Habu was trapped in a small fissure in the side of Pride Rock. He’d gotten separated from his mother during the heat of The Great Battle, and fled shrieking from a hyena into the first place he could hide. It was barely adequate at best. If he’d ever had reason to fear hyenas before, he had an even better one.
The guard that was after him reached in with a paw trying to pull Habu’s small body into his deadly jaws. The cub huddled back as far as he could and watched as the paw swiped slightly closer each time as the hyena wedged himself more tightly into the crack. It was only a matter of time until the claws found flesh and began to tear gashes and finally manage a grip. In mad desperation, Habu timed his next move, snapped at the flailing paw, and held on to it.
With a shriek of pain, the hyena gave his paw a mighty yank backward. Habu’s canines and shearing teeth had set deeply, and they gouged long parallel gashes into its flesh. Screaming, the hyena turned about in tight circles, holding his paw up. “Krekh toh! Krekh toh, you dirty little bormarkh! I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do!”
Suddenly, a tawny streak passed by and with another shriek, the wounded hyena was raked brutally across the abdomen. He collapsed at once into a pool of his own blood and humors, writhing in his death struggles.
Habu cowered in the back of the cave, his eyes squeezed shut. He tried to drown out the awful moans of the hyena, putting his head down and clamping his paws tightly over his head.
“Roh’kash! Roh’kash ne nabu! Roh’kash ne nabu!”
Habu could smell smoke. At first he thought it was the scent of a dying hyena, for he had never experienced fire, but as the smell grew in its acrid intensity, he felt he must take another look outside.
What he saw was incredible. The hyenas were being driven off! They were running away! He looked about and saw flames consuming the dry grass. The whole world was on fire! He did not understand the red plague, but some distant ancestral memory told him to avoid it.
He glanced down at the hyena. The eyes turned to look back at him. Though Habu was still frightened, he understood that he was in no immediate danger. He stepped around the blood-spattered body as the eyes followed him, and trotted off to find his mother. Amarakh still lay twisted in the knot of her final death spasm. He had liked Amarakh, but he was frightened and could not bring himself to touch her lacerated body.
“Momma! Momma!”
He ran down the steep switchbacks of the trail leading to the ground. There at the base of Pride Rock, he stopped for a moment to look at his friend Taka who lay with a gaping wound on his abdomen. He trembled and headed to the sad lion that had stared at him balefully. Taka had been his friend, and he shoved him with a paw. “Are you OK? Taka?” He walked about, but the eyes did not follow him or blink. “You’re dead, aren’t you?” It was a foolish question. “Poor Taka.” He reached out and gently stroked his mane. “I guess you’re gone to see Jona.”
It was his first time to see a dead lion. Sad and confused, he wandered off to find someone--anyone--that could tell him where Isha was. He prayed that she was not with Jona too.
It began to rain. The pelting drops from the sky were a new experience for him, and he watched as the ash on the ground began to run in gray rivulets across the parched earth before being absorbed.
“Habu??”
Habusu’s heart almost went into his mouth. “Mom??”
Isha came running across the scorched earth. “Oh thank gods!!” She fell to her side and with a quick swipe of her paw, pulled his squirming, happy body to her heart and kissed him repeatedly. “My little boy! Oh gods, I was going crazy with worry! Don’t EVER run off like that again!”
Miss Priss rubbed against his mud-spattered body. “Habu!” She was usually very affectionate to him, but this time she spared no degree of effort, kissing him and pawing his face until his heart swam.
A large male lion with a wet but still impressive russet mane strode toward Pride Rock past them.
“Who’s that, Mom?”
“That’s Simba! He’s the true king! Wave at him!”
Habusu rose, covered with ash and mud, and waved his paw. Simba turned and nodded at him.
“Did you see that, Mom?? He winked at me!”
“He sure did, honey tree!”
The old mandrill Rafiki stood at the base of the promontory and hopped impatiently as the lion ascended the trail leading up Pride Rock. He glanced at Taka, shook his head, then spoke with the mandrill.
“What’s going to happen?” Habu asked.
“He’s going to climb the rock and roar for us. Then he’ll be king of the Pride Lands.”
“Is he going to do it now?”
“Soon. Just watch.”
Trembling with emotion, Isha drew Habu to her side and watched through the rain as Mufasa’s son ascended the granite promontory. The hyenas were gone, and hope for the future made her heart swell and filled her eyes with tears.
"Gods forgive me," Isha said, "but I never thought I would live to see this day. Look, Habu! There is your king!"
Habu watched the lion come to the end of the promontory. He had never known Mufasa, but he heard so many wonderful things about him that he thrilled to see his son come home and take his place as king. The infectious joy and hope affected him deeply, and he nearly danced with an excitement that seemed to fall in the rain, blow in the winds and bubble up from inside all at once.
Simba looked down at his faithful pride. Habu nudged his Mom. “Look, he’s looking at us!”
“Shhh, Honey Tree! Watch! You’ll want to tell your grandkids about this.”
Silhouetted against the sky, Simba looked up expectantly. As if to answer him, a rift opened in the clouds and he saw the stars. Drawing in a deep breath, he sounded a thunderous roar.
Isha and the other lionesses poured out their soul, their sounds echoing and blending in a joyous song of triumph.