Rivers Run Deep

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters related to Predator El, other unrelated human characters, and the character names of the predators Imade up, the concept of predator do not belong to me.



Authors Notes: This is a work of Fan fiction. please read on and enjoy.



WARNING: The following work of fiction contains, extream violence, course language (at times), sexual sudgestions, nudety, and explicit sex. If you are
under 18 (or whatever age is appropriate for your location), HIT YOUR
BACK BROWSER BUTTON NOW. If you find explicit sex offensive, please
don't offend yourself by reading further.



Author: Charlotte (jemstone5)

Email: jemstone5

Feedback: Please, yes lots.

Forward to others: would be flattered if you did.

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Rivers Run Deep




Chapter 26



“Kire’Ba,” began the younger elder, “Are you certain that you wish to anger Ver’On in this way. If he leaves, that will be the end of your line. All the rest of your offspring, and theirs have either left for other ships to find mates and glory, or have died on hunts. If Ver’On leaves, the line of Hur will be no more. This ship this clan, will die out.”


“Ver’On will not take that thing as his mate. I expressly forbid it!”


“As is your right, as head of your family, but this is larger than that.”


“Rag is right Kire,” stated antoerh elder. “Ver’On has a nack for teaching the unbloods certain skills. Since his absence, I have noticed the skills of the unbloods, about to leave on their blooding hunt, seriously lacking. I don’t know how to explain it. But Ver’On was – is the best instructor our younglings ever had. We need him. I vote she stays, at least to appease him. Who seconds?”


“I second,” stated the younger.


“Then we vote. All in favor?” he counted the number of hands. “Oposed?” again he counted. “Very well…”






Ver’On didn’t let her go. As soon as the Elders turned to speak amongst themselves, he slid his arms around El’s body, and held her close. If they voted they leave, he would ask Sol to stand in ritual with him on their small ship. it would be dangerous, but it had to be done. If they voted she stay, he would still ask Sol to stand in, along with a few others. Either way, he would go no further without her knowing the power of his body.


His grip on her tightened, as he heard the elders growl amongst themselves. What could be so difficult about this? He wanted her, she wanted him, what was there in question? Kire’Baa, he was the stumbling block. The old hunter refused to let him go. Had Uni not had good lineage, he was sure Kire’Ba would have forbade him to even consider her as a mate. Even when they were together, the old one would look at them strangely, and never once acknowledged Uni when she was with him before his grand sire. He was old, set in his ways, slow to change, and those resistant to change, often died very quickly.


Perhaps, if anyone could sway his mind, or his heart, it would be El. Maybe if they spent time together. If he got to understand her, or at least, observed her practice to fight, or to do that tumbling thing she used to do. He’d have to get her to teach the younglings that. Yes, it would be fun for them. They were always full of energy. Yes. After they decided that she could stay, he would take her to the breeder’s gardens. She would surly fit in there. If anything the females would be grateful of her tiring out their little ones. Many of the females were undoubtedly pregnant again, and unable to keep up with them. Yes, El would be welcomed, he was sure of that.


“Very well…” he heard one of the elders say, and looked up as they turned to face him. El tightened her grip around his waist. She wasn’t about to let him go. One hand, facing the elders, held him lovingly around his middle, the other, on Sol’s side, inched closer to the hilt of the knife. She’d be ready. She’d kill to keep him, she knew that much, she’d die to save him, that was without question.


“Ver’On, the council has voted…” Ver’on was ready. Sol tensed his muscles.


“The ooman, El…” She could feel his hands ball into fists beneath her hair. El looked off into the shadows, looking for movement, though in this light it was hard to see.


“She may stay.”


Ver’On gasped for breath, breath he had not been aware he was holding. El moved her hand from the blade. Sol, stood back, his skill would go unneeded this day. Ver’On turned El’s face to look at him, and brought his outer tusks to gently scrape along her cheeks. His kind could not kiss as oomans could, he only hoped she understood just how strong his mandibles could be, and how delightfully gentle the touch he gave her was.


She smiled, and blew a gentle breath across the tender inner skin beneath his mandibles. Oh he liked that. He liked that very much. Ver’On quickly turned to the council, “I request the use of the ritual room.”


