It hadn't been long at all that Bizoo had first set paw into the Kitwana'antara Lands, and found herself trapped. However, it had been a long time since she had felt at peace. The poor young lioness was a nervous wreck. She didn't have a single friend, though there were many shoulders to cry on, or even a den to call her own! It was...devastating, to say the least. Her quest to become the mate to a God had ended the moment she'd been spotted by those...those..things. She wouldn't call the ones who had told her she couldn't leave lions; they didn't deserve the title. She'd managed to smile and chat long enough to get a rank, but then what? Did this mean she had to stay?
The whole lands were dark to her. Filled with a scent she hadn't been familiar with until her arrival; the scent of death. Of illness. When Bizoo was around others, she was full of acceptance and a willingness to move on. When she was alone, she had other thoughts. Like now, when she was comfortable just sitting on a rock and dreaming of the day her future God mate would swoop down and save her.