The older he grew, the more adventurous he became. Lions no longer seemed like much of a threat now that he was adding on the weight and sprouting like a weed, so he moved with the confidence befitting of an adolescent tiger. There would always be lions he didn't like (Olive, for example) and he wasn't a particular fan of the new cubs, but he was managing much better than he thought he ever would. Hector would have preferred there were less lions around, though; he wasn't sure how there was even room left for them to move between all the nasty ass prides littering the area.

He might never understand why lions enjoyed socializing so much, but at least no one was around to bother him as he dipped his toes in the hot springs.

Unfortunately for @Hector, Penrose was here to interrupt his solitude. He had trekked across the tundra and had been drawn to the pools by the billows of hot steam that spiraled into the sky. The Greyflood son, having been born and raised in Illyria Summit, only knew the cold. When he approached the edge of the hot springs, a sense of revelation overwhelmed him just as a wave of warm air caressed his coldblooded body. He dipped a cautious paw into one of the crystalline pools, and instantly withdrew it once he felt the heat.

Coal eyes scanned the hot springs, and it was then that Penrose spotted the striped figure of Hector, feet submerged in the cursed pool. What is this? He asked, almost demandingly.

Ah, yep, there went the peace. Once again, his enjoyable isolation was shattered by the presence of a lion demanding something of him that made him roll his eyes. Was he put on this earth to serve them and their ridiculously hairy bodies? No. Absolutely not. It took every ounce of him not to simply walk away. Hector sighed to himself, certainly not the most approachable tiger, and muttered: it could be a conversation if you weren't so demanding. The pale tiger shook his pelt as he steeped his paw in the water before decidedly submerging it altogether. It's a hot spring. It's just hot water. He was sure @Penrose wouldn't be satisfied with that answer, but it wasn't his duty to teach the adolescent about the world.

Penrose pinned his ears back at @Hector's scorn, taken aback by the striped teen's cheek. The young royal's effrontery did not come from a place of blatant rudeness, although it likely seemed that way. The mountain is built from ice and snow, He rebutted, disguising a much-desired question of how behind his aplomb. How was it that steaming hot water could exist in his icy domain? He was sure it had to be a work of Maua. With this in mind, Penrose dipped his paw back into the pool, finding the warmth strange but welcome. His feet were so cold that the heat eventually morphed into a burning, stinging feeling. Despite this, he carefully set his other forepaw into the shallow end of the pool.

Hector remained blissfully unaware of his younger companion's issue with his reaction. For his entire life, the tiger had been bullied by lions exactly like the shadowy teenager. If a tone seemed to be a certain way, Hector only knew how to defend himself by striking first. If he took the wind out of Penrose's sails, maybe it would deter any further sass. Frankly, it was only the warm water that kept Hector anchored in place at all; otherwise, he really had better places.

His ear flicked towards @Penrose as he helped himself to the water, clearly bamboozled by how something so hot could exist on a mountain so cold. Right, but there's stuff called magma underneath everything. That heats it up. It's like lava from volcanoes, kinda. Except this lava was quite enjoyable to submerge himself in.

Magma? Lava? Volcanoes? Penrose had never heard of such concepts before. He found himself genuinely curious in the inner workings of the hot springs, and surprisingly intrigued in the stranger's depth of knowledge. Forepaws stills submerged in the hot water, the Illyrian prince lifted his coal gaze to study the teenager. Upon a more closer inspection, it became clear that @Hector was no lion; he bore dozens of wheaten stripes down his pelt, a thick tail, and a peculiarly unfamiliar scent. You're not a lion. Where are you from?