“Yes,” Scar said. “That’s true!”
Sarabi’s eyes narrowed. “Then how did you see the look in Mufasa’s eyes?” she asked.
Simba began to smile as Scar’s face fell. He was caught. Sarabi was right. There was no way he could have seen Mufasa’s eyes if he hadn’t been there when the king died. Everything Scar had told them was a lie. Everything he had told Simba was a lie. He had been the reason Simba ran away, the reason the Pride Lands were destroyed. He was the reason Mufasa was dead.
“MURDERER!” Simba said, echoing Scar’s own words back at him.
For one long moment, Scar stood rooted to the spot. Simba stared at him, his body pulsing with triumph and rage. But then a smile spread over Scar’s face. Looking behind him, he gestured to the hyenas. “Kill them all!”
In an instant, Pride Rock was full of the sounds of snarling and snapping as lions and hyenas faced off. With a roar, Simba dove into the fray, tossing hyenas aside one by one as they came after him. Beside him, Nala and Sarabi fought, eagerly tearing into the creatures that had made their lives miserable for so long.
Smoke filled the air as the fire below grew closer, casting hyenas into shadow as they charged and were flung head over tail back toward the rocks and the ground below. Through it all, Simba kept his eyes locked on Scar. His uncle was backing away, trying to escape. Pushing through a group of hyenas, Simba paused as he caught sight of his mother. Shenzi and her pack were moving in on the queen, their jaws snapping.
Simba hesitated, not sure what to do. He didn’t want to leave his mother, but Scar was inching farther and farther away. Just then, he heard a familiar sound. A moment later, Pumbaa charged headfirst into the hyenas surrounding Sarabi, bowling them over the way he did with vultures. On Pumbaa’s back, Timon let out a triumphant cry. “That never gets old!” the meerkat shouted.
As Timon and Pumbaa continued to take down hyenas, Simba turned to go after Scar. He ducked and weaved as he went, just missing the slashing claws and snapping jaws of the hyenas. With every move, he looked more and more like Mufasa. The transformation was enough to send some hyenas yipping away at the mere sight of him. But Simba was only after Scar. The older lion kept moving, trying to escape.
Behind him, Simba heard the other animals from the jungle join in the fight. He heard yelps as his friends used their tusks, teeth, and speed, joining the lionesses to push the hyenas back until soon they were all running for their lives. He could hear triumphant shouts from the lionesses as the hyenas fled.
But Simba didn’t have time to revel in the reclamation of Pride Rock. He needed to get to Scar. He wasn’t going to let the lion get away. But the air had grown black with smoke, making it nearly impossible to see. Blindly, Simba pushed his way through the curtain of ash. Just then, a flash of lightning illuminated the spot right in front of Simba. In that moment, he saw Scar. The older lion was hunched over, creeping his way closer to the steep incline that would lead him to the top of Pride Rock.
Letting out a roar of rage, Simba pounced, landing mere inches from his uncle. “It’s over, Scar,” he said, his voice deep.
Slowly, Scar turned to face Simba. Holding up his paws, he tried to look innocent. “Simba, have mercy. I beg you.”
Simba raised an eyebrow. “Mercy?” he repeated. “After what you did?”
“It was the hyenas!” Scar said desperately. “Those revolting scavengers made me do it! I was planning on killing them all—”
Behind him, Simba heard the remaining hyenas let out angry snarls. For once, the sound didn’t anger him or bother him. In fact, he felt a sudden kinship with the creatures. “You fooled the hyenas,” he said. “Just like you fooled me.” As he spoke, he moved forward, forcing Scar to back up the steep path. The older lion’s feet scrambled on the hard stone, but Simba kept stalking forward until they reached the very top of Pride Rock.
Scar cowered at the edge of the rock and looked over at Simba, his eyes filled with genuine fear. “Simba, you wouldn’t kill your only uncle…” he said hopefully.
Simba didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly, he went to strike Scar. He never wanted to see the lion’s face again. But just before he hit him, Simba stopped. If he were to push Scar over the edge, how would he be any better than his uncle? His father had taught him to be a strong, wise king. Killing Scar wouldn’t be an act of strength, it would be an act of revenge. He shook his head. “No, Scar,” he finally said. “I’m not like you.”
A smile came over Scar’s face. “Oh, Simba,” Scar said, groveling now that his death wasn’t imminent. “You are truly noble! And I will make it up to you—just tell me how I can prove myself! Tell me what you want me to do!”
Simba paused. Then, slowly, he leaned in. “Run,” he said, repeating the words Scar had said to him all those years ago. “Run away and never return.”
For a long moment, Scar just looked at Simba, as if seeing the ghost of his brother. Finally, he nodded. “Yes, of course,” Scar said, bowing his head. “As you wish…Your Majesty.” But no sooner had the words left his mouth than he reached down and scooped up a pile of hot embers. With a snarl, he threw them at Simba, momentarily blinding him.
As Simba swiped at his burning eyes, Scar jumped at him, knocking him back to the ground. Simba felt the air rush from his lungs as his uncle tried to pin him to the rock. Simba roared loudly, pushing back. He had offered Scar a chance and his uncle had literally thrown it away. Anger fueled him as he fought back, blindly swinging at his uncle.
