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Slot 18: Leg Banding Cimmerian
As you pace around your pride, you suddenly feel watched. You look behind you to spot 🪼Logs Between Rivers🪼 crouched in the grass, butt wiggling and ready to pounce!
🪼Logs Between Rivers🪼 is very eager to show you his practice roar! It's amazingly impressive for someone so small.
JULY
Finally, at long last, she could become her true self, and shed her masculine flesh. The stars aligned, and with a pact, she was reformed: but at what cost?
MAY
The end of spring had came, and so did the jolly tussling of kings and heirs. The sun began to blaze, scorching the skies into hues similar to the flames the humans carry. However, by nightfall, as the stars crept into the smoldering skies, the sun had fallen. Cool winds had caressed the life on Earth once more, soothing the world from the rise of Sol. Upon the transition from blooming life to bleeding rays of flame, a trio of cubs were born under the abyssal skies.
Unremarkable as per usual, though Chasing Wind had no ability to tell if any of his cubs had the same clouded eyes as he did, blessed by the torrents to see through the veil. However, another sign had appeared. One of two sons he had heired seemed to be blessed in a different way- Miros particularly struggled to birth this cub, and only after close examination was the reason clear. This cub was rather large- nearly twice that of his brother and sister! Fur already seemed to smother his body, in spite of his newborn state, and his tail was stubby compared to his siblings.
A strong son had been born, blessed by Torrent to bear the hostile rains that pelted the jungle so often. His eyes opened, revealing the same pale color as Chasing Wind's. With enthusiasm, Miros chortled to him, giving the wonderful news of a double-blessed son. Chasing Wind flicked his tail high, reaching down to sniff his cubs before gently lolling his tongue over each of them lovingly. He would cherish these three, as his children of the rains.
As he doted upon the chosen son to withstand Torrent's sheer power, the brother of the now named "Unyeilding Stream" had mewled softly, rolling in place, unaware of the sheer power his brother held. His father lifted his head, then began to sniff the smaller cub, before giving a loving lap of his tongue. Pausing, Chasing Wind seemed to consider the perfect name for this son.
"Logs Between Rivers". How trunks of the mighty trees fall and are arranged into walls between grand streams is surely a worthy name. How the wood chokes the channels, forcing ponds to form and bringing bountiful gifts to all whom live adjacent to it. How this son shall support his kingly brother in life and in death. A truly befitting title.
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