Flycatcher Downs the veldt

they were more alike than he had anticipated, bound by the weight of duty, yet both seeking something beyond it. he did not press her on the responsibilities she wished to ignore, just as he often tried to ignore his own.
we have something in common, then, he mused, his voice softer, a glint of knowing in his golden gaze. tsahik, future leader—whether they wanted it or not, it was their birthright. their burden.
but he did not dwell. instead, he followed where she led the conversation, where she wanted it to go. the ocean. his home.
the ocean, he repeated, and his gaze flickered toward the horizon, as if he could see it from here, as if he could call it to him. it is vast, as big as the sky itself. when you look upon it, you cannot see its end. you could travel for days upon the water, and still, it would stretch beyond your sight.
a small, nostalgic smile played at the corners of his mouth. it is always moving, always singing. its voice is deep, powerful. you can feel it in your bones, in your blood. it is never still, never silent.
he glanced at her now, eyes bright, eager to share something so deeply ingrained in him. you must see it one day. a promise, or an invitation—he did not know yet.
his gaze flicked to the towering trees around them, his head tilting in quiet reverence. i have never seen so many great trees before, he admitted, reaching out to brush his nose along the rough bark of one as they passed. they feel old, wise. i wonder how many stories they have whispered to those who listen.
his tail flicked, thoughtful, before he turned his attention back to skuka. and what of your forest? does it whisper to you?