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Description
The color version! No inks were used on this, I went with the sketchy/pastel look that pure pencil can give since things should look sorta distorted here anyway. I'll repost the story for those that don't bother to look at the sketch...although as usual I think the sketch looks better anyway.

Sketch: wahyawolf.deviantart.com/art/F…

Your fur is on fire
The smoke turns the whole sky raven black
And the world upon your back will crack

Where will you go
Now you've no home?

Let the rain wash away your last days

~Lyrics from "Tell Me What the Rain Knows"

________________________________

The fire was both a blessing and a curse. The hyenas had done a fair amount of damage before the flames became too intense for them. Engulfed in the heat the injured lion didn't know which way to run; so he ran blind through the flames. The rain was a second blessing that night, dousing the fire on his fur. The smoke did well to conceal him, but the cackles of the hyenas were everywhere. Searching. Searching for him. Run. Run. Pure instinct. Fight or flight, and he had no more fight left in him.

He ran until he could run no more. No one seemed to be following him, at least not yet. As the fire let up Simba and the pride would deal with the hyenas and with nothing left to fight for it wouldn't take much to convince them to leave. They'd come looking for him; of that much he was sure. They betrayed him in his darkest hour...no, he had betrayed them long before that. The promises he'd made to them, broken. The pact of trust between them, broken. The pride, broken. The very lands, broken. All of it his fault.

He wasn't stupid, he was able see the reality of the situation in the Pridelands. But his stubborn pride refused to allow him to admit to it, to admit to failure. So he remained delusional and forced away any pangs of guilt with anger, as he always had. He'd taken it out on everyone else, blamed everyone but himself. So swept up in his pride he was going mad. He was ready to do anything to stay within his delusion, even repeat his worst offense. This time against his own nephew. Now for the first time, with nothing left and no one left to stand on his side, his chest felt heavy with a weight that could have snapped him in half.

Scar took a few more staggering steps before he noticed the land in front of him ended in a jagged overhang. He froze. Suddenly he knew exactly where he was. Another step forward and he was looming over the edge of the cliff...looking right into the darkness of the gorge. The same way he had on that day. He collapsed from pure exhaustion, forepaws draped over the edge. Injured and dizzy, the rain only helped to blur his vision further and as he stared down into the abyss he was sure he saw something. Heard something...someone

"Scar...brother-...brother! Help me!"

Mufasa's voice echoed in his head, as it had so many times. He saw his brother everywhere, heard him...felt him watching him. It had been one of the things driving him to madness. Before he had always fought it away with anger, hatred towards Mufasa. But now he only stared into the gorge; the voice no longer angered him...it saddened him. The rain trickled over the edge of the cliff, taking with it the blood that was washing off of his fresh wounds. He paid no attention to it. His right paw had stretched further over the cliff, as if trying to reach the delusional memory that was calling out to him in desperation.

"Help me!" the voice seemed to echo through the gorge.

"Help me...." Scar repeated in a cracked voice.

It would be so easy now. He could just let himself slip over the edge...sending himself to the same fate he'd sent his brother to. Fitting. His mind raced at how much the impact would hurt...how much had it hurt? There was that sharp pang again. The horrible sting he'd fought off for so long with anger and pride. His eyes, one swollen nearly shut from the earlier attack, lifted slowly to the sky. The stars were crying, weeping...and so was he.

_________________________________

This story continues with "You Were My Friend": www.deviantart.com/socksthemut…

Follow up to "Escape": wahyawolf.deviantart.com/art/E…

Description
The color version! No inks were used on this, I went with the sketchy/pastel look that pure pencil can give since things should look sorta distorted here anyway. I'll repost the story for those that don't bother to look at the sketch...although as usual I think the sketch looks better anyway.

Sketch: wahyawolf.deviantart.com/art/F…

Your fur is on fire
The smoke turns the whole sky raven black
And the world upon your back will crack

Where will you go
Now you've no home?

Let the rain wash away your last days

~Lyrics from "Tell Me What the Rain Knows"

________________________________

The fire was both a blessing and a curse. The hyenas had done a fair amount of damage before the flames became too intense for them. Engulfed in the heat the injured lion didn't know which way to run; so he ran blind through the flames. The rain was a second blessing that night, dousing the fire on his fur. The smoke did well to conceal him, but the cackles of the hyenas were everywhere. Searching. Searching for him. Run. Run. Pure instinct. Fight or flight, and he had no more fight left in him.

He ran until he could run no more. No one seemed to be following him, at least not yet. As the fire let up Simba and the pride would deal with the hyenas and with nothing left to fight for it wouldn't take much to convince them to leave. They'd come looking for him; of that much he was sure. They betrayed him in his darkest hour...no, he had betrayed them long before that. The promises he'd made to them, broken. The pact of trust between them, broken. The pride, broken. The very lands, broken. All of it his fault.

He wasn't stupid, he was able see the reality of the situation in the Pridelands. But his stubborn pride refused to allow him to admit to it, to admit to failure. So he remained delusional and forced away any pangs of guilt with anger, as he always had. He'd taken it out on everyone else, blamed everyone but himself. So swept up in his pride he was going mad. He was ready to do anything to stay within his delusion, even repeat his worst offense. This time against his own nephew. Now for the first time, with nothing left and no one left to stand on his side, his chest felt heavy with a weight that could have snapped him in half.

Scar took a few more staggering steps before he noticed the land in front of him ended in a jagged overhang. He froze. Suddenly he knew exactly where he was. Another step forward and he was looming over the edge of the cliff...looking right into the darkness of the gorge. The same way he had on that day. He collapsed from pure exhaustion, forepaws draped over the edge. Injured and dizzy, the rain only helped to blur his vision further and as he stared down into the abyss he was sure he saw something. Heard something...someone

"Scar...brother-...brother! Help me!"

Mufasa's voice echoed in his head, as it had so many times. He saw his brother everywhere, heard him...felt him watching him. It had been one of the things driving him to madness. Before he had always fought it away with anger, hatred towards Mufasa. But now he only stared into the gorge; the voice no longer angered him...it saddened him. The rain trickled over the edge of the cliff, taking with it the blood that was washing off of his fresh wounds. He paid no attention to it. His right paw had stretched further over the cliff, as if trying to reach the delusional memory that was calling out to him in desperation.

"Help me!" the voice seemed to echo through the gorge.

"Help me...." Scar repeated in a cracked voice.

It would be so easy now. He could just let himself slip over the edge...sending himself to the same fate he'd sent his brother to. Fitting. His mind raced at how much the impact would hurt...how much had it hurt? There was that sharp pang again. The horrible sting he'd fought off for so long with anger and pride. His eyes, one swollen nearly shut from the earlier attack, lifted slowly to the sky. The stars were crying, weeping...and so was he.

_________________________________

This story continues with "You Were My Friend": www.deviantart.com/socksthemut…

Follow up to "Escape": wahyawolf.deviantart.com/art/E…