It was with quiet paws that Gatsha slunk through the grass, all but his black mane hidden beneath it. It was even late in the evening, and his pelt helped him blend into the ground. Really, if it weren't for the fact that he hadn't quite mastered the art of avoiding pebbles and twigs, he would have been completely silent and might have managed to succeed in his hunting attempt.
As it was, though, whenever he got close to his target, he would accidentally make some sort of noise and cause it to run away as fast as possible.
With a sigh, the cub watched as the bird he'd been stalking took flight, knowing by now that he had no chance of catching it. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. He'd wanted practice on his own, to see if he could manage to hunt for himself for a change instead of relying on his mother or the pride.
After all, he was going to have to pretty soon.... His mane was showing signs of growing, something that had made his heart sink upon noticing earlier that day.
And okay, maybe he was dwelling on it now. He'd never been good at handling his worry.
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