((Yeehoo! It starts!))

The rising bright circle began its slow climb up into the sky, shedding bright light on all the land. However, it still remained dark and dank towards the Northern Border. The light seemed to stop at the gates to the Graveyard, seeming to reject to give its radiance to such a dismal place. It wasn't worth it to shed life in that now deserted area.

However, the sun was wrong. Out of the shadows, a reddish brown figure came. He padded towards the southwest, in the direction of the waterhole. His mane was black as pitch, wonderful camaflouge in the dark abyss he crawled out of, but it stood out like a sore thumb in the sea of golds and greens. Dark brown toes touched the ground with a soft thud, exposed ebony talons emitting small scraping noises when in contact with the earth. Orbs of acid green stared out from half closed lids, a pink scar running over the right eye. His head was held low, his gait in a sulk.

Today was his day to hunt. He was favoring impala this morning. They were always a light meal that would still satisfy. Did the fact that he was trespassing onto someone else's land and stealing their food cross his mind? Of course it did, but the Pridelanders have yet to find the forgotten prince. As far as they knew, Sengalo had died years before.