just want the tribe to fight your battles.”
“There’s nothing I won’t do to protect my people, same as you,” Sarafina growled back. “And if you think the Keepers will leave you in peace, then you don’t deserve to be chief either.”
“Stop pretending this is about us. To you, we’re just a means to an end and nothing more.” Safina’s head slipped free, and she immediately moved to bite down on Sarafina’s ear.
The older lioness headbutted her in the jaw, and she too wrested herself out of her opponent’s grip. She staggered upright, drawing in some much-needed air while Safina did the same, and said, “I tried to make you understand, Safina. I knew you wouldn’t, but I tried. I would’ve given anything to take you with me.”
“I never wanted to leave!” roared Safina. “That was always the difference between us, you care more about yourself than you did about the tribe!”
Sarafina narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see what’s so wrong about that.”
“That’s right, Sarafina,” her sister spat. “You don’t.”
Battered as they were, both lionesses’ claws flew out once more when a roar was heard from outside the circle. They stopped as the tribe’s chanting ceased, and turned to face the warrior who hastened in through the formation.
Safina scowled, though her chest was still heaving. “What is the meaning of this, Dinari? The mashindano has not concluded.”
“I apologize, chief,” replied Dinari, looking genuinely abashed. “The elder wants to see you both. She did not say why.”
Sarafina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “The elder still lives? I thought she’d be long past her lifespan by now.”
Her sister gave her an irked look. “What could she possibly want with you? She barely knew you before you left.”
“She came from the Pride Lands,” recalled Sarafina distantly, adrenaline now wearing off. “She was the one who told me I’d be safe there. I... never expected I’d get to see her again.”
•••
Simba’s nostrils flared in response to the moisture in the air, laden with the metallic tang of blood. The Zuberi River ran gently through the flatlands dividing the surrounding mountains, its quiet murmur barely audible over the sound of the burly grey-brown lion splashing vigorously in the current. Simba did not recognize him, but the lingering trace of Sarabi’s scent gave him no doubt that he had found her killer.
A snarl arose from Tama’s throat. “Jeraha, son of Shabaha. You’ve disgraced the Pride Lands by murdering its queen mother, and now you will answer for it.”
Jeraha’s head snapped up, chest heaving vigorously. He raised his hackles but said nothing, dark cyan pupils constricted with adrenaline. Simba bared his teeth as well as his claws unsheathed.
“Careful, Simba,” cautioned Kula. “He’s got plenty of fight left in him.”
The king’s eyes were hard and merciless. “Good.”
The two male lions simultaneously leapt at each other amid a spray of water. Tama and Kula snapped into action as well, moving to aid Simba from either side while Babu, Boga, and Tamika hastened to surround their quarry. Jeraha flailed about like a wild beast, snapping at the claws raking him from all sides.
Simba landed blow after furious blow upon his opponent’s face and mane, heedless of the clumps of fur being shredded from his own body at the same time. He managed to press Jeraha back with an aggressive push, prompting the larger lion to rise up on his hindlegs. Tamika snapped her teeth around his ankle while clawing at his footpaws, and he toppled onto his back. But as Simba moved to pin him, Jeraha kicked out with both footpaws, sending Tamika sliding into the king’s legs and causing them to lose their balance.
Jeraha swiftly rolled onto his front, but before he could stand up, Tama landed on his back, struggling to keep him trapped against the ground. Kula did the same a moment later, along with Babu and Boga who promptly leapt into the fray as well. With a savage roar, Jeraha arched his back and leapt up, breaking apart the dogpile and sending most of the lions flying in different directions.
All except Tama, who stubbornly dug her claws into his shoulders even as he used his superior strength to flip her into the dirt beneath him. Tamika clawed at his mane from behind, fervently trying to get him off of her mother. Then Simba charged in from the side, grabbing the burly lion’s head with both front paws and sending the two of them rolling to the ground again.
Jeraha swiped at his eyes and snout, but Simba, unfazed, bit down hard on his opponent’s paw and felt a warm blood fill his mouth. A moment later, Jeraha’s other paw sank its claws into his midsection, causing Simba to relinquish his bite with a roar. But the flash of pain quickly subsided, and the king’s own claws found their mark in Jeraha’s abdomen in retaliation.
Simba was almost nose-to-nose with his opponent, neither of them budging with their claws still embedded within each other. “What did she ever do to you?” he snarled, too livid to even feel anything other than rage.
