The dawn sun burned through the dust-choked air, staining the rocky escarpment in hues of burnt amber. Lira, a young lioness with fur the color of sun-bleached sandstone, led the outsiders along the ridge, her tail flicking in taut arcs as she scanned the terrain. The dry wind carried the acrid sting of blood—old and new—mingled with the musk of hyena dens far below. Her paws hesitated as she approached a jagged outcrop, claws unsheathing instinctively at the sight of fresh gashes scored into the stone. Three parallel grooves, deep and splintered, the rock beneath them still crumbling.

Claw marks. Lion claws.

She pressed her muzzle to the stone, inhaling. The scent was faint but unmistakable: Taka. Her brother's musk lingered here, sour-edged with desperation, a far cry from the warm, grassy aroma he'd carried in their cubhood. A tuft of tawny fur snagged on the rock confirmed it. He's alive. But why return to these cursed cliffs?

"If we linger much longer, the vultures will mistake us for carrion," rumbled Mbeko, a scarred male lion trailing her, his voice gritty as the wind. His mane, patchy from old battles, bristled with impatience. Lira ignored him, her gaze narrowing on a dark streak ahead—a splash of blood, nearly dried to rust, smeared across the stone.

Then she froze.

The body lay in a shadowed crevice, half-hidden by thornbush. A lion. Young, his golden coat matted and dull, throat torn open in a ragged crescent. Flies already swarmed the gash, their buzzing a low hymn, while his belly had been ripped wide, entrails spilling into the dust like coiled serpents. The metallic reek of death choked the air.

"Scavengers haven't touched him," muttered Shani, a wiry hyena slinking forward, her laugh-like snarl absent for once. She nudged the corpse's paw with her own, ears flattening. "Even my clan wouldn't waste meat like this. This wasn't hunger. It was a message."

Lira's hackles rose. Taka's scent clung to the dead lion too, faint but undeniable. Was this his doing? Her brother had always been cunning, not cruel—but pride lands had whispered of his growing paranoia since Scar's reign.

A low growl reverberated through the rocks, primal and guttural. Not Mbeko. Not Shani. Lira's amber eyes snapped to the plateau above, where the silhouettes of two lions stood outlined against the sun. One was broad-shouldered, his mane thick and dark; the other leaner, with a familiar, deliberate tilt to his head—

Taka.

The wind shifted, carrying his scent down to her: fear, rage, and the sharp tang of madness.

"Move," Lira hissed, backing away, her muscles coiled. Above, the vultures circled, their shadows stitching a warning across the bloodied stone.

Sarabi padded forward, her tawny fur catching the brittle sunlight as she halted beside Lira. The older lioness's muzzle was streaked with gray now, but her eyes remained sharp—hardened by seasons of loss, from Scar's tyranny to Simba's exile. She stared at the mutilated wolf, her ears flattening against the buzz of flies. "You truly believe Taka wants to lead us to Milele?" she asked, her voice low. Not dismissive, but wary. A queen who'd learned the cost of trust.

Lira's throat tightened. Milele—the "Eternal Spring," a myth whispered among prides in drought seasons. A land beyond the desert, where rivers cut through endless green. Madness, most called it. But Taka had always been a dreamer, even as a cub chasing shadows in the tall grass.

"I don't know what he wants anymore," Lira admitted, her claws scraping grooves into the parched earth. The memory surged unbidden: Taka's face reflected in the riverbank moonlight, amber eyes wide and pleading as she'd cornered Sarabi weeks ago. "They'll never listen unless we force them to see," he'd growled, his breath hot on her ear. "This is the only way to save the pride."

She'd believed him. Or wanted to. Even as her jaws closed gently on Sarabi's scruff—a staged "kidnapping," a gambit to reveal hyenna treachery—she'd seen the flicker of tenderness beneath his desperation. The cub who'd shared her hunts, who'd nuzzled her when the rains drowned his cries of "Why does Father never look at me?"

