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Simba didn't want to bother Timon and Pumbaa's sleep. For the first couple of nights he had spent with them, even his young mind did comprehend and sense the growing irritation the meerkat was brewing every time he was awoken to be told that his new charge needed to go or need a drink of water. Simba wasn't completely unaware to how he must feel, having his rest constantly interrupted because of him. This night, after seeing Timon go to bed grumpy and struggle to get comfy against Pumbaa, Simba thought it best not to interrupt this time. He had a bad dream earlier, forcing him to wake up, panting heavily, eyes shiny with unshed tears. He didn't feel like to could explain it anyways, so instead of seeking comfort or at least minimal audience from his two caretakers, the young cub instead chose to do a night walk.

Despite it already beginning to feel familiar to him, the jungle at night was still an unsettling, uncomfortable place to be in. All manner of nocturnal creatures, from creepy crawlies to nocturnal flier, were just getting up for their routines, the dark sky and long shadows welcoming them into existence, though that didn't sit well with Simba. Instead he chose a route through some tightly back trees and bushes towards where Timon had showed him where to get water. The thicket was a bit frightening, with dangling vines, sharp branches, and little room to see through, much less move though.

After wriggling through the tightly packed foliage, he soon found himself out on the other side. A mist had begun to rise up around the pool of water, surrounded by reed and grasses taller then him. Slowly he made his way towards it, the rough ground slowly transitioning to smooth pond stones. His body felt like a pile of heavy bones as he trudged on though to the very edge of the rocks. Peering over the edge, a dark eye-rimmed, exhausted cub stared back at him with bloodshot eyes.

The glassy surface was then disturbed as a drop of salty fluid punctured the image, sending ripples and distorting the image. The silence was also broken as several sniffs and broken heaves erupted from the slumped over cub, head drooped down, sending more salty tears down to mingle in the freshwater pool.

A small nightly breeze began to stir, brushing through the heartbroken and mourning cub's hair. He squeezed his eyes tighter, pushing out more glistening fluid out.

Then a gust of wind suddenly pushed against the back of his head, breaking his temporarily out of his self-absorbed state.

The sudden gale coming behind him forced his eyes open in shock as he suddenly found himself falling forward, right into the pond. Reacting quickly, he managed to grab the edge of the rock he was on and gripped and huddled against it tightly. As soon as the wind had came it went, and Simba struggled to regained his bearing.

One of his paws had went airborne during the blast of air and had struck the water. He quickly lifted it out and shook the clinging droplets off it, giving it a lick for good measure, and wondering about the wild weather tonight. Feeling parched from the crying and recognizing that there was, in fact, a pool of delicious, fresh, cold water before him, he opted to get a drink before returning back to bed.

However as soon as he lifted his head over the ledge to take a sip, tongue sticking out and everything, he suddenly felt the thirst evaporate as his maw dropped and he suddenly felt shock go straight through his body.

Instead of expecting to see his own reflection looking back at him, saddened, sorrowful, and tired, he instead saw the face of a saddened lion, familiar, to him, but not his. Blinking rapidly, he brought his paw up to his face, furiously wiping his tear-stained, dried, bloodshot eyes and then returned his gaze back to the pool.

The face was gone, but, still shockingly, a glow was emanating from the pond. The wind started to pick up again, and the poor, stunned cub then realized that there wasn't a glow coming from the pool per say, but instead behind reflected from the sky above.

"Simba..."

Fearfully and hesitantly, he slowly looked up towards the night sky. Instead of seeing the blackened velvet with heaven's jewelry scattered about, the sky was completely empty, a shroud of black that wasn't as soft or comforting as the nights he was accustomed to seeing. Instead, the only light or visible elements was coming from a massive cloud blowing in.

The wind stepped up and furiously swirled around him as he looked up into the sky. A black hole was beginning to form inside the cloud and as it approached it slowly began forming into a shape familiar to him. The darkness faded to the same cool, swirling colors as the rest of the cloud, eventually forming the outlines and general features of a lion. Slowly the glowing light began swirling around the figure's face, forming a soft, gentle, yet saddened expression of someone Simba thought he would never see again.

"My son.."

"Dad?" Simba could only whisper out, afraid that anything he said or did would erase this phenomenon entirely. Still seeing the figure before him, not fading or changing, whatever left of the cub's self control broke down.

"Dad!"

"Simba."

