He spent most of his days sleeping. Becoming nocturnal so he could avoid confrontation with other lions. Most of the time it worked. Every now and then he'd spot another lion moving about the dead grass in the rogue lands, or the trickling water holes.See, Tabbris hated fighting. He hated meeting new lions, cheetahs, whatever. It wasn't on his list of standards. He wanted to be more like his father, but every day he failed to do so, which made this lion anxious and nervous. He would never be the great lion his father was, he'd never find a female like his mother. He wouldn't settle down in a pride to call home. Of course, Tabbris beat himself up about this all the time.
Dark brown paws carried him through the rogue lands, ears flicking at every crunch of grass he knew wasn't his own paw steps. He had to keep calm. He couldn't afford to black out here. There was no form of cover if he did. He told himself if he blacked out here, he'd be dead. He convinced himself of that when he was a cub. That just put him more on edge, but what else should he do? He breathed a bit loudly, quickly, feeling his vision starting to go wobbly.
This wasn't a good sign.
