[[Yes, I'm aware that characters aren't supposed to die in this story, but Mufasa's death is canon, so I assume that referencing it is all right, even if I'm obviously messing with the canon some.]]

All the time she'd been with Scar, Nala hadn't seen anyone she knew, so she was surprised when she saw Simba coming toward the den. Even if she had been mobile, she wouldn't have had the energy nor the desire to go out to him. At one point in her life, she would have wanted nothing more than to bound over to her friend, but now she wasn't interested unless he was hiding a hippo or something. She felt that it wouldn't be too bothersome to call out to him, though. Perhaps having someone to talk to would make the wait more bearable.

"Simba!" The young lion had already been heading toward Scar's den, but he quickened his pace when he heard his name.

"Nala?" he asked, surprised. Though she'd disappeared a couple weeks prior, she was still just about the last person he expected to meet here. He vaguely wondered how she had gotten so fat in such a short time, but he had more pressing issues on his mind. He paced restlessly in a circle around her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. That simple question made tears form in the corners of Simba's eyes.

"I killed my dad!" he sobbed. Perhaps he shouldn't have been telling her, but he was in no state to think things through. "I w-was in the gorge, and there was a wildebeest stampede, and my dad saved me, b-but..." he trailed off, crying. Nala was somewhat sympathetic to his distress, but her chief thought was that now she knew what was up with the squashed wildebeest: they'd been trampled to death.

"That means you're the king now, doesn't it?" she asked cautiously. Perhaps Mufasa's death could be good luck for her. If Simba became king and she could convince Simba to let the hyenas hunt in the Pridelands, then all her food-supply troubles would be over. But Simba just looked at her like he couldn't believe she'd just said that.

"How can you think about that right now?" he demanded. "My father is dead because of me! And meanwhile, you've been hiding out here turning yourself into a disgusting blob! I shouldn't be surprised that you're thinking about this totally selfishly!"

Nala was taken aback by the vehemence of his response. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her head hanging as low as it could go. "I didn't mean it like that." Well, yes she had, but she hadn't meant for him to get all worked up about it. He rubbed his eyes with a forepaw.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "I'm just--this is really hard for me. I shouldn't take it out on you." Nala noticed that he didn't actually take back the bit about her being disgusting.

"So what are you doing here?" she asked, in an attempt to change the subject. "If it had been me and my dad, I guess I would have gone home." She was trying to sympathize with her, but all she thought about when she thought about her own father was how he had unfairly restricted her eating habits, so that was a bit of a lie.

"A-after I...well, after, I saw Scar, and he told me to come here so we could talk about what happened. Do you know if he'll be back soon?" If he was going back to the gorge to get more wildebeest, probably not, Nala thought. That was at least half an hour's walk from here (without the added weight of Nala's food), and Simba had only missed his uncle by about ten minutes.

"I don't think so," Nala replied hesitantly. "In an hour or so, maybe." Simba looked up at her with wide, wet eyes.

"I-I don't think I can wait that long. What do you think, Nala? Do you think I should go home?"