This time of the year, Blossom Bower's beauty was instead replaced with leafless trees, devoid of all but the most hardy of flowers, and dry grasses. A few animals still roamed the area, searching for the small scraps of edible foliage they could find. Solrentorro was cold, but more importantly, he was plain. No jewelry, no fine garments to accentuate his natural beauty. If he was to be a King again, he needed to look like one, which was why he was out here. Him, and his cactus cat companion Aguipua.
"They look a lot like the Sericovis from back home, but the texture of their fabric looks different," Aguipua observed. Ahead of them was a small herd of hooved creatures. They had short, broad snouts, and a soft, white fabric* that flowed in the wind. Just like the Sericovis back home, their eyes were horizontal, and they made the same bleats and baas that were familiar to Sol. The fabric didn't look like cotton, though, but it seemed soft and like a good material for his royal robe.
Sol, who has already been creeping up on the small herd, decided the bigger of the females would have to do. Even with Aguipua's piercing cactus spikes, he wasn't sure if this world's version of Sericovis had any secret defensive tactics, but he at least recognized the danger of ram horns when he saw them, “It's close enough,” he would say under his breath. Aguipua would nod, before moving to get into position.
And then, the hunt was on. Solrentorro charged after the ewe, and predictably they ran away from him. It did not, however, expect the little cat with thorns on its body to jump up right under it and grab its throat. Aguipua was not heavy or big enough to bring the creature down on his own, but his deadly hug on its neck combined with his jaws clenched on the ewe's throat slowed it down just enough for Solrentorro to catch up. The Dandylion leaps onto its back, trying to buckle it down under his weight, as he wrapped his paws around its body to keep it down, and waited for it to suffocate from Aguipua's hold.
It bleats in pain, its compansions running off in blind fear. It refuses to go down through, constantly trying to move and get them off, to run and join its herd. Through gritted teeth, Sol growls, “I just... need... your stupid fabric!”
*He's referring to the sheep's wool as "fabric".