Shimbekh tried not to think of her plan. For all her doubts, one thing was certain--she could not kill a pup. Maybe it WAS the will of Roh’kash that Gur’mekh live. She had to confront her doubts--the warning might have only been a dream.
      Shimbekh relaxed and enjoyed their time together. They hunted springhares, played rough and tumble games, told stories and even took a walk to the termite mounds. But more importantly, she looked into his eyes and saw there the gift of his parents. Love flowed into Shimbekh like fresh water from the mountains. Love deep and pure that made Gur’mekh and all he did seem beautiful and holy. And he drew love from Shimbekh, for she had it in abundance.
      “Promise we’ll always be friends,” Gur’mekh said.
      “I promise it, you little scamp.”
      Mid sun had come and gone. As the afternoon grew old, Shimbkeh headed home with Gur’mekh in tow. He was wild about her, and as soon as she lay down to rest, he went to nap with his head on her side the way Gur’bruk once cuddled on Kambra. She reached down with a paw and fondled his face and neck. “You’re a little Gur’bruk,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. “He lives in you. May Roh’kash guide your steps little one, and keep you from trouble. Sleep, my love.”
      Shimbekh felt a deep, crushing guilt for the trouble she had stirred up. Only she did not know how to apologize, or even if her sister would believe her sudden change of heart.
      The afternoon slipped quietly into evening, softly deepening into a wistful shade of azure. Kambra was worried when Bath and Mer’bel came home and said that they had not seen Gur’mekh all day. She was worried and went right out to search for her little boy.
      A nagging doubt ate away at her, and drove her to look first at her sister’s home. “Please God, let it be OK. Please, Roh’kash, let him be fine!”
      She saw Shimbekh with Gur’mekh snuggled to her side. Terrified, she reached out with her thoughts to see what Shimbekh was planning.
      She concentrated with all her might, but she found nothing but love in her sister, a love that overpowered all her suspicions and bathed old shadows in its healing light. Kambra breathed a sigh of relief, then came running to Shimbekh to wake her with a kiss.
      Shimbekh looked up into the smiling beauty of Kambra’s face. “Sis!” Tears of joy began to stream down her face. “Please forgive me. I want to I want to be family again--please?”
      Now it was Kambra’s turn to cry. “Come back with me. I want you to meet Bath and Mer’bel. Muti and Maleh have been going crazy over this trouble. Oh, honey tree, I’m so happy!”

