Fuzzies

Useful info;



Pronunciations:



Veriea: Verr-ree-a(i)



Ver’ei’a: Veh-e-ah



Forenien: For-en-ee-en



Cartarea: Car-tar-ay



Vocabulary:



Kainde Amedha: hard meat/ xenomorph



Gaun-Thwei: night blood



Chiva: trial/ test



Setg’in kwei: tricky/ quick



Pyode Amedha: soft meat/ human (ooman)



Yeyinde: brave one



Pauk: fuck



Ell-osde c’jit: damn you



C’jit: damn/ shit/ general expletive



Pauk’de: fucking/ fucker



Hulij-bpe: crazy



Mei’hswei: brother (also use between close companions/clan mates)



Kerhite: training ground/training ring



Jehdin-jehdin: hand-to-hand combat (one-on-one)



Zazin: self-centered



Thwei’tek: blood bond (used to fuse strands of hair into dreadlocks)



M-di’h’dlak: no fear



Naxa: a kind of fruit from the Yautja home world



Thwei: blood



Sy’ua: wow/whoa (you get the idea)



Jehdin Jehdin: one on one/ hand to hand combat



Lou-dte kalei: child maker/female (usually a derogatory term)



Kantra: prayer



Ki’ct-pa: wrist blades



Awu’asa: armor



Cn’tlip: alcoholic drink



ki’its-pa: hunting spear



S’yuitde: shit (derogatory term)



Tbi: survivor



Enjoy the story ; P



= Chapter 12 – Misfits =



When Veriea was sure that the beast was really gone, she sighed in relief, shaking from all the adrenaline surging through her system that suddenly had no outlets.



Gently she set the youngling down and crouched to tend his injuries; it had several nasty slashes all over its body and looked as though it had been out here for a long time.



The youngling sat perfectly still and silent while she worked, head bowed and eyes downcast, almost as if it were afraid of her. Well, she had, in its eyes at least, just stared down a monster more than 10 times her own size. She shook her head and smiled, trying to appear friendly.



It was difficult to tell (yautja young didn’t develop any noticeably visible signs of gender until they were 6 rotations old) but she confirmed from the youngling’s scent that it was a male. As she healed his wounds, he flinched but made no sound.



“You’re a brave little warrior.” She said softly, trying to sooth him. She was rather appalled by the amount of scars he had, even for a yautja youngling, and how malnourished he obviously was. Maybe he was lost? He certainly hadn’t bathed for a while. “What’s your name little one?” She asked. He looked up at her with the brightest green eyes she’d ever seen on a yautja and his mandibles twitched a little but he said nothing.



He’s a strange little guy. She thought. She’d never had a chance to actively interact with a youngling before but she knew that they weren’t normally so shy, even with strangers.



His colouring and marking were odd as well; he was a pale grey with green speckles and few tan stripes but there were also large blotches of brown on his chest, right arm, forehead, lower back and the inside of his right thigh, where it looked as though someone had splattered paint on him.



He had a stripe of brown between his eyes but it was malformed on one side, spreading to circle his left eye. His coarse, un-dreadlocked hairs were a shiny dark blue and his hands and feet were black, much like her own; she had never seen such a strangely coloured yautja. She patted the youngling on the head gently. “How old are you?”



The youngling looked at her with wide eyes for some reason as he held up two fingers.



Only 2? The poor little thing was probably frightened half to death! Veriea figured she had better find his mother but she was going to need help – the boys would know what to do. She stood up, dusting herself off her hands and was surprised – and nearly knocked back on her ass – when the youngling launched himself at her, clinging to her legs like a limpet.



He didn’t want her to go.



Cute.



But she really needed to be able to walk. “Don’t worry,” She laughed gently. “You’re coming with me.” The youngling looked up at her, wide eyes pleading, as if not quite believing she was telling the truth, his little arms clenching her thighs tighter. After a moment, he kneaded his forehead into her hip. She took that as a sign that he liked her.



Sighing, she tried to make him let go so that she’d be able to walk but he seemed to have other ideas. Eventually they reached a compromise; he stood beside her, one hand tightly curled around one of her loin cloth straps and the other fisted in the fur of her tail. It wasn’t comfortable and she was a little concerned that she was going to loose that clump of fur but at least they could both walk easily.



He was lucky that she liked kids; she doubted that most yautja would be as patient and indulgent with him as she was.



