
Siavash squinted through the thick mist. The air was stagnant and heavy with salt. The black lion shivered, despite his thick coat. His pink eyes glanced towards one of his partners on this raid. The older, more experienced lion was leading the way between the two of them, though he was not the captain for the mission. It was Siavash's first expedition, so he would take whatever leadership he could get. Though the lion was head-strong, stubborn and prideful, he saved those qualities for situations in which he wasn't the least knowledgable in. He needed the oder male's guidance.
"Now what, Ylevä?" He asked.
----------

The blue reaver looked over at his companion. Siavash was a huge lion by any standard. He likely rivaled some of the biggest Firekin. Ylevä had heard that there were many gods in the boy's lineage. The most recognizable was the God of Rogues, from which Siavash got his almost all-black coat (the god was widely-known among all lions, it seemed. He was very... prolific).
"We'll go further up ahead to scout, then we'll see." He squinted against a sudden, sharp breeze that stung his eyes.
----------

"Now, you die!" Siavash's uncle, Eikthyrnir, blindsided his nephew, leaping on his back and tackling him to the ground gleefully before hopping off and cackling. His grey mane bounced with his steps as he circled back to get the full measure of the damage done by his stunt. Adelheid, his sister and Siavash's mother, had not known that Eikthyrnir was also going on this raid. It either would have soothed her fears, or it would have filled her with immeasurable dread, so Eikthyrnir figured it was best that she not know until it was all over, said and done.
----------
Siavash roared at his uncle and pushed himself up and out of the mud. It held fast and tried to suction him down to the boggy land, but he struggled free. He tensed his muscles to prepare to surge forward and do unto his uncle as had been done unto him, but a sharp look from Ylevä stopped him cold. The blue lion was the one he needed to heed more than his uncle, but he made a mental note to get the black, red and grey male back later, and worse. He shook his great black mane and growled his displeasure anyway.
----------
The trio forged further ahead, all secretly unsettled by the heavy, hanging fog. They lived near the sea, so while some denser air was not uncharacteristic for the mornings, something this pervasive was abnormal. Usually, the ocean breeze would clear it away, or the sun would burn it up, but the sky was overcast as well, the rays of the sun barely slicing through at any interval. They breathed deeply, the cool air giving them a chill in their bones.