Imriy's paws pounded into the ground. Breath quick and shallow, the lion did his best to weaves around the trees of the dense forest. The sun was low, the shadows it cast were long and skewed but not dark enough to conceal his black form. A quick change of direction skid dirt from beneath his paws. A wall of trees. A brief opening. Escape?

Hopeful, the lion darted through where some other animal's well-worn trail created a thin path. His steps slowed and Imriy Hayyim did his best to catch his breath. He did his best to make his form as small as possible. Did his best to make his breathing quiet, his movements even more so. But was it enough? Quick heaves and light steps. A wince as his adrenaline faded just enough for the pain of the wound in his shoulder to be remembered. What… why…

Somewhere nearby a twig snapped and his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't enough. The lion bolted again.

Evening was not the best time for Vaskr. The light of the setting sun made his pelt stand out like it was glowing. His best bet was to utilize the element of surprise, but. Well. Vaskr was not a stealthy lion. Much too large for that. He had kept his distance, then. Watched his target from afar for a long while. Trailed scents and tracks for a long while until he found his opening. In some cases it was better to engage in some conversation before turning the tables. Sometimes, acting weak or wounded pulled some individuals out of their comfort zone enough for him to worm his way closer. But this lion had been wary. Too much so for him to get close without suspicion. So Vaskr had waited until the other lion's head was down.

He hadn't said anything as he attacked. Was there a need to? Vaskr never was one for mindless chatter. Instead, his claws met flesh as the unexpecting lion. It hadn't stuck, though. The black lion was stronger than Vaskr had initially expected, and a mistake in footing let him bolt into the nearby woods. Vaskr cursed beneath his breath before following.

It was unfortunate that the forest was so near, and so dense. Still, he'd managed to wound the other lion and the scent of blood was strong enough to follow. Vaskr took his time through the forest, listening to the frantic steps become quiet. The silence of the forest settled in around them. The pale lion gave a toothy smile. As he moved, a twig snapped beneath his feet and the footsteps took off again. Vaskr followed, his steps languid and taunting, before his own steps quickened and picked up the pace.

"What do you want?"

Imriy had given up on stealth. The forest was quiet enough to where the sound of him running was enough to be followed. But the other lion was larger than him, he was sure of that. More likely to be caught up in the forest. Once he made some distance, then, Imriy could put more focus on being quiet and disappearing.

His size was just about all he could remember of his attacker. The lion that came out of nowhere clearly intent on drawing blood. He was large. Pale blue, with bright markings. He had come barreling from somewhere in the underbrush while Imriy had been drinking from a lake nearby and the weight of his contact almost knocked him over. His claws had broken skin in his shoulder, but how deep the wound was Imriy couldn't really be sure. There was no time to worry about that, now. Bigger troubles to be thought through.

Unsurprisingly, the other lion didn't reply to his query. Not that Imriy was curious as to why the other lion was trying to kill him. It wouldn't change the fact that, well. He was trying to kill him. That seemed to be a big enough picture in Imriy's mind.

What do you want, indeed.

Vaskr hadn't bothered answering. He doubted that the other lion cared, and the explanation would be above his head, anyways. What did it matter.

It could be pretty simply boiled down, though. Vaskr wanted to spill the lion's blood simply for the sake of spilling blood. The pale lion had spotted the other the day before. Just a speck on the horizon at first. He went closer out of curiosity's sake, staying in the underbrush and out of sight as much as possible. It was only when he neared that he noticed the markings on the other lion's pelt. The wings. The delicate feathers. They were interesting and intricate. Pretty. Unnatural. It was that pelt that made Vaskr want to draw his blood. To taste it on his tongue and let is drain into the dirt. An offering to his mother. He had some questions, and desired Blood Magic's help.

Vaskr was getting farther from his prey. The trees were cumbersome and difficult for him to navigate. He cursed and hoped the forest would end soon, or that the lion would make some mistake.

It hit him, then. Without warning, his muscles seized and his eyesight went blind. Somewhere ahead of him, Imriy Hayyim would hear the sound of a bulky lion hitting the ground.

Eyes wide but empty, the lion fell. His momentum skid him into a brushy tree. His muscles went through periods where they seized and spasmed. Time that would later feel like just a moment lingered over the lion for hours. The sun set and the forest grew dark.

In Vaskr's mind, in this dream-but-not-a-dream, the lion saw blackness. The blackness began to fade and vague shapes spiraled. Colors of black and grey and red moved shifted vaguely before they came into focus as a shape. The shape of a lion. No, a lioness. Large and muscular. She was close. Though it was dark he could make out the features of her eyes. Her fur as it shifted in a light breeze. The mouth as she spoke to him wordlessly. There was a smell. The scent of the sea filled his nostrils. The sea, and something else. He could feel himself being drawn away. He could only barely make it out. The smell of the sea, and the smell of ash.

And that was it. Consciousness hit him like a wall, a startling feeling that drew sharp air into his lungs. His eyes were wide and his stomach felt nauseous. It was dark, and Vaskr had little time to draw in his surroundings before he became acutely aware of a figure that sat before him.

Purple eyes narrowed and the figure spoke without moving, the familiar voice of a lion that was rough and dry. "Uncle."

(WC: 1127)