You come upon a tree from which colorful feathers hang on bits of dried sinew and vines. There are even a few bottles strung up that way, capped with wadded up grass and containing live insects. As you stare at the odds and ends, the branch directly above your head shakes a little, making you look up into a pair of yellow eyes. "You want it, you pay for it." The lioness swishes her tail from side to side. Something in her expression suggests she's willing to fight you, outmatched as she is, over a single feather. Maybe you'd rather not lose an ear today.