He is a young, slender but strong warrior from the Lion people, from the Plains.
He is quite beautiful for a boy, yellow eyes, less fierce than the others from his clan, but no less strong, but never boasting about it.
He is tall, with clothing from Lion fur, white lines as tattoos circling around his upper arms and thighs, and short but wild white-brown hair.
His ****** expression is remarkably filigrane and elegant, but in his open, awake eyes shimmers a subtle, affectionate humor.
The Lion Boy stands, tall, with his white bow in hand, in the Plains, white arrows on his back. Listening into the wind, patient and still.
He is not scared now.
---
Further away by the shore of the wide river sits another boy of approximately the same age, a childhood friend of the young Lion Warrior, on a wet stone by the running water.
That boy is of the Fish Clan, much harder to find in the area, harder to spot.
The Fish Boy is not actually a warrior. He is a creature of the flow and the water. He is a little smaller than the Lion Boy, blueish violet shimmering short hair, turquoise big eyes, shiny skin. He looks slightly absentminded, like he was still in the water, and not beside it. He wears no shoes, and his skin has silver and pearl white spots and geometrical shapes in it.
In his hand he is holding a big bright conch.
---
Their meeting is like a lot of time passed, and no time at all.
They move naturally next to each other, like they had.
The moment is neither a bang nor a whisper, but just the continuation of a long held breath, that now flows freely again, from the heart.
They look at each other, at their hands,
feet... chest.
The Fish Boy cracks that tiny smile first.
The Lion Boy follows.
Somewhere high above their heads a white heron is circling, satisfied.
🌀