Chapter Seven: The Lion in the Mist

Mara’s gaze lingered on her cubs, a quiet tenderness softening her sharp features. They danced and tumbled across the clearing, their laughter echoing like wind chimes. But Mara’s eyes, sharp and ever-aware, kept flicking to Jitu—the silent lion, the shadow standing sentinel beyond the tree line.“I suppose it’s time for them to rest,” she murmured. Her voice held a note of finality beneath its warmth. She padded forward, gliding through the underbrush with the grace of a seasoned hunter. “Come along, little troublemakers. It’s time to head home.”The cubs froze mid-pounce. One—larger than the others, with a bold splash of white on his chest—spun with a groan. “But Mama! We were just—”“No arguments,” Mara said, her tone stern but fond. “Unless you’d prefer to stay here with the cold wind and the silent shadow?” The cubs giggled, casting fleeting glances toward Jitu. But they didn’t look afraid. If anything, they looked like they were saying goodbye to a friend. Mara approached Jitu, dwarfed by the sheer mass of his scarred, hulking form. He didn’t move, but his eyes—those glacial, unreadable eyes—followed her. “Thank you again,” Mara said softly. “I never worry when you’re watching them.” For a heartbeat, Jitu didn’t react.Then his head dipped slightly, a slow, deliberate motion. A deep, low sound rumbled from his chest—not threatening. Not dismissive. Just... acknowledgment. Mara smiled, and with a flick of her tail, turned back to her cubs. They vanished into the trees, their playful squeals fading into the mist. Silence settled once again. Jitu remained still for a moment longer, watching the place where they had disappeared. Then, with a slow exhale, he moved. His steps were heavy but unhurried, leaving deep prints in the frost. At the base of the twisted tree, he lowered himself onto a mossy patch and lay down. His head rested on his paws. The mist curled gently around him. A sentinel at rest.But not for long. “Let’s go,” Vitani whispered. The Lion Guard emerged from the underbrush, like a ripple of muscle and tension. Vitani led, eyes locked on the lion beneath the tree. Behind her, the others spread into a loose formation. Imara stood firm, fire in her eyes. Shabaha kept low, her tail twitching. Tazama’s eyes darted across the treeline. Kasi held back, silent, her brow furrowed. Vitani stepped forward. “Jitu.” No movement. “We know you’re awake. And we know your name now. So are you going to just lie there—or will you finally speak?” Only the wind replied. Faint. Cold. Then—his eyes opened. Jitu lifted his head, the pale blue of his gaze catching what little light filtered through the clouds. He looked at her, then at the Guard, one by one. Measuring them. Weighing them. Vitani squared her shoulders. “So it’s true. You’ve been watching the cubs. Mara says you’re their guardian. That what you are? A lion who hides and babysits?” Still, no response. No change in expression. Just that glacial calm. Imara bared her teeth. “What are you playing at? Are we to guess on what you are?” Jitu’s gaze passed over her, calm as ever. But when it landed back on Vitani, it lingered. Focused. “You saved my life,” Vitani said. Her voice was low now—not angry, not demanding, but tight with tension. “Then you vanished. Now we find you here, silent and watching. Who are you? What do you want?” His eyes stayed locked on hers. A flicker—just a flicker—moved behind them. Something unspoken. Something old. But still, he did not speak. Shabaha scoffed. “Figures. He can’t talk. Or won’t.” For the first time, Jitu reacted. A quiet rumble echoed in his throat—not mocking, not menacing. Just... faintly amused. Vitani’s claws flexed in the frozen dirt. “Listen. We’re not your enemy. But this forest? These cubs? The frost? It’s not normal. Something’s coming. And if you know what it is, and you say nothing…”She stepped closer.“…then maybe you’re part of the problem.” Still nothing. But she saw it again—that buried flicker behind his icy gaze. Not pride. Not defiance. Something deeper. Pain? Guilt? Regret?Jitu shifted. His massive body rose in a fluid, deliberate motion. He turned—not toward them, but away. His mane caught the light as he took a single step forward, his back to the Guard. “Don’t you dare walk away again,” Vitani snapped. He paused. For the briefest moment, Vitani thought he might turn. Instead, he walked. The frost cracked beneath his paws. The mist curled greedily around him, pulling his shape back into shadow.“Hey!” Imara started forward.Vitani raised a paw. “Let him go.” Imara turned, stunned. “What?” Vitani didn’t look at her. Her eyes were still on Jitu’s fading silhouette. “He’s not a threat. But not harmless, either. And we’re not done with him. ”The Guard stood in silence as the last trace of the lion vanished into the fog. Vitani’s voice was a whisper. “Next time… he won’t just disappear.”