Atama huffed as he made his way over the dusty red plains. Night was quickly falling in the area, and it was another day that the precious Monarch’s Claw had been absent from watching the unbranded. It meant he had to step up (well, along with the other Claws) to watch the group, something Ata did not mind doing, but felt if one was not capable of being in such a position, he shouldn’t. Someone more reliable. Someone like Ata himself.

The lion grumbled. Thinking of the striped male just made him bitter. What did the blonde male have that he didn’t?

Shaking his head, the crimson male tried his best to will the thoughts of the Monarch’s Claw from his mind. Something had to distract him. Frowning, his eyes scanned the area, spotting a familiar pelt. Ah, the Princess. Surely talking to her would get his mind off the vizier.