Looking a bit like it had been tossed around by a pissed-off elephant, the big cat crept forward, limping on the one leg and sore as hell all over, one eye swelling a bit; it was no great loss, given how much of his lifespan as a human had already been spent peeking out at the world with pretty much only one, but the pain was incredibly distracting at best.

He hadn't seen Starscream perch in the tree, but he could smell the blood. It called to him. Instinct said to follow it and finish off his prey before it could escape; human logic dictated that in this case, it really would be the best solution.

It was too difficult to try and scale said tree with four legs not intended for pulling themselves up bark; more so to do it with one of them not functioning very well. Trowa spent a moment dissolving down into his normal human shape, annoyed with the apparent rips in his sweater, and started to clamber up the trunk.

And with the fact that leaving the instincts behind meant he was prey to proper emotion again. Quatre had said not to kill anyone--or himself. 'No more death'.

...Well. You could do a lot of beating on someone before they got too close to kicking the bucket. And he'd seen Bakura inside. So there was a healer around.

A grunt, and he was slowly hoisting himself up to the nearest branch.