“My mistake,” growled Jeraha. “I wish it could’ve been you instead.” His claws withdrew, causing Simba’s claws to slip from his abdomen as well. The king stumbled in an effort to maintain his balance as Jeraha lunged forward, teeth poised to sink into his throat.
And then Simba was pushed aside by Tama, who fearlessly thrust her paws into Jeraha’s mouth, holding his jaws apart as he fought to break free. “Tamika, now!” she shouted.
Tamika bound forward and shoved a leafy plant into Jeraha’s mouth, causing him to gag in surprise. But he reacted quickly, his claws flashing out at her, and without hesitation Tama placed herself between them. The older lioness gave an agonized gasp as the claws pierced her rib cage directly under the heart, and a moment later her paws gave out from under her.
“No!” cried Tamika. She pushed Jeraha away with the help of Kula, who forced him into an ungainly retreat, before rushing to Tama who was coughing up a violent spray of blood. “No, mom... please...”
Jeraha shook his head blearily, his pupils now rapidly dilating, and Simba realized that Tamika had drugged him. He couldn’t help but notice just then that the larger lion’s frenzied eyes had shifted toward Tamika, misgiving seeping unexpectedly through the malice they had been filled with. Simba was almost certain he had imagined it, if not for the way Jeraha appeared to falter just then.
“Jeraha!”
It took a moment for Simba to realize the voice was Shabaha’s, and sure enough she came dashing into view with Kasi, Imara, and Tazama a moment later. Jeraha glanced past Tamika to meet his mother’s gaze – and then to Simba’s surprise, he turned and ran, leaving the Zuberi River behind.
“Stay on him, Lion Guard,” Shabaha ordered. She broke off from the rest of her team, who soon disappeared into the mountains after Jeraha, and hurried toward Simba. He staggered over to Tama’s side, where Tamika was frantically ripping leaves from the surrounding shrubbery to improvise a tourniquet for her mother’s bleeding torso.
The king winced, not from his own injuries but rather the sight of blood trickling from Tama’s mouth and chest. “Is there anything we can do, Tamika?”
“Give me some space,” Tamika said tautly. “And stop distracting me.”
Shabaha peered around. “I can fetch anything you–”
“Back off!” roared the younger lioness, her eyes brimming with tears of furious desperation.
“Tamika...” Tama chided weakly. “Manners...”
“Stop talking, mom,” snapped Tamika, swiping a patch moss off an adjacent rock and smearing it with blood in the process. “Shallow breaths, you hear? Just hang on.”
Simba silently stepped away with Shabaha, the two of them retreating to a respectful distance from the river. Kula’s look of concern shifted from Tama to Simba, who gave her a slight shake of the head to tell her to stay put. Glancing at Shabaha, the king quietly murmured, “If anyone can save her, it’d be Tamika. Thank you, Shabaha.”
Shabaha grimaced. “Thank me when my son is no longer a threat. Do you need those looked at?” She indicated the bleeding wounds in Simba’s midsection.
He shook his head. “I’ve lived through worse. So, that was your son we were fighting?”
“Yeah,” she affirmed. “I’ll explain later.”
“Take your time, I’m not going anywhere in my condition.” Simba slumped to the ground, the extent of his injuries now starting to register in earnest. “What are you doing out here?”
“We were looking for Vitani, but...” Shabaha exhaled. “We ran into someone else on the way here. A few someones, actually.”
Kula, who had regained her breath enough to check on Babu and Boga, jerked her head at them. “Come on, you two. The Lion Guard could use our help.”
“We got this, Kula,” Shabaha assured her. “You’ll want to stay when you see who we’ve found.”
Just then, a frazzled brown-furred lion stepped into view. Though he was around Shabaha’s age, his haggard appearance gave him the look of someone who had not rested properly in the last few days. And try as Simba might, he couldn’t figure out why there was something naggingly familiar about him.
The newcomer caught his eye, offering a tired but warm smile. “Simba. You look exactly how I imagined you would.”
Recognition dawned upon Kula’s expression. “Chumvi?” she whispered. Babu and Boga stared back at him wordlessly, and Simba’s eyes widened, now seeing the resemblance between them.
Chumvi’s gaze shifted to Kula, regret and sadness now seeping into his weary features. “Kula... I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” she asked, taking a few slow steps toward him.
“For leaving the way I did.” His red-brown eyes settled on Babu and Boga. “They’ve really grown up, haven’t they?”
“They have. As I’ve been growing old, waiting for you to come back.”
