New style and since my other drabble went over so well I've decided to put this one up, also dedicated to Raku Ozzarian princess. Your last review hit a soft spot.

Disclaimer: Nothing.

-White Tiger-

He visits, every year without fail. It takes courage to return to that remote area but he does and mourns for that one night. It is his eve of weakness, the eye of peace in his storm called life. He hurts walking up to the tombstones, evoking memories that sting the amber orbs, watching, crying. The engraved rocks are fading, moss is growing and now they are wet from the rain falling from the sky. The earth is muddy yet he still sits and even lies between the stones, curled up in ball like the cub he is. He is not a ferocious beast, his whiskers, the long strand of black are dirtied with his white coat as he sobs into the obscure silence, illuminated by the strikes of lightning. He will be there for a long while, his sad roars for his deceased parents slowly fading.

A paw, his hand on each mound rests.

He is the White Tiger, soon to die like the rest of his kin for them as they for him.

-EndE-

Very angsty don't you find?