Dawnlark Plains pause for paws

He had learned long ago to tend to his feet when he travelled, and stopped now to do just that. He laid his leonine body on the ground, and drew his tongue across the pads of one paw. They were drying, beginning to crack. Honey would soothe them, mend them, but it was not readily available in the plains. Fat would be the next thing. He stood when he had finished cleaning his paws. A quick glance around revealed no prey in the immediate here, so he walked on, all senses alert for what could be found, and what may find him.