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Description

Civet eased herself into the thick crimson waters that used to be the common watering hole for all animals, and now it sloshed back and forth with a viscosity that had only ever been found in the veins of prey animals that had perished in her jaws. Now she sat in the bloody murky water for a different reason entirely, rather than cooling herself off during the height of the heat season.
Her rites had just finished, and the slash across her nose ached and burned something fierce. The rogue that had been selected for her final rites was dead, downed by her own vicious claws. It had been dragged into the waters so that their body could give back to the watering hole in which they all came from.
There was no telling just how many bodies laid at the deepest end of this oasis, and how many more would join it.
Still, her sire and her brothers, sisters, and mother watched from the water's edge their eyes nothing more than black dots from the distance away she was from them. For her younger siblings this would be the first time they would see one of the more serious rites of their pride, and for her mother and sire who had already gone through it, it would be nothing more than nostalgia.
She dipped her muzzle into the deep redness of the watering hole, and drank the sour concoction.
Submerging her wounds, a feeling of fire ants prickling her pelt and scorching the mark across her nose blinded her in an instant.
Before she even knew it, her paws had been pulled from under her and her head was under the water.

All she could see was blood.

Description

Civet eased herself into the thick crimson waters that used to be the common watering hole for all animals, and now it sloshed back and forth with a viscosity that had only ever been found in the veins of prey animals that had perished in her jaws. Now she sat in the bloody murky water for a different reason entirely, rather than cooling herself off during the height of the heat season.
Her rites had just finished, and the slash across her nose ached and burned something fierce. The rogue that had been selected for her final rites was dead, downed by her own vicious claws. It had been dragged into the waters so that their body could give back to the watering hole in which they all came from.
There was no telling just how many bodies laid at the deepest end of this oasis, and how many more would join it.
Still, her sire and her brothers, sisters, and mother watched from the water's edge their eyes nothing more than black dots from the distance away she was from them. For her younger siblings this would be the first time they would see one of the more serious rites of their pride, and for her mother and sire who had already gone through it, it would be nothing more than nostalgia.
She dipped her muzzle into the deep redness of the watering hole, and drank the sour concoction.
Submerging her wounds, a feeling of fire ants prickling her pelt and scorching the mark across her nose blinded her in an instant.
Before she even knew it, her paws had been pulled from under her and her head was under the water.

All she could see was blood.