Chumvi’s gaze dropped. “You really wanted me back? You don’t... hate me?”
“Chumvi, my heart was in pieces after what Zira did to you,” said Kula softly. “But it wasn’t you who broke it. Can’t you see that?”
A visible lump formed in the brown-furred lion’s throat. He rushed forward, closing the remaining distance between them and burying his face against hers. “I can now, Kula,” he sobbed into her neck. “I can now.”
Not keen to intrude upon Kula’s reunion with her long-lost mate, Simba decided to give them some space and quietly padded away with Shabaha. “I can’t believe you found him,” he muttered incredulously. “How did you find him? Where was he all this time?”
She glanced past his shoulder, back the way she and Chumvi had come from. “I think he can answer that better than me.”
Following her gaze, Simba did not take more than a few steps before he froze when he caught sight of the ragtag group of lions that caught up just then. This time, he instinctively recognized the black-maned male at the forefront despite not having seen him since they were cubs. “Malka...”
Relief, joy, and even a glimmer of affection broke out onto his old friend’s face, leaving Simba with no doubt as to who stood before him. “Thank the Great Spirits,” Malka breathed. “It’s really you, Simba.”
•••
Vitani was taken aback by the expediency with which Nia was leading her across the snowy escarpments, in spite of the fact that the other lioness was still quite unsteady in her movements. She recovered even faster than I thought. It’s a little scary, if I’m being honest... “Slow down,” Vitani grunted, though she was admittedly eager to get out of the frigid climate as soon as possible. “You should be resting, you just got poisoned last night.”
“No time,” panted Nia. She did not slow her pace even slightly as she wove tenaciously through the snow. “The whole tribe is watching the mashindano. We’ll never have a better chance at this.”
“Better chance at what? Where are we going?”
“I’ll explain shortly, we’re almost there. Still a little hard to walk and talk at the same time.”
Vitani glanced back in the direction of the camp, hidden from sight somewhere on the mountainside. “You’re not worried Sarafina might kill your chief?”
“Let her try,” Nia scoffed. “The chief hasn’t been softened by a lifetime in the Serengeti.”
“Neither has Sarafina, if you must know.”
“Nothing I can do either way. If one of them is dead by the time we return, the tribe will follow due process.” A scowl appeared on the other lioness’ face. “Even if it means we have to call Sarafina ‘chief’.”
“Come on, Nia,” insisted Vitani. “I know you don’t like all these rules. You wouldn’t have stood up to Safina if you did.”
“If I stray from the ways of the tribe, then I must accept the consequences. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I should disrupt the ones who do. Something Janga and her Duara Vunja are too self-righteous to understand.”
The two of them were nearing the top of the frost-encrusted escarpment, which was oddly devoid of ice and snow. Vitani could see a cloud of mist billowing into the sky from up ahead, and as she crested the top of the escarpment, she was startled by a warm wind blowing past her. Before her laid a scattered collection of hot springs, bubbling in a way that reminded her of the Outlands’ sulphuric regions. Cautiously opting to give them a wide berth, Vitani followed Nia to the small pool at the very centre of the formation.
Unlike the constant rippling of the other springs, no steam arose from the central pool, its surface conspicuously tranquil amidst the hissing of the geysers. Despite the unpredictable nature of their surroundings, Vitani felt an unexpected sense of well-being wash over her from the warm air enveloping them. “What is this place?”
“The Memory Spring,” Nia replied. “A sacred place where my people seek to attune themselves with their ancestral kin.”
“Okay... but why are we here?”
“Because it shows us more than just our past. It can show us the present. Behold.” The other lioness waded into the Memory Spring, closing her eyes as she did so. As ripples spread across the uncannily still water, her reflection began to morph until the surface gradually settled into the blurred image of an old brown-maned lion.
Vitani craned her neck a little closer. The lion was standing around what looked like dark stone walls, but beyond that she could not make out any clear details even as the surface became still. “Who’s that?”
Nia opened her eyes, peering down at the image wistfully. “My father,” she said quietly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this, but I used to come here just to see him – it made me feel just a little closer to him. But now it’s becoming hard to see him clearly. He’s getting older, and I’m starting to forget what he looked like.”
“You never found out why he stopped coming to see you?” asked Vitani.
“I have a few ideas. I was not his only child from this tribe. Many of the males, even the ones who were not his blood, he would take in as his own. My father was a restless soul in his youth, but his compassion was great and his burdens were heavy.” As Nia shifted slightly, the Memory Spring rippled slightly, and this time the silhouettes of two other figures became visible on either side of Ni. The smaller one was the recognizable form of a hyena, though its image was shrouded in darkness. The other was a male lion, his features equally unclear.
