Sliabh paused on the dusty trail he had been following, head lifting to scan the horizon. He had been travailing for days now without sign nor sound of any other living thing. But the faintest trace of lion had slowly filtered through the dust and heat. The further he walked the heavier the scent became and finally he had arrived at what appeared to be the pride’s boarder, judging from the scent marks he could sense. He wouldn’t have pushed so far if it wasn’t for the fact that there had been no sign of water or prey for over a week. This pride was his last chance, for if they could support enough lions to form a pride, there had to be some kind of food and water close by. He only hoped they would be willing to share…
He shook himself from head to toe, trying to dislodge the thick coat of dust from his fur that had accumulated on his journey. The resulting dust cloud looked like a small dust-devil, and after a moment a huge sneeze wracked the massive lion’s frame, forcing him to take a step to catch his balance. Wrinkling his nose against the persistence tickle of fine dust he shook out his thick mane once more before turning to scan the horizon, seeking any signs of life from within the prideland. He didn’t want to simply cross over, such was asking for a hostile reception, but he was unsure how often the pride came out here to the roguelands. He couldn’t afford to camp for days…. Already his head hurt from the heat and no matter how much he panted, he was sweating heavily and loosing what little moisture he had spare.