Author's Note: I do not own the Lion King or any of its characters. I do own my own characters.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present the final part of Rafiki's Tales! Existing readers - Thank you for coming along so far, hope you enjoy this final installment. New readers - Hurrah! Welcome! I believe that this story can be read alone, without reading any of my previous stories, providing you do not mind that a few developments, such as Vitani's and Timon's marriages, and the birth of a new generation of cubs, has occurred before the story begins. All OCs will be re-introduced, so do not worry. If there are a few names you do not recognise, their importance will be explained as the story progresses. However, if you would like to read any of my other work, do please look at "Morning" (a prequel to the main films), "Afternoon" and "Evening" (sequels). There will be spoilers for those stories in this one, as is the way with series. ("Dawn", incidentally, has been temporarily removed for re-writing... it will return!)

Right, that's about everything. Only to say that, just in case this is not clear, passages in italics occurred in the past, others occur in the present, which is now just over half a year from the end of TLK2. This first section is light on canon characters, but there shall be more later.

Many thanks! On to the prologue...

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'You wanted to see me, Sarafina?'

Scar lounged back in the cave he had claimed as his own. Of course, Mufasa had slept and lived with the rest of the Pride. But this was a new order. Already the cave was littered with bones from Scar's private meals, and Sarafina was forced to pick her way amongst them, towards his rock.

'Scar... I need to talk to you...' She began, but he raised a paw, an eyebrow raised. Slowly, he smiled and stretched.

'Well... despite your rudeness I think I might grant you an audience.' His voice dripped with oil. 'I'll even let you call me "sire", rather than "your majesty". After all, my sweet cousin, we are family.'

'It is family that I want to discuss... sire...' The title stuck in Sarafina's throat, but she forced herself to remain calm. She could feel the anger choking in her breast, and swallowed hard. However much she didn't like it, Scar was king now, and the hyenas would make sure he stayed that way. She wasn't a fool. 'King Scar...' She began again, 'I want to talk about Zira...'

'Of course, you want to thank me for allowing your sister to return to the Pridelands...' Scar began.

'No sister of mine!' Sarafina snapped, spitting out the word. 'Sarabi is my only sister. Ever since Zira killed my mate...'

'Atif died months after Zira struck him.' Scar muttered. 'We only have that idiotic mandrill's word for it that the old wound was anything to do with it. And in any case, Sarafina, I feel that three years in the Outlands is more than enough punishment for the acts of intemperate youth...'

'Has he come back to life since?' Sarafina growled with bitter irony. 'Or what about your father, Scar? Your own father! Did he ever recover from his treatment at Zira's paws. She was bathed in blood when she left, and now you welcome her back as a friend... as more than a friend...' Sarafina choked as she saw Scar's expression. He was smiling, almost seeming to revel in her fury.

'Indeed, Sarafina, indeed. More than a friend. It may interest you to know, my dear, that she and I have come to an understanding. Sarabi can no longer remain queen, and since my poor brother passed away, I have been determined to take a mate of my own. Zira has consented to be my queen.'

Sarafina felt ill. Her legs trembled and her breath came in gasps.

'You would take her as... as a mate... can you fall so fast? Does the memory of your father mean nothing to you?' She looked up into his eyes... and she knew. It struck her with all the force of the wildebeast herd that had carried their hope away. 'You... you knew. About everything...'

'I'd stop that sentence right there, Sarafina.' Scar's expression was still amused, but his eyes held nothing but ice. 'That is treason you are speaking, to slander your king.' He held her gaze. She wanted to run out, to scream it to the whole pride... but what could she do? She couldn't present a look in the eyes as proof.

'But... she admitted...' Sarafina began, but Scar slid down from his rock and stood before her.

'Memory is a strange thing, Sarafina. It can play the most terrible tricks. I would be very careful what you think you remember, my dear, or I may remember that it was your claws that gave my Zira that notch in her ear. And you wouldn't want me to remember that...' He held her gaze, daring her to look away. But it was he who stalked from the cave. Sarafina heard him mutter something to the hyenas outside, and she shuddered. She had never been comfortable around this lion, and now... now he had power...

