The swamp home lands were gone. Kozo's family, her pride, they'd all left for something better in the mountains. Kozo had journeyed with her brothers and sisters of the pride but found the mountains to not feel like her home. Her heart. Not like her swamps had felt. She'd slowly but surely drifted from her home and entered another spirit journey of her own. She'd crossed hot planes and thick jungles one her aimless way. Along the way she stumbled into an area thick with mists and what the lioness could only describe as spirits. No she was no seer but Kozo had been raised in a very superstitious pride. A life time of beliefs tended to stick with a lion. She was careful where she walked trying her best to not disturb this land and the possible spirits that dwelled in the spiraling mists. Kozo was careful.
The funny thing about mists is that when an area is thick with it and has rocks the rocks tend to be very slippery. Sure Kozo was built for treading the swamp muds but walking on the moist rocks was a whole nother ball game indeed. Kozo found her self slipping before it was to late. She stumbled, slipped and slid in to a babbling brook below.
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