For reasons Vitani couldn’t quite explain, something about the obscured lion prickled at her consciousness. She absently shuffled forward, and as her front paw dipped into the Memory Spring, both his features and the hyena’s suddenly came slightly more into focus.
Nia blinked in surprise. “Wait. You know them?”
“I’m... not sure...” Vitani squinted, trying to hold still so as not to muck up their images.
“You must have seen them before, or else it wouldn’t have worked,” the other lioness pressed. “Do you recognize them?”
Vitani frowned, now peering more closely. “The hyena could be anyone – I’ve seen a lot of them during Scar’s reign. But she looks too young to have been around back then. I’m not sure who she might be.”
“And him?” Nia indicated the lion, whose mouth was forming noiseless words. Ni appeared to be looking his way, listening raptly to whatever he was saying.
And then Vitani’s heart skipped a beat when she spotted them – a series of smaller silhouettes perched on the lion’s shoulders, nearly invisible against the darkness of his surroundings. They were bluebirds, six of them to be exact. “It can’t be. That’s... that’s my father. Tojo.”
No sooner had she spoken his name did the image of Tojo become noticeably clearer. Although his edges were still hazy, his eyes were now visible – blue, sharp and bright as lightning. Just like hers.
Hardly daring to breathe, Vitani looked up at Nia with newfound urgency. “Where are they? Can the Memory Spring show us?”
Nia shook her head. “Only their immediate surroundings. The image becomes more recognizable if we’ve been there ourselves, but that’s as much as we can see.”
Vitani turned her gaze back to the water, fixating on every detail she could make out. “It looks like they’re in some kind of cave. That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“We can think more about that when we have time,” reminded Nia, wading out of the Memory Spring. The images vanished instantly, and for a moment Vitani wanted to ask her to step back in. “I brought you here for another reason, and we should get to it before the tribe discovers that we’re here.”
Shaking her head, Vitani chided herself for getting sidetracked. “Right. Kopa.”
“Precisely. You gave up your chance to find him when you saved me. I must make sure you have another.”
Determined not to delay any further, Vitani strode into the Memory Spring, closing her eyes as its surface rippled in response.
“Focus on your clearest memory of Kopa,” Nia instructed. “One that always springs to mind when you think of him.”
Despite how many years it had been, the image of a clear starry night resurfaced in Vitani’s mind within moments. It was one she hadn’t dwelled on for a long time, especially not after she had been exiled to the Outlands. The guilt would always seize her, until she had made a habit not to think of him anymore. But now it was as if the waters were cleansing away her guilt, sweeping away the mental barriers she had formed around herself. Vitani breathed in steadily, almost able to taste the scent of the cool evening air – and Kopa’s scent – the memory took hold of her for the first time in a long time.
•••
Y280 / 8TH MOON, DAY 27
3+ YEARS AGO
“Can you not take a hint? Leave me alone!” Even as the words shrilly escaped her lips, she could hear Kopa’s pawsteps coming to a halt behind her. Still, she refused to turn and face him, staring out into Lake Kiziwa instead and looking at nothing in particular.
“My dad says no one really wants to be alone,” responded his quiet voice. “Even when they say they do.”
“Your dad doesn’t know anything about me,” Vitani snapped.
“But I do. We’re friends, aren’t we, Tani?”
She could already feel her defences weakening at his imploring tone. No! How does he always do that? “That doesn’t mean I want you following me around, pipsqueak. Go shove your nose in someone else’s problems.”
Undeterred, Kopa ambled up next to her, eyeing the bruise on her cheek. “Why did she hit you? Was it because of me?”
“No, it was a stupid training accident. Mother didn’t mean anything by it.”
“This is the third or fourth time it’s happened,” he said, unconvinced. “I don’t believe you.”
“I don’t care,” Vitani muttered. “Don’t you dare go spreading lies about her.”
“Fine,” Kopa grunted. “I’ll talk to her myself then.”
She grabbed him by the shoulder as he turned to leave. “Are you an idiot?” she hissed, annoyed as fear seeped audibly through the venom in her voice. “You know how much she hates you already.”
“She hates everybody,” he retorted. “Even you, I’m pretty sure.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just forget you saw anything, okay?”
“I can’t do that, Tani. Why would you want to keep quiet about this?”