The old elephant drank deeply from the waterhole, her trunk bathing in its cool waters. To the other animals around, she seemed ancient, Kumbusho was old even for an elephant, but she still had some years left in her. But this was not the reason the other animals gave her a wide berth. She was a shaman, the spiritual leader of the Northlands, and the space they gave her was respectful.

She had just come from a conference with Queen Vitani. She was not happy that the queen had returned. Vitani was not a Northlander by birth. She simply did not understand the importance of their rituals, of their traditions. The Princess should not have been allowed to leave the Northlands until she was over a year old, but Vitani claimed to know what was the best for her daughter, and it was not quite a law. Only an old, old way.

'But no lion cares for the old ways anymore...' Kumbusho muttered to herself as she sprayed a little water on her back. 'No one preserves the memories.'

That was her function. A shaman of memories, a keeper of the ancient. She turned, sighing, the royalty were too concerned with the here and now, too worried about a small outbreak of disease amongst the herds. Kumbusho had seen it all before, diseases through which the Northlands had come. They had survived famine, flood and fire in her time and always the land had survived. It just took a little remembrance.

She stopped, staring at the ground in front of her feet. There was something carved into the hard mud where the water-hole did not reach. Something she remembered. Bringing down her head, she peered closer. It was unmistakable, an ancient shamanic symbol. Then Kumbusho saw which one it was: A circle with a jagged line through it. For the first time in years, Kumbusho gasped. She looked up, scanning the horizon. Sure enough, she saw another, carved on a tree some distance away. Her eyes narrowed.

'If this is some kind of joke... what is the harshest punishment I can give?' She muttered, as she began to move towards the second symbol.

But as she left the water-hole, the other animals could not help but notice the look of fear in her eyes.

'Sarabi!'

The ex-queen of the Pridelands jumped, her ears pricking. Slowly, she turned to face the shadows behind her. The Sun had set, and she could just make out a shape in the gloom, pressed into an overhang at Pride Rock.

'Sarafina?' Sarabi said at last, recognising her sister in the shadows. 'Scar told us you were gone...'

'I will be, soon.' Sarafina emerged, warily, watching Sarabi's face. 'What did he say, sister?'

'You... you don't want to know.' Sarabi turned away. 'I didn't believe him...'

'Tell me.' Sarafina was firm, but never rose her voice above a whisper. Sarabi sighed.

'He said that you had gone mad, that grief over your mate and Mufasa's death had been driving you insane for years... that you tried to attack him and Zira...'

'If I had it wouldn't have been because I was mad.' Sarafina muttered darkly, before adding. 'Was... was Nala there?'

'No, I haven't seen her all day.' The sisters exchanged looks for a moment. Sarabi bowed her head. 'Aren't you going to say goodbye?'

'I can't...' Sarafina turned away, 'If Scar sees me talking to her, he might exile her too... he can't send you away, he'd lose half the pride but... I know how to take care of myself, but Nala is still such a cub...' Sarafina faded away. At the back of her mind was a thought far worse than any other. What if Nala believed what Scar said about her?

'I'll look after her... as long as she needs it...' Sarabi promised, laying her head on her sister's shoulder. 'But... 'fina... don't go too far. Maybe there is hope still?' Sarafina turned back, her eyes shadowed.

'If Scar sees me again, he'll have me killed. I know you don't believe what I told you, but I swear, Scar had something to do with my Atif's death, and I wouldn't be surprised if he knew about Mufasa and...' Sarafina bit her tongue. She couldn't say the name of Simba to Sarabi, it was the one word that broke her sister's composure. More quietly, she continued. 'Nala is our only hope now... for her sake... I can't see her...'

'I know.' Sarabi whispered. For another moment the sisters nuzzled, then they heard the scraping sound of approaching hyenas, their claws rasping on the stone. Sarafina turned, and was gone. By the time Sarabi raised her head again, she was a shadow flitting across the plains. Sarabi squeezed shut her eyes.

'Oh Mufasa... now I'm all alone...' She whispered, and went to find Nala.

