CHAPTER 61:  THE MEETING

	"SHE'S GONNA EAT MEEE!!"
	Simba's ears twitched violently at the sound of the scream behind 
him.  "Oh gods!"  Turning about, he began to sprint, praying with all 
his heart he would arrive in time.  As he neared, he heard the distinct 
snarl of a lioness closing in for the kill, and the sound was familiar 
indeed.  His eyes narrowed as he rounded a corner and saw Pumbaa wedged 
under a tree root, scrabbling desperately for release.
	That damned Sasha lied to me, he thought.  Well, we'll see who 
gets thrown out of whose territory NOW!
	A terrible snarl erupted from him as he leapt over the root, 
floating through the air in a graceful leap.  He descended rapidly, 
crashing down with terrifying force in front of the lioness as she slid 
to a stop, a look of total surprise on her face.  Simba lashed out, 
snarling, noting that this was not Sasha after all, but another lioness, 
much younger, in fact.  No matter.
	Timon leapt with joy as Simba joined battle with a fury that shook 
the earth.  "Get her!  Bite her head!"  He capered atop Pumbaa's rump 
gleefully as the two titans thrashed about, paws whipping throught the 
air in an awesome display of chained fury.
	The lioness backed back, claws whipping around in an effort to 
lash his face, but his mane deflected the blows as he closed in.  
Gathering himself, Simba launched himself at her, jaws spreading as he 
prepared to seize her throat--
	--and then he gave a startled "WHUFF!" of surprise as her feet 
sank into his belly, knocking the wind from him.  The world spun 
crazily, and he found himself lying on his back, the lioness pinning him 
to the ground, her hot breath billowing in his face as she bared her 
fangs at his throat.  Stricken, sure he would be dead in a few more 
seconds, he looked up to meet her gaze...and saw the brilliant green 
eyes staring into his.
	He had seen those eyes in a thousand dreams.  "Nala?!"
	The snarling grimace of the lioness vanished, her face 
transforming from awesome rage into awesome beauty.  Her jaw dropped and 
she backed away, crowding into  a tree trunk and staring at the stranger 
before her.  "Is it really you?"
	She gazed at him suspiciously.  Was it possible that Taka would 
send someone to follow her?  Nonsense.  A male such as this he would 
have killed outright, or at least driven off.  "Who are you?"
	"It's me!  Simba."
	"Simba?"  The name rolled oddly off her tongue as she looked at 
him.  Funny, she had known a cub by the same name when she was a 
child...her eyes widened as she looked into his face and SAW him, oh 
gods, he was ALIVE!
	"WHOAAAAW!  A simeltaneous explosion of joy erupted from the two 
as they rubbed heads together in greeting, filling the air with a 
cacophony of confused questions.
	"But how did you--"
	"It's GREAT to see you!"
	"It's good to see YOU!"
	"I thought you were--"
	"HEY!  WHAT'S GOIN' ON HERE?!"
	Simba grinned and introduced his companions to Nala, chuckling at 
Timon's utter confusion.  His mirth was short lived, as Nala looked at 
him, her face serious.
	"Wait till everyone finds out you've been HERE all this time!  And 
your mother...what will she think?"
	Simba felt a mad rush of panic that nearly overwhelmed him.  "She 
doesn't have to know.  Nobody has to know."
	"Of course they do!  Everyone thinks you're dead!"
	He looked at her, shocked.  "They do?"
	"Yeah."  She lowered her gaze sadly.  "Scar told us about the 
stampede."  She glanced up tentatively, afraid to meet his gaze.
	Simba was awash with cold fear.  "He did?  What else did he tell 
you?"
	"What else matters?!  You're alive!  And that means..." she looked 
at him, a new look of awe on her face mixed with newborn hope.  "You're 
the king."
	Simba froze into immobile stillness.  He watched numbly as Timon 
and Pumbaa transformed before his eyes, looking at him like some new 
kind of insect they'd never seen before.  Before Timon could embroil 
himself into an argument with Nala, he sighed deeply.  "Maybe you'd 
better go."
	Timon gaped.  "It starts.  You THINK you know a guy..."
	Simba watched them leave, then grinned shamefacedly at Nala.  
"Timon and Pumbaa.  You learn to love `em."  He fell silent as he saw 
Nala with her back to him, looking as if she might begin weeping at any 
moment.  He went to her and leaned against her shoulder comfortingly.  
"What?  What is it?"
