Simba listened enraptured to the soft voice of the leopardess. “You are special,” she purred alluringly. “Friends?”
      “Friends.”
      “You can’t have him,” a lioness voice said from the bushes. “He doesn’t belong in the trees like a leopard. He belongs in the open with me.” It was Sasha.
      The lioness twitched her head for him to follow. He left the leopardess behind and followed her.
      Soon he found himself back in the open savanna where his heart belonged. Sasha came to him and nuzzled him slowly and gently, pawing his face and then slinking softly down his full length. “Isn’t this better?”
      “Much.”
      “Jomo is not around. We have this to ourselves.”
      A smile warmed the corners of her shapely mouth and her eyes half closed. She rolled on her back in the rich grass, taking in a deep breath and letting it slowly out. “Simba.”
      He smiled, drifting alongside her warm body and lowering his bulk with such grace that the grass whispered in answer. He looked over into her soft hazel eyes and rolled on his back, snuggled against her graceful body. A feeling of peace and contentment swept over him like a calm wind, blowing his worries and doubts away and leaving only the essence of his wondering soul.
      As they lay next to each other, she reached over with an adventurous paw and began to explore his soft mane and feel his heartbeat. Simba grunted his approval, his eyes half closed in satisfaction. “Oh yes, you know what I like.”
      “I know what you like,” she said mischievously, and she began to widen her explorations.
      His eyes opened wide. “Hey!”
      She gazed at him longingly. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”
      “Well, I....”
      She licked his face slowly and passionately. “You can’t hide it from me. It’s been on your mind since we met.”
      “Well, I....”
      “It’s all right, honey tree. Really it is. It’s what I want too.” She reached over with a paw again, starting at his chest and slowly, steadily setting him on fire. “Make love to me, Simba.”
      “OK. But it’s going to be my first time.” He rolled over and got to his feet. “Do you still want me?”
      She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes.” She rolled over smoothly into a crouch. “Don’t be afraid. You’re so timid, just like a little cub.” She licked out the end of her tongue in a kiss. “I think you’re kind of cute.”
      Suddenly, Jomo came running toward them. “Get away! Get away from her!”
      The two squared off, and Simba flailed at him, claws out. Jomo was bold, but to the point of overconfidence. He did not expect a firm defense, and Simba struck at him, catching him on the side of the face.
      Stunned, Jomo fell back, and Simba rained blow after blow on him almost unopposed.
      Soon Simba prevailed. He saw the vanquished foe at his feet, but rather than beg for mercy, the lion said, "Everything I had is yours. But before you make love to her, why don't you tell her I'm the second lion you killed. Your own father's blood is on your paws!"
      Simba looked at him and realized it was his Uncle Scar.
      "No!" Simba backed up. "I didn't kill him!” he stammered. “I swear I didn't! It was an accident!"
      Taka glared at him as he lay mortally wounded, his life draining away with each beat of his heart. "It's all your fault! If you hadn’t messed up, he’d still be alive. Go away and never come back!"
      "It's NOT my fault! It's NOT!"
      Simba struggled awake, striking out at the bare air in his efforts to escape the nightmare. Breathing rapidly, his heart pounding, he sat in the still heat of the jungle, the humid air stifling him and making each breath an effort. At last his heat slowed, and he reclined back onto the leaves, his fur soaked in sweat. His eyes flicked up to the dark canopy of leaves overhead, and for the first time in months, he wept bitterly, the tears falling silent onto the forest loam.

      Uzuri heard that Pipkah’s latest fiasco was supposedly due to errors by the lionesses, for the maneuver was a flawless one taught him by “my dear friend Uzuri.” Pipkah had been playing that association to the hilt lately, and Uzuri was determined that at her own time and in her own way she would set the record straight.
      Pipkah enjoyed the cool, clear waters of the cistern behind Pride Rock. He came alone, which suited Uzuri just fine.
      Pipkah drank deeply, then let out a satisfying belch. Ah, life at Pride Rock was good, even if there was not as much food as there used to be. As one of Shenzi’s trusted ones, he always ate well if nearly everyone else did without.
      “It’s me,” Uzuri said, stepping out of the shadows.
      “Uzuri!” Pipkah stepped back a pace or two, not certain how much she’d heard or how she would react.
      “My Pipkah,” she said softly, nuzzling him. “You know I’m in my season. Taka is content with Elanna, and where does that leave me?”
