Tufaha had been born and raised in the Pridelands, but she never truly felt at home there. She knew that the royals claimed they didn't discriminate based on gender, or on the color of her fur, but she caught enough open stares from her pride mates that it made her hair prickle. She knew that her markings were striking, but did they have to be so unapologetically rude with their gaping maws?
Lately, she took comfort as a huntress to be able to claim she was going out on a solo hunt. That allowed her the time to walk out to the pridelands border and stare out into the rogue lands, and wonder about what her future would be like beyond her pride. She didn't wish to leave the Pridelands, not truly. But she would like if someone were out there who saw her unusual colorations and patterns and thought she were special. Not special in a weird way, but in a way that seemed to bring light to someone else's eyes.
It's all well and good to say I should love myself despite what I look like, she thought as her paws hovered over the pridelands border. But I wish I could be loved, without thought to my appearance. Or better yet, that someone saw my markings and found them fetching. The royals of the pridelands all had plain pelts in warm colors, and this seemed to be the fashion.
"Perhaps if were to cake myself entirely in mud, like a buffalo, I might get less odd looks than I do now." She said, tilting her eyes back towards the sunny sky. Were there any great ancestors above who sported a pelt like hers?
Ruriska
