Username: Penultima
Your lion:
AcaciusStory:
Acacius was in the middle of a regular patrol when he felt it. A soft, cool breeze snuck up behind him that made the hairs on the back of his mane rise, the way they do when someone whispers just out of reach. It happened slowly, creeping, then all at once, a gust of frosty-cold air that blew the male lion onto his face in the stubbly grass. Cold, large, and wet clumps of half-frozen snow-sleet pelted his fur with it, and groaning, he picked himself up and sped along his route looking for the nearest shelter. He did not like the cold.
He found a large tree with twisted, knotted roots, and pushed himself as far underneath them as he could squeeze himself. Watching, soaked, Acacius growled softly to himself as the sleet slowly morphed into fat clumps of snow as the air temperature dropped even further, piling up on the muddy ground. He closed his eyes as the wind stung them, whistling through the bare branches above, and inevitably, dozed off as the wind howled in the white world outside.
When he came to, it was eerily silent. Blinking sleep out of his eyes, Acacius saw a thick blanket of whiteness covering every inch of the landscape, sparkling in its undisturbed, dazzling new state. Maybe winter wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe, just
maybe, he could appreciate the beauty of it for once. Clambering out from under the roots, icicles clinging to his fur, he stretched, scrunching his massive paws in the fresh snow. His back leg caught on a root, and tripping, the force from his body shook the tree, raining a branch-load of powdering snow all over the lion. "Forget that!" Acacius said outloud, once again cold and wet as he trudged off back to the pride.
(301 words)
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