      “Very disappointed?”
      “Not really. Not as alone as you might think.” She rubbed along him full length. “It will be awkward at first, but you will adjust with a little help from me.”
      Pipkah stepped back again. “Adjust what?”
      Uzuri let out a protracted purr, her eyes half closed. “A hunter like me and a hunter like you. When I heard about your legendary skill, that was it. I was lost. Make love to me, Pipkah!”
      “Oh gods....” Pipkah swallowed hard. “I’m not really that good! I brag a lot. Some of it is a downright lie!”
      “So modest and shy! I think that’s SUCH a turn-on! Just think—we’ll have three days of non-stop passion.”
      “Three days??”
      He started to leave, but she stepped in his path rather suddenly. “Make love to me, Pipkah! Set me on fire!”
      “But I....” He scrambled on top of a small rock. She looked up at him and easily bounded up with him, her body crowded next to his on the small platform.
      “But what about—uh—Shimbekh! Yeah, Shimbekh!”
      “I’ll have a talk with her.”
      “No, don’t do that!”
      “She deserves to know what we share between us! She is a good girl, and needs to find another male.” She looked him over appraisingly. “Those are the cutest ears, and that smile is so warm and sexy.”
      “Uh, thanks, I think.”
      “And check out that fanny!” She reached back with a paw and tickled him.
      “Whoa!!! My gods!!!” He jumped from the rock, shivering. “Madam, PLEASE!”
      “You don’t have to beg me!” She jumped down, then walked in front of him and crouched down, looking over her back. “Come on, lover! Give it your best shot. We’ll work on it till we get it right.”
      Ber padded around the corner and froze. “Oops!”
      “Ber! Hey, old buddy!”
      “Pipkah—I hope I’m not interrupting anything....”
      “Oh, not at all! This is NOT what it looks like!”
      Panting and moving her lips in a pout, Uzuri stared at Pipkah. “I’m waiting, honey pot.”
      “I can come back later,” Ber said.
      “Come back in about three days,” Uzuri said shortly. “We’re otherwise occupied.”
      “You said it, sister! But don’t worry—I won’t tell a WORD to the others. Your secret is safe with me.” Ber laughed wickedly. “But of course we ALL know how you feel about each other.” He started to go.
      “Don’t leave me here!” Pipkah cried. “I mean, there’s no rush, old friend. I have to get to guard duty. You keep Uzuri company for me.”
      “I took on your guard duty, remember?”
      “But you’ve been two days without a furlough. I don’t think that’s morally RIGHT, Ber!”
      “Hmmm. The only way you could relieve me if you wanted to would be to take the next eight days.”
      “EIGHT DAYS??”
      “But hey, I got you covered. You’ll have NO INTERRUPTIONS. Kiss kiss!”
      “OK, eight days it is!” Pipkah looked at Uzuri. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have work to do. Maybe in eight days, if you’re still interested, we can have a red-hot honeymoon under the acacias.”
      He ran away very quickly.
      Uzuri laughed. “Ok, Ber, you remember our agreement? I got you eight days of leisure.”
      “And you sneak away for three days to see your husband that I’m not aware exists. If anyone asks me where you are, you’re sick and I saw you retching up breakfast.” He smiled coyly and added, “Behave yourself, my dear! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”
      She smiled back. “Honey tree, I’m about to do EVERYTHING you wouldn’t do!”

      Simba was disturbed by some of the feelings his young adulthood gave him. Hakuna Matata was stretching thin. He wanted a mate, he wanted meat, he wanted a territory, he wanted absolution. In short, he felt trapped, with little hope of ever achieving any of the success predicted by Gur’bruk and Kambra.
      Sefu the secretary bird was unconventional, but his advice when given was not taken lightly. And it was to Sefu that he looked for help.
      Of course, Sefu was not easily found. Unlike his old friends on Pride Rock, there was no way of knowing when and were the Secretary Bird would show up. Despondent, Simba paused one morning while Timon and Pumbaa continued on to the water hole to get a drink and bowed his head.
      “Please, Aiheu, help me! I may not pray every night like I should, and I may be just a fugitive, but Mom said you were merciful. Please give me a second chance, God. Please show me the way--I’m so lost!”
      Just when Simba was about to lose his faith in the power of prayer, Sefu surprised them at the watering hole.
