Txuratan wandered. He did that a lot when he had free time. Even though he was a juvenile, it seemed that so much of the densely forested land of the pride was alien. Just the other day he'd found a round flower that exploded with glowing green pollen when he poked it. The pollen had been a nightmare to get off. Even totally submerging himself in one of the slower-moving patches of river hadn't done a great deal. Eventually, he'd accidentally gotten the stuff off by slipping in mud. It clung to the mud when it dried and flaked off. He'd been proud of himself for this solution, even though it was accidental.Today, however, he wasn't wandering toward the edges of the pride's lands, but toward the main living areas, where he could meet with people. He loved to meet new people in his pride, and somehow there were always new people to meet, though the number was dwindling rapidly as he made it his business to encounter everyone at least once. Today his goal was to find one of the hunters of the pride. His father was the commanding warrior of the pride, but Txur was curious about the other ways in which he could help the pride, and to that end he'd been seeking out anyone he could and asking them to show him how they worked, or at least tell him about it.
His pale eyes, usually luminous because of the perpetual dim lighting under the foliage, lit up when he saw Nantang. She was a huntress, he knew, and good at it from what he'd heard. Her family had lots of hunters in it. His family didn't have that kind of history with the pride, but he planned to change that. He had so many siblings, and they were all so great in their own ways, he had no doubt that they would all do great things for the pride.
He picked his way toward the huntress and stopped a respectful distance away before greeting her, "Hello, Mother. Do you plan to hunt today? If you do, may I come with you?"
He waited for what seemed like an age, but it seemed that the huntress was busy. Perhaps too busy to spend time teaching him the ways of her trade. He could understand that, he supposed. After all, what she did was very important, bringing back food for the pride, and maybe having him along would be a distraction she couldn't afford. Txur would hate to be the reason someone had to go on short rations, or even without food. The guilt would just eat away at him. Perhaps it was better that she had not stopped to answer him after all.
The stripe-stockinged juvenile continued making his way through the pride, greeting by name those lions and lionesses he knew and nodding politely to the others. It seemed nearly everyone was occupied in some way. A few of them pointed out to him that he should be with the cub minders. To these he smiled as charmingly as he could manage - which wasn't as good as his brother Falk, but wasn't bad - and said they were right. He didn't say anything more though, because he had no intention of going there, and the lie would bother him if he said he was on his way there or running an errand.
Frustratingly, Txur didn't see any other hunters besides Nantang, and he knew better than to turn back at this point in search of her. Even if she was still there, it was entirely possible he would be caught and made to go with the other cubs. He didn't want that. It was nice to have the companionship and he loved learning the lessons taught there, but he also liked to be out and about. Confinement wasn't for him. And besides, he would someday have to choose which craft he would learn as a taronyu. How was he to choose if he didn't know how he felt about them?
His feet carried him to where the artisans worked, grinding plants and bugs with stones to create pigments. The gripping motion required seemed impossible to the juvenile, whose paw muscles had never been schooled in that sort of task, but he watched the older lions perform it almost perfunctorily and was amazed. They were able to hold conversations without pausing in their work, or even looking at it in some cases.
"What are you making?" he asked once one of the artisans noticed and acknowledged his presence.
They were making pigments for the warriors to wear. They didn't expect any trouble or reason for the warriors to put it on, but the paint was also used in ceremonies, and they liked to have a good supply of it. This made sense to Txur, who asked if he could stay and watch them work for a while. It wasn't how he'd intended to spend his afternoon, but it was still educational and interesting. It would also give him an alibi for when he was asked - and he knew he would be - where he had been.
The lions and lionesses at work shifted themselves to make space in their number for the small blue youth. They also shifted their conversation topic so that it could include him. They asked him about his family, a topic on which he was always happy to expound, and about his plans for the future. When he said he wasn't sure what he wanted to do, they began trying to come up with the perfect plan for his life, based on what they knew about him. He wasn't exactly excluded from this discussion, but it stopped involving him as an active participant except when they would ask him a direct question which might effect how he'd work out as one thing or another.
After a while, Txur grew weary of being discussed and tried without success to interrupt long enough to excuse himself. The artisans, however, seemed to have forgotten his presence. At last, he decided that he would not succeed in excusing himself, and convinced himself that it would be all right to just get up and leave. He stood up and began to carefully back away. Unfortunately, walking backward wasn't easy for him and he couldn't exactly see where his paws were going, and in short order a large jar of pigment was broken and he had everyone's attention.
Things sort of went downhill from there, no matter how much or sincerely Txur apologized. In the end, he was told he would be working for the artisans whenever he wasn't asleep or attending lessons, replenishing the pigment he'd managed to spill. He didn't complain or protest this punishment, but even his acceptance didn't seem to please the artisans whose work had just gone to waste. Txur guessed it would be a long time before he was welcomed into their talks again.
