Though fast to follow Duma, simba slowed his pace noticabley as they entered the outskirts of the village. Paws that normally felt grasses or earth beneath them now tread over prints made by humans. It was an errie feeling. Never before had he ventured into a human village before. Fernando spoke once or twice of the injustices he had suffered at the hands of his own kind, and simba wondered with chilled thought if these humans were the ones who had done that to his friend, or knew of those who did.

The cub kept an eye on Malaika as best he could before watching the older lion disappear into a wooden cave dwelling of the human's design. He hoped that the older lion would be ok, as well as hoped, even if briefly, that these people could help. simba would be in there helping too, if he could, but the humans seemed intent on doing what there were without the assistance or company of him or any of the other creatures. It had taken him a moment to realize in retrospect that he had heard the one human speak to Duma as though communication were possible. Fernando had been raised by cheetahs and so could speak with nature, and there were a seldom other few. simba tucked that bit of thought away for further reflection later.