CHAPTER 49:  THE MASTER

	Simba recovered rapidly as the weeks progresed filling out nicely 
as his appetite returned with a vengance.  Timon and Pumbaa were more 
than happy to oblige, Pumbaa doing the heavy work of lifting logs and 
nudging over stones to find special goodies while Timon hunted down the 
odd herbs which Kambra had told him about that would keep Simba's 
innards working properly.
	The three of them busily engaged in devouring a particularly 
feisty group of ants, the little insects tickling the throat delightedly 
as they went down.  Simba giggled nonstop throughout the entire meal, 
giving rise to a bout of hiccups that, while short lived, was 
particularly intense, much to the amusement of his companions.
	Finishing his meal finally, the cub shook himself and padded over 
to where Timon lay, uttering a periodic "HIC!" every now and again.  
Coming alongside, he flopped down and rolled sideways onto his 
companion.
	"ACK!  Hey!  Whattaya tryin; to do, squash me?!"
	"Oops."  Simba rolled back, watching as Timon brushing himself 
off, breathing deeply.  "Sorry.  You okay?"
	"Fine."  Timon felt his ribs gingerly.  "Just don't do that again, 
okay?"
	"Okay."  Simba got up and wandered away to where Pumbaa was lying, 
snoring noisily as he digested his meal.  Simba laid his ear against 
Pumbaa's belly and grinned; the warthog's stomach was making as much 
noise as his mouth was, and with a much wider range of noises.  He 
brushed against Pumbaa lightly, then made his way to the warthog's head, 
leaning against his face as he nuzzled him.
	Pumbaa's eyes shot open and he sneezed violently, jarring Simba 
away.  "Eufff!  I can't breathe!"
	"What's wrong?"
	Pumbaa sat up and blasted another sneeze toward him, sending fur 
flying in a small burst.  Your hair makes my dose itch," he said, 
sniffling.  "Please don't do dat--WAA-CHOOOO!--again, `kay?"
	Simba wilted.  "Okay."  He padded away slowly as Pumbaa lay back 
down, still rubbing his nose.  Finding a soft bed of leaves, Simba 
flopped down and lay his head on his paws, the good feeling of the funny 
little ants gone completely now.  Absently, he bagan to groom his 
forepaws in slow strokes, ignoring the fact that they were clean, in 
fact much cleaner than any cub his age had a right to be.  Sarabi had 
brooked no refusal in this area, and she had instilled her 
fastidiousness in her son in this regard.  Simba smiled slightly as he 
remembered sitting by her one cool evening, the carefully picked over 
remains of an antelope behind them when she had given him his first 
taste of meat.  They had lain together against the slowly cooling body, 
Simba sprawled across her forepaws, his eyes closed in utter ecstasy as 
she had licked him clean of the animal's blood.  The purring from deep 
in her chest had been loud against his ear, and he had answered in kind, 
content to simply be there with her, to feel her soft fur against his 
face, reveling in the warm sweeps of her tongue that smelled of lioness 
love.
	Pumbaa glanced back at Simba, wondering at his sudden silence, and 
saw the tears leaking slowly from the cub's eyes.  "What's wrong?"
	Timon glanced over and got up to join him.  "Jeez, you look blue."
	"That means you're depressed, right?"  Pumbaa looked at Simba 
worriedly.
	"Yes, that's right, and I am." Simba said.
	"WHOOPEE!  I remembered!"  He looked at Timon proudly.  
	Simba smiled weakly, unable to remember when his depression had 
last brought someone so much pleasure.
	Timon shushed his friend.  "What's the matter, kid?"
	"I feel awful."
	"Oh no, not again!"  Alarmed, Timon put his hand on Simba's brow.  
"You don't FEEL sick."
	Simba lost his tenuous grip on his emotions and began to weep 
openly.  "I want my mother!"
	"Aw, don't do that!  Hey, kiddo.  Let me show you something.  Ever 
seen me juggle?"
	He sniffed and wiped his eyes.  "What's that?"
	Timon ruffled the young lion's head affectionately.  "I'll show 
you."  Timon picked up three pebbles about the size of his own head. 