	"It's like you're back form the dead," she said quietly.  "You 
don't know what this will mean to everyone.  What it means to me--" Her 
voice threatened to betray her, and she silenced herself as years of 
dreams and hopes, things she had long forgotten and buried away in her 
mind now clamored for attention.  She remebered playing with him long 
ago, cub games in the sweet grass fields of the Pride Lands where time 
stood still.
	Simba nuzzled her tentatively.  "Hey.  It's okay."
	Shaking with the years of memories that threatened to burst forth, 
she buried her head in his mane, rubbing her cheek firmly against him.  
"I've really missed you."

CHAPTER 62: CAN YOU FEEL THE LOVE TONIGHT?

	The water cascaded over the edge of the rocks, rolling smoothly 
into the deep pool at the foot of the falls, the frothy spume spraying 
into the air and wetting the coats of the two lions who picked their way 
along the rocks.
	Simba followed Nala across the natural bridge, pausing to shake 
the cool droplets from his coat, making a miniature rainbow in the air 
as he dried himself.  He joined her at a still pool where she was 
bending to take a drink.  He was not the least bit thirsty, but at a 
loss as what else to do, he leaned over the water and took a couple of 
swallows, his eyes on the lioness across from him.  He was unable to 
believe his friend had found him again!  He had missed his family 
dearly, but there was something special about Nala...
	She glanced up and caught him staring at her, and he stopped 
drinking, raising his head in alarm and embarrassment.  But she merely 
smiled at him and bent to the pool again.  "She doesn't know," he 
thought.  "Else she wouldn't smile at me like that.  Oh gods, what am I 
going to tell her?"  He looked away from her, the shame dousing the joy 
he had felt.
	Nala lapped at the cold water daintily, enjoying the liquid as she 
soothed her parched throat.  The trip across the desert had been 
exhausting, and after that high speed pursuit of Pumbaa that had nearly 
ended in disaster, she was fairly desperate for a drink.  Curious that 
her friend had taken up with a warthog, of all creatures.  What Simba 
saw in that-
	She glanced up at her friend and stopped in mid-drink, shocked at 
the look of absolute sadness in his features.  Worried, she lifted her 
head, intending to ask him what was wrong, but Simba saw her glance up 
and immediately brightened, the mask of despair vanishing as if it had 
never been.  He stepped to the edge of the pool, then tensed his 
haunches and leapt gracefully over to her side, smiling enigmatically as 
he passed.  Nala turned to look at him, thoroughly confused.  What in 
the world was he up to now-
	Her eyes widened in surprise as he ran past, a vine clutched tight 
in his jaws, soaring out over the pool to land in its center with a 
terrific splash.  She watched, at first amused, then alarmed as the 
ripples of his landing disappeared and he still showed no sign of 
surfacing.  She padded to the edge and looked about anxiously, looking 
for any sign of him.
	The water in front of her erupted, spraying her thoroughly as 
Simba rose and clasped her around the shoulders in a hug.  She started 
to smile and ask him if this was his way of saying hello when she felt 
her balance shift alarmingly.
	"Oh gods," she thought.  "He's not doing what I think he is-"
	But he was indeed.  Simba's weight pulled her forward and down 
into the icy water with a tremendous splash.  The lion surfaced, a grin 
on his face as he watched Nala scramble from the water, gasping, and 
huddle in a wet crouch, her teeth chattering.  She made no move to 
rejoin him, and his smile wilted a little as he realized he might have 
stepped over the line.  He pulled himself from the water, the cool 
liquid running from his mane in small streams as he went to her, a 
concerned look on his features.    
	Nala waited until he was next to her, then with a wry grin she 
shoved him playfully back into the water.  "Gotcha!"  she thought, 
laughing delightedly.  She shook herself, then trotted away as Simba 
climbed from the water again, a grin on his face.  Another laugh escaped 
her as she dodged among the trees, her friend in full pursuit of her and 
bent on revenge.  She twisted agilely through a dense thicket, chuckling 
as she heard Simba smash through the debris.
	"Clumsy!"  she yelled at him.
	"Oh, yeah?!"  He grinned and put on a burst of speed as they 
entered a lush meadow, the late afternoon sun glinting through the trees 
as he drew nearer.  She plunged into the undergrowth on the far side of 
the clearing and turned to face him, rising on her rear legs and pawing 
at him playfully.  He laughed, rearing up to meet her and throwing his 
forepaws around her shoulders, his extra weight overbalancing them both 
and sending them tumbling down the hillside to slide to a stop at the 
bottom.
