The Lion King: Legend of Kopa

Prologue

Zira quickly stride across the early-morning African savanna, accelerating between a brisk trot and a steady jog. Her heart raced. In the far distance she could see the Outland's—as well as the end of the Pridelands.
Zira was a scrappy lioness with red eyes, swift fur and a scrawny body. Her large paws padded softly on the sun-baked dirt. She halted and lifted her head to sniff the morning air. Luckily she could not detect the nearby presence of any other lion—especially not the presence of her king, Simba. Zira felt a pang of rage and fury at the thought of Simba—the great king, son of Mufasa, who had killed Zira's beloved Scar to take his place as king. All other lions in the pride believed Simba's place as king was rightful, all except for Zira. She had loved Scar and worshipped him; and was beyond devastated when he died in the fire that had licked at the Pridelands not long ago.
Zira tried to force the unpleasant thought out of her mind as she continued in the direction of the Outlands. The sun was still rising, and Zira saw very few other animals out yet.
All of a sudden, something forced Zira to the ground. Zira let out a startled, pained yelp as something invisible pinned her to the ground.
"What do you want from me?" Zira cried. That's when she heard a very familiar voice that oddly soothed her. It was Scar's stern voice.
"Zira," Scar tumbled from somewhere in the sky. "You have let me down."
"I'm humbly sorry, my dear Scar!" Zira gasped. "I shall avenge you!"
"Simba must die!" Scar roared angrily, sending shivers down Zira's spine. "Simba must be slaughtered, and my future son shall take his rightful place as king!"
   "You mean Nuka?" Zira asked, standing up a bit.
   "NO!" Scar roared, and Zira cowered again. "Soon, Zira, you shall bear another son more powerful and strong than any of the cubs in the pride. He will be a king! He shall kill Simba and take his place as king!"
   "But what about the cub Simba and his queen are about to bear?" Zira asked nervously.
   "You will take care of Simba's cub," Scar answered more calmly this time. "And when I say take care of it, I mean kill it! It would be a disgrace to the both of us to have any of Simba's bloodline roam the Pridelands for much longer!"
   Zira thought about this for a moment. But how am I supposed to kill Simba's future son or daughter without being caught by someone else from my pride? She wondered. She glanced back up at the orange sunrise sky and thought she could make out the faint outline of Scar in the rich clouds.
   "But your honour," Zira pleaded, "this would be a difficult task for just me!"
   "Do this for me, Zira," Scar rumbled. "Your deceased king." And with that, the outline of him in The clouds faded and all was silent.