Lion Head Mesa Time

ibrahim did not pass even a glance to the lake when they'd left it. though the sun bore down on the three cubs, it mattered little to the boy whose legs itched to run and jump and prance. he couldn't get to run and jump and prance, however, once they entered whatever this place was away from the sun.

red hallways stretch out in front of him, wolves of all sizes cock their heads towards his father, and in his booming voice he calls for more. ibrahim's brain only registered "play," though, and amber eyes remained peeled for any cubs to challenge — it was getting boring shoving aiman around all the time.