Verdigris Ravine nuff of this nonsense

Gatdamn!

His paws were hot, his black lined back was hot, and most importantly he as an individual was hot. Both in a literal sense and also a figurative sense... but mostly literal. Kazakir had been wandering for a few moon cycles now, living off of the vultures' leftovers whenever he could find it. Sometimes a an occasional desert mouse. Thin and gauntly, he wasn't living up to his usual well-groomed image but thank whatever was above there was no one to see it. Surely he would melt into the sand before he ran into anyone out here!

But of course, just as the thought tumbled through his dehydrated noodle, a scent wafted near. He gulped it eagerly, then followed swiftly. Forget his indecency, he was tired and needed help out here! This was no place for a gentleman who was raised in captivity.