12-16-2018, 01:21 PM
His walk is swaying. Side to side he rocks, one meaty paw in front of the other, shoulder blades rise and falling like pistons in an engine.He is silent and looming, and altogether at home in the meadow.
But the afternoon grows late he begins to feel the need to fill his belly, a task which was always easier with another of his kind by his side. Atone he was all for economy of effort. He huffs the air noisily, tasting it for any trace left by a passing member of his carnivorous family, but whatever may be there is overpower by the heavy scent of prey.
The lion's broad face tilts towards the sinking sun, a throaty call reverberating across the meadow. He waits for a moment, perfectly still, but the air is full of only lesser noises. Insects and birds titter, the grasses rustle against each other, and somewhere far away, a whinny sounds.
With a sigh, the topaz lion throws his weight into the earth - a puff of dead grasses and stardust filling the air around him.
Looks like you hunt alone tonight, he thinks, but not before a nap.
@[The Plague] Roll? 