Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Day the Mountain Trembled

The misty forest had always felt timeless—ageless and still, a world of whispers and silver light. But today, as the breeze curled through the ancient trees and stirred the veil of fog, something was off. The silence no longer felt peaceful. It felt… wrong. Kiara’s paws padded softly over the cool, damp earth, her eyes flicking through the shadows. Beside her moved Kovu, Vitani, Simba, Nala, and the rest of the Lion Guard, their usual banter muted by a shared unease. "He’s always around here... somewhere," Vitani muttered, tail lashing. "Why isn’t he here?"      "Maybe he’s off brooding in a new tree," Kovu offered with a forced smile. "You know how he is—overly dramatic." Kiara’s frown deepened. Her heart thudded too loudly in her chest. "I don’t know… it feels off."  "You just want to see him again," Shabaha teased, nudging her. But then—a sound. Quiet. Barely audible over the whisper of the mist. A cough. Kiara’s ears snapped forward. "You hear that?" Everyone stopped. The sound came again—low, gravelly. A cough that sounded too big to be held in. It cracked the silence like a falling branch. "Jitu!" Kiara bolted forward, panic blooming in her chest. The others followed, tearing through the mist, their paws kicking up damp earth. The coughing grew louder, slower now, strained. Then came a deep, uneven breath—one that didn’t belong to the stoic, mountain-like lion they knew. They found him slumped beneath his twisted tree, the one he always returned to. Jitu. His massive frame lay heavy against the roots, his thick mane tousled and dull. The silvery shimmer usually clung to his frost-touched fur was gone, replaced by a dim, gray sheen. His icy blue eyes were half-lidded, the light in them dimmed. His was breathing—slow, heavy—but not with power that they had before. Kiara rushed to his side, heart pounding. "Jitu? What’s wrong, big guy?" He looked at her, the motion slow. His gaze—always calm, always unreadable—was tired. So tired. Faint. Simba approached, his kingly poise shadowed by concern. "Jitu… can you hear us?" A faint twitch in the ear. A flicker of recognition. Nala knelt beside him, her warm, motherly eyes brimming with concern. "Oh, sweetheart… what’s happened to you?" Vitani stormed forward, voice sharp and cracking. "You big, stubborn idiot! You’re sick, aren’t you? You didn’t tell anyone—of course you didn’t. You never tell us anything!" Another faint twitch. Nothing more. Kovu stepped beside him. "We’re taking you back. You’re not staying out here alone." Jitu stirred, his muscles tensing. He tried to rise, but the weight of his own body betrayed him—he swayed, his massive paws dragging. "Don’t even think about it!" Vitani snapped, planting herself in front of him. "This is not up for debate."                                          "Yeah," Kovu added, trying to smile. "We’ll do the talking today, not that you always do but... you get the point. "Shabaha was already at his side. "Help me. We’ve got to lift him. He won’t move on his own. "Simba pressed his shoulder against Jitu’s. "We’ve got you son." Jitu held his demeanor. But didn’t pull away. Slowly, painfully, they got him to his feet. His legs shook, and his body leaned heavily into theirs—but he moved. Not with the stoic strength they were used to, but with something more human. More fragile. He let them help him. "That’s it, come on," Kiara whispered, walking beside him. "Keep on... uhh... lumbering... is that right?" Kovu chuckled under his breath. Vitani moved close, her gaze softer, fierce in a different way. "We’re not leaving you this time. "Step by step, they guided him through the forest. His breaths were heavy, his body trembling beneath the strain, but he walked. Slowly. Silently. The mist swallowed them again, swirling around their shapes like memory. And the mountain—silent, proud, unreachable—finally leaned on those who had never stopped standing by him.