Feidhlim had become right at home in the misty lands his family had come to call home. His pale fur made him a perfect ghost, but instead he'd felt himself called to the job of shepard. At present thought cubs were few and far between, and he was nothing like the only nanny in the pride. As such he often found himself taking turns prowling the edges of the pride's lands with his ears perked for any sort of sound. Eyes were nearly useless in the mist, after all.
Of yet he had never once run into any strangers, and he'd begun to think he never would. That didn't bother him really though. He was well at ease just walking along, listening to the world go by around him. The faint trickle of water caught his attention and he smiled to himself. He'd passed this spot daily since he'd started his prowling. A thin stream of pure water that would refresh the soul and mouth to boot was always welcome.
He bent low over the stream to drink from it, and for a brief moment his guard dropped. He hummed a faint tune and yawned. This really was the life.
