When Kimba Meets Simba an Alternate Adventure by Ashwolf Forever

When Kimba Meets Simba An Alternate Adventure By AshWolf Forever “Any story worth telling is worth telling twice.” ~ Rafiki, The Lion King 1 ½ Chapter 1: Chance Meeting in the Wasteland “The jungle‟s gotta be around here somewhere,” said the white lion cub as he slowly trudged along the desert landscape. From his neck hung a drawstring pouch containing the only connection he had left to his mother Eliza and his human friend Joey: a small pocket bible. It had belonged to his friend, who had read it to him for as long as he could remember. It held all kinds of stories about humans that the Creator aided. His mother had told him the Creator would help him, too. Well, NOW would be a good time. Kimba sighed as a fierce wind ripped around him. It tugged and pulled him forward, then suddenly died away. When he looked up, he saw a mass of black shapes moving in the distance. They seemed to all be huddled around something. Kimba titled his head to the side. “What‟s that?” He ran over to the black mass and found it formed of half a dozen vultures. They were pecking and nipping at something that smelled like him and his mother. A slight fury took hold and he lunged at the birds with a growl. They scattered and flew away. When they were gone, he turned to see what they had been pestering. On the dry, cracked earth was another lion cub. Its golden-brown pelt was ragged and the pads of its paws were as raw as his. Kimba looked down sadly on the other lion. Why are you out here? “Better pace yourself, buddy, or you‟ll be joinin‟ ‟im soon.” The white cub spun around to find one lone vulture sitting on the branch of a dead tree above him. Unsure what to make of this, Kimba crouched defensively and growled softly. “My name is Kimba, I‟m trying to find my way home, and you can‟t stop me.” “I won‟t have to kid; this heat and the desert will do that. I‟m just the clean up crew.” Kimba glared at the bird before turning his attention back the other cub. He carefully poked him with his paw, trying to wake him. The only answer was the soft rise and fall of the golden cub‟s rib cage. “You best leave ‟im, and let ‟im go in his sleep. Less painful that way, you know.” “I didn‟t see you giving him that sort of peace,” replied Kimba, moving around to the other side of the cub and nudging him with his head. “Why don‟t you buzz off, you old grump.” The vulture seethed with rage. “Oh, yeah, I‟ll show you grumpy!” He took to the air and began dive-bombing the lion cub. Kimba ducked and dodged, hampered only just by the bible‟s weight. Feeling it against him, the prince forced himself to calm down. “I don‟t want to fight you, mister!” he said. “Let‟s be friends!” “Here we got no use for friends,” said the vulture snidely. “That‟s the Law of the Jungle!” The first thing Simba was aware of was that his body hurt. It felt like something had been poking at him, but that could have just been the memory of the thorns. The next thing he noticed was the voices. He had been alone for a while now, with no one around to speak. So who was talking? “That‟s the Law of the Jungle!” shouted one voice, grating on his ears. “Not my jungle,” replied the other voice. Something about the second voice soothed the pain inside him. For some reason, though it was clearly a young voice, it reminded Simba of his father. He opened his eyes. About a foot or so away a white lion cub was battling a large bird. “Your jungle?” asked the bird, his whole voice an insult. “Hey!” cried Simba in the loudest voice he could muster. “I don‟t know who you are, but your voice is getting on my nerves. Buzz off!” The vulture made a cry between disbelief and anger. His momentary pause allowed the white cub to land a solid swipe on his wing. Furious at being cheated out of his dinner, the bird soared to the skies and began to circle the cubs. Panting, the other cub smiled at Simba. “Well, at least we don‟t have to worry about him for a while. My name is Kimba. What‟s yours?” “Simba,” replied the Pride Rock Prince. The white cub, Kimba, looked him worriedly. “No,” he said slowly, “my name‟s Kim-ba.” Understanding the confusion, the gold cub sat down and sighed. “I know. My name is Simba, son of… of… Dad!” Kimba saw the other cub, Simba‟s, face fall as his voice broke on the last word. There was pain in his eyes, and Kimba first thought was how to help. He sat down as well and titled his head. “Something‟s bothering you,” he said. “Anything I can do?” “Not unless you can change the past.” They were quiet for a moment, and then Kimba broke the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?” “I… I did something terrible. But I don‟t wanna talk about it.” The white lion got up and walked over to the golden one. He put a paw on the other cub‟s shoulder comfortingly. “Whatever it is, it can‟t be that bad.” Can’t be that bad… Can’t be that bad… The words echoed in Simba‟s mind. Along with the memories of his father falling, his Uncle Scar‟s words, the stampede, until they swirled and spun like a sandstorm. “YOU’RE WRONG!” shouted Simba. “My father‟s dead, and it‟s all my fault! My… fault.” Sobbing, the Pride Rock Prince found the story spilling from his mouth. He told the stranger everything: from how his uncle told him to stay on the rock, to when Nuka appeared and their roaring contest, all the way to the end where the hyenas chased him into the desert. Kimba listened quietly while Simba told him his story. When the other cub had finished the Jungle Prince spoke, “It‟s not your fault.” Simba looked at his in disbelief. “Yes, it is. If I‟d –” “Simba, if is the biggest two letter word in the English language; it has so many possibilities, but none of them change anything. I was born on a ship, in the middle of an ocean. My father was killed before I born. He died trying to save my mother, as yours saved you. For however a short time it was, you knew your father. I never will.” The golden cub looked at him strangely. “Where‟s your mom? I mean, what‟s a ship?” This, of course, led to a discussion about things that float, and humans, which Simba said he had never seen before. When Kimba got to the part where his mother made him leave the ship, his voice cracked. “Hey, you okay?” the golden cub asked. Kimba just nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “That was the last time I saw her, Simba. There was a storm, and the ship sank. When it was over, I found this –” he tugged on the pouch around his neck “– on a crate floating in the water. It was my friend Joey‟s. They both must have drowned. I promised my mom I‟d find my father Panja‟s Jungle. So, you, see, at least you have a mom to go home to.” Panja? Panja… why is that name familiar? Simba stared at Kimba, who looked every bit as lost as he felt. Try as he might he couldn‟t place the name. He had heard it before, but where? Suddenly he wanted to help the white lion cub. There had to be something he could do. “Did your mom tell you about your pride?” he asked. “I mean, do you have any aunts or uncles? All lions live in prides, so your mom and dad couldn‟t have been the only ones.” “Mom said Father‟s sister lived in a village, and hers lived in the jungle. She told me I had an uncle, too; that he was a King while my father was an Emperor. But I can‟t remember where. Father had another brother as well, but I was supposed to find this King Mufasa first.” Simba froze. “Mufasa? You‟re uncle‟s name is Mufasa?” he asked. Kimba looked at him strangely. “Yeah, why?” But the wheels in Simba‟s head were turning. The memory of another white lion flashed in his mind. It was an old memory, but his father had told him that was his uncle… the day before he died! “His name was Panja, my son. He came a great distance just to see you. His mate, Eliza, has a child by now, too. I wish you could have known him. I have heard that he told Eliza to name his son Kimba. I wish with all my heart for the two of you to meet, though it will most likely never occur. But should you ever see the son of Panja, know this: You can trust him. He will never steer you wrong. The white lions are the wisest of all.” The memory faded and Simba stared at the white cub. Could this really be his cousin? He took a deep breath and asked another question.

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