Oh, this is beautiful, and so sad. I love how you've used the elephant graveyard, because of course that would be the Lion King version of Silent Hill. Simba is so lovely, and '"Dad!" he yelled, and that was wrong too--and as soon as he called, he knew why' absolutely broke my heart.

It was dark, but it wasn't dark like night. It was dark like thunderstorms but the sky was quiet; everything was quiet except for the creaking of dying bushes and the groans of settling skeletons and the scrabbling of rats in the boneyard.

I love your descriptions in your Silent Hill fanfiction. There's always a strange sort of beauty about them.

Simba cringed, small and afraid among the dry bones. He was lost here, alone, and the clouds were getting darker. Back the way he must have come, back toward the bluffs that ringed the Pride Lands, all he could see were thick brambles with thorns like reaching claws.

Oh, Simba. Poor thing. This whole paragraph is so perfectly described, and I can envisage it absolutely, and argh why isn't it possible to give fictional lions a hug?

You're missing the 'riona made me do it' tag, by the way. I am ridiculously proud of myself for having it.