If The Sky Comes Falling Down

*Lyonovei* · 06-06-2014, 03:53 PM

Lyonovei was not enjoying winter. He was a large creature, and keeping himself warm and fed was not an easy thing. Small creatures could have small meals, but not him. They could den almost anywhere, but not him. They could easily escape notice, but he stood out like a peak among plains. Each day he ticked away, waiting and waiting for spring to arrive. When it stubbornly refused to head him, he had made his way south. At least here the snow did not drift a dozen feet deep, or howl at night, or freeze his fur into clumps. Here prey ran thicker as well. Yes, he thought. It's the south for me. At least until the season turned, anyways. No doubt in the summer these lands would bake him to a crisp. It was beyond the hulking man as to why the gods couldn't just make up their damn minds and fucking pick one, hot or cold. It seemed like their only purpose was to piss on his day, when it came right down to it. He paused, looking up from his thoughts to take stock of the land around him. The sun was just waning past noon, and the land around him glowed a washed out palette of red scale. It was strange, as if it had been washed with blood some hundred years passed. Grisly, perhaps, but enough to occupy his mind as he wandered on.

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[Image: LN6hKs6.png]

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