Here is Kunguru and Tamba, cause I’ve wanted to draw other than hyenas and... any predators right now to draw those two, that are about my favorites. Kunrugu tend to follow Tamba and groom the little ‘mane’ she has and each time he does, she would angle her head to the side just and move it up in order to brush her horn against his horsehair.

Hey... don't come and say it's lame... blame my english... :C

As unlikely as an old ‘snobbish oryx’ and a young ‘violent zebra’

Kunguru wasn’t anything different from any zebras, thought he’d brag often about how the stripes on his hair start with it’s pure white instead of dark all others and that his broken eye stripes looked like stained tears. That equine male was no different: if he wanted to have a mate to pair with: he’d have to win it. If he wanted to live his life close to his family: he’d have to win it. So growing up, he kept extremely active, to be able to kick hard enough and run fast enough to take right over others, just like his father and any other zebra would. His heart was no different: he would kick and bite any that would stand in his way, regardless of their ages or breed... the only thing that would stop him would be the great ones: big predators and bigger much powerful preys. The only thing that he really lacked was... well... nothing: he was to win his own small herd for himself... but fate decided otherwise: his eyes and focus were too great and Kunguru couldn’t have time to see the danger coming. After such blow... even if he survived and could run away, his hind leg would hurt terribly, showing dreadful scars and he if he was lucky, Kunguru wouldn’t be so lucky once another attack would occur.

Where could he go? Left or right? Where could he go with the confidence of not running straight toward his death? No one would help him, flee him in fact they would, so that if predators were to strike they wouldn’t fall by silly mistake. It was more because of appearances, for those wounds weren’t infected nor bleeding no more. A miserable outcast that’s what he then was, while following the herds from afar, peering around desperately, life wouldn’t give him any reprieve and it’s while following migration that something caught his attention: under the harsh sun, there was less likely to be something hiding in the dust than in tall grasses... still his eyes were no different than his fellow zebras that even if zebra's sight is very good. It was a risk, a risk of being alone even more, a risk to be targeted... no matter no more. Kunguru ran from his own kind, following another breeze, another steps while the sun would set. Into the desert... it can’t be so bad... still against the rules of the Great Circle.

On her side, Tamba isn’t anything different from any other oryx. Like any others, she wanders in the desert during most of the day, returning only to drink and eat before wandering off again with the herd she calls home. Like any other each years she’ll be court by a different male, that would compete for she is one of the most healthy females. Years after years... but nothing alive ever comes out of her. Slowly, she bring attention to her but with a bad eye she would now be looked not much as if she would be sick. And as if she would be sick, she’s forced behind with those which hope to live another day is a luxury. No love, no eyes... no attention ever to come to her again. Who would want of a worthless one so worthless she can only be called a dinner? Tamba’s legs finally starts to grow heavy to her, as does her head, everything of her seems to melt to the ground... until she can’t find the heart to follow any more. Until she split from that group and wanders on her own, somewhere not too afar from them, but enough not to feel as disturbed to be ignored no more.

As their hooves would now slowly raise and go down mindlessly, those souls met. It wasn’t no magical things, but predators would less likely target animal that are together even if it was a minimal change because they were still alone to those ravenous eyes: a zebra and an oryx isn’t close to a herd. However, it was a huge difference for the both of them: for they do not compete on the same sources of food so a mere light of peace could grow slowly between those two... one was a good traveler, the other would then follow and hope. At least there is water on the way and small dry plains: it’s better than nothing... in fact not so bad at all since he’s alone to feed on the sources.

This need for proximity would only grow more and more stronger: they are herd animal after all. It doesn’t seems so weird after a moment to actually starts to even talk to each others with words that grow warmer and warmer.

However... why all this? Fighting to keep on going when hope is most likely gone. Why doing such thing when ‘the purpose’ of our existence as been withered?

Because we are alive in this world...
and that allows things as unlikely as an old ‘snobbish oryx’ and a young ‘violent zebra’ wishing to share their time left in this circle.