07-19-2018, 07:33 AM
[size=9pt]It'd been going smoothly- no uncalled for bowel movements, no fainting, no encountering cannibals-- but then he smelt them. Over the hill, on the horizon, propelling themselves at full speed towards him, then around him, then on him. He was a whole fucking Lion but a teenager, still and the wolves came in a pack, four or so. They managed to tear at his leg until they realized one of his paws could crush their ribcage if given the time of day, and took off. It didn't last long, and there were no injuries that would prove permanent, but he was limping when he finally turned up at the border. Convenient stuff. An excellent first impression.
The sun is sinking and so is his will to stand, so he falls to the ground in a mound of golden fur and stares, like a dog begging to be walked, into the distance before him. He's heard of these before, Clans and such. A bunch of animals gathered together, building up weird hierarchies and making problems for themselves. He's never wanted to join them, because, quite frankly, Moon has no interest in allies and enemies and battle and titles, but now his family is dead and he's spent the last week going hungy and he can feel his pancake getting flatter by the second, so he figures desperate times call for desperate measures. Now all his has to do is wait for some scarred animal with a bad attitude and smelly breath to find him, and he might have to sacrifice a goat or chop off one of his thumbs to get in or something, but at least he'll be somewhere. At least he'll have somebody.
He's beginning to say goodbye to his dignity as he calls a faint,"Hello?" into the plains, feeling very much like that one cartoon that the humans watch, where the cub's Dad gets pushed off the cliff by his emo brother and he has to run into the dessert, all emotional and shit. All it's missing is some vulchers, a meerkat, and a hog, but he's sure they're on their way. He sucks in a breath that he realizes is shaky and thinks, it'd be a real shame if he were to die before overthrowing some king or hakuna matataing with a pretty lioness.
The sun is sinking and so is his will to stand, so he falls to the ground in a mound of golden fur and stares, like a dog begging to be walked, into the distance before him. He's heard of these before, Clans and such. A bunch of animals gathered together, building up weird hierarchies and making problems for themselves. He's never wanted to join them, because, quite frankly, Moon has no interest in allies and enemies and battle and titles, but now his family is dead and he's spent the last week going hungy and he can feel his pancake getting flatter by the second, so he figures desperate times call for desperate measures. Now all his has to do is wait for some scarred animal with a bad attitude and smelly breath to find him, and he might have to sacrifice a goat or chop off one of his thumbs to get in or something, but at least he'll be somewhere. At least he'll have somebody.
He's beginning to say goodbye to his dignity as he calls a faint,"Hello?" into the plains, feeling very much like that one cartoon that the humans watch, where the cub's Dad gets pushed off the cliff by his emo brother and he has to run into the dessert, all emotional and shit. All it's missing is some vulchers, a meerkat, and a hog, but he's sure they're on their way. He sucks in a breath that he realizes is shaky and thinks, it'd be a real shame if he were to die before overthrowing some king or hakuna matataing with a pretty lioness.
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]