They were brats. The whole lot of them!
After a particularly gruelling day, the Mayaya marched through the pridal lands, clearly not in the best of moods. She was cursing and grumbling under her breath, and the hunched shoulders and unsheathed claws the gashed the soft ground made it fairly obvious that anyone approaching her risked having their head chewed off. Perhaps not literally...but figuratively, most certainly.
Finally reaching the spot she'd been aiming for - a large tree on the outskirts of the pridal lands, where few cubs dared venture - Tethys literally threw herself onto the ground, proceeding the grumble louder when she landed on a rock, bruising her own side. She slashed at the tree, leaving three deep gashes, her frustration beginning to wear down. Stupid cubs...what did they think, that wandering into the river was a smart idea? Tethys had had to wade it and save them before they drowned, simply because they'd been stupid. She'd been sure to let them know how stupid they'd been - that was Thys' way - and she'd given them each a good cuff around the head. But there wasn't much else she could do, except take her frustration out on her surroundings.
With another loud growl, she flopped onto the ground again. Time to rest, without needed to keep her eyes on troublesome youngsters.