She was alone, but it did not bother her. Kumbusho was often alone with her thoughts. She had spent much time speaking with the current King's father, or was it his grandfather? But the court had moved away from her recently. She peered at the tree ahead of her, another mark, the same one. She shivered, it was not a happy symbol. She realised that she had had to look more closely to make out that symbol, and despite her age her eyesight was not failing. She looked up, the sun was beginning to set, but more than that she had travelled a long way following these symbols. Out of the Northlands, through hyena territory, always travelling to the west, until she stood at the edge of a thickly jungled area. Here, the wind rushed through the leaves, making a strange whispering sound, as though the trees were talking, somewhere beyond the edge of hearing. She shook her head. If this was a joke, some giggling pack of hyenas who found the old symbol scratched somewhere and wanted to lead her on as a joke...

She heard a whisper in the trees. Where a few moments ago there had been nothing, two cheetahs stood before her. She was taken aback, cheetahs did not normally live in jungle areas, they were creatures of the open plains. She looked at them, and they looked back, unblinking, unmoving. They were two males, both of the same height and build. They were not identical, of course, no cheetah spot pattern is, but Kumbusho could tell that they must be brothers. It was then, as she studied the silent pair, that she noticed something. Each of them had a scar on their forehead, like a mark of a claw. It was unmistakable: the same circle with a jagged line cutting through it.

'I take it you are responsible for these marks.' Kumbusho said. The right one blinked, it seemed to be an affirmation. Kumbusho drew in her breath. 'You realise, of course, that this is a shamanic symbol, and not to be used by the common animal. The penalties for this can be severe...'

'Come.' The cheetahs said, simultaneously. Their voices had an odd effect, neither one unusual on its own, together they were almost, but not quite, in harmony. The effect was an odd discord. Despite herself, Kumbusho shivered.

'What do you...?' She began, but the cheetahs were gone, vanished as swiftly as they had arrived. For a moment, Kumbusho considered the wooded path before her. The trees were large, there was just about space to squeeze her form through them. But before she moved, she felt another icy chill. She shook her head, drawing herself up. She was an elephant, far from defenceless, and she had the faith and presence of a shaman to see her through. Those strange cheetahs could not frighten her. All the same... she looked into the jungle, hearing its strange, whispering sounds, and did not want to go. That symbol... all that it implied... but she had a duty. As a shaman, she could not abandon her path. She had to take up the summons.

As she stepped between the trees, the whispers in the leaves began to change. Now they sounded like chanting.

The old rogue found her huddled over a lizard, tearing into it hungrily. Back at Pride Rock they would have barely recognised the thin, dirt-smeared lioness as the Sarafina they had known. She had been a huntress all her life but here, in the desert, there was little to hunt. Sarafina looked up, growling, ready to defend her meal. The old rogue regarded her, his dark mane hanging in the still air.

'No fears, lioness. I'm not going to try to take your meal.' He said. His voice was rough, but there was a touch of refinement to it, for a moment, Sarafina thought it oddly like her father's.

'Barely a meal.' Sarafina murmered at last. 'But...' She added quietly, 'If you'd like some... I haven't seen another lion in a while.'

'There aren't many who stay in the desert, and no.' The rogue was about to walk past, but stopped, looking at her. 'You are not a rogue by birth, I think.'

'I thought the same of you...' Sarafina admitted. The rogue nodded, slowly. 'Few rogues are. Many are males, taken from their prides when young. But that is not my story... a female rogue is rare, young lioness.' Sarafina bristled.

'I am not young, and my story is none of your business.' She growled. 'What is your name?' The rogue fixed her with an odd look.

'I am older than you. Here we have no names, no histories, and we do not ask for them. We accept what we are, and that is all.' The rogue stopped, and coughed. It had been a long time since he had spoken, and longer still since he had considered his name. He still remembered it though. He shook his head, that was a bad memory.

'Come.' He said, simply. 'I have better food further away, buried in the sand.'

'I... thank you.' Sarafina replied, surprised, but wondering if it would be an insult to refuse. 'But why...?'

'As I said, it has been a long time. I am the only rogue here. I want... some company.' He said it naturally, without a smile, but even so, Sarafina felt uneasy accompanying him back to his food. But they ate and slept in silence, and when they hunted the next day, she felt as if she could relax a little...

As Kumbusho journeyed further into the jungle, she felt her unease grow. The leaves and branches clustered thickly overhead, blocking the dying sunlight, and the whispering, chanting sounds seemed now to come from all around. More than once, she half-recognised the voices. She was sure that she had heard the voice of the King's grandfather. That was impossible of course, he was dead, and she was not the kind of Shaman who heard the voices of the departed. Her communion with the ancestors was entirely conscious. At least... it was usually.

