5/3/2025, 3:15 AM
the tiger feels as if he has been asleep for centuries. body tucked within a catacomb of dust and cobweb, locked away to rot and to face an eternity of death's sweet darkness. there is a limpness to him that is foreign.
above that, a sweltering upon his pelt invasive. heat pouring from a wrathful, scorning sun, and sifting through the thickness of his hide. shifting, he raises himself best he can; chuffing a grating, irritable sound from his throat and chest. mature muscle coiling, twitching feverishly beneath a slate pressed pelt.
pushing through the dry underbrush his slumber was tucked beneath. coming upon a watering hole not too long after, as if destiny meant for him to rise here. eyes of burning golden shifting, moving silently past the tall reed grass.
paying no mind to what wildlife lay around as he sinks immediately into the coolness of the water, body of compact power moving with natural glide. rumbling with satisfaction.