Hateful Cinder

As you pad further and further East, you notice something strange.
Large claw marks in the old trees that have been covered by mud and dead leaf litter.
Red patches that look a lot like dried blood. Tiny patches, but just enough to be noticed in the tiny flashes of light that flick through the trees.
A hulking slab of rock juts out of the ground at an odd angle in front of you.
You stop. And gasp.
There, staring at you through carved cage walls, is a lion.
His eyes bore into your skull and take your breath as you see the carnage of his cell.
Bloody binds rope his jaw shut and spiral over his back and legs, revealing old scars and wounds that cannot be described in words.
The dirty forest floor at his feet show old signs of struggle and excrement.
You wonder how old this lion is, and how long he's suffered.
Without your knowledge, you've moved closer until your muzzle is nearly touching the rough bars of this lions cage.
His bloodshot, amber eyes pierce yours with intensity and longing.
You don't know how to help. You can't. You don't see an exit...
Suddenly, the liquid amber eyes grow wide with hatred. You turn silently.
All you see is a black silhouette, before claws close around your throat and all is lost to soggy blackness.