Then, all at once, one of the voices rose above the others.

'Shaman Kumbusho, so nice of you to join us.'

She knew that she recognised the voice, but in this strange, echoing jungle she could not quite place it. She shivered, searching her memory.

'Why have you brought me here?' She asked at last, trying to get it to speak again. Instead it laughed.

'Dear me, and I thought shamans were supposed to be all-knowing. Why do you always disappoint?' It was definitely male, but it spoke so casually, and seemed to come from everywhere. For once, Kumbusho felt out of her element.

'Sir,' She said, falling back on wounded dignity, 'If you and your friends have been playing with this most ancient of shamanic symbols I must say that you are being highly irresponsible...'

'There's absolutely no games being played here, Kumbusho. This is a professional matter.'

It was at that point that Kumbusho recognised the voice. Her eyes narrowed, but she spoke levelly, her voice filled with ice.

'So Imani... you would dare show your face in the Northlands again?' Imani's laughter echoed around her. It was still that same terrible laugh that the lions had described to her, high-pitched and amused, as if the whole world were one cruel joke that only he could see.

'Call me an old-fashioned stickler for boundaries, dear shaman, but I believe that you are no longer on Northlands territory. And I don't believe you can see my face. Still, I'm sure that can be remedied.'

Out of the gloom, Imani appeared ahead of her. For a moment, he seemed like a ghost, suspended in mid air, a ghastly glow around him. But Kumbusho shook her head. She knew these tricks, he must be standing in a tree, that glow was nothing more than luminous fungus.

'Must you use party tricks, rogue?' She said, contempt filling her voice, but the flitting shape was gone, its glow casting an eerie light onto the trees. Not thinking, Kumbusho followed. She crashed through the trees, moving deeper into the jungle, following Imani's light like a beacon. He was a criminal, an attempted murderer many times over, he should be found. Maybe if she hadn't been so deeply worried by the symbols she would have considered, maybe anywhere other than in the thick, heavy air of the jungle, she would have stopped before she entered the clearing.

Imani stood before her. Even though she knew it must be a trick, she was taken aback by him as he stood on a rock, his fur glimmering green in the twilight, daubed with his strange war paint that made his face look like a skull. Around him, more shadows stirred back and forth. Amongst them, Kumbusho thought she saw the cheetahs.

'What is the meaning of this, Imani...' Kumbusho asked, drawing herself up again.

'Can't you remember, oh shaman of memory.' Imani said, almost lounging on his rock. 'Have you forgotten the meaning of your precious shaman-script?'

Kumbusho opened her mouth to reply, and the whispers seemed to multiply around her, the chanting growing louder, the words indistinct and yet horribly familiar.

'I...' Kumbusho faltered. 'I can't...' She coulndn't concentrate, not when those voices seemed to be people she knew, seemed to be those she knew were dead. And then, above all one was raised, a female voice that seemed to hiss with the strength of all the others.

'You have forgotten, Kumbusho. You have forgotten me.'

Kumbusho tried to take a step back, tried to recoil from that voice, that impossible voice. But she could not, the mud was soft beneath her feet, and already her weight had begun to pull her down.

'Do not forget, Kumbusho...' the female voice rang in her ears. 'Do not forget...'

'My friend, I want to ask you something.' He said. Sarafina looked up from the antelope they had poached from the edge of the Pridelands. She had felt like a common hyena, but she heard from the birds, those that did not recognise her, that Scar now had a son. By Zira. He had a succession. Often, she would return as close as she dared to the Pridelands border, to try and see Nala, but always in vain. Every time, she felt that part of her life slip further and further away. Would she even know her own daughter if she saw her now?

'Yes, friend.' She replied. For that was what the old lion was. He was not so very old, younger than her father had been, and thin from years of a rogue life, but age had toughened, not weakened his form. Together, they had hunted more successfully than they could manage alone, and always in that strange, respectful silence that was his way. Tonight, however, he seemed more taciturn than ever.

