Celile limped across the savannah, preoccupied with the memories of the past few weeks. She'd met several felines, some pleasant, some... not so much. She remembered the brown lioness who offered her a friendly conversation. Well, until she fell asleep. Celile would remember her fondly. Maybe they would meet again some day. But then, there was that black lion she encountered. The thick, bulky black lion with red paws who smelled like death and rot. Celile wished to stay in his company for some time, but she just couldn't endure the smell. She still wondered what she did wrong to make him chase her off like that. Maybe it was the stare she gave him as she tried to figure out why he smelled so horrid. Celile cringed as she thought of the razor sharp claws that almost struck her across the face. Maybe it was best to stick with the sane felines...
The leopard continued to let her mind wander. The ideas she formulated when she was by herself were never the happiest ones. She thought of her latest litter. Their warm little noses and their fragile paws when they were infants. Then they grew older, and she really screwed up. Her family was constantly full of animosity and tension. Celile regretted it every time her blistering temper took control and caused a cub to cower in fear. With each of these memories, her heart sunk lower, and lower. If only she could start over... She would try to do better. She'd love her cubs and repel the hatred in her heart... prevent it from tainting her pure cubs. If only she could have a second chance.
Celile kept her stare focused on the earth beneath her. Her crippled leg carried her slowly across the savannah, and she didn't even realize she was coming closer to a rogue leopard.
