Zebra This Red

Sun bakes distinctive beast. Branded bold against a world of solid, it screams. Stripes have a way of dividing, driving unfriendly eyes to their front. Forward, they roam, run, ruining the calming vision of the plains. They intersect with prowling prides. Dreams of destruction rise. With fang and fight, they collide. Some survive, but all are marred by battle's belligerent, residual hue.