'We live well together, friend.' The old rogue said, looking off into the distance. 'We hunt well together. I have lived alone since... probably since before you were born. Even other rogues shunned me, and I avoided all contact. Until you.' He turned his face back to her. It was the same hard look that he always gave, slightly wary, ungiving. But perhaps now there was a new look, a kind of nervousness. 'I would like to keep this partnership.'

'As would I.' Sarafina replied. He nodded. They ate in silence, picking the bones clean. Who knew when they would next find a meal? It was not until that night that the rogue spoke again.

'My friend...' He began, so quietly she could barely hear. 'I want... to be more than your friend. I'll understand if you do not, we know so little about each other, but I have lived so long alone...' He stopped, clamping his jaw shut. 'If you will be my mate, I will never abandon you. If you will not... I will stay, or go, as you choose. I have lived alone before...'

Sarafina got up and walked away. She didn't even look at the rogue as she went. She walked, her mouth silent and her head loud with buzzing thoughts. Only once he was out of sight did she sink to the ground, letting her head sink into the scrubby sand. She felt empty, as though he had asked her nothing more than to give him a little more of their food. But this was important, so important... wasn't it? But... what did she have to lose? She could never return to the Pridelands now, Scar had a legacy, he would be king forever. The hyenas prowled the borders, the land there was drying. She had nothing to return to there but a daughter who probably hated her for leaving, and a sister who didn't need the extra worry. She let out a soft growl... she felt so cut apart, so separated from the civilisation she had known. So like a rogue.

She liked him. If they became mates, maybe it would be more. Together, they would always have a support... they could start another family... another pride...

She wanted to be part of a Pride again.

In the depths of her mind, she felt a memory stirring. She seemed to feel his presence in the night air. Him. Atif. Her first mate. She looked up.

'If you want me to stay your widow, Atif... I will...' She said, softly. For the first time since her exile, she felt her eyes grow wet. 'I could never love him like you... I don't even know his name... should I, my love? It would be... sensible...' She sighed out the last word. Atif had always been sensible. At the time she had thought it boring. Until it was too late, and he had never spoken again. She felt the wind flow around her, ruffling her fur with a gentle touch. She knew what she had to do.

The old rogue looked up as she returned, a spark of hope in his eyes.

'Have you... decided?' He asked.

'Do you love me?' Sarafina said, bluntly. There was no space for delay in their lives.

'I... believe so.' The rogue admitted, always so formal. But this time, there was a warmth in his tone. Sarafina allowed herself to smile.

'Then I believe it too.' She said, and went to him...

Kumbusho sank further, now the whole of her legs were in the mud, it seemed that the more she struggled the more it sucked at her. Any attempt to break free, and one of the shadows about her struck at her legs or trunk, scoring claw marks on her skin. She bore dozens of marks, even with her thick skin. And still Imani sat on the rock, watching.

'What is the purpose of this?' Kumbusho had finally thawed the ice in her composure as she shouted at Imani. 'What do you hope to achieve? I am the repository of all knowledge in the Northlands, I'm worth more alive...' Even Kumbusho felt disgusted with herself as she said these words, but the old shaman was suddenly seized with a desperate desire to live that overcame all her shamanic training.

'I'm disappointed, mother,' Imani muttered to the echoing female voice, 'I thought this shaman would be more dignified as she received her gift.'

'A gift?' Kumbusho choked out, the mud now pressing against her chest. 'You call this a gift...'

'You have forgotten, Kumbusho...' The female voice that Imani had called "mother" said, still accompanied by the thousand echoes. 'You have forgotten that we ever existed. But we have always been here, shaman, always...'

'You... you cannot be...' Kumbusho gasped out. 'You were destroyed...'

'You cannot destroy us!' Mother laughed, 'Can death die?'

'You were dissolved... your acolytes scattered...'

'We slept, and now we awaken.' Mother called back. 'Remember, Kumbusho... remember what you are...'

And in the depths of Kumbusho's mind, the memory finally surfaced, she knew what this ritual was. She struggled desperately.

'No... I will not... be... your offering...' She shot out her trunk, trying to grasp onto a tree, anything. Imani pounced. Pain shot through her trunk, and it fell uselessly to the ground. Now her body was almost all submerged, and Imani stood before her, a look of triumph in those terrible blue eyes.

'Do not... listen to her... she cannot be your mother...' Kumbusho tried to whisper, but Imani put his face close to hers.