      Taka yawned, then sat up, blinking at the bright light streaming into the cave mouth. He ambled over to the entrance, squinting. The pain in his left eye still made him wince, but it was better than it was two nights ago.
      Looking about, he spied Sarabi and Elanna having fun while Yolanda watched them comfortably from the shade of an acacia. Little Tameka came up behind Yolanda, making the supreme effort to leap over her, but collapsing in a heap on her back.
      Taka laughed. “Look at the little frog!”
      Sarabi looked around. “Hey, Taka! Are you OK? Wanna play tag?”
      Taka ambled over slowly and sat down. He sighed deeply. “I can’t. Rafiki said I have to stay out of the dirt for a week till my eye gets better.”
      “Why?”
      He stuck his lower lip out in a pout, trying to imitate Rafiki. “Keep da eye clean Master Taka or id’dll get een-FECK-ted.”
      “Now Taka,” Yolanda purred with a mild hint of reproof. “Rafiki is only trying to help. You should appreciate what he’s done, saving your eye, and giving you all those herbs for the pain.”
      “I know. I’m just bored, Aunt Yolanda. I can’t do nothing!”
      “You can’t do ANYTHING.”
      “Yeah. That’s what I said.” He scratched some dust up with his back paw and harumphed. “Stupid old badger! Why did he have to scratch my eye anyway! All I wanted was his stupid blessing! I mean, he could have at least faked it or something!”
      “Getting angry doesn’t change what happened,” Yolanda said. “Besides, he died for his crime. You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
      “You always take up for the ones that act bad,” Taka complained.
      “You’re right, you know. Remember the cub that got in trouble by the watering hole? I said I wouldn’t tell on him if he tried to act better.”
      Taka looked down, embarrassed. She nuzzled him gently and he rubbed along her side. “Yeah. I guess it works both ways.”
      Elanna brightened. “Hey! We can play ‘King’s Command!’”
      Sarabi perked up. “Yeah! You don't have to get dirty to play that.”
      Taka looked at Yolanda. “Can I?”
      “Sure, I think so.” She nuzzled him gently. “Go ahead.”
      “Yeah!” The cubs gamboled off to the shade of some nearby bushes. They lined up in a rough group.
      “Who’s gonna be the king?” Elanna asked.
      “Let Taka do it!” Sarabi said.
      “I’ve never done it before,” he said, looking down. “I’m not sure I know how.”
      “That’s ‘cause Muffy always gets to do it,” Elanna said. “But he had to go to see Rafiki this morning. His stomach was hurting cause he ate too much last night.”
      Sarabi giggled.
      “That’s NOT funny, Sassie!” Elanna elbowed her sister roughly. “Cut it out!”
      “Okay, okay. But it’s not the first time. One of these days he’s going to explode!”
      “I’ll do it!” Tameka said.
      “You’re a girl,” Sarabi snorted. “You can’t be king. I still say Taka ought to do it!” She smiled at him beguilingly. “For me?”
      “Okay. Uhh, lessee...” He squinched his face in thought, then grinned. “King commands you to raise your right forepaw.”
      The girls complied. “That was easy,” Elanna said.
      A gleam appeared in Taka’s eyes. “King commands you to put your paw down.” They did that too. He grinned, and continued. “King commands you to wave your tails.”
      They did, Sarabi giving hers a little flick at the tip each time she waved it.
      “Stop waving your tails.”
      Sarabi and Elanna kept waving, but Tameka dropped hers.
      “Gotcha!”
      “Aww, come on!”
      “The king didn’t command,” Taka smirked. “You’re out, Tameka.”
      “Phooey!” She growled, scuffing sand angrily with a forepaw. “I don't care! Mufasa’s going to be the real king, anyway; he wouldn’t trick me like that!”
      “Come ON, Tameka,” Elanna said sharply. “Just wait till we’re done, then you can try again.”
      “I don't want to play anymore!” Tameka glared at Taka furiously. “I don't want to play with YOU anyway, you little one-eyed freak!”
      There was stunned silence as Taka’s chin began to tremble. “I am NOT a one-eyed freak!” he stammered. “You take that back!”
      “Freak, freak, Taka’s a freak! He thinks he owns the world, but he’s just a snotty-nosed one-eyed cry baby!”
      “STOP IT!” Taka shouted, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks. “Just ‘cause I got cut doesn’t make me a freak! At least I’m not a stuck-up prissy butt like you!” He sprang up and ran, a wailing cry trailing out behind him as he fled across the rocks and vanished behind an outcropping.
      Tameka fell silent, looking down in shame. Elanna looked stricken, but the anger left clear tracks on Sarabi’s face. She got up and slowly walked over to Tameka. “You’re the little snotty-nosed freak! You’re just lucky I’m a lady, or I’d rearrange your face!”
      “I didn’t mean to make him cry. I just got mad. You understand, don’t you? I mean, he can be so--”
      Yolanda meandered over. “What is going on, here?!”
      Sarabi growled, startling Yolanda. “Tameka made fun of Taka’s eye ‘cause she got out! She called him a snotty-nosed one-eyed cry baby and a freak!”
      Now it was Tameka’s turn to sniffle as the lioness glared at her. “But I didn’t mean it! I was just mad!”
      “You go inside, young lady.” Yolanda said softly but firmly. “I’ll talk with you later.”
      “Yes ma’am.”
      Yolanda stroked Sarabi with a paw. “Calm down, honey tree. Tell me where he went.”
      “That way, toward the cistern.”
      Yolanda padded quietly around the side of Pride Rock. Pride life was communal, but lion cubs, like other children, need some places to be alone from time to time. The cistern was an ideal location.
      Even before Yolanda could see him, she knew where he was. She could hear Taka’s gentle sobs, and her heart sank. He was sprawled on the edge of the spring, paws over his face. “Honey tree,” she purred, drawing near and nuzzling him.
      “Go away!” He sniffled loudly. “Leave me alone!”
      “Come on, honey tree. It’s Yolanda.” She licked him with her warm, moist tongue. “Shh, it’s all right.”
      “It will never be all right.”
      “It will take some time, my child. But never say never. Tameka is very sorry she hurt your feelings. She really wants to make up, and she will apologize.”
      “You should have seen her,” Taka said, shaking. “She hates me!”
      “Nobody hates you. Tameka has a temper, but she also has a big heart.”
      “There you go again.”
      “Yes. Taking up for those in the WRONG. And honey tree, she was in the wrong. Having that scar doesn’t make me a freak.”
      “Oh yeah? I saw how you looked at me the other night. You think I’m ugly. You think I’m a freak, just like everybody else!”
      “Oh, hon!” Yolanda’s eyes stung. “I didn’t think you were ugly! I think you’re beautiful!” She began to groom him. “When you love someone, really LOVE them, you get all knotted up inside every time they get hurt. If I came back from the hunt limping--let’s say I had a broken leg--how would you feel? Would you think I was ugly? A freak? Would you hate me?”
      “Oh no! Never!”
      “Or would you maybe take in a deep breath and say something like, ‘Oh my gods, what happened to your leg?’”
      Taka looked at her in stunned silence. He swallowed hard and tears--compassionate tears--welled up in his eyes. “Do you really love me, Aunt Yolanda?”
      The lioness took him by the scruff of the neck and padded over to a corner. She laid down, setting Taka beside her and grooming him. “There are lots of people that will say they love you lots of times. Then there are people who get off their haunches and show you.” She filled his fur with the scent of lioness love. “How does the eye feel, honey tree?”
      “It still hurts, but it’s getting better.”
      “Good. Now come on, Your Majesty. After your bath, let’s see if I’m still as good at ‘King Commands’ as I used to be.” She grinned mischievously. “I betcha you can’t get ME out.”
      Taka grinned back. “Betcha I can!”
      She laughed warmly. “You’re on!”