Now, that same tenderness rotted in the air between them, fouled by the stench of the wolf's carcass.

Sarabi's tail brushed Lira's flank, a gesture so faint it might have been the wind. "Love blinds faster than the midday sun," she murmured. Not unkindly. A mother's tone, though her own son had once been lost to her. "Scar too spoke of 'saving' the pride. Right before he let the hyenas gorge on its bones."

A guttural snarl rippled from the thornbush behind them. Mbeko emerged, his patchy mane bristling as he glared at the corpse. "This thing reeks of rogue lions. Or hyenna tricks." He bared yellowed fangs at Shani, who grinned back, unflinching.

"My tricks leave fewer crumbs," the hyenna crooned, licking blood from her paw.

Lira hissed, silencing them. The wind shifted, carrying a new scent—feverish, familiar—from the cliffs above. Taka. She wheeled toward the ridge, her pulse thrumming. There. A shadowed figure stood silhouetted against the sun, his mane ragged, one ear torn. For a heartbeat, their eyes met.

His gaze held no plea. No warmth. Only a hollow, hungry glare—the look of a lion who'd stared too long into the Outlands' void.

Then he vanished.

"We follow," Lira growled, already moving.

Sarabi's voice halted her. "And if Milele is just another lie? A snake's hole?"

Lira's whiskers twitched. Somewhere ahead, vultures began to shriek. He's still the lion I love, she thought. But the words died in her throat, drowned by the cries of scavengers.

SCENEBREAK

The frost-bitten highlands gave way abruptly to a sprawling valley, where golden grasses swayed beneath a searing sun. Lira halted at the ridge's edge, her breath clouding in the thin air. Below, the land pulsed with life—acacia trees clawing at the sky, herds of antelope grazing in the distance—but the silence felt heavy, predatory. Milele. The myth had teeth after all.

Kiros sidled up beside her, his obsidian mane rippling like smoke. "At last," he purred, dragging his tongue roughly over her ear—a gesture of ownership, not affection. His claws dug into the earth, leaving gouges. "Your brother's madness served its purpose. Now watch it end."

He swung his massive head toward Amara and Keke, the lionesses' muscles taut as bowstrings. "Flush out the rogues hiding here," he snarled, voice sharp as flint. "Then track Mufasa and that spineless cub who shadows him. Corner them. But leave their throats unmarked—their last breaths belong to me."

Amara's tail twitched, her gaze slicing to Lira. "And her? Will she finally stop flinching at the scent of blood?"

Kiros laughed, a low, grinding sound. "Lira has a nobler kill." He circled her, his shoulder pressing hers downward—a demand for submission. "Taka dies by your fangs. Make it slow. Let him remember how soft you were when you begged him to flee Scar's madness."

Lira's pulse roared. Memories crashed over her: Taka's broken whimpers as Scar's hyenas drove him to the Outlands; his paws bleeding from thorns as he whispered, "We'll heal the Pride Lands together." Now Kiros's breath stank of ambition, not promise.

Sarabi stepped forward, her muzzle streaked with age but her eyes unyielding. "This valley is no sanctuary," she warned, ears flattening. "I've seen this hunger before. It choked the stars when Scar ruled."

Kiros whipped around, his tail lashing her face. "You'll burn with the old kings if you question me again."

A guttural laugh echoed from the rocks. Shani, the hyena, bared her teeth. "Your pride's too busy gnawing its own tail to see the jackals at your throats."

Kiros lunged, pinning her with a paw on her ribs. "You'll keep your pack leashed," he hissed, "or I'll hang their pelts from the baobabs."

Lira turned away. Below, the grass shivered—not from wind, but from shadows slinking through it. Hyenas. Kiros's "allies." Sarabi caught her eye, a silent challenge. Break the cycle.

But Kiros was already descending, his roar splitting the sky. "When Mufasa's blood soaks this earth, the prides will grovel for my mercy! And not even the stars will mourn Scar's cursed line!"