Iver did not often linger too close to any borders, but at times it was unavoidable. He could not control the direction in which the herds moved, nor did he have control over where his travelling companion ventured. Sökväg was a free spirit in every sense of the word and was not nearly as cautious as the lion when it came to territories.It was a constant headache; to be responsible for a creature that did not seem to understand that she was prey. He had not seen her in nearly two days, which though not uncommon, was worrying him given their proximity to the Pridelands. Sökväg, understandably, did not want to stay with Iver whilst he hunted so the two often separated when hunger began to rear its ugly head. Meeting up once again the need for flesh and blood had been sainted. Not this time though, it warranted a rather worried lion to investigate where he would not usually linger. Inside the Pridelands, in foreign territory that he had no business being in.
Young and made up of muscle, Iver doubted many would believe his presence was anything but a threat. The overconfidence of a male in his prime believing the world his own. It was true, but not what had motivated him on this particular occasion. There was nothing in the Pridelands that he wanted unless a certain snow coloured gazelle had ventured where she should not. Iver’s blue eyes scanned over the vast grassland head of him, the rising sun gave everything a golden hue that would make his friend a glaring yellow colour that should, in theory, be easy to spot. The silver lion made his way deeper and deeper into the foreign land, the ever-looming threat of being spotted meaning he could not relax. He stood tall, his ears alert on top of his white mane.
It was then that he spotted her, bearing his teeth in frustration. If she would have been hurt he might have felt some pity towards her, but by the looks of things, she was in a dreamland, staring across the horizon with doe eyes. “Sökväg!” He snapped; the gazelle’s head turned in his direction and the Lions' expression softened as he caught the concern and worry in his friend's eyes. Placing one paw in front of the other he approached, his brow lifted with curiosity. “Iver, I think there is someone there.” Came a meek, feminine voice. The beads around her neck caught in the first light of the sun, jingling like bells as she moved to stand behind her constant protector.
Iver resisted the urge to scold her, to ask her what she expected from venturing into such a place? Instead, icy eyes looked across the horizon, at the long grass that could conceal any kind of danger. “Is that so?” He raised his voice then as if to ask the universe if his friends paranoia held some merit. His tail flicked behind him, a deep rumble in his throat.