Chapter Thirteen: The Chase That Chose You

The golden light of morning streamed into the royal den of Pride Rock, painting the stone walls in warm hues—but the warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air.Simba stood tall at the center of the chamber, his amber gaze firm, brows drawn. Nala stood beside him, her expression sharp and unreadable. Kiara and Kovu flanked them, alert and listening closely as Rafiki stepped forward, his gnarled staff tapping softly against the stone.Vitani and the Lion Guard stood nearby, worn but still strong. Their posture held steady, but the exhaustion was plain in their eyes—evidence of days spent chasing shadows through frost and fog.“So,” Simba began, voice low but clear, “you encountered… something. A creature twisted by darkness.”“Not just darkness,” Rafiki corrected, and even his usually whimsical tone had turned grave. “A curse. A corruption from the north—thought to be legend. But Jitu showed us it is very real.”Kiara’s brow furrowed. “But how could something like that get this close to the Pride Lands?”“It didn’t wander here by accident,” Vitani said, her voice tight. “Jitu wasn’t just running. He’s avoiding something—or fighting it.”“But he won’t say anything,” Shabaha muttered, tail lashing. “Every time we get close, he vanishes.”“Like mist in the wind,” Kasi added, sighing.Kovu stepped forward, his eyes thoughtful. “You said he’s protected cubs. Saved a rhino calf. Then, he’s not just a beast—he’s something else.”“No,” Rafiki said softly. “He is not a monster. But he is haunted. And now, we begin to see by what.”Simba’s jaw tensed. “Vitani, your Guard must continue tracking him. We need answers. If this curse spreads, the Pride Lands may not be safe.”Vitani nodded once, fire returning to her eyes. “Understood, Your Majesty.”The days that followed blurred into a strange, exhausting rhythm. A game of near-captures and careful stories.Day One.The Guard moved like whispers through the forest, eyes scanning for movement, ears alert. But the mist played tricks, and Jitu remained elusive.Rafiki, perched casually on a branch, chuckled to the open air. “Ah, young Simba—so brave, so reckless! Once chased a herd of wildebeest and got stuck in the mud. Oh, the look on his face!”A soft rumble echoed in the mist. A chuckle. Jitu’s.By the time the Guard reached the spot, there was only Rafiki, tapping his staff and grinning. “Too slow, little ones.”Day Three.They spread out, careful and methodical.Rafiki lounged against a boulder, chuckling. “I once painted Kovu’s face by accident. Thought I was casting a spell! He wouldn’t speak to me for a week.”Another quiet growl in the mist. Another laugh. And again—gone. Only frost remained.Day Six.Vitani crept forward, every muscle tight with purpose. “This time,” she breathed.Rafiki’s voice floated through the fog. “And the meerkat! Swung on a vine, landed in a pile of elephant dung. A hero, covered in mud!”A barely audible rumble. The mist rippled.Vitani lunged—only to find herself alone.“Missed him again, did you?” Rafiki asked, smiling with maddening calm.Day Nine.They set a trap. Vines, rocks, snares.The mist thickened, and a shadow moved.“And young Nala,” Rafiki mused, “so fierce! Pinned Simba before he saw it coming. Poor boy never lived it down.”A laugh. And then a crash—the Guard tangled in their own trap.Rafiki peered down at them. “Sometimes a shadow is not caught, but invited.”Day Twelve.No lunges. No rushing. Only patience.They moved like ghosts, silent and ready.Rafiki’s voice drifted again. “Oh, and Kion! His first roar nearly knocked me off a cliff. Ha! The boy had spirit.”Another rumble. Warm. Closer.Vitani’s eyes snapped to the shape in the fog. “Jitu!” she shouted, leaping forward.Gone.Again.Rafiki, seated as if waiting for tea, smiled. “Ah....so close.”That evening, in a frost-laced clearing, the Guard collapsed.They all lay sprawled on the cold ground, limbs all limp, breaths short and heavy.Tazama blinked slowly. Imara groaned. Shabaha flopped face-down into her paws.“He keeps… slipping away,” Kasi muttered, Vitani growled, lying flat on her back. “Is he a ghost? What are we even chasing?”A soft chuckle stirred the silence.Vitani lifted her head.There—perched on a mossy stone—was Rafiki, smiling. And beside him, resting calmly, was Jitu.The massive lion’s icy mane shimmered. His paws were tucked neatly beneath him. His eyes—so often cold—held a quiet warmth.Vitani’s jaw dropped. “He’s… right there.”Jitu didn’t move. But his gaze met hers. Softened. He let out a faint rumble—part greeting, part laughter.Rafiki tapped his staff gently. “Sometimes, young ones, the shadow you chase… must choose to come to you.”Jitu rose slowly. He was towering, vast. But calm. With a slow dip of his head, he offered a gesture—acknowledgment, not surrender.Then, with graceful ease, he turned. Mist curled around his legs, swirling higher.His form shimmered.And then, he was gone.Again.Vitani stared after him, stunned. Then collapsed backward with a groan.“This,” she muttered, “is impossible.”