Simba didn’t turn. He knew the weight of Nala’s step. "I still look for his shadow," Simba admitted, his voice barely a whisper against the wind. "I keep expecting to see it stretch out beside mine."

Below, the savanna was a tapestry of deep ambers and soft golds. The watering hole caught the first stray beam of light, shimmering like a fallen coin. It was a view he had seen a thousand times, yet today, it felt heavier.

"He used to stand exactly where you are," a soft voice rasped behind him.