"Daddy!" His cries broke out into the air, breaking over the even the billowing wind. Tears started streaming anew down his face as a mixture of fresh emotions swelled within him. Guilt. Relief. Sadness. Joy. Anguish.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," he wailed, the memory of his father's fall and finding his body renewed in his mind. He dropped his face back down, tears practically glowing in the pale, otherworldly light. "I'm so sorry dad! It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so stupid and caused the stampede, you'd still be here. I..." He broke off, too overwhelmed with tears and lack of breath to continue.

"Simba," came the warm, fatherly voice. Simba shrank away, full expected to it being angry and furious towards him, not expecting the kind, compassionate, brave voice he had come to adore his father for. The voice was warm, kind, and full of love and affection, though had a sorrowful tone at the echoing end. "It wasn't your fault. The gorge, the stampede, none of it was your fault."

"W-what," came the broken, stunned voice through a worn, dry throat.

"You and I were both betrayed by someone we both trusted. Someone we both believed to have had our backs, only to have been backstabbed by them."

Simba's eyes widened, the layer of tears shining on top. His mind was completely blank, his body feeling completely numb. Then, in the back of his mind, a faint memory. As he was mourning against his father's broken, deceased body, a figure coming up silently from behind, and then a slithery, smooth voice suddenly breaking the dusty silence.

"Simba... what have you done?"

"U-uncle Scar?" The name was spoken out hesitantly, incredulously. Though, slowly at first, soon his mind began to race, and some things began to fall into place. How Scar had told him to be in the gorge for his father. How he had appeared so quickly after he had come across his father's corpse. How quickly Scar had cast blame for the entire tragedy on him, then told him to run away. Then the hyenas. The same ones he had encountered at the Elephant Graveyard. The same place Scar had told him about. Those hyenas had also chased him away and told him never to return. Just like his uncle did.

Slowly the pieces started to fall into place and Simba felt a chilling shiver go down his spine. He started breathing deeply, struggling to get a grasp on his emotions, though feeling a cocktail of volatile emotions within his young soul and mind. Fear. Pain. Relief. Anger. Betrayal. Hurt.

"Son," Mufasa spoke again, catching Simba's attention back. "It is too dangerous to return now. You must stay here until you can return and take your place as the one true king."

Simba nodded, letting the words sink into his brain. He then sat back down, slumped over, feeling utterly drained and heavy with this revelation and emotions. He looked back up again, his eyes filled with sorrow, longing, and a yearning for affection. "Dad, I miss you so much. I thought.... I thought."

"Shh, there, there. No matter what has happened or happens, you are still my son. And I love you."

Tears began running down his face again. "But I feel so alone. Dad... I'm scared to go on without you."

The outline of his father mouth quirked up, offering a small smile while the eyes looked fondly and sympathetically down at him. "I'll always be there with you Simba, even when you can't see me. Never forget that. And never forget who you are, my son."

Simba sniffed, though nodded stoically. His fur bristled then as the clouds began to fade back and the vision of his father began to vanish before his very eyes.

"Remember who you are...."

"No! Dad. Wait!"

Simba launched himself over the small pool and into the rushes. He immediately felt his legs get soaked with water and mud and he struggled to gain footing, but he leapt out and kept following the fading clouds.

"Remember..."

"Daddy! Wait!" He wailed, struggling to keep up through the reeds and tall grasses.

"Remember..."

"Dad, please don't go! Please... don't leave me..."

The last of the clouds faded over the horizon, and Simba came to a stop, head crestfallen, feeling the loneliness return once more. The black void returned back to the normal velvet filled with the glistening stars above, and the surrounding area returned back to it's normally nightly state. The last reminder of the supernatural phenomenon was the light night breeze which swirled around the young cub, like a comforting hug, before dissipating into the air.

"Simba!"

The young cub's ears perked up, hearing another voice in the distance. Turning around, he saw Timon and Pumbaa by the banks of the pool, searching along the side, calling out for him. They grew alert, then relieved, then annoyed when he ran back to them.

"And just where have you been, young lion?" Timon hopped down from Pumbaa's back and scurried over to him, planting his hands on his waist with a judgmental, yet concerned look. "I figured you try and wake me up sometime tonight, but when I didn't hear from you, I got worried. So I went to check on you, but you weren't there, so I got Pumbaa up and we've been searching for you all night. What was so important you thought it was such a good idea to go out on your own without telling up?!" His voice grew loud, and, judging by the bags under his bloodshot eyes, it was clear he was annoyed and sleep-deprived.

Unsure how he would even begin to explain what had happened, the tired, exhausted cub decided to make it simple. "I had a bad dream," he softly said. "I didn't want to disturb you, so I thought I'd go off on my own for the night."