He seemed to start taking some interest in the world when they started to approach the ship yard. Veriea hoped he was ok with ships. The guards at the gate were surprised to see her returning with a youngling and one of them stepped out side of their ‘box’ to get a better look. He stopped them at the gates.



“Where’d you get that?” He asked, looking down at the youngling.



“None of your business.”



The guard poked at him a bit and the youngling tried to hide more behind her but the guard held him where was.



“Scrawny little runt.” He rumbled. Something about the tone he used made the comment seem nastier and Veriea snarled at the male.



“Keep your greasy mitts off of him.” She growled, knocking his hands away from the youngling and flounced past him, youngling in tow.



She punched in the access code at the ship and the youngling hugged closer as the ramp began to rise. His bright eyes went wide in surprise when saw the inside of the ship and his tiny mandibles clicked curiously, the first sound she’d heard him make.



None of the others seemed to be in so she showed the youngling where the facilities were, gave him some of her not-likely-to-break-or-be-dangerous trophies to play with and made sure that anything that was dangerous was locked away or safely out of reach.



She sat in the captains chair watching him play for a while before doing a systems check to pass the time. When that was done, she turned to do some cleaning and maintenance on her armor and weapons. After a while she looked over to check on the youngling and saw that he was asleep, curled up in a ball on the floor. Quietly she put the trophies away, scooped up the youngling gently and took him to her room, placing him on the bed and wrapping the covers around him before returning to the captain’s chair to wait.



She was halfway through softly singing ‘100 bottles of beer on the wall’ to herself when she felt a small hand tug on her tail. She looked down and saw the youngling there, shaking, his big green eyes frightened and pleading. “Did you have a bad dream?” She asked gently and he nodded. She could definitely empathize with that.



He lifted his arms wordlessly to be picked up.



She obliged him and he nestled in her arms, his head resting against her chest plate where the fox-dragon motif was etched. He was still shaking so she sang a lullaby to calm him. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t sing in the yautja language, her voice seemed enough for him, raising and falling in rhythm, even if her words made no sense to him.



Go to sleep…



Go to sleep…



Go to sleep, little one…



He stopped shaking and she tucked her legs underneath her, getting comfortable…



Close your eyes…



Rest your head…



Know you’re safe in your bed…



He breathing had slowed and his form now rested limply against hers…



When the birds…



Leave their nests…



You will wake from your rest…



Her own eyelids were getting heavy and she thought a nap might be in order, yawning before she sang the last line…



When the birds…



Leave their nests…



You’ll return to me.



It seemed she had only closed her eyes for a moment when a loud crashing shot her into full alert. Her first realization was that the youngling was missing.



“How did you get in here!” Someone roared angrily.



A quivering mass, that she only just had time realize was the youngling, hurled itself at her, latching on as though his life depended on it and from the tone of voice the yeller was using, it may very well have done. “You aren’t getting away that easy!”



“Easy, G’re’e’cha! He’s just a youngling!” That sounded like Ma’e’ka’cha and Veriea thought that maybe now was a good time to explain things before they escalated. She stood, swiveling the chair to face a surprised G’re’e’cha who had looked ready to kill something only a second before. He looked at her, then the youngling in her arms and back to her again, as if something in his brain was screaming “DOES NOT COMPUTE!”



“Who’s youngling is that Ver’ei’a?” H’ak’e’cha asked, chuckling at his younger brother’s expression.



“I don’t know; he’s lost. I brought him here to ask you guys to help me find his mother.”



“Lost?” S’ak’e’cha repeated.



“Yeah. He looked like he might have been out there for while, he was scratched up pretty bad when I found him.” The youngling clasped more tightly, hiding his face in her shoulder.



“That doesn’t sound right.” S’ak’e’cha said thoughtfully. “Females don’t usually let offspring out of their sight for long unless someone else is minding them.”



“Then his mother must be really worried about him by now; he’s only two rotations old.”



“His mother abandoned him.” G’re’e’cha said quietly, seemingly recovered from his shock. Ma’e’ka’cha twitched his mandibles in a frown.



“G’re’e’cha, you know as well as any of us that can’t be true; it’s against the law to abandon-“



“Have any of you looked at that youngling?” He demanded, interrupting.



The youngling wrapped his arms around Veriea’s neck, clearly frightened by the yelling.



