His ritual scars still hurt. It had only been a week at most, and the scabs were only just starting to give way to new, pink flesh. The little blood that oozed from them was enough to startle prey and make hunting difficult. So he sat on sentry duty, and was bored.

He stretched out a little, pulling the wounds tight. Pain made him feel alive, and relieved the boredom.

Someone out there wanted to see another of my cougars, so here ya go. The cougar tribe, or at least this particular one, tend to be masochists. Of particular note: Check out that ear peircing! Sharp pointed quill, with a small bead to hold it in place.

Yay for vaguely disquieting color text!