Simba's amber eyes softened as he took a cautious step toward Tarika, his gaze lingering on her wounded shoulder. "Is it really you, Tarika?" he asked again, his voice tinged with disbelief and wonder.

Tarika huffed, the sound more amused than annoyed as she paused in her licking. "Yes, it's me, you big doofus," she said, flicking her tail. Her tone held its familiar edge of sass, though the tension in her body hadn't entirely dissipated. "Why did you attack me?" She gestured toward the warthog still trembling under a root nearby. "I was trying to get us some food."

Simba's eyes darted toward the warthog, who was now cautiously peeking out. The lion let out a deep sigh, rubbing a paw over his mane. "Pumbaa," he called gently, and the warthog perked up at the sound of his name, cautiously scuttling toward him. "This is my friend, Tarika," Simba explained, motioning toward the white lioness. Then, looking back at Tarika, he added with a half-smile, "Tarika, this is one of my mentors, Pumbaa. You're not to eat him, alright?"

The corners of Tarika's mouth twitched upward, though she gave a dramatic sigh. "Fine," she said, standing up and shaking her fur. Her sharp blue eyes briefly scanned Nala, who was standing to the side, licking at the shallow scratches she'd earned in the scuffle.

"Well, you're big now," Tarika said, her voice carrying a mix of teasing and genuine admiration as she sized Simba up. "Guess the jungle's been good for you."

Nala stepped closer, her green eyes gleaming with a spark of determination despite her disheveled state. "Big enough to come home and reclaim what's his," she said pointedly, her tone carrying an urgency that was impossible to ignore. "You can finally take your place as king."

Simba hesitated, his expression clouding as the weight of those words pressed down on him. He glanced between Tarika and Nala, both of whom stood before him as tangible reminders of the life he'd tried to leave behind. The jungle had been his sanctuary, but now it seemed the past was determined to pull him back.

Tarika, catching the flicker of doubt in his eyes, stepped closer. "Simba," she said softly, her voice steady and firm. "The Pride Lands need you. We need you."

Simba looked at her, then at Nala, and finally back at Pumbaa, who gave him an encouraging, if slightly nervous, smile. The red-maned lion drew in a deep breath, the weight of their expectations settling heavily on his shoulders.

Simba's tail drooped as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... can't go home."

Tarika and Nala exchanged a look, their expressions a mix of frustration and concern. Tarika sighed softly and turned to Nala. "Nala," she said, her tone carrying a subtle cue. The blue-eyed lioness nodded in understanding and gestured with her tail toward the bushes where Pumbaa and Timon had been watching from a safe distance.

"Come on, you two," Nala said, flicking her tail at the meerkat and warthog. "Let's give them some privacy."

Pumbaa hesitated, his curious eyes darting between the lions, but Timon grabbed his ear, tugging him along. "Yeah, yeah, give the cats some space," the meerkat muttered, disappearing into the undergrowth with Pumbaa in tow.

Once they were alone, Tarika turned back to Simba, her expression softening. She stepped closer and pressed her lithe body against his, her fur brushing against his like a whisper of the past they'd shared. "I've missed you, you know," she said, her voice low and warm as she nuzzled her head under his chin.

Simba's tense posture melted under her touch, and a small, genuine smile spread across his face. He wrapped a paw around her, pulling her closer into a comforting embrace. "And I've missed you," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of truth and longing.

For a moment, they stayed like that, sharing a quiet connection that no words could fully capture. Then Simba gently pulled back, his smile growing more relaxed. "Come on," he said, his amber eyes brightening. "Let me show you around here. It's great."

Tarika tilted her head, her own smile tugging at her lips. Despite everything, Simba's enthusiasm was contagious, and for now, she allowed herself to follow him into the jungle. It was a brief reprieve from the weight of their mission, a chance to glimpse the world he had made his home.

◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥◤◢◣◥

From their spot in the bushes, Pumbaa and Timon watched as Simba and Tarika disappeared into the jungle, their laughter faintly carried on the breeze. The warthog leaned closer to the meerkat, his brows furrowed in curiosity. "You think he loves her?" Pumbaa asked, his voice a low rumble of genuine wonder.

Timon rubbed his chin, a smirk playing on his lips. "Looks like it to me," he quipped. Then, tilting his head toward Nala, he added, "What do you think, stripes? You know him better than us."

Nala, who had been quietly gazing at the stars, sighed and flicked her ear, her green eyes reflecting the night sky. "I mean, yes," she said, her voice thoughtful but steady. "They've grown up together. It's natural, I suppose. But..." She paused, her expression softening as she looked back toward the direction Simba and Tarika had gone. "I just hope she'll convince him to go back home with us."

Pumbaa exchanged a glance with Timon, the kind of knowing look that only came from years of companionship. The warthog then nudged Nala gently with his snout. "You like him too, don't you?" he asked, his tone neither teasing nor accusing—just quietly curious.

Nala stiffened for a moment, then shook her head, letting out a small, humorless chuckle. "I've long since accepted that it would be Tarika that Simba would marry," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the ground. "It's the way things are meant to be, and that's okay."

Her voice carried a tone of resolve, but there was a faint flicker of something bittersweet in her eyes. Pumbaa and Timon shared a quiet moment of silence with her, the three of them gazing up at the stars, each lost in their own thoughts about the lion who had left so much behind and the journey still ahead.