Food was harder to come by and the hyenas started to grumble. Shenzi had promised them unending abundance, and that promise was failing. At first, Shenzi claimed that Roh’kash was merely testing their faith. They began to pray almost without ceasing for relief, but it did no good. It was becoming clear to even the strongest believers that Roh’kash could and would let them suffer hunger and thirst from the Roh’mach clear down to the smallest pup.

Scrambling not to lose her people’s loyalty, Shenzi was looking for ways to make the food go further. Rationing began among the hyenas, and they looked toward the lions looking for ways to reduce their tremendous appetites as well. They looked at the male cubs and thought they may have found an answer in rushing some mantlements. Even an adolescent lion ate as much as three hyenas. And who knows, with a couple of well-placed teams waiting just outside the border, they might even have a way to supplement their diet even more.

One male cub posed a special threat. Mabatu was now in line to succeed Taka as King, and it was the general opinion of the hyenas he would be a powerful and dangerous king who believed Pride Rock was for lions alone. Terrified of the prospect of a bloody war in the making, Skulk submerged his usual disdain for lions and offered to take Mabatu on a trip around the Eastern Meadow to hunt palm squirrels and rabbits. They were gone for only a couple of hours when Skulk came charging into Shenzi’s cave, fuming and cursing. “I was SO NICE to him! You’d think I was his real FATHER with the way I treated the brat! He didn’t say two words to me the whole time, and when I slipped in the creek, he laughed at me!”

“He’s a boy,” Shenzi said gently.

“He’s a hyena hater,” Skulk said. “Don’t you think I could see it in everything he did? I patted his shoulder, and when he didn’t think I could see him, he rubbed in the grass to get rid of my scent!”

Shenzi’s eyes narrowed to slits. “We’ll get rid of his scent--permanently!”

Makhpil had clearly foreseen that Taka would die young and violently. It was a vague prophesy, but one that filled Shenzi with the urgency of the moment. They didn’t have much time before Taka was gone and the popular Mabatu became King of a pride full of strong and determined lionesses.

One of them suggested that they kill Mabatu, but there was no telling what Taka would do in retribution. They would have to be more subtle.

Time passed, and unlike some of Taka’s mercurial friendships, his bond with Mabatu grew closer with each passing day. So when Mabatu was only eighteen moons old, and a few bits of ruff around his neck began to form a real mane, the leaders of the clan had a private meeting and decided it was time to act.

But how? Certainly, Shimbekh must be involved. Fed information from Makhpil, she still made several correct predictions to Taka, enough to cover all the lies Shenzi wanted to sneak in.

Relying on the old hyena proverb that a half truth is like a half carcass—it can be pulled twice as far—they decided on a lie that would soften the blow, but still strike home.

Timid and unsteady, Shimbekh stood before Taka to deliver the news that may bring instant death. “My Lord, evil tidings.”

“Oh? Surely not!”

“I don’t know how to say this, my lord. But there is an evil spirit in this place. One too strong for our powers to drive off. Unless Mabatu driven off early, the day after his mantlement he will go mad and kill his mother, then you.”

“What??” Taka came and faced her down. “If you’re lying to me, I’ll rip you apart!”

Tears filled her eyes and she touched his cheek with her tongue. “You love him, don’t you.”

“Yes, I love him.”

She kissed him again. “Then send him away now while his heart is pure. You know what it is like to suffer from the inside. There is nowhere to hide.” She looked down and moaned. “No one knows what torment there is in the wounds we bear inside. We try to smile when our heart is breaking!”

Taka looked at her in the eyes. His chin began to tremble. “I’m stove through,” he muttered. Tears began to stream down his face. “Go, Shimbekh.” The hyeness’s ears drooped and her tail hung limply.

“Old friend, we are both stove through.”

“Go, Shimbekh! Please, just go!”

Shimbekh trudged outside, the weight of the world stooping her shoulders and bowing her head. Shenzi said, “Very convincing. You really sounded concerned.”

“Go to hell!”

“See you there, Shimbekh!”

As Shimbekh walked away, she heard behind her the soft, deep sobs of a lion. Somehow, like a fugitive from a daydream, a memory came back to her of playing with her sister Kambra. What would the pup she was think of what she had become? “What I wouldn’t give to lay at my mother’s side again and nurse myself to sleep! My heart is so tired, Muti. So tired! If I could be your pup again just for tonight and feel your love once more!” Tears spilled down her cheeks and she slinked to her quarters like a forgotten shadow.

Mabatu was told two days in advance that he would get a commoner’s mantlement so he could prepare himself, but he was not told the reason why. Taka was clearly heartbroken, and Mabatu could sense it. Mabatu could not hate him, and no matter what his mother said, he kept faith that deep inside Taka loved him as much as ever.

Mabatu and Kako were both in a bit of a panic. Baba was not ready yet—he had minimal hunting skills and he was still not what most lions consider mature. Kako made an impassioned plea for a little more time—that not waiting a moon or two would condemn him to death--but Taka was insistent. “He will learn. It’s nature’s way. Besides, I will pray for him every night.” Tears slid down Taka’s cheeks and even Kako could see the horrible pain he felt.

“Won’t you at least tell us why you’re doing this?”

“Sometimes love must be firm,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

Mabatu spent the night before his mantlement with Isha. She wanted to teach him everything she could about survival before he faced the unforgiving challenges of “The Big World.”

Mabatu was a good fighter for someone his size. Playful wrestling with the other cubs had gracefully prepared him for the serious challenges of battle. Isha still remembered the time he threw her in a wrestling match by grabbing one of her hind legs. They spent little time on fighting except for Isha’s advice that running away was not always shameful or cowardly.

Hunting skills were a different matter. Isha had plenty of fond memories of hunting rabbits and antelope with her mother. Luckily Isha grew up in a time when the savanna rejoiced in abundance. Mabatu was a child of hardship, and his mother had to spend toilsome hours hunting just to survive. Little wonder his education was sorely neglected.

Mabatu had almost no knowledge of stalking and pursuit. And it was clear if he ever caught up to an antelope, he wouldn’t know what to do with it. It was an unpleasant surprise to her, for all lionesses believed a cub born at night would make a great hunter, and he had literally been born on the hunt. Maybe when old folk wisdoms failed, a little determined teaching would have to do.

“We must look at holds,” Isha said. “Here on the arm, you can restrict movement.” She gently gripped his arm above the elbow. “Here on the flank you can rip. But the throat hold is one of prime importance....” She put her arm across his back. “You strike them here and push with your weight.” Isha leaned into him, nearly pushing him over. “It’s important to let your weight do the work. Then you go for the throat and cut off his wind.” She gently mouthed Mabatu’s throat.