Hraga was not the type of child to go looking for trouble or be tempted into grand adventures. Not when his older sister, Ea, taunted them with horrific stories of ghosts in the desert. [Although, they were quite scary.] Not when his cousin, An, regaled them with fantastical stories of her latest exploits in the dunes. [And quite fantastical indeed!]
In truth, he was a most severe child. His mother feared he'd inherited more from her than just her good looks. The little black kitten was simply uninterested in silly cub things or fantastical games. He did not have the sharp wit of Ea, or the bold wildness of An. He was sturdy. Intuitive.
He was also hanging off the edge of a cliff. Well. It was more like a 'rock ledge' than a cliff, but to a cub, it seemed very high indeed!
How a cub that didn't make much of an effort to get into trouble got in this predicament would be something of a wonder for his parents. He certainly hadn't TRIED to go and wander off. In fact, it was all the other cubs that had wandered off on him! He stayed! And well, then there was some disagreement with his shadow, and before he knew it- over the edge he'd gone.
Luckily, it was neither deathly far to the bottom, nor impossible to get back up. But he was a stubborn child, and the idea of landing flat on his bum some feet below was less than appealing. Gritting his teeth, the little black cub scrambled his back legs against the rocks. His front claws had a pretty good hold on the stone, but his back legs just could not get hold. Which was more than a little frustrating. And embarrassing.
"Urggg-" the cub strained, trying to scramble back up by flailing his arms. But removed from the stone, he slipped a bit farther rather than forward. Not wanting to risk that again, he simply hung there, his green eyes narrowed.
One thing he wasn't about to start doing was calling for help. Nope. Did not need help. Not one bit.
Not...not a lot...maybe-
