Watching the Paint Dry

Redrum padded silently through the dimly lit caverns, seeking out a challenge in the form of a hunt. He always did better in the dark, on account of his bright fur. The shadows embraced him like an old friend, offering him more camouflage than the sun ever had. As he navigated the passages, Redrum caught sight of a small figure huddled by a pool of water, her pelt a stark contrast to the murky terrain around her. The young girl, whom he recognized as one of the younger members of the pack, seemed lost in her own world, oblivious to the dangers that lurked within the gorge. It reminded him of his first outing, and the scar at the base of his skull began to throb painfully.

With a little bit of haste, Redrum approached her, his steps careful so as not to startle her. She was so small. He didn’t even think he had ever been that small. "Hello." He called softly, his boyish voice cutting through the silence in the cavern. "Redrum wonders – what little fish – is doing." He asked, his tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. That was her name right? He thought his mother had pointed her out as such once before. Something about fish. He crouched down beside her, his golden eyes reflecting the faint glow of the cavern walls as he waited for a response.