Chapter Nine: To Catch a Shadow

Sunlight poured through the thick, twisted canopy of Rafiki’s baobab tree, streaming in golden shafts that painted the forest floor in warm, dappled light. The air carried the scent of fruit, herbs, and old magic—an alchemy that belonged only to this place.

High in the branches, Rafiki hummed softly to himself. His long, nimble fingers stirred a gourd of fragrant paste, streaks of orange and green clinging to the brush he held. Slowly, patiently, he traced a line of paint across a canvas made from stretched leaves, his movements calm and precise.

Below, Vitani and the Lion Guard stood in a ragged half-circle. Their fur was dusted with frost and dirt, their limbs heavy from days spent chasing shadows. Frustration clung to them like sweat.

“Rafiki,” Vitani said, voice tight with restrained tension, “we need your help.”

The old mandrill didn’t look down. His brush continued its slow, deliberate arc. “Ahhh… help, you say?” he sang, the musical cadence in his voice as ageless as the tree he lived in. “Help to catch the silent one, hmm? The ghost in the mist?”

“Yes,” Vitani confirmed, her tone sharpening. “Every time we get close, he’s gone like smoke. As if to mock us.”

Rafiki chuckled, a dry, leafy sound. “Mocking? Testing, perhaps. But tell me, young Vitani... what will you do if you do catch him?”

Vitani hesitated. Her ears twitched. Then she lifted her chin. “We’ll talk. We need to. I want to know who he is, why he’s here. No rogue lion moves like he does. Yet…”

“Yet he guards the small ones,” Rafiki murmured, his brush pausing mid-stroke. “The lost. The innocent. He protects, does not claim. Stays, but not belong. Curious. Curious.”

Shabaha groaned and flopped onto the ground. “Can we skip the riddles and go straight to the part where we catch him?”

Rafiki turned slowly, finally giving them his full attention. His eyes, ancient and bright, sparkled with mischief and wisdom. “Catch him?” he echoed. “Oh yes. But he is clever, this Jitu. Fast as shadow, silent as mist. To catch a shadow…”

He paused, tapping his temple with the end of his brush.

“…you must use light.”

Vitani frowned. “Light? What do you mean—some kind of trap? A distraction?”

“A place,” Rafiki said, leaping lightly from the tree to the earth with surprising agility. He tapped his staff into the soil. “A place that pulls him, calls to him. A place that sings—not to his ears…” he tapped his chest, “but his heart.”

Imara snorted. “What heart? He’s a ghost in lion’s skin. A giant, vanishing snowbeast with no manners.”

Rafiki laughed, spinning his staff in a quick arc. “Ah, you see only the frost, young one. But even the coldest ice must have a spark beneath it. Sparks, that seek flame.”

He crouched and drew a circle in the dirt with the tip of his staff. Inside it, a smaller circle. Then lines radiating outward like sunbeams.

Vitani knelt beside him, eyes narrowing. “What kind of place? What would draw him?”

“A place of peace,” Rafiki said, voice softening. “Of memory. Of young laughter. A place not of battle or trickery—but of something more.”

Vitani rubbed her brow, trying to think past her exhaustion. “We’ve tried force. Traps. Chase. None of it worked.”

“Because force pushes him away,” Rafiki said gently. “But you… you must be what brings him in.”

Vitani met his gaze. “Will you help us build it?”

Rafiki’s grin widened. “Oh, yes, yes! I will help. But remember, Vitani…” He reached out, touching her forehead with one paint-streaked finger. “To find a lion like Jitu, you must stop chasing paws—and reach for his spirit.”

Vitani exhaled slowly. The others watched her in silence.

“All right,” she said at last. “Then let’s build something he can’t walk away from.”