“NO!!!” Kire’Baa shouted, pushing past the rest of the council members. “The council may have overruled me, Ver’On, but approval for ritual must go through the head of the family. And in case you have forgotten, that is ME!! If she is virgin, she will remain that way. There will be no ritual for her!!! NONE!!!”


“Kire’Baa…”


“NO!!! As council leader I must put up with this creature running around my ship, but I will NOT, under any circumstances, allow the line of Hur to be TARNISHED, by allowing the pure seed of our line to mix with that of prey!”


Ver’On looked between the council members. “There is one way that you cannot block!” he said with warning. The old one turned.


“I doubt she can prove herself worthy. You told us yourself, the healers at the station could not repair her leg 100 percent. She is permanently lame. She cannot fight. And I doubt there is anything of significance that it can do to impress me.”


Ver’On growled at Kire for his insult to El, but El was the one who stepped forward. “Be still Ver’On, please. Let him see me for who I am, as you see me. I may not be able to fight as I once had, but I’m sure I can impress him in some way, some day.” She placed her hand to his chest beneath his armor plating. “You and I will be together, soon. You’ll see.”


Ver’On felt his rage subsiding. When he looked into her green eyes, how could he remain angry for long. She was his, she would always be his. Ritual was just a formality, once completed, they could mate for young. He’d promised her that she would want for nothing in her pleasure, and when he promised her that she would want to continue ritual in private, he told her that he would keep her forever pregnant, and happy.


“Very well, my mate. I will wait.”


The elders watched Kire’Baa leave through the private exit, then turned to Ver’On. “You may go.”


Sol stepped up next to his mentor, and the three bowed to the council and left.






“How could they do that?” Sol demanded, as he followed Ver’On back to the docking bay.


“He is the head of my line. The only sire left who can trace his lineage directly back to the founder Kire’Hur, whom he is named for.”


“Can’t the council over rule him? Surely you will not take her without ritual?”


“No, I will not. And she knows that,” Ver’On held El close, as she listened to the males. “She is right however. We will be together. Ritual will come. Sol, I ask you to stand in for Ritual.”


“WHAT!!!” the pair screeched at the same time.


“Ver’On, no, please!” she begged.


“I WOULD BE HONORED!!” and the young blood puffed up like a peacock prancing for his hen.


“Why not Sol, El? Do you not trust him?”


“Well…yes, but that’s got nothing to do with it!”


“Then what?” the males asked.


“I know him. I don’t think…I could look at him the same way…if he saw me…and you…while we…”


“Mated?” they asked together, they were use to her stammering like this. It was a sign she was embarrassed.


“Well yeah. Please Ver’On, pick someone else. Someone I don’t know.”


“Sol must be there. He will be your Kadja,” Ver’On stated flatly. If a body could explode with pride, Sol would have gone off like a super nova.


“What is Kadja?” she asked.


“Kadja? It did not translate?” She shook her head. Ver’On thought for a moment, trying to think of how to explain. Then he turned to her pleading expression. “Kadja, the one who is there, when I cannot be. A close friend, like a brother.”


“You want Sol and I to be close friends?”


“Yes. Can you do that?”


El wrapped her arms around Ver’On’s neck. “For you, I will collaps a star.” Ver’On trilled at her, and tapped his outer tusks repeatedly across her brow.


Unknown to the three, as they discussed the position the young blooded ally would be to Ver’On’s new family, Kire’Baa watched form the shadows of an adjoining corridor, as Ver’On postured over the ooman female.


She had to go. She was no better than all the rest. If need be, he would make sure the guards that watched over all the females knew, not to give her aid if she needed it. One way or another, the ooman would join the rest…in death.






“It is called the Garden room,” Sol explained, as Ver’On made sure her riding machine was securely fastened to the floor in his quarters. Moving the machine proved difficult. The engine would not start, and El’s leg was paining her after she tried to push it up the ramp from the docking bay. He was stronger, and he opted to push it for her.


On their journey they passed a room with guards. As they passed, the guards hissed at her. Sol and Ver’On both hissed back, and the guards backed down. Then she asked what the room was that they guarded. “What is so important about a garden?”


“Everything. At least during waking hours. There are dozens of these rooms all over the colony ship. They are an iatrical part of the water filtration system and air exchange system. Do you understand?”


“Of course. The plants filter the impurities out of the water, hence clean water. And the plants automatically filter the carbon dioxide form the air, so why not make more of them, and cycle the ships air through the rooms.”