Timon stared blankly at him for a moment, then slapped his palm into his face and rubbed at his tired eyes.

"Hey Timon," came Pumbaa's voice, whom Simba also saw had tired, concerned yes. "How's about we let him sleep with us tonight? You know, just to make sure he doesn't go anywhere else tonight."

Timon stared at him for a moment, then at Simba, then sighed. "Why not? C'mon, lets get some shuteye together."

He swung up Pumbaa's back vis his tusk and then patted the warthog's back to climb on. Simba nodded, smiled, and trudged on over to mount Pumbaa's back.

And with that, the three set off to bed. A lovable warthog, a grumpy, but well-meaning meerkat, and a young lion cub, who felt an immense weigh lifted off his shoulders and feeling less alone in the world. He spared one last look over his shoulder at the starry night sky above before the trio disappeared into the brush.

A bit of a confession to those who know my via my fanfiction writing. When I was rewriting TLK 2019(which unfortunately is cancelled due to me being locked out of that account), I initially had this scene in mind and on a file, planning to use it, since I really wanted to include cub Simba not having to deal with the years of trauma and guilt based on a misunderstanding, and the notion that if Mufasa's spirit came back to him as an adult, why couldn't he have come to him much, much earlier, to spare his son a life of guilt and pain?

Speaking of Mufasa, I had initially wanted to do him in his 'burning bush'-sque colors, though I didn't want to put too much work into it, though I'm not the proudest in his starry night/Milky way colors. All the credit to the original animators and the sheer skill and work put into the original scene. Also, yes I did reference Bambi 2 with his responses to Simba. Tried to go for a comforting moment while also clarifying the issue of 'hey Mufasa, mind telling us who was actually responsible for your death?' here.

Also, an interesting bit of animation I picked up in the original scene is that when Mufasa's spirit is present, the sky is completely blank, as if they're in their own void, separate from our world, but when Mufasa and the clouds fade, the night sky turns back to normal with the stars and gradient. It's a small detail, but I really appreciate the otherworldly-ness to it.

Edit: Added whiskers

Mufasa, Simba © The Lion King © Walt Disney Animation Studios
Story, Art © Vtoony

Description
|| Next

Simba didn't want to bother Timon and Pumbaa's sleep. For the first couple of nights he had spent with them, even his young mind did comprehend and sense the growing irritation the meerkat was brewing every time he was awoken to be told that his new charge needed to go or need a drink of water. Simba wasn't completely unaware to how he must feel, having his rest constantly interrupted because of him. This night, after seeing Timon go to bed grumpy and struggle to get comfy against Pumbaa, Simba thought it best not to interrupt this time. He had a bad dream earlier, forcing him to wake up, panting heavily, eyes shiny with unshed tears. He didn't feel like to could explain it anyways, so instead of seeking comfort or at least minimal audience from his two caretakers, the young cub instead chose to do a night walk.

Despite it already beginning to feel familiar to him, the jungle at night was still an unsettling, uncomfortable place to be in. All manner of nocturnal creatures, from creepy crawlies to nocturnal flier, were just getting up for their routines, the dark sky and long shadows welcoming them into existence, though that didn't sit well with Simba. Instead he chose a route through some tightly back trees and bushes towards where Timon had showed him where to get water. The thicket was a bit frightening, with dangling vines, sharp branches, and little room to see through, much less move though.

After wriggling through the tightly packed foliage, he soon found himself out on the other side. A mist had begun to rise up around the pool of water, surrounded by reed and grasses taller then him. Slowly he made his way towards it, the rough ground slowly transitioning to smooth pond stones. His body felt like a pile of heavy bones as he trudged on though to the very edge of the rocks. Peering over the edge, a dark eye-rimmed, exhausted cub stared back at him with bloodshot eyes.

The glassy surface was then disturbed as a drop of salty fluid punctured the image, sending ripples and distorting the image. The silence was also broken as several sniffs and broken heaves erupted from the slumped over cub, head drooped down, sending more salty tears down to mingle in the freshwater pool.

A small nightly breeze began to stir, brushing through the heartbroken and mourning cub's hair. He squeezed his eyes tighter, pushing out more glistening fluid out.

Then a gust of wind suddenly pushed against the back of his head, breaking his temporarily out of his self-absorbed state.

The sudden gale coming behind him forced his eyes open in shock as he suddenly found himself falling forward, right into the pond. Reacting quickly, he managed to grab the edge of the rock he was on and gripped and huddled against it tightly. As soon as the wind had came it went, and Simba struggled to regained his bearing.

