The journey back to the Pride Lands was swift. Scar's mind had been focused on his task, but now that he was home, he knew he had to confront Mufasa about his plans for Simba. The Pride Lands stretched out before him as he made his way up the familiar path toward Pride Rock. His paws were heavy with the weight of what he was about to ask.
Upon reaching the top of Pride Rock, Scar found Mufasa speaking with a few of the lionesses. Simba, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, likely off causing mischief. Scar's eyes narrowed slightly as he approached his brother. Mufasa looked up as Scar came into view, his face showing a mix of concern and curiosity.
"Scar," Mufasa said with a calm nod. "It's good to see you back."
Scar dipped his head in acknowledgement, but his mind was already racing. "Mufasa," he began, his voice steady. "I think it's time Simba learned what it truly means to be king."
Mufasa raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"
Scar stepped forward, his voice unwavering. "He's not ready for the responsibility, not yet. You've tried to teach him, but he needs more than just lessons about ruling. He needs real experience. He needs to train. To learn the ways of leadership, strength, and survival. I want to take him somewhere for a year, away from the Pride Lands."
Mufasa's eyes flashed with concern. "A year? Scar, no. Simba's not ready to be taken away for that long. He's young."
Scar's tone remained calm, though his patience was beginning to wear thin. "He's not a cub anymore, Mufasa. He's growing, and you can't keep him protected forever. He needs to be strong, to learn how to face the challenges that will come. I've seen firsthand what it takes. Let me train him. A year will give him the foundation he needs to lead."
Mufasa shook his head. "You're asking too much. Simba is my son. I won't let you take him away like that."
Scar felt a pang of frustration, but he didn't show it. "You think I would harm him, Mufasa? You know me better than that."
Before Mufasa could respond, a loud commotion interrupted their conversation. Simba's voice rang out from below, accompanied by a series of splashes and growls. Scar's ears perked up, and Mufasa's face twisted in a mixture of concern and annoyance.
They rushed down the rocky path, both of them arriving at the source of the chaos: Simba was standing at the edge of a shallow river, surrounded by a group of very agitated crocodiles. One of the larger crocodiles snapped its jaws, nearly catching Simba's tail as he leapt back.
"What is this?" Mufasa shouted, his voice rising with authority.
Simba, clearly agitated, spun to face them. "I didn't do anything, I swear! I was just trying to get some water, and they attacked me!"
Scar's gaze quickly swept over the crocodiles. He saw the leader of the group, a large, scarred crocodile, sizing them up. Scar's mind worked quickly. It seemed the crocodiles were after Simba, and if nothing was done, he might not make it out of this alive.
Mufasa stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. "We don't need a fight, but if you want to survive, you will stop this now."
The crocodile leader sneered, his sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight. "Why should we listen to you, lion? Your cub threatens us."
Simba backed away slightly, his eyes wide with fear. Scar watched his brother, noting the tension in Mufasa's posture. This wasn't the time for pride; it was time for diplomacy.
Scar stepped forward and raised his voice, taking a chance. "What if we offer you something in return? Food. We can provide fresh meat for you. In exchange, leave Simba be and we'll ensure no more disturbances."
The crocodile leader paused, clearly intrigued. "Fresh meat? How much?"
"A steady supply," Scar replied confidently. "We'll make sure you get enough. In exchange, you keep the peace. Simba is no longer your concern."
The crocodile leader considered this for a long moment before nodding. "Agreed. But this is your last chance, lion."
Mufasa stepped forward, his voice carrying weight as he addressed the crocodile leader. "We've made a deal. I expect it to be honored."
The crocodiles slowly backed away, the tension in the air beginning to dissipate. Simba let out a relieved sigh, his chest heaving from the adrenaline of the encounter.
Once the crocodiles had retreated into the river, Mufasa turned to Scar. "That was… impressive, Scar. I didn't think you could handle them like that."
Scar simply nodded, his voice calm. "Sometimes, it's not just strength that's needed. It's about knowing when to make the right offer."
Mufasa turned to Simba, shaking his head with a mixture of frustration and relief. "Simba, you can't keep doing things like this. You almost got yourself killed!"
Simba lowered his head, his ears drooping. "I didn't mean to, Dad. I just wanted to get water."
Scar looked at Simba, his expression softening for a moment. "You're lucky this time, Simba. But if you want to be king, you have to think before acting."
Simba's eyes widened as he turned to Scar. "So, does this mean...?"
Mufasa sighed, realizing the moment of tension had passed. "Alright, Scar. You can take Simba away for a year. But you'll have to train him properly. I don't want him to come back thinking it's a game."
Scar smiled, his eyes gleaming with something close to satisfaction. "Don't worry, Mufasa. I'll make sure Simba learns exactly what he needs to know."
Simba looked from one lion to the other, his excitement clear. "This is going to be amazing! Thanks, Dad! Thanks, Uncle Scar!"
Mufasa gave a weary nod, clearly not entirely comfortable with the idea but willing to trust Scar with his son's training. "Just… make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble."
Scar chuckled softly. "I'll make sure of it."