      “Sefu! I’m so glad to see you!”
      “Hey, cat! Likewise!”
      While Pumbaa wallowed in the shallows and Timon gargled noisily as he drank, Simba managed to corner Sefu for a moment and try to put into words what was only a feeling of emptiness, a dread of dying alone and forgotten, a creeping despair that eroded him like fungi on a fallen log.
      “Hey, been there, done that.” Sefu looked at him appraisingly. “Some of us little folks can fit into a little hole somewhere and hide ourselves from the world. Some of us can’t.”
      “Yeah.”
      “I heard through the grapevine that you tried to take meat from the local tribesmen. I guess you found out they have a lot of sense for creatures without fur or feathers.”
      Simba uttered a short laugh. “No darned kidding.”
      “Well they have this custom of making shapes of geese out of pitch covered straw. From a distance, they look real. They are set out in the lake and when the real geese see them, they think its safe and light. Then they get whacked.”
      “Is there a moral to this story?”
      “No!” Sefu said. “I just wanted you to know that you’re an impostor. You’re not a jungle bum. Hakuna Matata does not fit you. You were meant to be marsh grass, and no matter how much they weave you or tar you, you can't be a goose unless you were born a goose. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly--well, at least most of them do--and lions gotta roar. You don't belong here. You'll NEVER belong here. You belong out there, free and unencumbered. As free as the wind blows. As free as the grass grows. Born free to follow your heart." He threw back his wing, held up his head and burst out with "BORN FREE! AS FREE AS THE WIND BLOWS...."
      Timon grabbed his beak shut. "Please, don't sing it!" He turned back to Simba. “Listen, kid! It does no good bringing up a lot of false hopes and stirring up a lot of pain. Hakuna Matata is the only way. You gotta be like Pumbaa here--he’s got it all figured out.”
      But Pumbaa was looking at Sefu and Simba wistfully. He was anything but sure about Timon’s logic. He felt sorry for Simba.
      “I was afraid this would happen someday,” Pumbaa said. “But when the time comes, I’ll let go. Simba, we’re all born into this world with a destiny. Some of us might have it easier than others, but you can’t escape your destiny.”
      “What is my destiny?” Simba asked.
      “That is something that you must figure out for yourself, my son. That’s between you and God. And whatever it is, I’ll be there to help you fulfill it.”
      Timon looked at Pumbaa disbelievingly. But the warthog had a look of wisdom and nobility shining in his eyes that stunned him. He could not find the nerve to contradict him, and looked away, sighing. “Yeah, IF.”

      Makhpil was quick to join the Omlakhs. She was filled with love and idealism, and she expected even more from her God. Even before she saw chinks in the psychic armor of Melmokh, she knew that he was a pretender and evil.
      But her suspicions were confirmed in a very real and frightening way. She had never spoken with Gur’mekh, but through her contacts with Shimbekh and Brin’bi she understood at a gut level the possibilities of her powers. And in what was to settle her doubts forever, she lay on the ground and covered her eyes with her paws. “Thou in me and I in thee. Come together let us be!” She repeated the mantra over and over, feeling in her heart the closeness of the one who claimed to be God. That she might not survive was not important. One way or the other she must know.
      “Thou in me and I in thee. Come together let us be!”
      She rolled over on her back, her breath coming and going in short gasps. Reaching out with a paw, she touched the spirit of Melmokh.
      A wave of revulsion filled her as she felt a sensation akin to swallowing a mouthful of spiderwebs. Fighting the urge to vomit, she pulled back hastily, breaking contact and opening her eyes wide in a shriek of horror. The next several breaths she drew in escaped as cries of pain and despair. “Oh my God! It’s evil! It’s evil!”
      She got up and ran around in tight little circles as if chasing her tail, the hackles raised along her back. “Help us, Roh’kash! Help us! Great Mother, we’re all being led to Hell! Save us, God!”
      The false Roh’kash jumped up with a start. “Who dared! Who dared touch me!!”
      The followers were all at a distance and looked around at each other. “Great Mother, no one touched you!”
      “Not with a paw, stupid!” Melmokh shot a glance at the hapless hyena and he jumped, yelping in pain. The others fell on the ground rolling over and reaching out with a paw. “Mercy, Great Mother! Mercy!”
      With a look of ultimate rage, his hackles raised, Melmokh ran out of the circle and began running around the elephant graveyard looking for the source of the pain. But it was too late--Makhpil had released her without betraying her own thoughts.
