Based on a dream I had, the other day.
I was standing at the edge of a giant body of water, that stretched so far that I could not tell where the water ended and the sky began. The lily pads on the water looked like they were made of silver; matte, not shiny. To my right there was a distant and deep rumbling, like a waterfall, though nowhere in sight was there falling water of any kind. To my left there was silence.
After watching for a while empty boats and rafts with woven mats of all sizes began to drift past from right to left, the same dull silver as the lily pads. They were empty until the tiger.
First came the fish in the water. Then came this feeling of absolute terror, but not my terror; it was as though the terror was traveling with the fish. A herald, of sorts. Then, there came the tiger itself. I could hear the tiger breathing, smell it's fur; like it carried the scent of the place it had come from with it.
The tiger floated by, the rumbling sound faded with its passage, and then there were no more boats. Only silence.
Ink, and watercolour, on paper.