Timon moved as quickly as his feet would carry him toward Niflheim’s grand ice gates. From the moment he had heard word of a lion passing through them he knew it had to be Simba. It simply had to be. And to think, if he had not been there to overhear a fearful citizen speak of it to another, he would have never known. At least until the lion posted an entry to his journal but if he were to meet with him at the gates there would be no need. The Organization would never even know he was there. He doubted they shared the same interest in him as Larxene had but he liked that idea none the less. Simba would be safer this time. He would make sure of it.

As he drew closer to the gates the uproar of citizens grew louder. Their worried cries, however, only encourage him to go faster. He had been waiting eagerly for the re-arrival of his friend and knew all the commotion he was causing surely had him upset. It was the least of his intentions to harm anyone and for them to judge him before they even met him… He didn’t like it. Timon on the other hand loved it and took every opportunity he got to encouraged others to see his friend as ferocious, man eating lion, that way they knew better than to mess with him. But that was not something to worry about, not until later. For now he would only focus on finding his friend.

“Simba!” he shouted excitedly once the gates came into sight. “Simba, buddy! It’s me! Over here, over here!”