The night's sleep had been all but restful. While he couldn't recall his dreams as he woke - something unusual but thankful for at times - he hadn't slept well, that much he knew. Muscles that had travled far cried out in their own right as they strained against the floor where he had slept through the night. The aches would cease though as the day pressed on - at least for a time.

He had traveled many places over time, but the constant movement, little and fettered sleep and constant concern, the least of which having already been borne of one major attack, left him little respite in this foreign land. They were close to Malaika's land, if not on the outter edges. He longed for his own home of the Mizaati Mara with it's lush trees and guarding hills.

As the cub finally resigned himself to the day that was pressing at his eyes and other senses he stretched his paws from fore to hind, giving his muscles one last good stretch before being called upon to take up the task that lie ahead. The air was dull and stale - offering so little compared to his own homelands, as well as many of the other places he had traveled to in comparison.

As he looked around he saw Psylant still sleeping. He didn't know what to make of the figure just yet but would leave that to Malaika. Friends were for those who could afford to make and loose them - something he was no longer disposed to out here. He would be nice enough of course should circumstances warrent. He wasn't heartless, just hurt. His eyes spied Malaika, who was unaware of his being awake. simba still didn't feel like speaking much and so just used the sound of his paws' weight upon the dry earth to let the older lion know he was up and about.