      Makhpil ran to Ber and fell before him. “Okhim Ber,” she gasped, “I’ve seen the devil himself! I’ll do anything to help you, anything!”
      Ber nuzzled her and rubbed her face with his paw. “Blessed bak’ret, daughter of Roh’kash, may the true God reward your faith!”
      She knew that the Roh'kash was false. She could not hide that from Shimbekh, who had her own doubts, but could not be sure.
      It was Shimbekh that Melmokh suspected, and so as Roh’kash, he persuaded Roh’mach Shenzi to order Shimbekh to give false prophesy. If she refused, she would be killed. If she did not refuse, she would be psychically blind. Either way, Melmokh would preserve his dark heart from the sight of the others.
      Meekly, Shimbekh considered the life of her new daughter and put Makhpil’s welfare before her own. And she lied to Taka about his chosen heir, even as she was commanded.
      Cut off from her spirit husband and unable to reach her daughter’s heart except through talking, she sank into a deep depression. It was a frightening kind of aloneness. From time to time she would beg Makhpil to take messages to Brin’bi as if he lived in a different land far, far away. When Makhpil explained to her mother who the false Roh’kash was, she bit her own leg till the blood ran down. “So it wasn’t Gur’mekh who led to our downfall. It was me! Oh gods, it was me! I could have stopped this!”
      Shimbekh began to grow gaunt and ill kept, looking as she did after the vision of Gur’mekh. Makhpil had to beg her to eat--each bite was a concession to Shimbekh’s love for her daughter, for she did not want to go on living.
      Then one day Makhpil prophesied that joy awaited Shimbekh at the gorge. It was the hope that she was looking for.
      Shimbekh told Makhpil that as the one remaining seer she had to take care of herself and keep prophesy alive among the people if they were ever to survive. Determined to repair what she had done, she went to Uzuri and confessed her full load of guilt. Uzuri was not psychically gifted, but she could see the sincerity in her eyes and took the message to heart. It awakened hope in her spirit.
      Shimbekh then went to the gorge. “Great Mother, I have sinned. I have tried to out guess your will and it will not be through me that the suffering will end. But have mercy on me. I have confessed my guilt, and I only ask for my husband back. Please?”
      Then looking off the edge, standing far out on a cloud, she saw her husband. She was so overwhelmed that she almost lost her footing.
      "It's time for us to be together," he said. He sensed the rage of Melmokh at the edge of his awareness, and saw the assassins the false Roh’kash had dispatched to rid himself of Shimbekh. Brin’bi shook his head sorrowfully. He looked at Shimbekh and forced a smile for her sake. “Our time is soon, love.”
      “Our time is now.” Without removing her gaze from his, Shimbekh backed up and launched herself into the open space of the gorge. Without a sound she plummeted, caroming off the rock wall and beginning to tumble through the air. She closed her eyes, not feeling the pain as her body was terribly abused by the unforgiving walls of the gorge. Brin’bi stood there in her mind, a look of surprise on his face as he saw her descend. Her eyes opened and she saw the ground rushing up at her with terrible finality.
      “Brin’bi,” she murmured, and was silenced forever.
      Makhpil was expected to be saddened by the death of her mother. Instead Makhpil seemed to grow in beauty and spirit, showing signs of joy and optimism for the future. Only Amarakh knew that her life had changed for the better, for now her mother and father were together again, inseparable, and the three of them went on with their life with very little change.

      “SHE’S GONNA EAT MEEE!!”
      Simba’s ears twitched violently at the sound of the scream behind him. “Oh gods!” Turning about, he began to sprint, praying with all his heart he would arrive in time. As he neared, he heard the distinct snarl of a lioness closing in for the kill, and the sound was familiar indeed. His eyes narrowed as he rounded a corner and saw Pumbaa wedged under a tree root, scrabbling desperately for release.
      That damned Sasha lied to me, he thought. Well, we’ll see who gets thrown out of whose territory NOW!
      A terrible snarl erupted from him as he leapt over the root, floating through the air in a graceful leap. He descended rapidly, crashing down with terrifying force in front of the lioness as she slid to a stop, a look of total surprise on her face. Simba lashed out, snarling, noting that this was not Sasha after all, but another lioness, much younger, in fact. No matter.