	Nala giggled up at him, and he responded by bursting into 
laughter, the sound sweet and joyous to her ears.  He had seemed so sad, 
back at the pond, but all her worries dissipated as she looked up at his 
contented face.  She felt a warm rush of feeling, looking at his 
features, slightly amazed at how handsome he had become.  The rough and 
tumble cub she had played with as a child had burst forth with a 
beautifully flowing mane, and his body, while lean in some places, was 
fully formed and muscular.  Yet his face still held that wonderful, 
innocent look she knew well from their cubhood.  His body was warm 
against hers, and the comforting pressure of his weight resting on her 
sent tingles up and down her spine.
	Nala reached up with a forepaw, draping it over the back of his 
neck.  Pulling him to her, she bent forward and kissed his cheek, a 
long, passionate lick that ceased his laughter and brought a surprised 
look to his face.
	Simba stared down at Nala, feeling the tingle from her kiss 
spreading through him like ripples in a pond.  She looked up at him, her 
eyes half-opened and giving him a look that sent fire racing through his 
belly.  He bent to her and nuzzled her, and she responded, rising up to 
bury her face in his mane and purring deeply, the thrumming sound 
carrying clear in the still evening air.  "Nala," he whispered.
	She said nothing, still purring low in her chest as she sat up and 
nuzzled him again, her side making heavy contact with his as she rubbed 
against him.  Nala circled him slowly, her tail coiling around his hind 
legs as she moved up his other side and nuzzled his neck again.  Lifting 
her head, she nibbled the edge of his ear playfully.
	He took a ragged breath and blew it out forcefully.  "Oh gods, 
what's wrong with me?"
	"What is it?"
	He stood unsteadily, his legs splayed wide, limbs trembling with 
unreleased tension.  "I feel so strange."  His eyes looked searchingly 
into hers, the fear and confusion clear through the haze of desire.
	She kissed him again, and he felt her tremble slightly, and saw 
the wonder in her own eyes.  " I think you're supposed to," she said, a 
tremulous laugh escaping her.  She nuzzled him again under the chin, 
then walked away towards the edge of the glade.  Simba followed her 
slowly, a pace behind, his gaze fixed as he drank in her beauty.  Nala 
hestitated, then crouched slowly, looking back over her shoulder at him 
with fear and desire warring in her eyes.  "Simba?  I..."
	"Shhh."  He stood close, unable to tear his eyes away from her, 
the moonlight slicing through the trees overhead and haloing her face in 
silver ethrealness.  
	"Beloved," he whispered, and went to her.



CHAPTER 63:  CONFRONTATION

	Simba padded along the path slowly, Nala's weight resting 
pleasureably on his shoulder as they walked.  A contented purr continued 
to rumble through her chest, and he echoed it as he nuzzled her behind 
her ear.  "You're beautiful, you know that?"
	"Yes."  She giggled and kissed him on the cheek.  "But thank you 
for saying so."  She studied his face in profile as they threaded their 
way through some dense greenery.  His face was so gentle, like his 
mother's, and the set of his jaw and the slight smile brought back 
memories of Mufasa.  But his eyes...oh gods, his eyes...her smile faded 
as she looked at him.  Simba was studying the waterfall that lay across 
the valley from them, his smile forgotten, almost an afterthought, now.  
The deep mask of sadness that she had glimpsed at the pool had returned 
full force.  The amber eyes that the other lionesses had commented on in 
his cubhood were so empty and devoid of feeling that it made her shiver.  
And the worst of it was, there was still something left in there, buried 
deep down.  She had seen it back there when she first kissed him.  Her 
old friend was still in there, in that well of sadness, and she wondered 
if she might ever bring him to the light of day again.
	Her jaw quivering, she buried her head in his mane, unwilling to 
let him see the tears that threatened to burst forth.
	Simba glanced down at her, his smile returning somewhat.  "Isn't 
this a great place?"
	Nala took a deep breath and raised her head, giving the scenery a 
perfunctory glance.  "It is beautiful," she conceded finally.  "But I 
don't understand something."  She looked at him quizzically.  "You've 
ben alive all this time..why didn't you come back to Pride Rock?"
	Simba figeted nervously.  "Well..." He padded over to a tangled 
mat of vines that swayed gently in the evening breeze.  He eased himself 
into its firm embrace, sprawling on his back comfortably.  "Well, I 
just..needed to get out on my own.  Live my own life.  And I did, and 
it's great!"  He peered at her earnestly.
	Nala's voice shook noticably.  "We've really needed you at home," 
she said.
	Simba's expression crumpled and he looked away.  "No one needs 
me."
	Gods, what was wrong with him?!  "Yes, we do!  You're the king!"
