High atop a mountain bordering the eastern limits of Swampland territory, a lone lion wandered aimlessly. He moved generally southwest; the direction was of no importance to him, as what he sought... he knew not where to find.
He had no family, no home, no purpose in life. He felt no tug of warmth in the depths of his heart, no pull of a lover's promise, no nostalgia for a childhood friend or beloved landscape. It was hard to miss things that you had no memory of, and yet he was filled with an eternal sadness that ever-plagued his gentle soul. What meaning is there in a solitary existence?
The question tugged at his conscious mind, and he brushed it aside with the resigned resolve of long practice. He yearned to discover an answer, yet no amount of silent contemplation or discussion with the barren rocks that surrounded him could provide what he sought. So he traveled on a seemingly endless journey with no clear destination, moving as far as his body could take him before he required rest and sustenance. He pushed himself to his limits on a daily basis, driven by hope and longing for something more than the life he now knows. Being a part of something, someone with answers... a place he could not only call Home, but that would resonate with his soul in ways nothing else ever had.
He had spent much of his adult life traveling the Rogue lands, skirting the edges of pridal territories as he moved from place to place, never quite feeling confident enough to stride in and seek an audience with a current member. There was much earth left to prowl, many mountain passes to traverse, though how much he could not say... he trusted that he would know once his journey had ended, that the rightness of place or creature delivering the peace of Belonging at last.
Cerulean-blue eyes filled with burning desire faded to a sadness so profound it would have brought many beings to tears.
Why am I Here, if I am to be so alone...?