“Exactly. You see Ver’On, she is smart.”


“I never said she wasn’t,” Ver’On replied, as he tightened the last strap. “There, it should not move now.”


“So what about the gardens? Why the guards?”


“Because during the waking hours,” Ver’On stated, threading his arms around her from behind. “It is the place where our females and younglings go to rest, play, and socialize. I will take you there tomorrow. I would like for you to teach the younglings those tumbles you do. Many of the females are very pregnant, and cannot keep up with the younglings. You will be a welcome addition to their group. Do you think you can handle that?”


“Does a black hole keep the light?” she laughed, and Ver’On held her tight, before letting her slip away, heading for the facility room.


“Do you really think they will go for her?” Sol asked of Ver’On, once the room doors were securely shut. “The guards didn’t seem too willing to even allow her to pass the door. Had she not been on my far side, I’m sure the guards would have struck her down.”


“Leave the guards to me. I will deal with them. I will then request to speak with the mates of the females, as the females leave tonight.”


“I wish you luck Ver’On. I really do.”






Kire’Baa paced uneasily in his quarters. He had to find a way to get rid of the ooman without drawing attention to himself. Doing away with the others was easy.


The first female to show interest in Ver’On was a lowly servant girl, he’d had several, less than scrupulous males, take care of her. She’d spent several weeks in the medical bay,

before her heart finally stopped.


The next one to show interest in Ver’On was the younger sister of and blooded hunter, but her interest was only fleeting, and easily steered to another male, who was glad to have her. Then there was Uni. Try as he might, he could not sway her prying eyes from his grandson. She had that odd green color to her eyes, unnatural to any of their kind. From what he could learn in the short time that Uni had turned her attentions to his only surviving offspring, Uni was a fine female, and allowed the ritual to go ahead. But once the records of her family were officially opened to his family, he dove deeper into her lineage.


He’d learned a horrible truth. Uni’s great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother was ooman. The mixed blood haven been bred back to countless pure blood Yautja along the way. The only physical signs the female was ooman in any way, were here eyes. The strong green color remained prominent in her line. There was no way he was going to allow that blood to mix with the blood of Hur.


His doing away with Uni had to be carefully done. And sense it was successful once, he could, and would, do it again.






Over the next several days, Ver’On would escort El to the garden room, see her safely inside, and seat her beneath the larges tree, where all the females would gather to talk. Then he would leave, not wishing to take part in female affairs. They often spoke of their mates, and how they performed in bed. Sense El had nothing to compare too, she would probably have questions of what to do, and how to act. He’d little doubt she would turn many shades of red during the discussions.


When he’d leave, he’d immediately go to the sparing halls, where his unbloods were hard at work training, getting ready for their blooding hunt. It was this training that he had requested Sol to join him, with his prized trophy. He was breaking a strict taboo, by showing the unbloods an actual Kainde Amedha, but as long as it was dead, and no actual attack pointers were given, he could get away with it. Sol was there at the door, waiting for him, his prized trophy in a huge case. “What is this?” he asked.


“Well, Ver’On. I remember how you taught me to seek my prey rapidly, by shifting through the different spectrums of my mask’s vision. You will be teaching the unbloods how to anticipate the Kainde Amedha attacks, and their means of camaflague, correct?”


“Yes.”


“I have done something with my trophy, I think you will like.”


“Oh , Sol, you didn’t…”


“I did. Come, lets scare the diapers off these babies!!” Ver’On shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was actually looking forward to this little joke of Sol’s. He only hoped it didn’t backfire on him. It was very rare that a trophy was used in training of any kind.






The area was beautiful. A total green house onboard the ship, complete with artificial sunlight that looked so real, you’d think it was. There was real grass and trees, a running stream for swimming or sitting in. and a gentle breeze to filter the air. There were a bout a dozen females in the area, and even more children of varying young ages. But none of them came near her. The mother’s kept their youngest closest to them, and those that were still pregnant, completely ignored her. While other females would turn to her, or walk by, hissing, with their smaller outstretched mandibles.


She’d been sitting here more than two hours while this went on, then servers arrived and brought food for everyone, everyone that is except her. It wasn’t that she was starving, she and Ver’On would eat a hearty breakfast together, large enough choke an elephant, she’d not felt like eating the rest of the day. Still, the females all trilled at the fact that they were eating and she was not, trying to egg her on, possibly to a fight. She wasn’t buying it.


