Artok woke with the sun as he always did. Golden eyes widening in rugged face. Sunlight dancing along the roped scars that made up the side of muzzle and eyes. The Burn on the patch between his shoulder blades. He remembered it had been bad this wound. And he was forever marked, but damned if he couldn't remember it happening.

He stretched and then slowly began the movements that loosened the shoulder and leg up that he could move. His other limbs and senses making up for the ruined one. And he could use it, his range of motion was just crap.

His hobbled run soon turned into a more graceful limp and he pushed himself hard.