CHAPTER 52: GROWING PAINS

Simba seemed ignorant of the fact that he was growing like a weed. His rough and ready play was cute once, but nature took its course, and the inevitable happened. One day he was playing with Pumbaa and gave the warthog a playful whack that sent him reeling. Pumbaa shook his head and tapped his ear with a forefoot as if to set his brain back in its socket.

“Hey, are you all right?”

“Nothing a good nap won’t fix. But please to remember to retract your claws, and watch that right cross, little guy.” Pumbaa sat back and regarded the young lion, noting the lanky form and the smooth interplay of muscles across Simba’s shoulders that was becoming easily visible. “Really, you’re not such a little guy anymore.”

Timon had long since stopped playing with Simba, and directed his lighter moods into word games and riddles. Timon looked at Simba appraisingly. “When will you be grown up, and how big will you be?”

Simba furrowed his forehead in thought. “When I’m three, I’ll be a grown up, but I won’t get any bigger when I’m two and a half. I don’t know how big I’ll be.” He looked up at the angle he used to take to peer into his mother’s eyes. “Gee, I guess I’ll know when I’m two and a half.”

Simba was a work in progress. Every day, his potential unfolded like an opening flower, but there was one particular day when it really became real to him. He was playing with a tortoise near the water’s edge, batting it around playfully and finally knocking it into the creek. He came to the water, still rippling with the splash, but even then he noticed something odd about his reflection. Waiting until it stilled, he took in a deep breath and let it out in a shout of delight.

"Timon! Pumbaa!! Check it OUT!" He reached back with a paw and trembling with joy stroked the first russet hairs of his emerging mane. "Look, it’s happening!"

"What, what?" Timon looked up from the pursuit of a lovely red beetle, annoyed at the interruption. "WHAT’S happening??"

Simba was prancing around so quickly that they couldn’t see what the big deal was. "Look guys, just LOOK!"

"Hold it! What is it, kid?"

"Look at my mane, guys! I got a mane coming in!"

Pumbaa stares, entranced. "Wow! You really DO have a mane coming in!"

"Yeah!" Simba grinned again. "Cool!"

Timon smiled, but uncertainly. "That's nice and all if it’s your thing, but what's the deal about manes, anyway?"

Simba looked at him as if Timon had asked him for the reason behind breathing. "What's the big deal?? A mane is...." He thought a moment. “Well the girls dig it.”

His euphoria faded rapidly as he pondered the odds of a girl noticing him at all. The lion population of the jungle was notoriously small; currently, it was running at exactly one. He regarded the wall of greenery around him with sudden dislike; it seemed cloying, the scents of rotten vegetation and flowers abruptly nauseating.

“Girls! Oy!” Timon looked at him and shook his head. “Girls are trouble. Nothing but trouble. I mean, what girl ever took care of you the way we do?”

Simba thought a moment. “My mother.”

“Oh. Good point.” Timon looked down at his feet and shuffled them in the dust. “Well you know what I mean.”

“Nala, too.” Simba took in a deep breath and let it out. “You know, we had this funny hornbill named Zazu. He used to watch out for us, and one day he said that Nala and I were—uh--I think the word was betrothed. It means we were going to be married someday.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I said that was really weird. I mean, she was my best friend.”

A look crossed Simba’s face as if someone had punched him right in the stomach. He turned around and looked back at the water. “Good old Nal. I guess she has another boyfriend now.” His lips tightened as a tear of regret ran down his cheek and splashed in the water, leaving little silver rings. “Gods, I wish I could see her one more time. And my mother.” He knelt and looked at his visage in the water again. “I’m so alone!”

“Not that again,” Timon said with a sigh. “How many times do I have to tell you--you have us. We’re your family, kid. We won’t let you down.”

Pumbaa suddenly erupted into tears, surprising everyone. "Ohhh, now you're gonna leave us!"

"What??” Simba looked around. “Leave you??”

Timon looked around. “Leave us??”

Pumbaa said, "When your mane grows in, it means your grown up, right?"

"Yeah.... So?"

Pumbaa bawled with renewed vigor. "You’ll want to leave the nest! You won’t want a daddy anymore!"

"What’s that got to do with it? I mean, we lions don’t go off alone unless we HAVE to. Well, I don't wanna leave.” He looked at them apprehensively. “You...you guys won’t kick me out, will you?"

“Heavens, no!” Timon said earnestly, patting him. “We’re a gleesome threesome! I mean, hey kid, we, like, love you.” His face drew down in a set expression. “There. I’ve said it.”

Simba regarded him silently for a moment, overwhelmed. “Well, I, like, love you guys too. There, I’ve said it back.” Simba smiled craftily and shouted, “Everyone into the pool!” Before Timon and Pumbaa could budge, he sprang, launching his body, now weighing well over a hundred pounds, into the air over the pond, sailing down to belly-flop into the water in a tremendous geyser that showered his companions. Pumbaa shrieked with glee, rolling delightedly in the muddy bank. His friend, however, was not so amused.

Timon stood trembling, legs akimbo, his fur utterly drenched with mud and water. He uttered an incoherent growl as he gritted his teeth and shook his fist at Simba. “Oy! What IS it with you guys?! Are you part frog, or what?!”

A small toad near the water’s edge emitted a small croak.

Timon glared hotly at it. “Aw, shaddap!”

CHAPTER 53: WORDS OF ENCOURAGEMENT

Food was becoming scarce for the inhabitants of Pride Rock. They spent more time looking for their basic diet. But Uzuri and Losara still found time to hunt together on the sly, just for the companionship and to share what they caught with some of the cubs.

Uzuri was in genuine awe of Losara’s focus and natural grace. She longed to see the loyalists together again, performing a star-and-four maneuver the way they once did under Amarakh and Ber. Losara was deeply touched when Uzuri added the move to her repertoire.

Uzuri pawed Losara. “Bih ‘malan, Losara.”

Losara smiled warmly as she always did at that moment. “Bih ‘malan, Uzuri. Bih ‘malan!”

They were about to leave for their hunt together when Pipkah recalled them. “In the cave, ladies. The King says we hunt again.”

“What??” Uzuri looked around with anger. “Again??”

They went into the cave at the top of Pride Rock. Uzuri did not dare anger Taka. He glared at her, obviously upset by her frequent absences.

“It’s time for the traditional blessing,” Taka said.

Pipkah had nerve enough to try and join the lions, sure that if Losara could, he could. As hunt master of the hyenas, Taka no doubt expected Uzuri to address her blessing to him. She didn’t feel like blessing him, but thought a good blessing might soothe Taka’s nerves. She decided to do something a little different.

“Bih ‘malan, Pipkah.”

Pipkah looked at her strangely, then grinned embarrassed, the tip of his tail wagging slightly. “Bih ‘malan, Uzuri!”

All of the hyenas took in a gasp and smiled. One of them whispered something to Taka, and Taka smiled broadly, looking at Uzuri with mixed surprise and gratitude.

Uzuri smiled a relieved smile and headed off with the others.

The hunt was rather uneventful as hunts go, but Losara found an excuse to get near Uzuri.

“Uzuri, I have to tell you something rather important.”

“What is it, Losara?”