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StarieMichie's Teepee
LunaRei_SilverBlood's Teepee

The climb up the mountain would have been impossible for most, but for Milo'koa, son of Loque'nahak, it was only a light challenge. He was tired, and his powerful muscles did ache, but not nearly as much as it would have for an inferior horse. He was in his cat form, and bounded from rock to rock as if it were his natural environment. With enough practice, this would become effortless for him, and he looked forward to the day he would be strong enough for that to happen. He would bring his mother, Har'Koa, here and show her that he was the stronger and better son. His brother was a weak and useless bag of fur.

The haze of his determination wore off, and Milo closed his eyes, breathed in deep and took in the mountain air. It seemed peaceful here. A place where his wicked mind could rest and be free from the daily bothers of his herd. Their constant squabbles distracted him from his training, plotting, and planning.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed a building in the distance. Someone else was here also? The thought of sharing his new retreat with another soul angered Milo. Never mind the fact that this building clearly pre-dated him; this was his mountain, and he was going to keep it that way. He slinked over to the building, and on closer inspection, the place was clearly filled with the stench of holiness and goodness.

This was obviously a very important place to someone. They had taken very much care in keeping it clean and tidy. Every important looking relic was polished to a shine, and there was a garden with flowers that were full of life. In his head, he pictured himself of owner of this place, and the changes in decor he would make. Milo began to dig his claws into the face of a very old bust of a Soquli, marring it's beauty and warping it's shape to his desire. Small chunks fell to the ground, and he batted them around between his paws.

Then he went over to the garden, and began uprooting the flowers one by one. He started with what looked like lilies. The color white had always annoyed him; it showed the blood splatters more easily than his own dark pelt.

Milo laughed evilly as he wantonly destroyed what he pleased. This was like a game to him, and was much more fun than anything his homeland held for him.