This is a return to my roots as a fanfic author when David first expressed curiosity about the spiritual and mythological dimensions of Chronicles. Now I take the luxury of exploring those themes in a way that will help you share in the legacy a lioness would seek to pass to her cubs.

These stories are arranged in a way that makes the most sense. The storytellers themselves came from different times, and as you recognize old friends from the Chronicles series, you’ll notice that the times the stories were actually told would suggest a far different arrangement.

In three ways I put myself at risk before you. First by attempting to carry forward a self-contained story cycle. Second by undertaking a work that requires a different style. Third, by holding my personal ideas and feelings up to public scrutiny. The lions have a belief that if you can look at your reflection in the water and say something to it and not have to turn your glance away, then it must be so. I look at this reflection of mine and say, “I will take the risk,” and I do not turn away.

John Burkitt, Nashville, Tennessee

March 23, 1997

The material you are about to read represents a lot of history. In the simplest fashion, it is the history of the Leonid Saga, a tale of the heroes, villains, and events that are shrouded in mystery and spoken of as legends from lions and lionesses to their cubs.

It is also a deep personal look into John and I. The stories that follow have ranged the entire gamut of our “Chronicles” series...but most of them are what originally inspired us to tell the tale in the first place.

We invite you to share them with us.

David Morris, Wilmington, North Carolina

March 23, 1997

Makaka slowly and reverently ran his fingers over the body of Uzuri. As his tears splashed on her fur, he remembered many safe and happy times he had spent as a child hugging her strong, soft neck and snuggling to her side to sleep. But most vividly in that moment, he remembered her quiet voice telling him stories under the stars.

“Now you are with Mano and Minshasa,” he whispered. “Now they will be more than stories to you.” He caressed her cheek gently and sniffed back bitter tears. “Oh Momma, my love will find you wherever you are. And someday, I will find you too.”

The lionesses Misha and Swala came solemnly to move the body of their pride sister to its final resting place. Misha gently but firmly gripped one of Uzuri’s front paws, and Swala grasped the back of Uzuri’s neck. At a given signal, they both pulled backwards, and her body lurched forward about half a length. Makaka gasped in horror.

“Oh gods, don’t hurt her!” Makaka fell across the body and clung monkey-like to her neck. “Don’t bite her! Look, there’s blood on her neck! Oh gods, she’s bleeding! She’s bleeding!”

“It’s just her body,” Misha said soothingly. “Her Ka is in Heaven with Aiheu.”

“But there’s blood on her neck! Look, she’s hurt! See??” His hands reached for his throat and he began to gasp for breath. “Oh no!”

“Remember your asthma!” Swala said, nuzzling him softly. “Relax, Honey Tree! Try to relax!”

Makaka stared wide-eyed at the entrance of the cave, struggling for breath. His thin, ineffective gasps could not fan the flames of life, and he began to crawl in torment toward the one person that knew how to help him. He could not even call her name.

“Anasa! Come quickly!” Misha shouted. “He needs you!”

Makaka’s wife rushed in with a pouch she always carried with her for just such an emergency. She reached with trembling hands to sort through the different cures and finally pull out some silvervein leaves. She crushed them between her fingers, and putting an arm around her husband, she held the aromatic herbs in front of his nose and mouth till the minty smell permeated his lungs. The look of glazed panic left his eyes and his breathing became more regular. “There, my dear. Relax, honey tree. Everything’s going to be all right, my poor, dear husband! Breathe deeply. That’s it, darling. Deeply and slowly like crystal clear waters from a spring. Think about the spring, the calm, deep spring, and let the waters slowly carry your pain away.”

Between the silvervein and her gentle love, Makaka relaxed and began to take deep and regular breaths.

Anasa nodded at Misha, and the two lionesses took up their stations again. With a powerful effort, they started Uzuri on her last journey.

When Makaka found his tongue again, he shuddered and said, “She was bleeding! Oh gods, it was awful!” He looked down at his palm where the red bloom of her lifeblood lingered still. “She’s gone. All that’s left of her is a few drops of blood!”

“I cut a lock of her fur,” she said quietly. “She had me take it just for you yesterday. She knew the end was near.”

Makaka took the golden treasure and scented the familiar fragrance. His chin trembled and tears streamed down his face. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you!”

Anasa put her arms around him and let him weep on her shoulder. “Husband, you really should thank Misha and Swala. Uzuri only stayed here because they promised to take her away, and now they’re going to have to drag her heavy body clear out to the eastern meadow. All this so you and Rafiki could spend a few more moments with her.”

“You’re right,” he said, reaching up to dry his tears. “Poor Misha and Swala! I treated them very badly.” He sniffed back tears. “I’ll give them some of the jerky that I was saving for the cubs. They really are good friends.” He managed to regain some of his composure. “Oh, I’ve been such a fool. I hope I didn’t hurt their feelings.”

“They will understand.” Anasa put her arm around his shoulder and held him near. “They love you, and so do I.”

He clung to Anasa and kissed her softly. “My little Nisei. What would I do without you?”

“I hope you’ll never know,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “We’re in this to the end.”

Ahadi sat on the tip of the promontory, bathed in the warm glory of the morning sun. Young Mufasa was as close to the edge as his father would allow, watching at the distant herd of wildebeests. Their movement across the plain mesmerized him as the herd changed shape like a single dark cloud. Taka was snuggled between Ahadi’s arms, his back and head buried in the soft mane that wrapped his father’s face. Ahadi looked down at Taka and quietly kissed him between the ears. There was no need to say anything in that moment, and Taka simply rubbed his face against one of Ahadi’s powerful arms and touched it with his tongue.

The morning lesson had to come soon; before long, Mufasa would be too engrossed in games and adventures to concentrate on learning. Were Taka an only son, things would have been much simpler, for he was blessed with the patience and curiosity of his mother. He absorbed knowledge as dry earth absorbed rain.

Ahadi looked into the distance at the setting moon, and a slight wind stirred his mane as the morning winds ushered in the new day. “From the start there was Aiheu the Beautiful,” Ahadi said. His voice could be loud and commanding but that moment it was as soft and pleasant as a warm hug.