Old Man Looney

A dark and dreary cave yawns before you. Against your wisest thinking, your paws lead you forward, slipping into the faint paw steps of lions from many seasons before. Bugs hiss and skitter away from you, rising to tickle your ears and buzz through your whiskers, pushing you towards the faint blue glow inside. A great cavern opens around you, shushing with rain and the quiet lap of a sea pool. The most amazing sight comes before you! An abandoned ship, still standing loyal and strong, its sails tattered and tired and weighed with time. Each board creeks and groans, wailing for, for something. Her sails yank at their masks, pushed by a wind that cannot save her. The cave, with its hush of water and steady drips, drives her mad, yearning for an escape. Her cries urge you onward still, bringing your paws to a ring of worn rocks. An old mask lay withering against an old heap of fishnets, entangled in a useless steering wheel that certainly served it’s ship poorly. There, in the mist of rain, a cub stands before you. He’s young, young enough you’d be shocked if a cub of your own pride was alone at his age, yet he stands tall and sure. Adorned with a sword and a brimmed hat,