      Timon leapt with joy as Simba joined battle with a fury that shook the earth. “Get her! Bite her head!” He capered atop Pumbaa’s rump gleefully as the two titans thrashed about, paws whipping through the air in an awesome display of chained fury.
      The lioness backed back, claws whipping around in an effort to lash his face, but his mane deflected the blows as he closed in. Gathering himself, Simba launched himself at her, jaws spreading as he prepared to seize her throat--
      --and then he gave a startled “WHUFF!” of surprise as her feet sank into his belly, knocking the wind from him. The world spun crazily, and he found himself lying on his back, the lioness pinning him to the ground, her hot breath billowing in his face as she bared her fangs at his throat. Stricken, sure he would be dead in a few more seconds, he looked up to meet her gaze...and saw the brilliant green eyes staring into his.
      He had seen those eyes in a thousand dreams. “Nala?!”
      The snarling grimace of the lioness vanished, her face transforming from awesome rage into awesome beauty. Her jaw dropped and she backed away, crowding into a tree trunk and staring at the stranger before her. “Is it really you?”
      She gazed at him suspiciously. Was it possible that Taka would send someone to follow her? Nonsense. A male such as this he would have killed outright, or at least driven off. “Who are you?”
      “It’s me! Simba.”
      “Simba?” The name rolled oddly off her tongue as she looked at him. Funny, she had known a cub by the same name when she was a child...her eyes widened as she looked into his face and SAW him, oh gods, he was ALIVE!
      “WHOAAAAW! A simultaneous explosion of joy erupted from the two as they rubbed heads together in greeting, filling the air with a cacophony of confused questions.
      “But how did you--”
      “It’s GREAT to see you!”
      “It’s good to see YOU!”
      “I thought you were--”
      “HEY! WHAT’S GOIN’ ON HERE?!”
      Simba grinned and introduced his companions to Nala, chuckling at Timon’s utter confusion. His mirth was short lived, as Nala looked at him, her face serious.
      “Wait till everyone finds out you’ve been HERE all this time! And your mother...what will she think?”
      Simba felt a mad rush of panic that nearly overwhelmed him. “She doesn’t have to know. Nobody has to know.”
      “Of course they do! Everyone thinks you’re dead!”
      He looked at her, shocked. “They do?”
      “Yeah.” She lowered her gaze sadly. “Scar told us about the stampede.” She glanced up tentatively, afraid to meet his gaze.
      Simba was awash with cold fear. “He did? What else did he tell you?”
      “What else matters?! You’re alive! And that means...” she looked at him, a new look of awe on her face mixed with newborn hope. “You’re the king.”
      Simba froze into immobile stillness. He watched numbly as Timon and Pumbaa transformed before his eyes, looking at him like some new kind of insect they’d never seen before. Before Timon could embroil himself into an argument with Nala, he sighed deeply. “Maybe you’d better go.”
      Timon gaped. “It starts. You THINK you know a guy...”
      Simba watched them leave, then grinned shamefacedly at Nala. “Timon and Pumbaa. You learn to love ‘em.” He fell silent as he saw Nala with her back to him, looking as if she might begin weeping at any moment. He went to her and leaned against her shoulder comfortingly. “What? What is it?”
      “It’s like you’re back form the dead,” she said quietly. “You don't know what this will mean to everyone. What it means to me--” Her voice threatened to betray her, and she silenced herself as years of dreams and hopes, things she had long forgotten and buried away in her mind now clamored for attention. She remembered playing with him long ago, cub games in the sweet grass fields of the Pride Lands where time stood still.
      Simba nuzzled her tentatively. “Hey. It’s okay.”
      Shaking with the years of memories that threatened to burst forth, she buried her head in his mane, rubbing her cheek firmly against him. “I’ve really missed you.”

      The water cascaded over the edge of the rocks, rolling smoothly into the deep pool at the foot of the falls, the frothy spume spraying into the air and wetting the coats of the two lions who picked their way along the rocks.
      Simba followed Nala across the natural bridge, pausing to shake the cool droplets from his coat, making a miniature rainbow in the air as he dried himself. He joined her at a still pool where she was bending to take a drink. He was not the least bit thirsty, but at a loss as what else to do, he leaned over the water and took a couple of swallows, his eyes on the lioness across from him. He was unable to believe his friend had found him again! He had missed his family dearly, but there was something special about Nala...