The Lion King Novel

Death of a King

In the meantime, Simba was climbing up the rocks, to try and find his father. Fear pushed him onward, fueled his heart like blood pumping into a cheetah's veins. He didn't care anymore if he didn't get a surprise; all that mattered was that he and Mufasa would get out of this mess together, alive and well.

The last time he saw Mufasa, he was climbing up higher and higher, towards a ledge. Simba felt his heart beat with relief. They were going to get out after all. It was going to be all okay. He climbed up higher until he came to a safer ledge, where he could get to see the gorge below. Just a little bit more, and...

But when he looked outward, his optimism turned into sheer horror. Mufasa - the lion who was believed to be powerful, his father - was now falling to his death, screaming and roaring.

"NOOOOOOO!" Simba screamed, but it was too late. Mufasa ended up disappearing under thousands of pounding hooves, his roars cut off by the thunder of the stampede.

Down below, the stampede was now starting to fade away. The last of the wildebeests were picking up the pace, sending up clouds of dust in the air. Once the last of the wildebeests were gone, Simba climbed down into the gorge to look for his father.

While the herd was no longer in the gorge, the dust still hung in the air. Hoofprints littered the ground like someone had dropped rocks onto the earth from on high. Simba darted around, trying to find the spot where his father had fallen. He mistook rocks, mounds of dirt, and even a few dead wildebeests for his father.

"DAD!" he yelled, his voice echoing around the walls. As he had yelled, he accidently gulped in some dust and coughed.

Suddenly, footsteps started sounding out, making Simba's head turn. "Dad?" he asked hopefully.

But all that appeared was a lone wildebeest, galloping down the path that the many wildebeest took. It made a sharp turn to run around a large mound on the ground and disappeared. Simba gasped when he realized that this mound had fur, running over...and stopping when he realized who that animal was.

Mufasa was there, all right. He was laying on his side, unmoving and not breathing. His eyes were closed, his whiskers were bent out of shape, and his fur and mane were ragged and patchy. Drying blood coated his golden fur, some from cuts on his sides and paws, and others from bruises that had been scratched open.

"Dad?" Simba mewled. He walked over and rubbed his head against Mufasa's mane, but he didn't stir. "Dad, come on, you gotta get up. Dad..." His voice cracked as he reared up to shake him awake. "...we gotta go home. Kio and mother are waiting for us."

He tugged on his father's ear, just as he had done to wake him up before. This time, however, Mufasa wasn't getting up. Tears welled up in Simba's eyes. He wanted this to be a nightmare to wake up from, but this was real. His father was still lying motionless in the gorge. It can't be...

With a sob, Simba screamed to the sky, "HEEELLLLP! Somebody! Anybody..."

But no one answered. Only the blowing breeze filled his ears.

"Help..." Simba choked, the word caught in his throat. He was alone, utterly alone.

Sobbing, Simba padded back to Mufasa and tried burrowing through his thick reddish mane. He crawled up to his father's face, the whiskers brushing against his face. Then he lay beside Mufasa's head and hid his face in his mane, crying softly.