“What’s wrong with how he looks?” She demanded in reply, a little more harshly than she would normally have done, the youngling’s obvious state of distress, the fear and apprehension rolling off of him in waves, like he knew what was coming, was pressing on her protective instincts. This did not seem to go down well with G’re’e’cha, however.



“Ver’ei’a’ka’cha!” He’s a mutation!” G’re’e’cha roared. “Look at his skin! His hair! His eyes! None of it is normal! Have you ever seen a yautja that looked like that?”



“So? That doesn’t mean-“



“He’s right, Red.” H’ak’e’cha broke in gently, watching the youngling with a thoughtful eye. “He fits the description; they crop up now and then. And you notice he hasn’t made a single sound through all of this? He could be a mute as well.”



Veriea couldn’t believe what she was hearing.



“Just because he’s different is no reason to abandon him!”



“I agree, but mutations usually can’t survive, Red.” S’ak’e’cha said. “Their genes are too weak. He’s far too small for a two rotation old youngling as well.” The way he said it sounded as though he didn’t like to say it but was just stating a fact.



“If his mother abandoned him, he survived those two years on his own!” That gave them something to consider.



“At that, she does have a point.” H’ak’e’cha sighed, meditatively, still thinking.



“And you know, even if he is a mute, there’s some tech that could help him.” S’ak’e’cha put in, seeming happy to be able to argue a point in favor of the youngling. Veriea was glad that they were open minded enough to consider the alternatives of the situation. But it seemed G’re’e’cha wasn’t. He seemed infuriated by the ideas being batted back and forth.



“Ver’ei’a’ka’cha, he’s a mutation and deformed on top of it all! His markings alone are testament to that! He’s a misfit and do you really think that he’ll be accepted in yautja society if his own mother abandoned him?”



“Misfit, huh?” Veriea growled, not quite believing that G’re’e’cha of all people was saying these things. Her G’re’e’cha. “No future in yautja society, huh?” She snatched up her hunting mask off of the dash where she had left it earlier, roughly putting it on, hitched the youngling higher up on her hip and strode to the air lock, smashing in the code. She turned back to face G’re’e’cha, her masked face ominous. “We ‘misfits’ are going somewhere else.” She snarled, flipped him off and left, not even bothering with the ramp but simply jumping out of the open hatch.



G’re’e’cha blinked in shock.



“What was she talking about ‘we’?”



“Way to go, G’re’e’cha.” H’ak’e’cha snarled, pushing past his younger brother roughly and then heading for his room.



“Yep, real nice.” S’ak’e’cha added, following after his twin.



G’re’e’cha stared after them a moment, confused.



“What was all that about?” He asked, turning to Ma’e’ka’cha who had been silent for some time now.



“Are you really so pauk’de stupid that you don’t realize what you just did?” He hissed. His friend’s blank look only served to fuel his anger. “Not only was Ver’ei’a right about the youngling, with you arguing away at some idiotic factor that she obviously didn’t care about, you called her a deformed misfit!”



“I said that about the youngling, not her.”



“And defined him as such but naming the exact features she has in common with him! Hair! Eyes! Markings! But your definition, she’s the worst mutation there is!”



“But- but she’s different! She was-“



“Yes.” Ma’e’ka’cha cut him off. “She is different. So is the youngling; you accepted her more than readily enough, why not him? She gave you her pauk’de Promise and you- go and- Urrrhh!” He punched him. Hard.



Ma’e’ka’cha was actually shorter than G’re’e’cha but in that moment he seemed to tower over him, glaring, his anger barely leashed after his out burst.



“I- but- she...” G’re’e’cha flustered angrily, ready to start hitting back, before he suddenly stilled, as if he had only just realized exactly what he had said.



Ma’e’ka’cha didn’t notice this as he wheeled away from him and punched a wall, trying to relieve his anger without – though he had due cause – releasing it on his friend.



“I just don’t get it!” He roared. “Was it because she was likely to want to adopt him? Did you not want her caring for offspring you didn’t produce when you two finally got your act together? What! What is the reason?” He demanded, not seeing the flinch his words produced.



“Pauk.” G’re’e’cha cursed. “I didn’t mean it…I was just so angry when I saw him because- and the youngling- I was wrong, alright?” He couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “I’ll let her cool off and then I’ll sort this all out; she’ll be back by tomorrow, you’ll see.” He sighed and went to his room to think out his apology. He certainly didn’t have a good excuse. Pauk, he didn’t have any excuse.



