Stupid, stupid, stupid. What had he been thinking, wandering off into unclaimed lands? It was a stupid question he asked himself, of course, he knew why he'd wandered out so far beyond the borders of the Ulili-Mlindaji: because he was bored and he wanted adventure, and he wanted to prove to himself and everyone else that he was as strong as he thought he was, not the wild dog in denial about his place in the natural order of size and strength. He might be large for a wild dog, but he still paled in comparison to even a small lion like his brother Hodari, and that had always bothered him. Why was he stuck in the body of a lowly canine, never to be a match for the big cat half of his family? It wasn't fair! His father and several of his siblings were lions, and poor Roho had been born a wild dog, but assured all his life that he could do anything he set his mind to. But it wasn't true, not really. There were certain physical limitations he would never be able to overcome, no matter what he did, and he had just had that reality driven home hard.
The Ulili-Mlindaji was nice and all, peaceful and happy but mind-numbingly boring, and he couldn't take it anymore. Most of the rest of his family was perfectly content to stay there and carve rocks or show people around or tend shrines, but not Roho. There had to be more to the world, and somewhere out there there had to be a way for him to become more. Somehow. Maybe there was a god who could help him, or even some wise old mortal, and the more he thought back on his motivations, the more he saw how absolutely ridiculous they were and couldn't help but laugh. Unfortunately, laughing hurt, and reinforced his suspicions that he had bruised ribs. Bruised ribs he wouldn't have if he hadn't decided to wander out into unclaimed territories on his own. Again, stupid.
He heaved a sigh - also stupid and also painful - and let himself sag to the ground. That was a mistake, too, because it hurt every bit as much as walking had. He should never have left his home, his family. He was such an idiot, and he was probably going to die an idiot. His foray into rogue lands hadn't been so bad at first, although hunting alone was more difficult than hunting as part of a group, but at the same time, with only himself to feed, being limited to smaller prey wasn't really a problem. He'd even run into a couple of decent-seeming rogues, though unlike some of his more cheerfully social siblings, he hadn't made an effort to turn those brief acquaintances into friends. While being in new lands was different, all in all, it had just been a...different sort of boring than he was used to. One with a lot of walking, and a lot of internal complaints about the monotony of all the walking, wishing for something more interesting to happen.
He should have been more careful about the wishes he made. 'Something interesting' had found him, and it hadn't been friendly. It had, in fact, taken the form of a massive blue lion - larger than any that Roho had ever seen, though perhaps memory and terror worked together to make him larger in Roho's mind. And terror was exactly the right word for what Roho had felt at the time, as ashamed as the proud wild dog was to realize that he was, indeed, capable of such fear. The vicious lion had fallen upon him while he hunted, so focused on stalking a hare without being heard that he, in turn, had not realized that he was being stalked and hunted. Claws and teeth and blue fur, and yellow eyes that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. He had fought, in the first few seconds, but it had swiftly become apparent that he had no chance against his opponent; the only thing that had saved him was that, so far as he could tell, the lion hadn't wanted to kill him, or he would surely have been dead before he even knew what hit him.
Roho had quickly given up flying and tried fleeing instead, scrambling away at the first opportunity into a tangle of thorned brush where the lion couldn't follow him, forcing himself through it with no mind to the thorns that dug thin, rough lines into his hide. They prickled with pain now, but it had been worth it. He'd gotten away. He'd even come away without life-threatening injuries, but as he lay in the grass struggling for pained breaths, he had serious doubts as to the likelihood of his survival. Even if no one came along and finished him off, he couldn't hunt in this state. He'd starve to death. He didn't have the strength to make it all the way home. Stupid, stupid dog. He laid his head on his paws and closed his eyes.
Time passed, he didn't know how much, and a voice filtered through into his ragged circle of thoughts. "Oh, oh my goodness! Are you okay? Oh, of course you're not, you look terrible...can you hear me? Please? Please please don't be dead!"
He forced his open and beheld a hazy figure, bright pink and blue-eyed, a...cheetah? He blinked several times until she came more into focus. Cheetah, yeah. Pretty cheetah. She looked worried, sad even, because of him? That wasn't right. He managed to force out a mumble. "'m not dead."
"Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, bouncing on slender feet. "I'll be right back, okay? We'll help you, I promise, you'll be fine!"
She zipped away on those long cheetah legs until she was out of sight, leaving him to wonder if she'd ever been there at all as he slipped away into unconsciousness.