“I’m fine.” Timon replied quietly, rubbing his arm in discomfort. He quickly looked away from the warthog, his gaze wandering back to Simba. “That… Idiot over there went and... and… was stupid enough ta… Ugh!” The meerkat clenched his fists and stomped in place, seemingly at a loss of words. “Why, when he wakes up, I outta…!” He was furious. No doubt about it. But in contrast to the usual frustration he sprouted it seemed so… empty, so forced. Timon was unsure what to do with himself other than shout and tromp around as he usually did, that was the release he knew and, unfortunately, it wasn’t working.

As the meerkat’s rowdy antics met an end, Timon appearing to have calmed down, he buried his face in his paw. “Oh, Pumbaa,” he began morosely. “Kid really scared me this time. If Kovu and Kiara hadn’t of found him-” Timon inhaled sharply, his voice breaking off at the thought. He regretted having let Simba go out. But, even if he had gone with him, would it have really made a difference? If it had not been this time, when would it have been? While having lunch with Pumbaa and himself, out for ice cream with the girls, Xion and Naminé? Zira would strike any chance she could get. He… couldn’t protect him from her. He couldn’t protect anyone.

The meerkat took in a deep breath and looked up at Pumbaa again, exhaling slowly. “He’s gonna be okay. Simba’s gonna be okay… But that crazy chick everybody’s been talkin’ about, Zira…” She would be looking for him.