'Do you understand nothing, Kumbusho?' Imani pulled back, and smirked. 'But of course, you were always an old stick-in-the-mud...'

The chanting rose up, now coming from all sides of the clearing. Flaming bones were brought forward. Imani roared. The female voice rose in an ancient language of supplication. Mud began to fill Kumbusho's mouth. Despite the pain, she raised her trunk to signal her defiance. But she knew, at the last, that it was too late.

She sank with as much dignity as she could muster.

There was so much pain at the birth. She was too old, past the best age for a lioness to bear a cub. But he was there, he was always there, always supporting. At last it was done. For days she drifted in and out of consciousness, licking the bundle of damp fur before her distractedly, letting it suckle. Sometimes he was there, sometimes he hunted for food. One time he was gone for days, returning with strange herbs to ease her pain. They worked. Slowly the days and nights came back together, and the shivering fur turned into a cub. Not as dark as his father, nor as light as his mother, but with the blue eyes of both. A quiet little cub, one which Sarafina pulled to her and would never let go.

'Is he... alright, my love...?' Her mate asked at last. She smiled, a genuine smile at last.

'Yes, he will be fine. You came back just in time.' Sarafina paused. 'Tell me where you got those herbs.' She looked at him, serious now. He bowed his head.

'I went back to where I came from. I... begged them from the queen...' He seemed awkward suddenly, Sarafina put a paw on his.

'What is it?' She said.

'My love... I want to keep this secret from you but...' He looked back at her. 'We've kept so many secrets. I thought it was a good idea but now...'

Sarafina felt a chill run down her back.

'You went to the Pridelands, didn't you?' She said, quietly. He nodded. She felt a cold horror. They were from the same pride... what if... But no, that was thinking the worst.

'It's time for honesty.' He said at last, sitting in front of her. 'My name... my name is Ubaya...'

He told his story. Sarafina was mermerised. He was her father's old majordomo, the one Zazu and Rafiki had told her about when she was little. In a strange way it didn't matter that he was old enough to be her father, but when he came to the part where he paid for the herbs she caught her breath. Zira had given him the herbs, the very ones that saved her life after the birth. But he had paid for them by...

'Zira would accept nothing else.' Ubaya said, his head bowed. 'She wanted an heir, she wanted a strong son. I feel nothing for her... nothing...'

'I... know that...' Sarafina said at last. 'Nobody could, except for Scar...'

Then Sarafina told her story. Ubaya was just as shocked. To hear how the old King was driven out and overthrown, and how Mufasa, the king's nephew, rose to the throne as the one lion, apart from Sarabi, who had tried to help him. He had heard some tales of the Pridelands but this... ending with the dark suspicion that Scar had killed his own brother. After all that, it seemed hardly to matter that his old king's daughter was now his mate. After their stories were over, they were silent for a long time. At first, it was the stunned silence of revelation, but as the hours passed, it shifted to the silence they usually had, the silence of mutual support. They knew life would continue as it always had, what difference did their pasts make now? There was only one reason to know.

'I will have to go back for the cub, when it is born.' Ubaya said at last.

'Zira cannot have it.' Sarafina agreed. She wanted to ask if he had seen Nala, but the words died in her throat. That was a heart-ache for another day.

'We should name our son.' Ubaya said, at last. 'We weren't going to name him, but now we have names... Sarafina...'

'I have a name for him, Ubaya.' She said, pronouncing his name with care. 'Tonight, we have been utterly honest. I think... I think we are stronger for it... so let his name mean honesty. Let him be Imani.'

The pair looked down at the sleeping cub, and nodded. So he was Imani as he took his first step. He was Imani as he climbed on his mother's fur. He was Imani when they returned, that stormy night, to Pride Rock, to collect his newborn half-brother, fresh-named Kovu. He was Imani when he saw his father torn down by Zira's hyenas, as he and his mother fled into the night.

He was Imani when he watched the last of Kumbusho's body sink into the mud, and turned back to the ritual with the flicker of a smile.

He was Imani, and he would make the Circle of Life tremble.

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Author's Note: And there you are! Reviews would be immensely appreciated.

Next Time: Something is rotten in the state of the Pridelands...

Please keep reading!