      The hyena pup Fabana was napping with her family, when suddenly she felt a paw nudge her shoulder.
      “Fay,” someone whispered. “Fay, are you awake?”
      She grunted and shifted. One eye came open. “Who wants to know?”
      “It’s me, Jalkort.”
      She whispered, “Oh. Hi, Jal.”
      “Let’s go play.”
      “I can’t right now. Muti says I have to take my nap.”
      “No one’s going to mind--if we don’t get caught.”
      Jalkort was her best friend. She didn’t have to think long before she made her decision, rising up carefully and sneaking away from her family.
      If her parents had caught her, she would have been in a lot of trouble. Humans had been sighted nearby, and everyone was in a state of heightened alert. Fay had been warned many times not to go off without permission.
      “We don’t have long, Jal. They won’t sleep all day, you know.”
      “Oh, we’ll be back in plenty of time. Now you’re it!” Jal tapped her and ran.
      “Not fair! I didn’t say ‘start’ yet!”
      “OK.” Jalkort came trotting back and stood next to her. “Say it now.”
      “No you don’t! Stand over there first.”
      “Over here?”
      “Further back.”
      “Now?”
      “Further back!”
      “Geez, I’m not a wildebeest! What do you want me to do, migrate?”
      It was the dry season. In the human camp, an unattended campfire shot out a coal that crossed the ring of rocks and fell in the grass. A small trail of smoke went up, then with an almost shy beginning, the first flame sprang up, greedily consuming the first tuft of grass, then looking around for more.
      The rabid flames quickly infected the grass with a fatal fever, overwhelming the golden shafts and turning them into blackened ash. A light wind fanned the flames which spread rapidly over the savanna.
      High above, a hornbill spotted what appeared to be a large black thundercloud, then stopped in flight, turning back toward Pride Rock as fast as he could go with the news--brush fire!
      A dead acacia stood in the way, but it was soon overwhelmed by the destructive tide. It soon turned into a giant torch, raining limbs of golden light.
      Some Thompson’s gazelles were trying to get some good out of the dying grass. They looked up and saw the wall of flame coming. In a panic, they sprinted away. “Fire! Fire! Get out!”
      The choking, blinding pall of smoke dimmed the sun and the searing heat was enormous. Some sleeping hyenas were nudged by the Roh’mach.
      "What the...."
      "Brush fire! Get out while you still can!"
      The father looked around and quickly spotted the smoke. He looked in the other direction where escape should lie, but there was more smoke. "Get up, everyone! Up, up!! We have to get out of here!!" He looked around desperately. “Where is Fabana??”
      Fabana was hiding from Jalkort. She wondered why it took so long for him to find her, since hyenas had a keen sense of smell.
      She looked out. “Jal? Jal!”
      That’s when she saw the flames spreading all around. She forgot the game and thought about her family. "Muti! Maleh! Oh gods!"
      A zebra went galloping by madly, then balked at the flames and reared up with flailing hooves. She was nearly trampled by his hooves.
      "Muti! Maleh!"
      Like a predator, the flames sought to surround and drive their victims. Most head toward the river and safety. In the mad rush, Fabana could not tell which way led back to her parents. She ran around in the confusion looking for some sign of her family.
      At Pride Rock, young King Ahadi stared at the gray cloud with anxiousness. Zazu landed next to him, but by the time he had reached his King, the message was too obvious.
      "It's sheer panic, Sire. The jackals will feast tonight."
      The wind shifted the progress to and fro, and blowing sparks that spawned new fires in its wake. Vultures had already began to gather, looking for victims.
      A meerkat pushed past Fabana in a mad desire to escape, then encountered a fresh wall of flame. He ran around in circles staring wide eyed at nothing in particular, shouting, "We're all going to die! Oh gods, we're all going to die!"
      Flames had surrounded Fabana completely. Perhaps the meerkat was right. And then suddenly bounding over the flames came Fabana’s okhim (father) who grabbed her up by the scruff of her neck in his strong jaws and took off running.
      He plunged through the flames, ignoring their hot embrace. Picking out the best routes, he managed to jump most of the flaming ground and come through unhurt in a deadly game of hopscotch. Then finally he saw freedom behind one remaining wall of fire. There were no easy routes, so closing his eyes he plunged directly into the fire. The swirling flames hurt Fabana's nose, the tips of her ears and her eyes. She reached up with a paw to ward off the heat.
      Finally they burst through on the other side. Her okhim dropped her quickly with a loud yelp. "Run!! Run quickly!!"
      Fabana looked back and saw her okhim become a living torch.
      "Maleh! Oh gods!"
      "Go!" he screamed. "Run! Run!!" He staggered a few steps, then fell into a crumpled heap, jerking spasmodically. For a moment she stood rooted to the spot. She would draw in a breath and shriek, and do it again. "Maleh!! No!!!"
      Finally her fur began to singe. She had the presence of mind to turn away from what was left of her okhim and head away from the flames. She ran sobbing and howling across the ash, raising small clouds with her feet and getting soot in her nose and mouth.
      Too late she saw some game wardens with shovels and picks trying to outflank the fire before it consumed their camp.
      “I wish I could wring the bloody poacher’s neck! Three elephants weren’t enough--he had to burn up the whole damned place!”
      One of them said, "Look at that!" Large hands circled her, and before she can snap at them, they rubbed her behind the ears gently. "There now, fellow, it's going to be all right."
      "What are you going to do with it, Ed?"
      "We'll see."
      Fabana strained to look through the flames. "Okash!" she yelped. Then she began struggling frantically and crying, "Muti, Muti!!!"
      "You're a loud little bugger, aren't you! Hey, It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."
      "Muti!!!" Tears came to her eyes. "Muti!!!"

