The sun's rays woke Simba much earlier than he'd have liked, and he grumbled under his breath as he stood up, stretched, and yawned luxuriously. The jungle was quiet save for the chirping of bugs and the rustle of leaves in the soft breeze. He grinned as his growing, adolescent mane drifted about as the wind took hold of it; it wasn't long, only reaching down to his face, but it was a start.

He looked around and saw that Timon and Pumbaa were still sound asleep. "Lucky," he sighed.

Simba sneaked away from his friends, being careful not to wake them. As long as he was awake, he might as well get something to eat. But he wasn't after grubs. They were good, but he was a lion, and a growing one at that. Bugs could only do so much for him. So he'd started hunting beyond the boundaries of the jungle in secret for any game that might be in the area. At first, he'd been terrible, always stepping on twigs or breathing too hard or pouncing too early.

He'd tried to remember the one pouncing lesson his father had given him. "Stay low to the ground," he had said. "Not a sound." Not much to work with. Not to mention the memory of Mufasa's laughter after he'd pounced on Zazu had been too much to handle. So he'd abandoned the memories of that day and resolved to try harder. And he's gotten better over time. Now, he could probably have competed with the lionesses back home on their hunts…

But that thought brought back some painful memories as well, so he shut them out and proceeded to the desert at the edge of the jungle, where he knew a few herds sometimes strayed for a drink. He was in luck; there was a group of six antelope drinking peacefully from the small pool. It was the same spot that Timon and Pumbaa had brought him out of consciousness after he'd fled the Pride Lands…

No, he silently scolded himself. You're not gonna think about that. You've got more important things to deal with. Like catching breakfast.

Simba lunged from the brush and sank his claws into one of the beasts' back before it could even look up at its attacker. The others fled, but Simba's prey didn't stand a chance. One swift bite to the throat and it was over. He settled down to eat, satisfied with his success and thinking about what misadventures he and his friends would have that day…

Then he heard a faint whimper from the bushes nearby.

Simba looked around, ears perked. He stood up and looked around, scanning the foliage for any sign of life. "Who's there?" he called. "Show yourself."

The bush rustled, and a small lion cub emerged. Simba's jaw dropped. Its fur was gold in color, and his eyes were a bright shade of brown.

He looks just like me! Simba thought, bewildered.

It was as though he was looking at an image of himself from a year ago. The cub couldn't have been more than several months old. But it didn't look nearly as vibrant or happy as Simba had been at that age. The cub's face was downcast and frightened. His eyes shone with sad, fearful tears. His body was thin and ragged, and his fur was matted and dull.

"Hello," Simba said gently. "My name is Simba. What's yours?"

The cub looked up at him nervously and replied in a high-pitched, quavering voice, "T-Tafuta."

Simba smiled. "Would you like something to eat, Tafuta?" he asked. "You look like you haven't eaten in days."

Tafuta nodded. "I haven't. Yes, thank you."

The cub stepped forward and tore a small piece of meat from the antelope's shoulder. As he chewed, Simba asked, "So where are you from? Is your pride somewhere nearby?"

Tafuta's chewing slowed slightly, and his eyes filled with sadness again. Simba understood. "You're lost?"

Tafuta swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I…I was playing with a bug, and I wandered off. I don't know where they are!" Tears started to spill from his eyes. "I'm so scared! I've been all alone for two days, and I don't know where to go! I want my mom!"

Simba's heart clenched and his throat felt suddenly tight. He reached out with his paw and scooped the little cub towards him gently, allowing him to cry into his leg. "It's all right, Tafuta," he said soothingly. "Tell you what, after we finish eating, I'll help you find them, okay? They can't be too far away. They're probably looking for you, too. I'm sure we'll find them."

Tafuta looked up hopefully. "Really?" he asked, as if hardly daring to believe it.

Simba nodded. "Now come on, let's finish this meal. You need it."

After they had eaten their fill, they set off into the desert.

"So," said Simba in an effort to keep Tafuta's mind from his worries, "what's your pride like?"

"Well, my dad's the king," Tafuta said, much more cheerfully now that he had some company. "And Mom's the queen. I have a little brother named Mfalme and my best friend's name is Binti. We usually play every day except for when Dad's teaching me how to run everything. You see," he added, puffing his chest out with pride, "I'm gonna be king someday."

Simba forced a smile and said, "Wow, that sounds like fun." He concealed his true feelings from Tafuta; he was suddenly feeling very cold, despite the heat from the sun bearing down on them.

Then he heard something, a sound that he hadn't heard in almost a year, but he would recognize it anywhere: a faint giggling. It was coming from somewhere to their right, and he turned to see a group of four hyenas approaching.

Simba growled and halted, glaring at the monsters in hatred. Even though it had been so long, he wasn't likely to soon forget the beasts that had chased him and Nala through the elephant graveyard or the ones that had pursued him through the gorge and into the thorns after the stampede. But these faces were unfamiliar to him; they were different hyenas from the pack he remembered.

But they were hyenas all the same, licking their lips and drooling in anticipation. "Hello there, little kitties," said one. "Are you lost?"

"Well if you are, we can help you find your way," sneered another. "Right down to the pits of our stomachs."

"I don't think so," Simba said, snarling and preparing to pounce. "Tafuta, run. I'll keep these bozos busy."

The third hyena gasped in mock indignation. "Did he just call us bozos?"

