Archeron

Archeron, a lion who was revered and honored in his former pride. Blessed with the feat of driving a rabid hyena clan from their lands, Archeron was respected by others, even Atlas, his own leader. But his wounds were severe. They had started to fester with a foul stench. Day by day, he had become weaker. A shell of the 'revered Archeron'. Despite the praises showered on him every day, he was just a lion. Not special. He was no deity. He would succumb to the injuries that plagued him. Deep in delirium from the infection, he wandered. To nowhere in particular. He was deep in reverie. No deity would save him. No ancestors to call upon. No gods to guide him. But he had saved the clan from those ravenous hyenas. No god would even recognise him?

Grey dust.

The giggles of distant hyenas.

Fear.

So I've been abandoned? Where are the good tidings and blessings that I have been gifted? Where am I to go?

'Archeron the revered' is no more.

"What kind of curse is this? Fated to walk within these barren lands?"

"You've woken up again?" It was the quiet purr of a young lion. "Probably needs more water.." Archeron opened his eyes. He was in a little cave. It stank of myriads of different herbs, their scents clashed with each other. "..Who are you?" He glared at the young lioness. "Oh. My name is Heaven. So you've finally come to your senses. Looks like the infection's dying down." Archeron rose from the bed of sticks and dried leaves slightly. The gash on his shoulder ached and he lay down again. He turned around to lick the injury. "Don't do that." Heaven hissed. Archeron took another glance at his injury and noticed that it has started to close up. It was also covered in some sort of herbal balm. "I took care of all of your injuries. They were pretty bad but they're getting better." The older lion lowered his head in gratitude, his feathered headdress rustling.
"...thank you. I am sure I would be no more without you." He then pawed at the crow headdress until it fell off with a soft thud in the ground. "I would have given this to you to wear, but I doubt it would fit you now. But you can still have this, Heaven. Or perhaps you could just take some of the feathers. I am not who I once was and I believe you deserve this. You are a healer; caring for the wounded and ill is certainly more difficult than killing and coveting."