Ma’e’ka’cha remained on the bridge and sank slowly down into the captain’s chair, which was still warm from Veriea’s body. She had been angrier than he’d even seen her and it was probably only the youngling’s presence that kept her from getting violent.



He sighed.



“I hope you’re right, G’re’e’cha.”



CCCCCCC



The nerve of that male! Veriea fumed as she strode back to the market place in the fading light. I would have ripped him a new belly button if the youngling hadn’t been there! Her thoughts calmed a bit as she looked at her charge.



He was still shaking.



I should calm down, he’s probably scared because I’m angry. Kids pick up on that sort of thing. She forced her body to loosen and relax, masking her anger as best she could at the moment.



A little voice in her mind started to question though. ‘Did I over react? Was I reading into things too much? Fuck, I yelled at G’re’e’cha. Fuck, I walked out on G’re’e’cha. Am I over reacting now?’



NO. A still angry part of her mind answered, vehemently.



“C’jit.” She cursed aloud. She couldn’t think this through while she was still angry.Later she’d think it out. Later, when she’d cooled off, she could think about this rationally. She had to take care of tonight first.



But one thing was certain; she was adopting the youngling. Which meant he needed a name.



Later, She told herself. Deal with tonight.



“Kainde’a?” She called, entering the stall, and Kainde’a’ke’a bustled forward into view in the way only expectant mothers could.



“Finally, I thought something had-“ She stopped. “Whose youngling is that?”



“Mine. Could we crash here for the night?” Veriea asked with a weak smile.



Much explaining and verbal male bashing later…



“I can make the device, Ver’ei’a, but are you really prepared to care for a youngling? It’s a lot harder than it sounds.” Kainde’a’ke’a asked, eyeing the youngling, who, after tucking into a plate of food with gusto, had fallen asleep in Veriea’s arms.



“I’m sure. I know what I’m doing. I refuse to let him be cast aside like he doesn’t matter and he doesn’t have anyone else; I accepted responsibility for him when I saved him.” Kainde’a’ke’a sighed.



“Well, if you’re really sure. What are you going to name him?”



Veriea smiled down at the sleeping bundle, brushing a few hairs away from his face.



“Tbi; my little survivor.”



CCCCCCC



“Is she back yet?” G’re’e’cha asked from his doorway, for the twenty-second time that morning.



He was a mess of nerves and agitation. Why the pauk had he gone and run his mouth off like that? Spouting s’yuitde he didn’t even believe, sounding like...



Veriea had been getting better. She didn't flinch if someone grabbed a hold of her unexpectedly any more, she didn't panic if she was very close to someone and her nightmares weren't so foundation shaking; she was well rested and comfortable with her surroundings. She'd even started to let him get closer to her, though they hadn't gotten much farther then they had that first time. And now he'd gone and ruined it.



His initial anger at seeing the youngling was sort of acceptable but if he had just calmed down and explained it to Veriea, if he had thought for even a second, she would have understood. Wouldn’t have been happy about what he’d have told her but she would have understood. But he hadn’t.



Veriea was more relaxed and more forgiving than just about any yautja female you could find concerning most things but after this, he was sure he’d be lucky if she even talked to him again.



“No. She’s not.” Ma’e’ka’cha answered flatly.



“Uh, guys?” S’ak’e’cha interrupted softly. “I just jacked the door to Veriea’s room and-“



“Is she there? Did she sneak back while we were asleep?” G’re’e’cha practically pounded on his brother, near frantic.



“She sneaked in alright, but I don’t think she’s coming back; her trophy case is empty and all her weapons and other stuff is gone. And…she left a note.”



G’re’e’cha snatched up the note, reading quickly.



“I’m adopting the youngling. I don’t want to push a kid on you guys so I moved out. Thanks for being a great hunting party and good friends. I’m getting my own ship built; it’ll be call The Silvashadow, drop by some time. Ma’e’ka’cha gets my share of the ship.



Good hunting.



Ver’ei’a’ka’cha.”



A look of horror spread across G’re’e’cha’s face as the words sank in.



“What the pauk have I done!”



End – Ch12



A/N: Yes. I do have red skin, horns and a tail and I like to dance around a fire waving a pitchfork. I am EVIL. But for a just cause…and ‘cause I like to ;P Every road to a relationship has its potholes…and its gaping chasms…