Roho usually tuned out the voices. He usually didn’t listen to them. Sure, they provided a heads up on some things, warned at other. But he was determined to not let them rule his life. As a cub and even an adolescent, he had shied into himself, unsure of the world, paranoid and crazed. Some even looked at him oddly and kept their distance, speaking of insanity or even a disease.

He was going to leave the pride, have a fresh start. Eventually. He just needed to find out to where.

But something had been bothering him. A constant buzzing in his ear that he could usually suppress. And so, he finally tuned in and listen. To the chant of go, go, go, north, north, that way, must, must, go, go go. He had ignored it again. But the feeling hadn’t left and, a few days later, he listened again. The same chant. The same mantra. And so, Roho gave in. And he went.

They guided him, chanting in his ear. It was odd, for the voices to be set on just one thing for so long. The voices usually jumped all over the place, reacting to things happening before whispering about things Roho had no clue what it meant. This was new. This was worth investigating.

Almost a week later, he ran into him. A lion with so many colors, he should have been part of the sunset.

Ginga didn’t know what direction he was going nor did he really care. He liked randomly picking a way to go, once he had woken up in the fresh morning. It was free. It was refreshing. The only thing Ginga made sure to be aware of is where he came from, so he wouldn’t see the same view twice. He had stopped when the sun was high in the sky and, not feeling up for a hunt, had decided on a berry bush that had made him decide to stop for lunch. The leaves were a bit different from the berry bushes in the secret valley. Perhaps it was a regional thing. He hadn’t a care in the world and went to pluck a berry from the bush.

The mantra had changed. Stop, stop, stop, no, DEATH they shrieked, startling Roho. The shriek had stopped him right when he passed through a few trees and caused him to wince, head pounding as a spike of pain shot through him. His eyes were barely focused again when he saw the bright lion. The words left his throat in a roar before he even realized it.

”STOP!”

Ginga jumped, mouth moving away from the bush as he swung around. He was wound up, ready to run or defend himself. He wasn’t much of a fighter, preferred not to fight. But he would need to defend against being pounced if he wanted to be able to run. The male he saw was rushing towards him, face contorted, lips pulled back into a snarl. Ginga’s hackles rose as the male charged at him, about to stumble back. The male slowed though, circling around the bush, before a large sigh escaped him.

Confused and wary, Ginga moved slightly to the other side in order to peer at what the male was looking at. A dead opossum and a dead bird. With red around their mouths and a few chewed berries not much further. Ginga swallowed. He supposed this bush was not the same one that grew in the valley. Well.

Stepping away, he decided a thank you was in order. ”My bad, that was a close one. Good thing you were here, huh?” he breezed with a large grin. The light lion stared with a grim and considering look. Maybe Ginga’s gratitude wasn’t clear enough? ”Look man, thanks. That would have been a bad one,” Ginga tried. Death by berries. Yeah, that would have been a bad one.

Roho shook his head, trying to shake the voices out. They were buzzing in excitement again. The mantra was back, telling him to go, to head east now, that he must. But there was a few other voices that took up a different chant. Friend, friend, sunset, friend, with him, friend, friend, with him. How… odd. He hadn’t had them informing him of possible friendships before. It was… strange.

Roho noticed the hesitant and confused look the bright lion was giving him and reminded himself that it was usually polite to respond to someone when they were talking to you. ”Luckily I was passing by,” he said simply. Ginga nodded, still looking unsure. Roho bit the inside of his cheek. ”Heading somewhere?” he asked and Ginga just shrugged.

”Wherever the wind takes me. I’m not one to get hung up on going to a specific place within a specific time. I live my life to my own parameters,” Ginga informed proudly. Roho just gave him a flat look, obviously not feeling him. ”I’m Ginga,” he tried. Still silence and that deadpanned look. This one was a tough nut to crack, wasn’t he? ”Sooo… what might I call my hero?” The expression that crossed the lighter lion’s face nearly had him giggling. Bewilderment. What a funny guy.

”Roho,” he replied simply. He should just go away. It was clear that he and this Ginga would not get along. This personality type… it was too much to handle. A chatterbox, most definitely. Roho had enough voices in his life. He just wanted silence. He moved to leave, despite the wails of protest from the voices. They cut off short, though, and resumed their directional chant. Roho tuned them out, though he idly wondered why they stopped their wailing so suddenly.

”So, you must really know your berries, huh? Do you like gardening? Eatin’ them? Do you study them? They look just like the ones back at home, only different leaves. Man, I would have never had known. Hey, do you think you can point out the good ones, if you see them?”

The sunset male was following him. Roho’s eyes rolled towards the heavens. Of course the voices weren’t protesting. They got what they wanted. His eyes moved to the berry bush as they fully passed it before looking ahead. ”I guess you could say I know about them,” he replied shortly. He had never seen that plant in his life.

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