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As they reached the Pride Lands, the sun was beginning its slow descent behind the horizon. The savannah was a riot of colors—golds, oranges, and reds hitting the grasses and making them appear to be on fire. Herds of animals were unhurriedly making their way home, eyes heavy and bellies full. It was usually Simba’s favorite time of day.
Usually.
But not this evening. Glancing up from beneath lowered lashes, Simba looked at his father. Mufasa’s back was still tense, his steps still angry. In the time they had been walking from the Elephant Graveyard, his anger had ceased to subside. Simba opened his mouth to apologize but shut it again. What good would it do? He had betrayed his father’s trust. There was no apology great enough.
“Zazu, take Nala back to Pride Rock.”
Simba’s head snapped up at the sound of his father’s voice. The king had come to a stop, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. He didn’t even look at Zazu as he spoke. Nervously, Simba glanced over at Nala. She shrugged, not sure what was going on, either.
Zazu nodded. “Yes, sire,” he said. He paused before adding, “Should I take Simba?”
“No,” Mufasa answered. “I have to teach my son a lesson.”
Simba gulped. To his surprise, Zazu came to his defense. “Sire, don’t be too hard on him,” the majordomo urged. “I remember a cub—a certain headstrong cub—who was always getting into scrapes. And he achieved some prominence—did he not?”
For the first time since leaving the hyenas, Simba thought he saw a flash of light in his father’s eyes. “You’ve known me too long, Zazu,” he said, his voice gentler than before. Turning, he looked over at Simba. “Come here,” he commanded.
In response, Simba crouched down into the grass. He didn’t know why he did it. It wasn’t like his father couldn’t see him. He hadn’t become invisible, and while the grass was not bright green, it was not yet the weathered brown that might have offered him at least a little camouflage. Still, he lay there, his head on his paws, his eyes down, even as Zazu and Nala left and it grew silent.
“Simba!” His father’s voice broke the silence.
Craning his head up, Simba saw his father looking down at him. His deep brown eyes stared into Simba’s. Finally, he spoke. “You deliberately disobeyed me,” he said. His tone was even, emotionless.
“I know,” Simba said.
Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped on, emotion flooded through the king. “You could have been killed!” he shouted, his voice shaking. “And what’s worse—you put Nala in danger!” Tears welled up in Simba’s eyes as Mufasa continued. “Do you understand what’s at stake? You jeopardized the future of our pride!”
Tears poured down Simba’s cheeks. He had never meant to endanger the pride or hurt Nala. He had never meant to hurt anyone. “I just wanted to show you I could do it!” he said, his voice sounding tiny even to his own ears. “That I could be brave like you.”
For a long moment, Mufasa didn’t say anything, and the pit in Simba’s stomach grew. Having his father angry was one thing. But if he wouldn’t talk to him? That would be the worst punishment possible. His father was his world. He was Simba’s everything. Not being able to hear his voice would kill him. Just as Simba was about to beg him to say something, Mufasa finally spoke. “I’m only brave when I have to be, Simba,” he said. “When there’s no other choice.”
Simba cocked his head. When there’s no other choice ? He repeated the words silently. No other choice? But his father was always brave. “You’re not scared of anything,” Simba pointed out.
Mufasa shook his head. “I was today,” he said, his voice growing softer.
“You were?” Simba said, amazed.
“Yes,” Mufasa said. “I thought I might lose you.”
Simba’s stomach began to unclench as he realized that his father’s anger had not been caused by disappointment. Mufasa was angry because he loved him. A small smile tugged at Simba’s lips. “Oh,” he said. “I guess even kings get scared, huh?”
“More than you could ever know,” Mufasa said, mirroring his son’s smile.
“But you know what?” Simba said. “I think those hyenas were even scared-er.” As Mufasa let out a deep laugh, the knot in Simba’s stomach disappeared and the weight he had been carrying on his shoulders vanished. Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Simba finally started laughing, too. He had messed up, big-time. But it was going to be okay. He and his dad would be okay.
“That’s ’cause nobody messes with your dad!” Mufasa said, still laughing. Then, lifting a paw, he gestured for Simba to come closer. Mufasa pulled him into a hug. Then, letting out a playful growl, Simba reached up and grabbed Mufasa’s mane.
As the pair rolled around on the warm grass, the sun finally sank beneath the horizon and the first of the night’s stars began to emerge in the sky. Father’s and son’s laughter mingled with the last of the birdcalls and an elephant trumpeted good night. Finally, tumbling to a stop, Simba landed on top of his father’s massive chest.
“Dad,” he said softly, lifting his head up, “we’re pals, right?”
“Right,” Mufasa said with a nod.
“And we’ll always be together, right?”
To Simba’s surprise, his father didn’t answer right away. His mouth turned down, not in anger, but in thought. He sighed. Finally, he turned his head so he could look Simba in the eyes as he spoke. “Simba,” he said seriously. “Let me tell you something my father told me: ‘Look at the stars.’”
Flipping over onto his back, still on his father’s chest, Simba looked up. The stars filled the sky, creating a sparkling blanket. In contrast, the savannah looked even darker, cast in deep shadows but seemingly still. But Simba knew hidden among the tall grasses and up in the high trees, animals that came out at night lay and lurked.
“The great kings of the past look down on us from those stars,” Mufasa said, his eyes trained on the sky.
Simba looked up, straining to see the kings in the stars. But all he saw were twinkling lights and the moon. No kings. “Really?” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes,” Mufasa said. “So, whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be up there to guide you.” He paused before adding, “And so will I.”
“But I can’t see them, Dad,” Simba said softly. And so will I . Why had his dad said that? Mufasa’s voice had sounded so sad that Simba felt suddenly sad himself, like there was something he didn’t know that his father did.
His father gave him a gentle nudge with his nose. “Keep looking, Son,” he said. “Keep looking.”
Together, father and son lifted their heads and looked up to the sky. Simba wasn’t sure what his father was talking about—and he still only saw stars—but it didn’t matter. He trusted his dad. And, more importantly, he loved his dad. And the reason they were lying under the stars together didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were together. And they would be together forever.