"Well he's gonna end up eating those words right before we eat him!" guffawed the last one, taking a step closer.

This hyena paid for his arrogance dearly. Simba lashed out with his claws, leaving four long scratch marks across its face. His smile vanished at once, replaced with a horrid grimace of pain, shock, and fury. He growled and advanced, and the other hyenas imitated him. Two of them went for Simba while the last bounded after Tafuta, who had started to flee. Simba tore into a hyena's body viciously and bit its neck. It dropped dead at his feet, but he was unable to celebrate his victory as the second hyena charged him and latched its teeth to his foreleg.

Tafuta looked back in alarm at the sound of Simba's scream and noticed the lone hyena on his tail. He swerved to avoid it, and the hyena let out a growl of frustration as it struggled to change its course. Simba saw Tafuta returning and yelled, "No! Run! Get out of here!"

But Tafuta didn't listen. He charged toward the fray, skidding to a stop a few yards from them, inhaled deeply and let out a roar…a high-pitched mewing roar.

The sound made the hyenas pause, looking around in disbelief. Then they started to laugh.

The distraction was all Simba needed. He lashed out and killed the second hyena with a mighty swipe. Before the third one could comprehend what was happening, Simba had torn its throat open, leaving it bleeding on the ground.

The fourth hyena had finally returned to the battle scene but hesitated when he saw his three companions lying dead at Simba's feet. He looked up nervously at the adolescent lion and jumped in terror when he let out a mighty roar. It wasn't as deep as his father's had once been, but it was enough to send the lone hyena scurrying away in fear.

Simba snorted and turned to Tafuta, who was looking up at him with a faintly uneasy expression on his face. He grinned and said, "Thanks. You sure made that easier."

Tafuta smiled half-heartedly and said, "No problem." Then his smile faded and he added, "But I wish my roar was better."

Simba felt the wave of memories threatening to overcome him but suppressed them. He chuckled. "Don't worry about it. It'll get better in time."

"Like when I'm king?" Tafuta asked hopefully.

Simba nodded. "Yes, like when you're the king," he said, then after a brief hesitation added, "But don't rush it. You've still got a while as a cub. Enjoy it while it lasts."

Tafuta tilted his head to the side, frowning in confusion, but before he could say anything, a voice rang out over the desert, making him turn. "Tafuta! Tafuta, is that you!"

"Dad?" Tafuta said, too stunned to say or do anything more. Then realization hit him, and his eyes lit up. "DAD!"

Simba looked around and saw two lions running towards them. The first was a powerfully-built male with a russet mane that covered his chest and reached down to his belly. The second was a female with dark tan fur and a worried expression in her brown eyes.

The two lions reached Simba and Tafuta, and the lioness let out a sob as she scooped her cub into her paws. "Tafuta, oh Tafuta," she cried. "Thank the Great Kings! I thought I'd lost you!"

Tafuta rubbed his head against his mother's shoulder and purred. "Mom, I was so scared! I was afraid I'd never see you again!"

The male lion nuzzled the cub and said, "Tafuta, you had your mother and me scared out of our minds!" he said. He sounded as if he was trying to be stern but was too relieved to pull it off. "Don't ever wander off like that again, it's dangerous! You could have been killed out here!"

"I know," Tafuta said, turning to look at his father. "I'm sorry, Dad. I won't ever do it again, I promise."

The lion nodded, smiling weakly. Then he noticed Simba, and a confused and somewhat alarmed expression spread across his face. "And who are you?" he asked.

Simba bowed respectfully and said, "My name is Simba. I met Tafuta this morning by the edge of the jungle. He told me he was lost and I offered to help him find you."

The lion's face relaxed as he smiled again. "Well, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for keeping my son safe," he said. "My name is Maliki, King of the Desert Pride. And this is my Queen, Mazigazi." He nodded toward Tafuta's mother, who smiled kindly and inclined her head.

"Dad!" Tafuta spoke up excitedly. "Simba fought off four hyenas a while ago! He was really great!"

Maliki's eyes widened as he looked again at Simba, who felt himself turning red under his fur. "Is that so? Well, Simba, I thank you again. We are truly in your debt."

Simba grinned and shrugged. "Don't mention it. I was happy to help. Tafuta…" He hesitated, then finished, "He reminds me a lot of how I was as a cub."

There was a small pause where no one could think of anything to say. Then Simba said, "Well, I'd better be getting home. It was nice to meet you, Your Majesties." He bowed again and added to Tafuta with a grin, "Stay safe, buddy. Maybe I'll come visit sometime."

"Yes, please feel free," Mazigazi said sincerely. "We'd be happy to have you over."

"Yeah!" Tafuta said excitedly. "Come visit soon, Simba!"

Simba chuckled and nodded, inclined his head respectfully to the king and queen, and turned toward to jungle. He paused once to look back at the perfect, happy family, mother, father, and son all joyfully nuzzling each other. Then he sighed and returned to the Hakuna Matata paradise, where Timon and Pumbaa were surely wondering where he'd been and another carefree day awaited.

Author's Note: A little bit of interesting trivia: the names Maliki and Mazigazi are real Swahili words, and they mean the same things as Mufasa and Sarabi: "king" and "mirage," respectively. I thought that would add an interesting dynamic to the story.

Oh yeah, Simba belongs to Disney. Tafuta, Maliki, and Mazigazi are mine.