One of his paws had went airborne during the blast of air and had struck the water. He quickly lifted it out and shook the clinging droplets off it, giving it a lick for good measure, and wondering about the wild weather tonight. Feeling parched from the crying and recognizing that there was, in fact, a pool of delicious, fresh, cold water before him, he opted to get a drink before returning back to bed.

However as soon as he lifted his head over the ledge to take a sip, tongue sticking out and everything, he suddenly felt the thirst evaporate as his maw dropped and he suddenly felt shock go straight through his body.

Instead of expecting to see his own reflection looking back at him, saddened, sorrowful, and tired, he instead saw the face of a saddened lion, familiar, to him, but not his. Blinking rapidly, he brought his paw up to his face, furiously wiping his tear-stained, dried, bloodshot eyes and then returned his gaze back to the pool.

The face was gone, but, still shockingly, a glow was emanating from the pond. The wind started to pick up again, and the poor, stunned cub then realized that there wasn't a glow coming from the pool per say, but instead behind reflected from the sky above.

"Simba..."

Fearfully and hesitantly, he slowly looked up towards the night sky. Instead of seeing the blackened velvet with heaven's jewelry scattered about, the sky was completely empty, a shroud of black that wasn't as soft or comforting as the nights he was accustomed to seeing. Instead, the only light or visible elements was coming from a massive cloud blowing in.

The wind stepped up and furiously swirled around him as he looked up into the sky. A black hole was beginning to form inside the cloud and as it approached it slowly began forming into a shape familiar to him. The darkness faded to the same cool, swirling colors as the rest of the cloud, eventually forming the outlines and general features of a lion. Slowly the glowing light began swirling around the figure's face, forming a soft, gentle, yet saddened expression of someone Simba thought he would never see again.

"My son.."

"Dad?" Simba could only whisper out, afraid that anything he said or did would erase this phenomenon entirely. Still seeing the figure before him, not fading or changing, whatever left of the cub's self control broke down.

"Dad!"

"Simba."

"Daddy!" His cries broke out into the air, breaking over the even the billowing wind. Tears started streaming anew down his face as a mixture of fresh emotions swelled within him. Guilt. Relief. Sadness. Joy. Anguish.

"Dad, I'm so sorry," he wailed, the memory of his father's fall and finding his body renewed in his mind. He dropped his face back down, tears practically glowing in the pale, otherworldly light. "I'm so sorry dad! It's all my fault. If I hadn't been so stupid and caused the stampede, you'd still be here. I..." He broke off, too overwhelmed with tears and lack of breath to continue.

"Simba," came the warm, fatherly voice. Simba shrank away, full expected to it being angry and furious towards him, not expecting the kind, compassionate, brave voice he had come to adore his father for. The voice was warm, kind, and full of love and affection, though had a sorrowful tone at the echoing end. "It wasn't your fault. The gorge, the stampede, none of it was your fault."

"W-what," came the broken, stunned voice through a worn, dry throat.

"You and I were both betrayed by someone we both trusted. Someone we both believed to have had our backs, only to have been backstabbed by them."

Simba's eyes widened, the layer of tears shining on top. His mind was completely blank, his body feeling completely numb. Then, in the back of his mind, a faint memory. As he was mourning against his father's broken, deceased body, a figure coming up silently from behind, and then a slithery, smooth voice suddenly breaking the dusty silence.

"Simba... what have you done?"

"U-uncle Scar?" The name was spoken out hesitantly, incredulously. Though, slowly at first, soon his mind began to race, and some things began to fall into place. How Scar had told him to be in the gorge for his father. How he had appeared so quickly after he had come across his father's corpse. How quickly Scar had cast blame for the entire tragedy on him, then told him to run away. Then the hyenas. The same ones he had encountered at the Elephant Graveyard. The same place Scar had told him about. Those hyenas had also chased him away and told him never to return. Just like his uncle did.

Slowly the pieces started to fall into place and Simba felt a chilling shiver go down his spine. He started breathing deeply, struggling to get a grasp on his emotions, though feeling a cocktail of volatile emotions within his young soul and mind. Fear. Pain. Relief. Anger. Betrayal. Hurt.

"Son," Mufasa spoke again, catching Simba's attention back. "It is too dangerous to return now. You must stay here until you can return and take your place as the one true king."