Sometimes, she’d walk around the gardens, other’s she would climb to the highest point of her favorite tree, only to have Ver’On scold her for acting like a youngling. Today however was a rare treat. The guards on the door, and had left their posts to assist the servers after their trays had fallen. As they helped load the trays back with the used dishes, she ducked out the door, and headed back to her quarters. But as she turned a third corner, she realized, she couldn’t remember the way. She was lost.


Absently she began looking into the different rooms, hoping there would be a familiar Yautja there, to at least order her on her way in the right direction, but there was no one. Upon opening one door, she found a huge shower and wash area, probably used after sparing matches that Ver’On was always going to. Another was a room with long rows of tables and benches, and a raised podium at the front. A conference room, or lecture hall she surmised. The next room however, was what interested her the most.


There were about a dozen small areas, dipped in the floor, lined with pillows and a small table. The area between the bowl-like seating areas was suitable for walking. But above them, were the largest pair of drums she’d ever seen. The skins were about as large as a Persian palace Gong, maybe 5 feet across. She could tell the skins were pulled tight across the surface, evident by the straining straps around the edges. The skins themselves showed some minor color difference, perhaps from being used so often. Then she saw the size of the drum stick. The thing was as long as her arm, maybe more, with a padded ball end, the size of her head. The shier strength the drummer would need to just lift the stick would be incredible enough to see.


She was so transfixed by the drums, she didn’t notice the doors had opened, and a Yautja had quietly walked up behind her.


His footsteps were silent, not even a gently scuff on the polished floor. His body moved like a cat, gracefully dangerous, stalking a prey that would bolt at the slightest noise. As he stood behind her, a full three feet taller than she, he carefully examined her. For an ooman, she was quite shapely, her legs and lower body hidden behind the vast skirt of her dress. Her breasts were large and round, heaving with the breath she was trying to regain, as though she’d run a mile, before she suddenly stopped. Her hair was long, just passed her shoulders, and she’d drawn the sides of it back and tied it above the rest to keep it out of her face. She took a step forward, not even noticing that he’d moved beside her. Was she going to try and reach for the drums? He’d have to make his presence known some time, may as well be now.


“Ooman,” he said dryly, and nearly lost his hearing as she screamed in surprise. When he looked to see her again, she’d taken refuge in one of the resting bowls, leaning on the table there. She met his gaze for a moment, before she bowed again. “Ooman, that is a good way to get yourself killed. Or worse.”


“My apologies, I saw the drums and…I just couldn’t help it.”


“You should not be in here anyway ooman.”


“I’m sorry, I’m lost. I was trying to find my way back to my mate’s quarters, I took a wrong turn.”


“Oomans have no sense of directions. You are on the gathering deck. You’ve gone up one level, when you should have gone down.”


“I’m sorry. My mate is the one who usually guides me. I should have paid more attention. Please, could you help me?”


“Help an ooman? You must be mad…”


“Then I will leave, and not disturb you further.” She moved to crawl out of the bowl, but he’d put himself in front of her, blocking her way. He could tell she’d become nervous, her body tensed, and her heart began to race. This was fun.


“If I let you leave now, you would miss the fun. Your mate will be here soon. All come here after the sparing matches.”


“Why? What goes on here?”


“Relaxation,” he said, dropping down to the walkway, laying his feet along the upper pillows, but making sure he made no further advance to her. Ver’On would not come, he knew that. But this ooman would provide marvelous entertainment to the rest of the Yautja who would come, and when they were finished with her, she would either be dead or dying. The females of the ship would be pleased at least. The ugly thing gone at last. Perhaps not made a trophy, but at least dead. “Tell me,” he began, “oomans of your world. After they work and sweat all day, do they not relax, in a group? Listen to music, feel a beat not unlike the beat of their own hearts?”


“Well yes, but usually there’s a lot of spirited drinks involved.”


“Yes, there is that too. So you know what this place is.”


“A bar?” She nodded yes, even though he didn’t fully understand why she would call the room a bar. “And a bar usually has girls to serve.”


“Exactly. And those females make the males that come here, relax.” He reached for her shoulder only to have her scoot out of the way, sliding across the table, and rising to her feet on the other side.


