The Last Roar ( Previously "The Whitest Lioness")

8 - Nothing says "romance" like a dead giraffe

"You aren't listening to me." Simba bemoaned.

Mufasa stood before him, his dust-coloured mane rippling in the wind as he exchanged a look of aggravation with his son. His eyes were always so intimidating and intense, but an odd look of amusement played along his dark irises.

"You will patrol the boarders of the Pride Lands and catch the hyenas before they kill any more animals." Mufasa's voice lightened as he added, "What is there to listen to?"

Simba's nostrils flared.

"Haven't you considered that maybe I don't want to do anything involving those stupid hyenas?" Simba asked, his eyes rolling in annoyance.

Mufasa's expression hardened, "Sometimes a king does things he doesn't want to do for the good of his pride."

"Then maybe I don't want to be king!" Simba spat.

Mufasa roared in anger. Pouncing down from the boulder he was reclining on, he leapt at his son with his claws extended in a fierce swipe. The teenaged cub just barely dodged from the grip of his father before he scampered to the side in terror.

"You selfish cub!" Mufasa snarled, "If you ever say something as idiotic as that again, I will personally banish you from the Pride lands until you get your priorities aligned. There are lions in this pride whom would give anything to become the ruler of the pride - and if you run your mouth like that again, you will make yourself less of a threat."

"No one heard me." Simba grumbled.

Mufasa sighed deeply and looked back at the great stone façade of Pride Rock, seeing between the smooth grooves of stone and deep, craggy crevasses as if they were transparent as water. The young lion had never seen his father scared before - but there was real terror in his amber eyes when Mufasa turned back and faced him.

"The rocks and grasslands have ears and eyes, son." Mufasa muttered grimly, "One day, when you are a king, you will understand that."

Simba was more confused than angry when his father sent him away. The duty of catching the hyenas would have to start at the place where their last victim still lay in the sand, entangled in a dance of decay - although, there were thousands of other things that he would have done at this moment. 

Peace was written in the pale blue of the African sky. A few chalky globules of cloud swirled pleasantly on that same blue canvas like thin smudges of a paintbrush. The young lion ignored his desire to stay and gaze at them and instead moved down the dirty path to the Pass. He met Zazu at the clearing before the grove of sprightly Marula trees, the  hornbill was preening his onyx feathers with his brightly-coloured beak. Upon seeing the young heir, Zazu paused and scrutinised him.

"You look awful." Zazu remarked thinly.

Simba scowled but said nothing to this. He knew the state of his liquid-amber eyes - dull, sleep-deprived and framed by large bags under his eyes. The chat with his father had also rendered him without a good tongue-bath from his mother, so his mane was shaggy and disorderly. Yet, as he continued down the trail, the hornbill followed him silently.

"Why did Father order you to come with me?" Simba remarked impatiently, "After that 'great king' speech last night, I would've expected him to trust me."

Zazu snorted, "You're a young, restless teenager without a moral compass. What's not to trust, indeed."

"I'm serious!" Simba declared while bearing his teeth, "If it's not Father with his trust issues and scrutiny, it's Mother with her giggles, big-eyes and ridiculous courtship tips."

Zazu withheld a laugh when he saw the prince's face and its bitter expression.

"At least you won't have to think of one of these things on this trip." Zazu said hesitantly, laughing nervously.

"One of these things?" Simba raised.

There was a scramble and the dust was picked up at their feet, enveloping the young heir in a fine layer of sand. Choking nearly half-to-death, Simba squinted through his watery eyes to see a sandy-haired lioness caught up in the sand. For an instant, Simba's heart lightened and he was about to scramble towards Zula - when the dust cleared and the dark gold of the lioness's fur remained the same.

"I'm so sorry that I'm late!" The perky lioness apologised, jumping around so that Nala's golden eyes showed her regret, "It's just that I told my mother that I would help her with the hunt and then we had to chase the heard across the veld -"

"Nala," Simba interrupted.

Nala blushed, "Yes, Simba."

"You're rambling." Simba bristled, "Shut up."

Simba hissed in pain as Zazu bit his ear with his razor-sharp beak. Furiously, the young heir growled lowly under his breath and shot him a dagger-glare. Nala glanced between them, heavily confused, before she sheepishly hung her head so that Simba wouldn't see her ferocious blush.

"Excuse us for a moment, Nala." Zazu excused, then twittered over to a tree branch a few metres away, just far enough to be out of earshot. Simba followed moodily.

Simba huffed, "What?"

"Remember what your mother said; Nala has always been predestined to become your Queen and cohort. Even if you wished to be with any other lioness, "Zazu sighed, "It would go against the pride."

"I don't care about the pride!" Simba hissed, "What has the pride ever done for me? It doesn't let me make my own decisions, or allow me to catch a break. It doesn't even want me to be with the lioness I love!"

Simba paused, thinking back on his own words. His eyes widened in shock and horror and he couldn't quite believe the words that had just escaped his own mouth.

Zazu sighed in despair, "Oh, no - Simba, tell me you were exaggerating!"

Simba opened his mouth in protest and then shut it weakly, looking sick.

"This is not how it's supposed to be and now you've gone and fallen in love with this lioness." Zazu panicked, "What will your mother say?"

Simba smiled weakly, "Oops."