The moment the voice hit his ears, they flattened to his head as he gave a aggressive growl. In his current condition he wasn't at liberty to trust anything at the moment. He came to a clearing were he pinpointed the noise. The lion began to slowly circle a tree where he was certain he had heard the voice from. Every step he took was uncomfortable, his muscles were sore from all the running he did when he made his escape from his pride.<br/>After making his last round from the tree, he sat on his haunches and sniffed the air around him. There was a certain scent that caught his attention. The scent of mud. Mud equaled dirt, and mud is a mix between water and dirt. So there could be water somewhere nearby. He found it hard to take another deep sniff. His throat was so dry that every breath he took, dried him out more. The young lion took a deep breath before his breath caught; followed by a horrible hacking that escaped his throat. He hung his head low as he continued to cough, gasping for air. Collapsing to the ground, he continued to cough as he tried to catch his breath. He had no idea how much longer he could last. The young lion didn't know if he could even get up again, he felt so weak. Resting his head on his paws, he contemplated if this would be the place where he would draw his last breath.