all the fear of the fire at the end of the world

With a rabbit clenched firmly (perhaps a little too firmly) in his jaws, the delicate male ventured past the carnage of the fire into the far edges of the Thicket. There was supposed to be a lion around here somewhere, and he was intent on repairing the relationship he may have destroyed before it could be formed. He had been foolish to accuse the lion of kidnapping during the fire, and regret weighed like a stone in his gut. Thus, he entered the feline's domain with a peace offering. Perhaps he could apologize, and offer what little assistance he could with the remaining herbs in the pack's stores. No doubt the lion had seen some damage from the flames, as the rest of them had.

Short, halting steps brought him further into the foliage. His sense of smell was dulled by the hare in his mouth, but he was slowly picking his way along a fresh scent trail. No doubt he would locate the feline eventually. Perhaps, even, she might stumble upon him first. In the back of his mind, he worried his earlier offense might have been enough to be putting him in danger as he moved through the territory that held the lion. He pushed the thought away as anxiety bloomed like a thistle in his ribcage.