“Well, that blessing is something just between the two of us. It’s not really traditional.”

“Oh? You sound upset.”

“More like embarrassed.” Losara scratched herself with embarrassment. “How can I put this?”

“What does it mean?”

“Well, when I say it, it means, well....” Losara swallowed hard. “It means something I really feel. It means ‘I love you.’” Uzuri simply stared at her, and Losara hurried to continue. “It was wrong of me, and I apologize. But I do love you, Uzuri.” Losara looked at her nakedly. “I thought if I told you it was a blessing, you’d say it back to me.” She looked down at the ground, feeling the shame sweep over her like fire. “I’m sorry--”

Uzuri looked at her solemnly. “There, there, child. No offense taken.” Uzuri allowed a slight smile. “But I wish you’d just....oh my gods! Pipkah!”

CHAPTER 54: GOING NATIVE

“Awright, Simba. Ya ready?”

The lion nodded and raised a forepaw.

“Okay.” Timon squinted his eyes to slits, and Pumbaa did likewise. “Three...two...one...GO!!”

The heavy paw swung down, slamming into the rotten wood and sending splinters flying in a spectacular detonation. Insects and grubs of all kinds sprayed through the air, falling upon the heads of the three companions in a bizarre rainshower as Timon hooted with obvious delight. “WAHOO! You hit a gusher, Simba!”

“Thanks.” The lion grinned at his friend as Timon waded in. “Geez! Leave some for me, willya?!” Simba pounced forward and snuffled up a mouthful of the squirmy bugs, chewing with relish.

“Me?!” Timon planted his hands on his hips in righteous indignation. “Look at you, big mouth! This from a guy who eats a whole nest of termites and comes back asking for seconds!”

Pumbaa snorted and lifted his head. “Reawwy guys,” he said, chewing around a mouthful of chittering beetles, “it’s impowite to tawk wif your mouf full.”

Timon wiped saliva from his face busily. “Thanks Mom,” he shot back. “Do you serve towels with your showers?” He picked the remains of a half eaten beetle from his face, then popped it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Hmmm....not bad.”

“Timon?”

“Yeah, Pumbaa?”

“What’s a shower?”

“Something you only take when it rains.”

“Cool it, guys!” Simba lifted his head and sniffed warily, nostrils twitching in agitation. “I smell something funny.”

Pumbaa blushed and lowered his head. “Sorry.”

“Not you. This smells great!"

“Hey!” Pumbaa grunted indignantly. “It’s not MY fault--”

“Shhhh! Concentrate.” Simba turned and paced slowly around for a minute, scenting the wind. “This way. C’mon!” He padded off into the dense jungle, the swish and swaying of small branches the only sound of his passing. Warthog and meerkat looked at each other uncertainly, then followed.

Simba pushed quietly through the undergrowth, pausing every now and again to scent at the air. The smell was tantalizing, filling his head with tingles of pleasure. Gods, the scent was alluring! It seemed so strange...and yet familiar all at once. Like...like...

Simba stopped again, sniffing deeply of the air as Timon looked at him curiously. “What’s WITH you, kid?”

“Can’t you smell it?”

Timon sniffed. “Ech. Smells like a brushfire.”

The thought sparked something in Simba’s mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

The three wended their way among the ferns for a few more minutes, the scent steadily increasing as they went. Timon perched precariously atop Pumbaa’s head as they followed, straining to see ahead, but the only thing he was permitted to see was the lazily waving tip of the lion’s tail ahead. He sighed and rested his chin in his hands, grumbling.

Simba came to an abrupt stop, and Pumbaa scrambled to avoid collision. Timon, caught unawares, sailed from atop the warthog’s head to smack solidly against Simba’s rump, bouncing to the ground in an ungainly heap.

“Hey! Why don't you watch where you’re goin’--”

“SHHH!” Simba peered ahead. The plants were thinning slightly, and he saw a faint glow from ahead. The scent was stronger than ever. “Check it out, guys.”

The three crept closer, stopping at the edge of a clearing. Timon and Pumbaa peered agitatedly at the sight before them, unaware of their companion’s rapture.

A small area of the jungle had been cleared to the dirt, the soft loam of the forest scraped aside to the hard dirt underneath. A strange hedge of sorts ringed the clearing, odd for the fact hat it appeared to be made of dead limbs and sticks rather than live plants. Peeking through the holes in the hedge, the three saw the twisting and writhing shape of an enormous bonfire in the center of the clearing. Around it stood what appeared to be large bushes made of the same dead sticks. And around the fire paced strange animals of a type that Simba had seen only rarely. They reminded him of monkeys, somehow, what with the way they walked on their hind legs, but the funny thing was their skin. Simba snickered in spite of himself. “Lookit that, fellas. They don't have any hair!”

“Like they need it,” groused Timon. “Those are people, Simba, remember? I told you about people. They’re as noisy as badgers and twice as mean. We better get outa here.”

“Oh, man,” Simba breathed. He had spotted the source of the scent. Over the fire stood a couple of sticks, and on them was perched an enormous antelope, sizzling and spitting in the flames. His tongue rolled out and he licked his lips slowly, never taking his eyes from the meat. “Oh gods, I would give my whiskers for a taste of that.”

Pumbaa shook his head, then glanced to one side, where the humans were hoisting up another animal by the hind legs to cook. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the tusks of a warthog protruding from the snout. “Yeesh! I’m outta here!”

“No, wait.” Simba licked a forepaw and slicked back the fringe of mane on his head and shoulders. “I want to make a good first impression.”

“Are you crazy?” Timon said. “They’ll hang you right next to the pig.”

“I don’t see how. I’m stronger and I’m faster. And all I want is the meat. They won’t follow us to get it back.”

He roared fiercely and strode forward, splintering the wood boma as he shouldered his way through. A second roar sent the humans running, jabbering excitedly as they ran into their huts.

“Hey, that was easy enough! Come on, fellows! Let’s eat!” Simba padded over to the fire, wincing at the heat, and peered upwards, wondering how to get the antelope down. Glancing about, he saw the gleam of the firelight from the eyes of the people hidden in the huts and grinned.

His grin faded as they emerged, the light now glinting off the tips of spears, all pointed at him. “Uh oh!”

The lion turned and bolted, rear paws spurting up dirt as he ran for the hole in the boma. A whirring sound filled the air, and spears began to fall around him, their sharp tips whickering evilly through the air as they passed. Bursting through the gap, he shot away into the jungle. “C’mon, guys! RUN FOR IT!”

Warthog and meerkat followed obligingly as the humans emerged from the encampment, jabbering furiously and waving their weapons. A hissing sound filled the air, and a spear blurred past Simba to bury itself in a nearby tree, quivering angrily. Redoubling his speed, he crashed through the undergrowth, ripping vines and sticks asunder as he fled. Pumbaa ran alongside, Timon astride him and waving his arms wildly.

“Come on fellows!” Timon yelled mockingly. “Let’s eat!”

Pumbaa panted as he struggled to keep up with the terrified lion. “I think the natives are restless.”

“No darned kidding!”