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!

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