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A community dedicated to Disney's Scar

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Gorgeous Scar
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A community dedicated to Disney's Scar

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A Scar Fanfiction I did, (with footnotes) enjoy!:


The sun rose above the horizon, spreading a blanket of light across the expansive African Savannah. A gentle breeze made wisps of cloud drift across the sky while the rays of light gave them an ethereal glow. All was still but a single bird making its way across the horizon before settling on the smooth stone surface of Priderock.

It sat on the structure’s very peak, allowing itself a panoramic view of the barren landscape. The silence of dawn was broken by a shrill cry, shortly followed by the beating of wings. The bird took off, hovering back the way it had come, leaving behind nothing more than a single feather from its ruddy plumage.

As if cradling a child, the plume steadily descended, until its rhythm was broken by a small reaching paw. A young cub swiped at the scarlet feather, hoping to catch it before it reached the ground. Before he could another cunning pounce a seemingly distant voice broke his concentration. His attention was drawn towards a slender lioness, leisurely basking under the sun’s radiating warmth. Her voice was firm yet lighthearted as she called him for his morning bath.

“Oh mom, can’t it wait?” he complained, but somehow knowing it would be to no avail.

“Now Simba, we go through this each and every morning,” the lioness spoke, before gently plucked him off the ground by the scruff. He dangled precariously from Sarabi’s jaws as she carried him off to where the other lionesses were lounging.

“Or have your complaints simply become a customary gesture?” Zazu remarked, a chatty little hornbill know to most as King Mufasa’s right hand man.1

“The sooner you get over here, the sooner you can continue playing,” she added, her tongue stroking Simba’s golden fur as he twist and turned impatiently.

“Mom, I’m not ‘playing’, I’m training to be a – ” his words were cut short by the sight of his father, the king himself striding proudly from the cave entrance at which he slumbered2 . His gaze warm with adoration for his young son and loving mate, Sarabi.

“Hey dad! Are you gonna’ teach me some more moves today?” Simba exclaimed, bouncing gleefully at his father’s feet with a beseeching expression in his eyes.

“Alright son, but not for too long,” Mufasa replied. “There are some matters I have to attend to.”

“Ok dad,” spoke Simba, slightly crestfallen that his pouncing lesson would have to be cut short.

“Come along then, let’s head down to the water hole so we don’t disturb any heavy sleepers,” Mufasa told his son, who began a sprint ahead after hearing his father’s words, not wanting to waste any more time with talking.

“Oh dad, Scar is always sleeping!” Simba hollered, forced to stop for a moment to let his father catch up.3 Mufasa suddenly picked up his pace, racing ahead of Simba. He knew his eager cub would always be up for the challenge to try and outrun him.

I blinked open one eye, watching the two Neanderthals gracefully leap into the distance. Now that there was no one around to pester me4 I rose to my feet and stretched my aching limbs after some well deserved rest. I then slothfully padded to one of Priderock’s towering escarpments, absorbing myself in the view as a peaceful yawn escaped me. I let my long dark mane danced in morning breeze that filled my lungs with each and every breath.

“It looks like another marvelous day of fun and excitement,” I thought to myself. “The sun is out, the birds are singing…the optimism is killing me.”

“Scar!” Sarabi called my name, with a rather bitter expression on her face. But she still kept her elegant demeanor and her eyes shone with their usual alluring bliss.

“What can I do for you today?” I replied nonchalantly, yet giving her my full attention.

“I have been quiet about this for to long but I thought now would be a good time for us to have talk.”

“Well then, do go on,” I couldn’t help but grin, maybe good things do happen to good people…and to sometimes-more often than not -good people.

“Scar, I’ll be frank with you, and I’m sure you can take it. I speak on behalf of the pride when I say that you are positively the most useless of us all! You refuse to hunt for anyone but yourself, you always sleep in, ignoring any responsibilities assigned to you, and the list goes on and on! The least you could do is look after the cubs and attend the meetings, yet you can’t be even be bothered to do that!”

“Touché,” I sighed, I should have seen that speech coming. Not that any of it bothered me, I could hardly see any reason for attending meetings or looking after cubs. What point is there in listening to Mufasa state the obvious at his little gatherings and it wouldn’t make any difference if one or two cubs got lost, fell off a cliff, ect. We learn from our mistakes, and if not then the world sill goes on!

“Does that mean you shall try to make yourself useful?” Sarabi demanded, interrupting my thoughts.

“Well, you see…I really—”

“Good, you can start by looking after Simba for me once he and Mufasa come back from the training session,” she stated, not waiting for my reply before walking off, and taking her place next to Sarafina.

“Simba…me and Simba…I can barely contain my excitement.”



1 …stooge, crony, or nuisance. He held himself highly, quite odd for such a sorry creature with an even more pitiful a vocation. Then again, such an honor is the most he could hope to achieve.

2 Yes, here comes the almighty king, all unworthy commoners bow before his greatness...and to think that could have been me. Now I’m second in line to a monkey.

3 Let me correct that, I wasn’t sleeping. I was contemplating about the paths of destiny that have been laid out for us, our place in the vast universe, the overrated “circle of life” theory my brother jabs down our throats. Or in other words, inaudibly complaining how unfair my life is while avoiding work…yes, thinking. The whole “going out with the hunting parties” ordeal just isn’t working out. Well at least I’m honest…I mean you have to give me credit for that.

4 Except for the lionesses who hardly ever approached me, obviously knowing I was way out of their league and their inferior intellect could hardly compare to that of a lion such as myself… oh shush, don’t burst my happy bubble.
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