	"Nala, we've been through this," he said testily.  "I'm not the 
king; Scar is."  "And well he should be," Simba thought to himself.  The 
monarchy was no place for a murderer, and his uncle had wisely pointed 
this out in the gorge.  Simba had no choice but to agree to his self 
imposed exile.  Technically, it would have been well within his uncle's 
right to have him killed for Mufasa's death.  Yet he had shown mercy on 
his nephew and allowed him to leave untouched.  With such a wise and 
merciful king, the Pride Lands were better off under his uncle's 
supervision.
	At least, he thought so, until Nala informed him of the hyannic 
takeover of his homeland.  He stared at her disbelievingly.  "What?!"
	"There's no food, no water...Simba, if you don't do something 
soon, everyone will starve!"
	As he opened his mouth to answer, a chill brushed him, and he 
shivered.  He looked away from her, the depression filling him, his 
spirit sagging with guilt.  "I can't go back."
	"Why?!"
	"You wouldn't understand."
	"WHAT wouldn't I understand?!"
	"No, no, no."  He waved her off irritably.  "It doesn't matter.  
Hakuna Matata."
	"What?"  Nala's face twisted in confusion.
	"Hakuna Matata.  It's something I learned out here."  He leapt 
lightly upon a fallen tree and looked at her.  "Look," he said, eager 
for her to understand, "sometimes bad things happen-"
	"Simba!"  Nala lashed her tail in frustration.
	"-and there's nothing you can do about it," he grated, irritated 
at her interruption.  "So why worry?"  He looked away and paced 
agitatedly along the length of the tree.
	Nala followed alongside.  The anger and frustration came to a 
head, and she lashed at him with full force.  "Because it's your 
responsiblity!!"  Sweet Aiehu, why didn't he see it?
	Simba came to a stop and glanced at her angrily.  "So what about 
you?  YOU left!"
	"I left to find help!"  she shot back, incensed.  "And I found 
YOU.  Don't you understand?!"  Her voice trembled on the edge of tears.  
"You're our only hope."
	Simba closed his eyes for a moment, then loked at her.  "Sorry."
	Nala drew back and peered at him with narrowed eyes.  "What's 
happened to you?" She shook her head.  "You're not the Simba I 
remember."
	"You're right.  I'm not," he said, clipping his words off 
brutally.  "NOW are you satisfied?"
	"No.  Just disappointed."
	He started away, shoulders stiff with anger.  "You're starting to 
sound like my father."
	A tingle ran through Nala, and the words escaped unbidden.  "Good.  
At least ONE of us does."  She put a paw to her mouth, horrified at what 
she had said.
	Simba froze, the lethargic feeling ripped away as her words tore 
through him.  He spun around and advanced on her.  "Look!  You think you 
can just come in here and tell me how to run my life?!  You don't even 
know what I've BEEN through!"
	"I would if you'd just tell me!"  She moved to go to him, but he 
whirled and plunged through the underbrush, heedless of the sharp 
branches that tore at him.
	"Forget it!"  He padded away quickly, unwilling to let her see the 
tears in his eyes.
	"Fine!"  Nala turned away, stung, angry at herself for letting him 
get away.  She walked morosely over to the fallen log and leapt upon it, 
settling herself atop the old wood.  Her tail moved restlessly as she 
mulled over their conversation, berating herself for lashing out at him 
like that.  At a loss, she laid her head upon her forepaws, gazing out 
across the river valley.  The sound of the waterfall was lulling, and 
she blinked her eyes sleepily as she watched the sparkling torrent fall 
through the air to crash on the rocks below.  Soon she was dozing 
softly, the soft white light of the moon bathing her golden form in 
unearthly beauty.
	In the underbrush across from her, the light gleamed from twin 
points of amber fire.  The random edges of the leaves and branches 
shifted in the night breezes and gave form to a finely chiseled face 
that peered intrestedly at the sleeping lioness.  Mano sighed and 
slipped from the undergrowth, the pure white fur of his body gleaming 
like a fallen star as he padded noiselessly over to where Nala lay.
	He leaned over her, listening to her murmur uneasily in her sleep, 
reading her troubled thoughts.  He pursed his lips and blew gently in 
her face, the scent of wild honey clinging to her fur as he watched her 
features relax and smooth out.
	"Sleep, child.  You have done well.  It's up to him, now."  He lay 
down beside her, his mane shifting in an unseen breeze as he looked far 
to the east, where Pride Rock lay.  He thought of the unspeakable horror 
that lay nestled there, and his features hardened into a grim mask of 
determination.
	"And you, old one, are now on borrowed time."

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