“I’m NOT that kind of girl. Nor are any of them my mate.”


“But your mate will come here. All males do. They enjoy it. If not for the females, then at least for the drums.” He waved to the huge skinned disks that had captured her vision before. “Have you ever heard a drum so deep that your heart matched its rhythm?”


“To that I have to say no.”


“Figures. Oomans have no sense of beat. I bet you couldn’t even make a tune on those drums.”


“Not with those drum sticks!” she laughed.


“Those?” he pointed to the sticks on the wall. “Those are ornamental. Not meant for the drums. Come, I will show you the ones you use.”


“I don’t think so.”


“You think I would attack you?”


“What else could be worse than death?” she asked, knowing full well the weight of his earlier statement.


“I am Yautja, I am an honored blooded hunter. You are suggesting I become a bad blood, just to find out what it is like to bed an ooman? Please, you think too highly of yourself.” He may not want to take her, but he knew plenty of Yautja that didn’t care what species she was, they just cared enough to get their tensions released.


El bowed in apology. “I’m sorry. I’ve not had a good experience while I’ve been here.”


“Very well. Come, I will show you.” He directed her up a flight of stairs, hidden directly along the front of the stage for the drums. She’d been staring at it the whole time, and never even saw the steps.


At the top, he picked up a set of sticks form the floor, more suitable to drumming. They had a padded ball on the ends, about the size of her fist, with a good weight that even she could manage. “Go ahead. Strike it. Here.” He pointed to the middle. She tapped the skin, barely gaining a mild thud from the hide. The drum master laughed. “Put some weight into it. You need to tell the room of your beat!” She pulled back, and struck the skin again. This time gaining a loud thump that thundered through the room. She turned to him with a huge smile.


“That was good.”


“Now, close your eyes, listen to your heart, bring out the beat that you hear there. Then listen to your head, and mix the passion you feel with the beat of your heart. Then and only then, can you master the drums.”


“What if you have a beat in your mind already? A rhythm that you heard once, but you can’t quite get it out of your head. Can you use that?”


“To use another’s rhythm? That is unheard of. Each drummer’s style is unique. Why do you ask?”


“Well, where I come from, people would make music, and put it out in a recording for everyone to listen to if they wanted to. Some people, who were practicing their instruments, would use these publications to practice, learning the different techniques. There is one drum beat, that I had heard, and it is very fast, very engaging, and I just can’t seem to get it out of my head. May I try?”


“Have you ever played the drums before?”


“No, but…how hard can it be?”


The drum master laughed, “A lot harder than you think. But please, go ahead. This could be fun.” The male sat down, and leaned against the wall, getting ready for a good long laugh. Perhaps if anything, this ooman could be entertaining.


She pulled back on the drum stick fast, only to hit the drum behind her. The drumstick fell to the floor. Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.






Ver’On left the shower room last. He wanted to avoid the urgings of his fellow huntsman to join them in the Cot-la room. He wasn’t’ in the mood for the drums, nor for females the pretended to want him, when all they wanted was every male they could get into their beds. That was not his way, it never would be. Then he thought about El, and how he wanted to give her all he had. But without ritual, it was forbidden. It was hard, lying with her at night, feeling her flesh warm beside him, her scent strong in his nose to have him. There had to be a way to convince the council that she was worthy of Ritual. They would find a way. They had too. He stepped to the guard at the garden room door, the guard nodded, and let him pass.


Inside the area was alive with activity. The children were running, everywhere, and the females were loudly purring and chatting all over the place. This was a welcome change. The females must have made peace with El, and welcomed her to their midst. It was bound to happen. Only when he arrived at the tree where she always waited for him, she wasn’t there. Beneath its strong branches were three females, one well along in her gestation.


‘She’s up the tree again,’ he sighed to himself, and began to look up. There was life in the tree alright, younglings practically hung on all the branches, laughing and climbing. One waved to him, he waved back. “Tell me little climber,” he said playfully. “Is my ooman up there?”


“No huntsr,” the little one laughed. “She gone…”


“Gone? Gone where?” he asked sternly.


“Don know. She lef, wif da serbers.”


Ver’On reeled on his heels, and barged through the doors, grabbing the throat of the first guard he saw. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET HER LEAVE!!!”


“She hasn’t!” the guard gasped.