      Gur’mekh had a powerful gift, one that could have been used for great good or evil, but could not be ignored.
      While Shimbekh or any of the priests would have been happy to teach him to control that power, Gur’mekh had plans of his own.
      “I will not spend my life telling lovesick young bak’rets which male to pursue! I will not sit around on my haunches telling others where to find the best hunting!”
      Gur’mekh felt that his powers carried an awesome responsibility. He often said with pride that through him would rise up a great race that would take second place to no one, not even the lions. And to those he trusted, he would describe a puphood vision of standing on the promontory of Pride Rock. “It is my destiny. I must prepare for it with heart, mind and body.”
      When he was hungry, Gur’mekh and his adolescent friends would raid the Roh’mach’s private cache of food. They knew they would be safe, for Gur’mekh could feel a guard coming and escape.
      He was a braggart and a manipulator. His perception of others’ thoughts gave him the power of effective flattery and effortless lies. His friends would say that he could charm the feathers off a weaverbird and get handouts from a cheetah. His enemies said similar things, but their language was less flattering.
      Though Gur’mekh felt himself superior than his associates, he spoke kind words to them, telling them what they wanted to hear with ease. So he was idolized by the ragtag group that ran around with him, particularly young Jalkort who thought the moon and sun rose solely for Gur’mekh.
      Gur’mekh actually loved Jalkort, for Jal’s heart was noble and unselfish, and he believed in the greatness of Gur’mekh’s ideals. To Jalkort, every liberty Gur’mekh took was justified by his great goals.
      Once Gur’mekh was angry because Jal was late for the hunt, and he began fuming and complaining to the others. But someone told him that Jal was out hunting him a rabbit for him. Gur’mekh was silent and waited patiently until mid-moon for Jal to come proudly bearing his “surprise.”
      “I’m sorry I was late,” Jal said, depositing a fat hare at Gur’mekh’s feet. “The other one was too scrawny. I wanted to get you a good rabbit.”
      Gur’mekh looked into Jalkort’s eyes and saw the love there. “My brother,” he said, nuzzling Jalkort, then tearing into the small carcass with more pride than hunger. And from that moment on, Jalkort and Gur’mekh were always referred to as “the brothers.”
      Every time something disappeared, eyes would turn to follow Gur’mekh, but no matter how they tried to trick him into admitting guilt, he sidestepped them and always had perfect alibis for himself and his friends.
      As he grew older, Gur’mekh’s ambitions rose from simple mischief to power mongering. He wanted a position on the ruling council. Prestige appealed to him, and he had an eye to one day becoming the next Roh’mach. And there were suspicions that his desires reached even higher. To his friends that seemed only natural for the founder of the master race. To them, the world owed him a debt it could never repay by any other means.
      He applied to Memnekh for a position on the council. When the old female asked him if he had studied, he replied, “Yes, diligently.”
      He listened to her thoughts and every time she asked him a question he would quote back the expected answer. She nodded her head each time, but frowned at him.
      “Did I do well?”
      “You did too well. I always expect one or two errors.” Memnekh grumbled, but she had to give him the benefit of the doubt. And so he entered the Clan Council under a cloud of suspicion.
      Gur’mekh used the thoughts of his enemies and of his prey against them. He could corner better in a hunt than hyenas with three times his age and experience. He could anticipate moves in a fight and rethink his strategy. He was a great hunting master, and assumed the position with a clear right to it. But though he brought in steady meals, everyone was afraid of him.
      Actually there was one hyena who was not afraid of him. He was very mentally disciplined and a formidable foe. Demrath, son of Ber. Demrath was a philosopher, great in a fight but even better in an argument. And though he was not gifted psychically, he could best Gur’mekh in either kind of struggle. Just how bitter that strength was hated only became clear to Gur’mekh when Demrath began dating Lenti, the object of his childhood infatuations.

