It had been a while since Jamala had stepped out of his little forest. Actually, it had been years since he had even been to this side of the world, his road-worn paws instinctively finding themselves slowly wandering back to this prideland, dark pelt shimmering in the warm sun and wings bobbing with every step. One would almost think that the old god's youth had been slowly coming back to his senses, with all the travel he had been doing since he had talked to the singing lioness back when. But he was on a mission, and it was going to end with him, someday.
Sighing a great sigh, he made his way to a familiar fishing hole, looking around for signs of life before deciding to hunker down. He knew the lion in question was a man of habit, and would find himself fumbling over the old god once again.
