OOC
This rp is backlogged! I've not had much time to RP Mizar and I would like to develop him from cub stage on.
Everything was a blur…
He couldn’t remember the face of his father, the name of his mother. He couldn’t remember their smell, their voice, or anything else about them. All he could remember was the raw, constant ache of hunger and the blanket of fear that hung over him. He was new to the world, and very alone within it. He didn’t know how to hide down-wind, he didn’t know to walk in the water to keep his scent from being discovered, he didn’t know to crouch when the grass rustled or what the strange smells around him meant. His mind was still programmed with only the most basic of functions. He was hungry. He wanted something to eat. So far, he had lived off of little more than a few beetles and, in his desperation, a mouthful of grass. It had been horrible and it hadn’t stayed in his stomach long. When he had found water, he drank until he was full and moved on from there. Where he was going- he didn’t know. What he was looking for was anyone’s guess, all he knew was he couldn’t stay in one place.
The cub was a pitiful, dirty bag of bones with swollen paws, an infested pelt, and a body that was riddled with fatigue and starvation. He didn’t know what death was, but even he knew that he couldn’t keep on the way he was for too much longer. Sometimes something would cry out in the night and a small, morbid part of him wondered if he would be next. There wasn’t much to satisfy a scavenger, but if they were desperate enough, a mouthful or two wouldn’t be turned up.
The cub stumbled over his own paws surrendered to sitting on his haunches. Shivering, he slowly huddled up into a ball, hissing at the ache that sent a loud growl through his gut. The grass surrounded his small form, cloaking him almost perfectly against the darkened savannah. It seemed that he was blessed, at least, with a pelt that would make him difficult to see.
He looked upwards, his eyes drifting through the sparkling bodies above him to settle on a small group of seven stars up above. They were shaped differently than the others, and while he had started to take notice of a few more distinctive shapes in the heavens, this one in particular always caught his attention. Somehow it made him feel a little warmer. It was a constant thing, a comfort that was reliable, predictable, and always overhead when the sun fell beyond the horizon. The first few nights that he could recall, the night had terrified him. But more and more, he found comfort in it.
He was lost in his thoughts. He was tired, cold, and hungry. The cub barely took notice when his body settled against the ground and his eyes drooped. He didn’t remember falling asleep, he didn’t remember laying down either. The next thing he did recall was the feeling of something warm breathing down his back followed by a firm pinch to his neck.
The cub whimpered and scrunched his face into a frown. The earth fell away and there he hung, completely limp. Every muscle in his body relaxed. The sensation of being held by his scruff was something outside of his control. He remembered it, but only through instinct. The mouth that held him was warm and gentle, cautious but firm. He watched, bobbing, as his paws bounced well over the ground. He couldn’t turn his head to see who, or what, had snatched him up. He couldn’t see where he was going.
Too tired and perhaps too ignorant to put up much of a fuss, the cub spent the next few minutes simply staring at the ground as it rushed past him. Now and then a white paw would drift under him, gliding over the ground with practiced ease. Soon there were new smells, new sights, and new sounds that flooded his senses. It was at a small pool of water that the cub was finally set down. The ground was cooler and softer here and he nearly melted down into it was the pressure on his scruff vanished.
Rolling his head back, he saw his captor for the first time. A white, kindly face looked down at him with gentle purple eyes. The cub sank back but the stranger only smiled. He stepped over the cub and walked a short distance to a small outcropping of stone nearby. Another scent filled his nostrils and sent his stomach rolling. Meat. He knew that smell. Too hungry to care, the youngster mewed pathetically and began fidgeting on the ground, rolling over himself, and struggling to his feet. The stranger dropped a very large chunk of meat - a Zebra flank that he’d been saving for himself - on the ground. Without waiting for a word of permission, the cub shuffled over and began pulling at the meal, eager to fill his stomach and ease the ache.
The pale stranger stood over him and watched, his eyes filled with pity. He was too young to be away from his mother, barely off her milk, and damn lucky that he hadn’t been picked off by something out there. Even a jackal would make a fast meal out of a cub and not think twice about it. He looked away, granting the youngster some privacy as he tore and gorged on the meal provided to him.
Yun wasn’t a lioness… he didn’t know how to raise a cub. He couldn’t think of any lionesses that had recently had a litter either. Most of the cubs had grown up by now or were so high up that it would be unthinkable to approach them with a flea infested cub he’d scraped off of the border. The lion bit his lip, considering. The west house was pretty well off- perhaps too well off. There were plenty about, but it was going to be difficult to keep his attention on his training and on a cub. He needed more attention. He needed a family or, at best, a mentor.
Perhaps…
Zhao Yun glanced back to the cub. He’d slowed his pace but eager to fill his belly and perhaps fearful that he wouldn’t have another meal any time soon, the cub continued to pick at the zebra flank. Perhaps the East house would appreciate him…they were one of the smaller houses, if not the smallest house, and could use the new blood. They were small enough to give the cub the attention he needed perhaps and wise enough to puzzle out a good place for him. Surely he had no mother to speak of. Not one that cared if he did…not in his state. Perhaps he’d gotten lost? Or something unfortunate had happened?
So many questions…he wasn’t even sure the cub was old enough to speak. Perhaps this was just one puzzle he would never solve.
Word Count: 1,165