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Nuka soon returned, proudly holding up a sparkling rhinoceros beetle he had caught by himself and demanding that his father guess what it was. Scar, who despised such games, answered coldly.

Yet as he watched the cub’s pure, innocent expression, an unwanted memory surfaced.

The face before him overlapped with that of his young nephew from long ago. In his mind, little Simba’s cheerful voice rang out once more: “Uncle Scar, guess! I’m gonna be the king of Pride Rock!” Scar clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The past had no business intruding now.

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