"Juggling, my dear carnivorous compadre, is a specialty of mine.  It's 
easy!  You just take a couple of stones in your hands like...."  The 
meerkat trailed off, nonplused, as he looked at Simba's enormous paws.  
"Hmm.  Problem.  Ahh, well, just watch me.  I'll show ya a trick or 
two."
	Timon tossed the first stone dexterously into the air and quickly 
followed it with the other two.  The three rocks became a blur of motion 
as they circled rapidly, forming a grayish oval that framed his face.  
"See?"
	"Wow!"  Simba stared, entranced.  "You're awesome!"
	Timon shook his head solemnly.  "This, awesome?  Nope.  This is 
for beginners, kid.  And I am the master.  Hey, Pumbaa!  Throw me 
another stone!"
	The warthog tossed another rock to him.  Timon caught it 
backhanded, where it joined the others.
	Simba laughed delightedly.  "Boss!"
	"Boss?  Where do these kids come up with this stuff?"  Timon 
nodded to Pumbaa.  "C'mon."
	Pumbaa grinned as he tossed another stone to the meerkat, then 
another.  Soon six stones were orbiting around Timon's head.  Sweat 
matted the reddish cap of fur on his head, and his arms were growing 
heavy.  "Guess that's enough."
	Simba looked at him eagerly.  "One more, pleeease?"
	"I don't know..."
	"Aw, c'mon, Timon!"  Pumbaa watched his friend struggling to hold 
the stones aloft.  "You said you were the master."
	"You stay outa this!"
	Simba flattened out on the ground, stretching out a paw before him 
as though addressing the king.  "Pleeease, Unca Timon?"
	"Aww...."  Timon's mouth flattened into a thin line.  "Why not.  I 
AM the master!  Pumbaa!  Another stone, if you please!"
	Obligingly, the warthog picked up another pebble and tossed it to 
him.  It was ripped out of the air by his flailing hand and sent aloft 
to join the other six in one perfect, fluid motion.  Timon gaped up at 
the circling stones.  "I did it!"
	Pumbaa cackled as he flicked an eighth stone to the blissful 
meerkat.  Reflexively, Timon grabbed for it and lost control.
	"Look out below!"  The others ducked as the stones rained down on 
the beleaguered Meercat's head, each impact punctuated by an agonized 
"YEOWCH!"  The onslaught over, Timon raised his head and rubbed his 
abused skull gingerly as he surveyed the litter of rocks around him.
	"What happened Unca Timon?  Did you drop them?"
	"What?"  Timon looked indignant.  "No, of course not!  I uh, just 
wanted to show you how dangerous juggling could be.  A guy could get 
KILLED," he said, glaring at Pumbaa, who merely grinned wider.
	"Okay, if you say so.  I feel lots better, though."  Simba bent 
and kissed him on the cheek.  "Thanks, Unca Timon. You're the greatest."
	Timon smiled, and the ache in his head seemed to lessen abruptly.  
"Sure.  No problem, kid."
	Simba gave him a wet lick that sent him back on his keester.  He 
got up silently, brushing himself off.
	Simba's face fell as he peered at the meerkat in alarm.  "I'm 
sorry!  You aren't mad, are you?"
	"No, I like it."  Timon abruptly opened his arms and embraced 
Simba's neck, hugging the cub to him.  "We're all family here."


CHAPTER 50: 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 regarde 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 regareded 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 expresion.  "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 51: 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 
manuver the way they once did under Amarakh and Ber.  Losara was deeply 
touched when Uzuri added the move to her repertorie.
	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 embarrasedly, 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?"
	"Well, that blessing is something just between the two of us.  
It's not really traditional."
	"Oh?  You sound upset."
	"More like embarrased."  Losara scratched herself with 
embarrasment.  "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!"

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