If it had been anyone else, Vitani would have already shut them up the only way she knew how. But it was always Kopa who proved to be the exception to the rule, something that simultaneously bothered her a lot and not at all. “Because not everyone gets to have parents like yours,” she growled, not sure why she was even explaining herself. “My father’s not around, in case you hadn’t realized, and I don’t want mother to end up the same way. So keep your trap shut if you want us to stay friends, got it?”
“Got it,” responded Kopa glumly. “Everyone’s going to notice that by morning though.” He indicated the bruise.
Vitani made a disgruntled noise. “Nothing I can do about that. Unless you really think the monkey can keep a secret.”
He mulled this over. “No, but Tamika can. She’s learned a lot from Rafiki already, you could let her take a look.”
“Yeah, maybe her mother can give me a matching bruise on the other side of my face,” she muttered before letting out a resigned sigh. “Fine, go get her. I’m not moving.”
“No problem,” Kopa said amicably. “I’ll be right back.”
“Kopa?”
“Yeah?”
Vitani struggled to find the right words. Finally, she managed to settle on, “You have weird taste in friends.”
Kopa smiled and turned to leave. “I know.”
As he hurried off, Vitani was surprised to discover she was smiling now too. Though she was glad no one was around to see it, she realized that she wouldn’t have really minded if he did.
•••
Y284 / 2ND MOON, DAY 5
PRESENT DAY
Vitani opened her eyes. The afterglow of the memory soon faded when she peered into the water to see the barely discernible form of Kopa in cub form, encased by the shadow of an adult male lion looming around his image. “That’s not right. I can barely see him.”
Nia exhaled. “I was afraid this would happen. Unlike your father, Kopa would be unrecognizable from how you remember him. You’ll need a recent memory for this to work.”
“Then you try,” implored Vitani, not ready to admit defeat just yet. “You saw him a few days ago, right?”
“It’s not that simple. He will not appear to me because I have no emotional bond with him.”
Vitani fought back the frustration that threatened to overwhelm her. Why doesn’t anything ever go right for me? Why couldn’t this just be simple for once? “So is that it? We came all this way for nothing?”
“It was the best chance we had,” conceded Nia, sounding genuinely disheartened. “I’m sorry, Vitani. We should go.”
“Wait.” A cold pit formed in Vitani’s stomach as she remembered something Nia had asked her not long ago. “Vitani, do you know what happens to those who fail to atone for their mistakes in life?”
It was not something she wanted to try, nor was it even a good idea by her reckoning. But it was the only one she had, and even if she didn’t have any real faith that it would work, she had to take it if it would get her the tiniest bit closer to Kopa. I owe him that much.
Closing her eyes once again, Vitani felt a tremor of fear arise within her that she had told herself she didn’t feel anymore. But that was a lie, and I knew that. I just didn’t want to admit it. And just as it was with the memory of Kopa, she offered no resistance to the emotions she had pent up for so long, rage and hurt and resentment rippling forth from her being and into the water lapping at her paws. Already she was hoping it wouldn’t work, that nothing would come of it.
“My my, you never fail to surprise. But we know who you get that from, don’t we, Vitani?”
Vitani stiffened at the sound of the voice, forcing herself to open her eyes this time. Slowly rising out of the Memory Spring was the unmistakable figure of Zira, entirely made up of water from snout to tail. Even so, Vitani could almost see the glint where her mother’s eyes should have been. Drawing a deep breath to steady her nerves, she had to practically bite the scathing words from her throat. “I’m surprised you haven’t followed Scar into oblivion. Though disappointed might be a better word.”
The liquid making up Zira’s face shifted in what vaguely resembled a bitter smile. “Scar. My greatest folly, and now the cause of my endless bondage. Did you call me here to free me, daughter?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Vitani could see Nia blink in surprise. But she did not avert her gaze, in spite of the revulsion screaming at her from the inside out. “No, and you have no right to call me that. You kept me at your side all those years because I was useful to you – and now it’s your turn to be useful to me. Beyond that, we have nothing to talk about. Do you understand?”
She nearly flinched as the water stretched out into long fluid lines, encircling her several times before stopping at her shoulder and reshaping into Zira’s head. Vitani shivered as her mother’s familiar presence threatened to unravel a lifetime of trauma she had tried to leave behind for many moons now. Impossible as it sounded, she could almost feel Zira’s breath against her neck.
“If that’s what you ask of me, then that’s what I’ll do,” purred Zira hungrily. “Where do we begin?”