Greatwater Lake Fledgling with a Broken Wing

Like any other day, Khaba patrolled his land.

Slow, but purposeful was his pace.

Nothing had been expected — but yet, it would not be nothing he found. There was an estranged scent here. But something familiar also. Blood.

A deep set growl in his throat, he marched straight for it (whatever it was, teeth at the ready.