Thunder continued to roll as the two wrestled and tumbled across the rock, fighting fiercely. Below them, the remaining hyenas and the pride of lionesses watched anxiously. Unaware of the audience or anything but his traitorous uncle, Simba fought with all he had. He fought for the years and hopes he had lost. He fought for the moments he would never get back—with his mother, with Nala, with his father. But most importantly, he fought with the heart of a king. With one final roar, he pushed Scar back and shot to his feet.
“You can’t win, Scar,” Simba said, his chest heaving.
“This is my kingdom,” Scar said, his own breath heavy. “My destiny!” Letting out a roar of his own, he charged one more time.
But unlike before, this time Simba was prepared. Quickly, he stepped to the side, avoiding the charging lion. Scar rushed past him and right over the edge of the rock. He fell through the air, landing with a thud on the ground far below.
Simba raced to the edge and peered over the side of the cliff. Below, he could see his uncle slowly and painfully getting to his feet. A group of hyenas, led by Shenzi, slowly encircled him. Even from his vantage point high up on the top of Pride Rock, Simba could see that the hyenas had had enough of their “leader.” They had heard him call them scavengers. They had heard his plan to be done with them. Hyenas weren’t the brightest animals, but Simba knew they weren’t forgiving, either. As he turned to walk back down to the lionesses, Simba heard Scar’s frightened shouts and the snarls of the hyenas. They would teach Scar a lesson—one he would certainly never forget.
Simba walked slowly, his body aching. In the sky above, the clouds opened and rain began to fall, drenching his coat and dousing the raging fires that had been engulfing Pride Rock. Emerging at the bottom of the path, Simba walked out onto the flat rock he could once again call home.
A smile spread across his face as he looked around. Sarabi and Nala stood waiting for him, surrounded by the other lionesses. And off to one side, happy but still slightly nervous to be around so many carnivores, Timon, Pumbaa, and the others stood smiling, too. Simba walked over to Sarabi and nuzzled her. Then he turned and gave a nod of thanks to his friends. Timon waved happily and did a little dance while Pumbaa did what he did best: he passed gas. Laughing, Simba finally turned to Nala. There was so much he wanted to say to her. So many things he should have said. He wanted to thank her—for saving him. But as he looked into her eyes, the words got lodged in his throat. Instead, ever so gently, he stretched out his neck until their noses
just barely touched. It wasn’t everything, but it was a start to something so much more.
Unable to stop smiling, he turned at the sound of flapping wings. Looking up, he saw Zazu. The hornbill landed in front of him and bowed. “Your Majesty,” he said.
Simba inclined his head. But before he could greet his old friend, he saw Rafiki standing near the promontory of Pride Rock. The mandrill gestured at Simba with his wooden staff. With another nod at his friends—old and new—Simba slowly walked over to Rafiki. Pointing his cane toward the end of the promontory, the old monkey said nothing. But he didn’t need to. Simba knew what to do. It was in his blood.
Lifting his head, he walked to the very edge of Pride Rock. He stopped and gazed up at the sky. The storm had gone, taking the rain, dark clouds, and thunder with it. In its place, a field of stars had emerged, their twinkling lights illuminating the night. As he stared up at the familiar sky, Simba heard his father’s voice on the wind. “Remember…” Mufasa said.
I’ll never forget, Simba vowed silently. He was king now and forever. And he would spend his life making sure he lived up to his father’s wishes. He would be the mightiest king he could be. And he would remember—everything and everyone who had gotten him to this place.
Tilting back his head, Simba let out a roar.
On the rock behind him, Nala, Sarabi, and the other lionesses let out resounding roars. The sound echoed out from Pride Rock and over the lands beyond. Simba smiled as he looked out over his kingdom. The past was in the past. Timon and Pumbaa were right about that. Now it was time to look toward the future.
Simba stared out at the plains in front of him. Herds of elephants moved across the savannah, babies hanging on to their mothers’ tails. Topis and gazelles jumped through the lush, thick grass, their horns glistening in the sun. Simba could hear the loud calls of the hippos from the watering hole as they emerged from under the water and sprayed unsuspecting drinkers. In the trees, mandrills chittered and called to each other, swinging from branch to branch to greet friends and family. The long-necked giraffes ambled along slowly, stopping to graze on branches loaded with vibrant, life-giving leaves. The air was sweet with the scent of life, the plains no longer the ravished wasteland they had been under Scar’s rule.
Life had returned to the Pride Lands.
Turning, Simba walked back toward his den. A smile broke over his face as he saw his young son playing with Timon and Pumbaa. Nala looked on, her eyes full of love and wonder as she gazed at the cub. Sensing Simba’s eyes on her, she looked up and smiled proudly.
Hearing the unmistakable sound of Rafiki’s staff hitting the hard rock, Simba gestured for Nala to join him. Picking up their cub, she walked over to him, and together, they followed Rafiki up to the promontory. Below, the animals had gathered to once again honor their future king.
As Rafiki held up the cub, Simba turned to look at Nala and smiled. Years before, he had run away and thought he could never return. But his father had been right. Life was a circle. And he had always been a part of it. He had just needed a little nudge to remember.
Below, the animals let out cries of joy as they welcomed the new cub. Simba slowly backed up. He had time yet, but someday, this kingdom would be his child’s. Until then, he would do his best to honor his promise to Mufasa. Simba would always remember who he was, and who Mufasa had been. And no matter what path his child found, he would be there. And he would also be there for Nala, for his friends, and for his kingdom. That was Simba’s path.
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