It is Time. . .

[Rox]

Years had passed, and now Simba was an adult lion of about 2-3 years of age. He'd learned a lot about surviving from Timon and Pumbaa in the time he had spent in the jungle, but he secretly was missing home. After hearing the conditions of the Pride Lands from his Mother and the rest of the group something inside him somewhat clicked. One night while the others were asleep, Simba rose up and walked off, a fire burning inside him to head back to his homeland and correct the wrongdoings of his Uncle Scar.

[mistwolf]

Tojo stood on the long log that stretched over the river in the midst of the jungle. Like SImba, the young lion, too, had changed. But not for the better. Tojo's mane had grown in completly, and he had gained muscle, but his mind had changed. He had formed a deep dislike, almost bordering hatred, towards Simba. A deep contempt, a longing to do whatever he could to stop the young male from gaining the thrown back. And this had formed a wedge between him and Nala, his only love. It was something that felt like a dagger pushing into his heart. A cold, harsh pain. A pain that made tears come to his eyes, and hurt to his heart whenever he saw Simba and Nala spending time together. Nala had grown to love Simba, despite Tojo's inability to understand why. Time after time he had tried to woo her back, and time after time he had failed to. Simba was tearing his life apart. And he hated it.

The young male stood on the log spanning the river and gazed at his reflection below. He wanted to get back at Simba somehow. Wanted to keep him from taking the thrown. Nala didn't know it, but for the entire time he'd been here, he'd been conspiring against the young king. A conspiracy that always ended with the same conclusion: he had to kill Simba. Scar had failed. Tojo had to do it. Simba was unfit to rule. Only Tojo was worthy, and Nala deserved to be Queen alongside someone who was her intellectual equal. Someone like him. He had to get rid of Simba.

It had been a slow fade for Tojo. If the young lion had ever thought he'd be conspiring to kill Simba, he would have been horrified. But over the months, it had been a slow fade for him, a constant subduing of his conscience and his mind to get to this point where he was calloused enough to get rid of Simba.

So when he heard the rustle of paws in the bush, the scent of Simba, Tojo followed at a distance. He found with a shock, though, that Simba was leaving the jjungle. Where was he going?
Tojo knew the answer. He also knew it was his time to act. Get to Priderock first, kill Scar, kill Simba, take the thrown for himself. It was a perfect plan.
Silently, he, too left the jungle, but ran from a different direction as not to be seen. He had to get home before Simba. It was a race for the thrown now. A race for Nala.