      Gur’mekh loved Lenti. If he had to choose between her and all his other grand dreams, he would have had a hard decision indeed.
      Lenti had never liked Gur’mekh, but he determined to do something about that. He exhibited his usual flattery, guided unerringly by his psychic sense, but it rarely got him more than a begrudged ‘oh, hello.’”
      Lenti was rarely impressed by flattery, and Gur’mekh’s reputation had preceded him. A shy and quiet sort, she resented Gur’mekh’s attentions. She only loved the quiet and thoughtful Demrath.
      One evening Gur’mekh stood just few feet from her bed as she settled down for the night. He regaled her in his fine voice with words from La’kresh:
 
Come celebrate the moonlight with me, dear
Entrust your magic to my vigilance
And I shall watch over you
 
 
Who shall worship your perfect beauty
And wait upon your good pleasure
As I have done in vain my darling
 
 
Stars abound in the vault of heaven
But far more beautiful than they
Are the eyes of my beloved!
 
 
Cruel is death for the unloved
Who never knew the kind response
To their grand remonstrations
 
 
Come to me with willing heart
And let our passions be as one
Pledge to me and stir my very soul!
 
      Lenti came to him and smiled. “Very good, Gur’mekh! You memorized that whole poem just for me!”
      “I was hoping you’d like it.”
      “I do. I’m crazy about it. You’ll have to perform it at my wedding. Demrath likes poetry too.”
      “Demrath?”
      “Yes. If I needed an excuse not to marry you, it would be him. I suggest you give up now before he finds out you’re making passes at me. He’s the jealous type.”
      This angered Gur’mekh, especially because Demrath was so well liked, and most people thought Demrath would be Roh’mach when Amarakh retired.
      Gur’mekh decided that he had sold himself short. “If she does not like my praise, what WOULD she like?”
      The next day he followed her at a distance, and when he finally got the chance to speak with her alone (and that was not easy) he strolled to her casually to avoid suspicion.
      She sighed in disgust. “Oh, it’s you.”
      “Well, aren’t we discrete!”
      “I’m sorry. Hello, Gur’mekh. Nice weather, isn’t it? Well, I have errands to run....”
      “Your small talk is as good as your manners.” He cleared his throat. “Look, I need you to do a personal favor for me, OK?”
      “That depends on what it is--and if you’ll leave me alone for a change.”
      “It’s nothing naughty, and yes, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of today if you’ll help me.”
      “OK, you’ve made it worth my while. What’s on your mind?”
      “I have this problem with my eyes. I think I’m getting cataracts, but I need someone with sharp eyes to see if they’re clear.”
      “Why don’t you go to the healer?”