His expedition had taken him to the West. So far it seemed every last inch of this land was blanketed in cold and snow. Kimbia was not a fan. The West so far wasn't as bad as the rest. It was cold, sure, but he'd encountered less snow. There was only a smattering on the ground here and so it was here that the tom lingered. The slickness of it underfoot had been hard to get used to, but he'd adapted. Kills had come and gone, and unlike his home turf, there were no lions here to steal his kill. He'd eaten in peace.
Skirting a frozen pool of water, Kimbia continued to explore. This particular terra, in his opinion, made perfect hunting grounds. If not for the cold he'd be inclined to call it cheetah territory. So far he'd only met one of his kind and the vast majority of his interactions had been with “wolves” as the dogs here were called. He wasn't entirely sure what he thought of them yet. They were numerous, easily the most common predator here, and they seemed to have taken over the land. While not bound by dog boundaries, Kimbia noted each time he scented or crossed one. He'd only come across small groups and pairs so far, so he believed them all to be that way.