“The children saw her go. Were you asleep!”


“No sir!”


“THEN HOW DID SHE GET PASSED YOU IF YOU NEVER LEFT YOUR POST!!!”


“We did go inside to help the servers,” the other guard stated. “There was an accident with the dishes. We did not want the children to try and leave, so we went to help. She could have slipped out then.”


“Where did she go!!!”


“I don’t know. She wasn’t happy here. The females treated her horribly. The servers didn’t even give her a mid day meal. They laughed about it always as they left. Thinking it was funny. We told the chief, many times, he promised he would correct the behavior. We were going today to beat him, and the servers for their failure.”


“FORGET THEM!!! FIND MY MATE!!!!!” He let the guard drop to the floor, nearly out of breath, and then turned to find Sol. If the young hunter hadn’t engaged in any new sparing matches yet, he could help him search. Ver’On knew El didn’t know her way around the ship, she would always be watching out the window, or talking to him, and not watching where she was going. If she took a wrong turn, and ended up somewhere with other Yautja, she could be in serious trouble.


He went up one deck, and turned the corner, there Sol was striding down the hall towards him, chuckling to himself. Then he saw Ver’On and turned back the way he came for a moment then back to Ver’On. “What are you doing here?” Sol asked.


“Trying to find my mate. Sol, you must help me. She slipped out of the garden room at meal time. She could be anywhere. Help me find her.”


“I know where she is. I thought you were there too, which is why I said nothing.”


“Where?”


“The Cot-la room. She’s beating the drums.”


“WHAT!?”


“She’s very funny.” Sol ran to keep up.


The Cot-la room was crowded, Yautja from all over the ship had come to hear the silly ooman beat on the huge drums. He pushed his way to the front of the crowd, as they laughed and slapped each other as she played. At the front, he pushed two Yautja into one of the seating areas, and looked up to El. She stood between the two massive drums, her form small against their size. She beat on one drum fiercely, then would strike the one behind her accidentally, causing the rhythm she’d begun to miss. The Yautja would roar with laughter, and he’d look up to see that El was laughing too. Did she really think she was funny? Did she realize that they were not laughing with her, they were laughing AT her? What would she feel when she realized this.


“Stupid Pauk-de, can’t even play a simple beat!!!” laughed a Yautja.


Ver’On let his elbow fly into the male’s face, knocking him to the bowl below, crashing through the table when he landed. Ver’On roared with rage. How dare they! HOW DARE THEY LAUGH AT HER!!! She had courage the likes of which they could never have! To walk around a ship full of those who would do her harm, and try to please them with a beat she felt in her heart. HOW DARE THEY LAUGH!!! He turned back to the now silent drums. She was there, at the edge of the stage, breathless from her efforts to play. Ver’On turned to her and spoke. “My’El. Come. They do not deserve your rhythm. Come, you will play for me tonight.”


She knew he was mad. Mad at her for not staying where he told her, mad at her for wandering off, and apparently mad at the Yautja who was lying in a broken table. But he wouldn’t yell at her here. She knew that. But she was in for it for sure when they got back to their quarters. Oh well, she’d had a bit of fun at least. Tomorrow it would most likely be back to the prison of the garden. Maybe he would let her have a small drum to beat on, at least then she’d have something to do.


She handed the drum master back the sticks, thanking him for letting her try, then went down the stairs to Ver’On’s waiting arms. Sol had finally made his way through the crown, and began to clear a path for the pair to leave. Once in the hall, they could hear the rhythm of the drums begin, the familiar beat of a mating song. The drum master was the best.


At their quarters, Ver’On asked Sol to find the guards from the garden, and tell them to stop searching for El, then he directed her inside. The doors closed and El turned to him, ready to take whatever his rage would hand out. She’d seen the occasional female with a bruise on her arm or face, she knew the wound came from her mate, though she would never speak ill of him, she knew the female was afraid. Ver’On began to pace the room, El in the middle, just waiting. His breath was ragged, full of anger and stress, and walking seemed to only make it worse. Finally he stopped, and faced her.


El looked up to his amber eyes.











If anyone is wonderign what the drum beat El is playing, think of two of my favorite drum beats. the drums in the opening theam of the new Battlestar Galactica series, always makes me think of big predators. or you can imagine someoen trying to mimik the drums form the hyundi commerical. either of those two will do.