John Burkitt: Under the Acacias

Much of this material was originally slated to appear in “Shadow of the Makei,” and “Spirit Quest,” but it pulled from the focus of the works. It had to wait its turn to be published. Does this mean the material is a series of “outtakes” stitched together? Hardly! In a very real sense, the four parts of Chronicles of the Pride Lands were being worked on at once. Each part matured at a different time. In that sense, The Spirit Quest was not a sequel, nor were Shadow of the Makei or Under the Acacias. These form parts of a whole, and reading them out of order will make a lot less sense to you. It is my fond hope someday to see the four parts ordered chronologically and united into one work.

In completing this story, we have used the last of the “next project” file, and unlike the others this work did not produce the core of a future story. It is with a sense of fulfillment and closure that we submit the conclusion of the cycle begun with Chronicles of the Pride Lands.

Will Dave and I collaborate again? Sure! Will the stories be canon with Chronicles? Sure! Will it be Volume 5 of Chronicles? No. Than what will we do? From time to time I taunt David with humorous pitches for stories based on the gopher (“Under the Golden Savanna”), and the wildebeests (“The Little Chewer That Cud”). Don’t spread gossip about these pseudo-fanfics--not even in your dreams!! But Nala--hmm, that could prove an interesting challenge for two male authors trying to avoid stereotypes and clichés....

This story is lovingly dedicated to the memories of George and Joy Adamson. Gathered to Aiheu, they are indeed “forever free.”

John Burkitt, Nashville, Tennessee

February 12, 1997

Well, here we are again. Pride Rock’s shadow has grown long, burying the promontory in darkness as the sun slips beneath the western horizon. We have many things to do tonight, but first there’s something we’d like to share.

Somewhere in the midst of writing “The Spirit Quest,” something strange and wonderful happened. This story is mainly about two figures from that work, one brand new, the other a familiar companion from “Chronicles” who came together, forging a relationship that was to ultimately affect not only those around them, but John and I as well.

The new figure from “The Spirit Quest” is of course Ugas. And the old companion? The lioness Uzuri. Master of the hunt, devoted mother, and stalwart friend, she has touched the lives of nearly everyone around her to some degree...and that includes the authors, as well.

Let us go now; the lionesses are gathering, and Uzuri is ready.

The hunt awaits.

David Morris, Wilmington, North Carolina

February 12, 1997

High on top of Elephant Kopje where the bare rock lay exposed, weathered but defiant, there was a crack. Years of dust storms had patiently filled that crack with small amounts of soil. And in that crack grew a single stalk of Alba whose one red blossom looked up to God with hope for the coming rains. Where the seed came from, only Aiheu knew, but he looked down on it and smiled. “One Who Brings Rain,” Aiheu said, “take care of my garden.”

“Lord, I see but a single flower,” the cloud answered.

“But it has the faith of a thousand,” Aiheu said. “Any flower can grow by the river bank, but this one has brought beauty to barrenness.”

Even in the stoniest ground, the smallest spark of life may bring beauty. And where the beauty is found, Aiheu smiles. This is a story of one such spark--the lioness Uzuri--and the beauty she brought amid the dark days of Taka’s reign.

Birds still sang in the trees. Clouds still wafted across the sky. A gentle breeze still caressed the grass and stirred it in waves of serene detachment. But for the lionesses of Pride Rock, the old world they thought would last forever had abruptly ended: Mufasa and Simba were gone.

Sarabi was looking for strength to live from moment to moment. Nala was huddled against her mother, struggling to understand her loss. No longer would Mufasa call her “honey tree” and tell her stories of the great kings of the past. And her friend Simba was gone forever--no more games, no more words, no more anything. In the depths of her grief, she wished she had let Simba win at wrestling just once. Now she would never get another chance.

“How bad did it hurt?” she asked her mother.

Sarafina was a huntress and had seen her share of death. Shaking with emotion, she weighed her words carefully and said, “He was so surprised, he didn’t feel much pain. I mean, before he had time to think, they’d have been all over him.” She felt warm tears run down her face. “The poor little angel!” She began to fondle Nala with a paw. “If it had been my little girl, I’d have died! Just died! Don’t you ever go near that place, or I’ll cuff your behind! Do you hear me, Missy??” Sarafina nuzzled her and kissed her.

“Oh, Momma!” Nala began to sob. “I won’t go there! I promise!” She added in a near whisper, “But can’t we go see him one last time?”

“No!” Fini kissed her again. “You don’t want to remember him the way he looks now. You really don’t.”

Before the last warmth had left the old King’s body, a new ruler sat atop Pride Rock and proceeding toward him up the winding trail were the hyenas of Shenzi’s clan. This was the new world, a frightening place of uncertainty, mistrust and grief. Uzuri watched them with bitter anguish as they violated her sanctuary, and she silently cursed Taka for betraying his people. Hyenas had murdered his aunt and uncle, and he was taking them into his home!

Despite his promise of a “glorious new future,” Taka was merely paying his debt to Shenzi, and he cared little for most of her race. But there was one hyena that he loved above all loves remaining in his tortured heart. Fabana broke from her place in the processional and ran to Taka’s side, fawning on him. He nuzzled her gently, turning her small, scarred face with his large paw and kissing her cheek with his large tongue. “Muti,” he said in broken hyannic, “mo keth ban’ret dubrek!”

Some of the hyenas looked around, puzzled. “Betra hyannicha?” one of them asked.

He shook his head. “Just a few phrases I picked up.”

Shenzi satisfied the longing of a lifetime to see the world from the tip of the promontory, planning for the day when she didn’t have to share it with the lions. All the while, oblivious to her conceited gloating, Taka lovingly stroked Fabana with his paw and gazed into her smiling face.

“I sit here tonight because of you, Muti. I would have killed myself, and my hopeless spirit would have wandered the night while a stranger ruled the Pride Lands.”

“If it hadn’t been me, someone else would have stopped you.”

“You would say that. You always believe that goodness prevails.” He kissed her cheek. “I love you more than words can say.”

Tears ran down her face, and she sat leaning gently against him. “My dear son.”

The first night without Mufasa’s comforting presence was the hardest for Sarabi. She slinked quietly to the spot where she had spent so many blissful nights pressed against his beautiful body. His scent still hung in the air, and closed her eyes, clinging to that one last trace. “Oh gods, help me!” she cried, falling to the ground sobbing.

That evening her own sister had practically thrown herself before Taka, even after he had brought hyenas into the Pride Lands. Hyenas had murdered her parents! After that, she could not bring herself to speak to Elanna. Now her dear friend Rafiki was confined in house arrest. She had no one to turn to for comfort and had to weep alone. Only God stood between her and total isolation.