Silverlight Terrace Then when I'm thirsty, I drink their blood.

His ears slick back when she turns and looks at him and he isn’t sure if he hears her grumble her warning or if he feels the vibration in his feet. Still, he does not move. Cats like chase, even an injured one. Leathery nose flares at the scent of blood and infection, bacteria eating away heathy tissue. It leaves a rotten smell in his nose and he wrinkles his snout.
 
“You’re wounded,” he observes despite her threat. He shows no sign of aggression or dominance, simply watching the feline from a distance. Hopefully, it’s apparent he has the same desires. “It’s infected,” he adds with nonchalance, lifting one leg in preparation to bolt should the cougar not like his response.