simba noded without anything else to say. The journey so far had been long and indeed dangerous. They had come across friends and lost friends as well. As he made ready the spot he would sleep in for the night simba looked around, seeing only a scattered few left of those that had started or joined with them.

Curling himself up tightly for the night, the cub looked one last time in the direction he had last seen Kovujin then closed his eyes. He felt both sad and angry at the same time. Why was it that any other cub he made friends with disappeared? Why didn't they stay or be friends longer? Why did anyone make friends, only to offer that friendship with false hopes? Well he was done. It was becomming more and more clear that his lot in life would not include friends of his same apparent age.

Friends, family, it didn't matter. The only ones who seemed to be his constant companions were adults.. and he hated them. Not individually, but for what they stood for, what they represented - the end of youth, the end of a childhood denied by circumstances. If his only friends were to be found in the adult world then so be it. The fire and light of youth would be kept, hidden, and left to die in solitude a little more each day - preserved only by his failing hold on a past that would never be his.