Simba nodded, letting the words sink into his brain. He then sat back down, slumped over, feeling utterly drained and heavy with this revelation and emotions. He looked back up again, his eyes filled with sorrow, longing, and a yearning for affection. "Dad, I miss you so much. I thought.... I thought."

"Shh, there, there. No matter what has happened or happens, you are still my son. And I love you."

Tears began running down his face again. "But I feel so alone. Dad... I'm scared to go on without you."

The outline of his father mouth quirked up, offering a small smile while the eyes looked fondly and sympathetically down at him. "I'll always be there with you Simba, even when you can't see me. Never forget that. And never forget who you are, my son."

Simba sniffed, though nodded stoically. His fur bristled then as the clouds began to fade back and the vision of his father began to vanish before his very eyes.

"Remember who you are...."

"No! Dad. Wait!"

Simba launched himself over the small pool and into the rushes. He immediately felt his legs get soaked with water and mud and he struggled to gain footing, but he leapt out and kept following the fading clouds.

"Remember..."

"Daddy! Wait!" He wailed, struggling to keep up through the reeds and tall grasses.

"Remember..."

"Dad, please don't go! Please... don't leave me..."

The last of the clouds faded over the horizon, and Simba came to a stop, head crestfallen, feeling the loneliness return once more. The black void returned back to the normal velvet filled with the glistening stars above, and the surrounding area returned back to it's normally nightly state. The last reminder of the supernatural phenomenon was the light night breeze which swirled around the young cub, like a comforting hug, before dissipating into the air.

"Simba!"

The young cub's ears perked up, hearing another voice in the distance. Turning around, he saw Timon and Pumbaa by the banks of the pool, searching along the side, calling out for him. They grew alert, then relieved, then annoyed when he ran back to them.

"And just where have you been, young lion?" Timon hopped down from Pumbaa's back and scurried over to him, planting his hands on his waist with a judgmental, yet concerned look. "I figured you try and wake me up sometime tonight, but when I didn't hear from you, I got worried. So I went to check on you, but you weren't there, so I got Pumbaa up and we've been searching for you all night. What was so important you thought it was such a good idea to go out on your own without telling up?!" His voice grew loud, and, judging by the bags under his bloodshot eyes, it was clear he was annoyed and sleep-deprived.

Unsure how he would even begin to explain what had happened, the tired, exhausted cub decided to make it simple. "I had a bad dream," he softly said. "I didn't want to disturb you, so I thought I'd go off on my own for the night."

Timon stared blankly at him for a moment, then slapped his palm into his face and rubbed at his tired eyes.

"Hey Timon," came Pumbaa's voice, whom Simba also saw had tired, concerned yes. "How's about we let him sleep with us tonight? You know, just to make sure he doesn't go anywhere else tonight."

Timon stared at him for a moment, then at Simba, then sighed. "Why not? C'mon, lets get some shuteye together."

He swung up Pumbaa's back vis his tusk and then patted the warthog's back to climb on. Simba nodded, smiled, and trudged on over to mount Pumbaa's back.

And with that, the three set off to bed. A lovable warthog, a grumpy, but well-meaning meerkat, and a young lion cub, who felt an immense weigh lifted off his shoulders and feeling less alone in the world. He spared one last look over his shoulder at the starry night sky above before the trio disappeared into the brush.

A bit of a confession to those who know my via my fanfiction writing. When I was rewriting TLK 2019(which unfortunately is cancelled due to me being locked out of that account), I initially had this scene in mind and on a file, planning to use it, since I really wanted to include cub Simba not having to deal with the years of trauma and guilt based on a misunderstanding, and the notion that if Mufasa's spirit came back to him as an adult, why couldn't he have come to him much, much earlier, to spare his son a life of guilt and pain?

Speaking of Mufasa, I had initially wanted to do him in his 'burning bush'-sque colors, though I didn't want to put too much work into it, though I'm not the proudest in his starry night/Milky way colors. All the credit to the original animators and the sheer skill and work put into the original scene. Also, yes I did reference Bambi 2 with his responses to Simba. Tried to go for a comforting moment while also clarifying the issue of 'hey Mufasa, mind telling us who was actually responsible for your death?' here.

Also, an interesting bit of animation I picked up in the original scene is that when Mufasa's spirit is present, the sky is completely blank, as if they're in their own void, separate from our world, but when Mufasa and the clouds fade, the night sky turns back to normal with the stars and gradient. It's a small detail, but I really appreciate the otherworldly-ness to it.

Edit: Added whiskers

Mufasa, Simba © The Lion King © Walt Disney Animation Studios
Story, Art © Vtoony