|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Sun Dec 14, 2008 1:56 pm
A small figure moved near-silently through the savannah grasses, the sun towering overhead. He'd find shade sooner or later, he knew. The white serval didn't complain. He'd just stuffed himself with a hefty field mouse, so it was about time he found a place to settle down and nap to allow the succulent meat to digest. It shouldn't be too hard to find an achacia tree somewhere; they were always dotted about the land.
His little green eyes couldn't rise above the grass around him, however, so he had absolutely no idea where he was going. Even for a serval, he was rather small, but he just gently loped through the grass. He didn't complain.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 14, 2008 2:25 pm
Múscail made her way through the grasses, a bit less silently than the nearby serval. She wasn't sure how much longer she could go hunting for herself. It was more difficult than she'd thought, remaining silent when her weight was shifting, and sating her growing appetite. She could only hope she'd get near the lands of the Dawnwalkers soon. At least then her cubs would be born into a pride... Or on pridal lands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
