The Ripple of a Stone

The Ripple of a Stone

Life and Death

Authors Note: This story I have written may not be exact with the customs and culture founded by the Predator movies, comics or stories but I have tired to stay in the area of their beliefs and ways. I have brought in elements from each of the categories and have combined them into one. I do not own Predator. Updates will be regular and changes will be made if any suggestions are made for me. Pronunciations at bottom. Some of the mentioned items in the Yautja world are made up by me. Good Reading.

E.M.

“” “” “” “”

Lord Khupiee and Sya stand in silence on the lift as it takes them to the Young Blood deck. Nalani is given three hours to prepare and already an hour has gone by. A loud clattering of mandibles sounds suddenly, Syas nervousness finally showing through.

“She will fight for all she wants Sya, don’t worry about that.” Lord Khupiee sighs, a little worry in his gut too.

“It is not Nala that I am worried for.”

“The Patriarch has great wisdom, he will see what we do.”

“Hopefully.” Sya adds just as the door opens. The entire hallway is packed with hunters, all quiet and waiting. They all move at seeing them, making a path for them to get to Nalas and Dhm’Nis room. Without announcing themselves, they walk right in to find Thr'ik and Dhm'Ni pacing back and forth in the room. All four of them stand in an awkward silence for some time, Sya too troubled to ask where she is, but he doesn’t need to.

“She went to the Awu’asa makers before she came back to the room.” Thr'ik tells first. “She had a lot of small containers with colorful paste.”

“Then she went into the bathroom, and that’s where she is now.” Dhm'Ni sighs, turning towards the door. He has been wondering what she is doing, she hasn’t said one word since she and the Patriarch agreed to fight.

“Colorful paste?” Lord Khupiee asks, a little intrigued.

“Blacks, greens and yellows.” Dhm'Ni says. They all move to stand in the middle of the room, softly talking about what she could be doing. Suddenly the bathroom door opens and they all turn to it, with all of their mandibles going slack at the sight of her. Walking out naked, Nala strolls past them all with a straight face, her body painted like army camouflage. The blacks, greens and yellows blending, the mixture all over her body, even her face.

“Excuse me.” She says quietly and walks into the trophy room to put on her Awu’asa with the four of them watching her, all wondering ‘what the pauk’. Slowly they make their way to the door and stand as she places on her armor and when she has all but her mask on, she finally walks out. But just as she is about to leave the room, Sya holds her back.

“What have you done to yourself?” He asks. A clawed hand rises to touch her face, but Nala grabs it before he can ruin her work.

“You have your traditions when you hunt and fight and have war, so do I.” Nala whispers and turns to the door again. They follow her out, all as silent as can be. And once more the crowd makes a path for them, some if not all staring at Nalas strange coloring. In the lift however, Sya is the only one to ask questions, but only getting one or two word answers. It doesn’t take much for him to know she is in her fighting mode now, all business and no pleasure.

It takes a little while for them to get to the other ship, the fight being held on there because of the larger arena. Nala thought that this fighting square is perhaps twice, if not three times the size of the other one, the rows of seats able to hold both ships. But unlike the other fighting deck, this one has no wall of weapons for her to choose from. But that is ok, Nala has all the weapons she needs. The five of them walk to her small area, Nala sitting down on her knees and closing her eyes.

“What is she doing?” Thr'ik whispers a question.

“Meditation.” Dhm'Ni answers as he walks around, his arms crossed over his chest and face tight in tenseness. Sya takes a moment and looks around at all the faces in the crowd, finding a lot of familiar faces. He turns to Lord Khupiee and with no words said, he tells he needs to leave. Lord Khupiee of course nods slightly, knowing where his old friend is going. Taking one last look at Nala, Sya walks away and to the lift once more. He calls for it to go to the Patriarchs room, also having to add the password. He sighs loudly to himself, not really knowing what he is going to say. Even when the door opens minutes later, he still has no clue, his feet working for him and leading him off the lift.

Sya walks on light feet until he gets to the front room, the Patriarch standing before a large window looking out into the black of space. He walks next to the giant of a Yautja, that same feeling of inadequacy that he has felt since he was a pup finding its way back into his stomach. In the light of stars, the brown stripes on the skin of Ras’Lech and Sya glow, even the hidden orange undertone showing though. If anyone had ever looked closely at their skin tones, they would have seen more the just a small similarity, but all the males in their bloodline have the same skin coloring.

“Father, I have not come here to ask leniency for her.” Sya finally speaks.

“Good because I would not have given any.” Ras’Lech rasps, his old voice almost gone.

“But I have come to speak with you about her.”

“I do not understand your clans reasoning.” He says, completely disregarding what Sya had said, that being something he has hated since he was able to talk. “There is an Ooman on this ship, one with its heart still beating. Do you know how many laws this breaks?”

“Do you know what she has done to make all those laws null and void?” Sya barks back.

“I know. I have heard of nothing but what she has done. ‘Saved the Ehre Clan’, please.” The Patriarch laughs.

“If Nalani had not warned us, everyone of that ship would have been dead. Meaning Lord Khupiee and Dhm'Ni.”

“Det-Onda’Ni would have taken control.” Ras’Lech sighs.

“You know why we cannot let that happen.” Sya looks into his fathers eyes, both of them knowing Det can never be someone with power.

“The Ooman,”

“Nalani, she deserves to be called by her name.” Sya growls, his patience running out.

“She deserves nothing from me!” Ras’Lech hisses back. Sya lowers his head submissively, wordlessly saying an apology for growling at his father and Patriarch. “I have never understood your fascination with that species, and to be true I wish I never do. It is none of my business how you spend your time. But what is my business is that your Clan Leader, and your Elders have permitted an Ooman female into your ranks, this I cannot let happen.”

“Why?” Ras’Lech slowly turns his giant head to his son, disbelief on his face. “Why can’t such an honorable, worthy Ooman female be allowed to be with the Yautja? Should she be disregarded just because of how her species was made? That she is not Yautja?”

“Sya, my son, I know you see her as honorable and worthy. But I do not. It is my decision. You and I know what the outcome of the fight will be, so if you must, say your last good byes.” With that, the Patriarch turns to leave the room.

“I may not have come here to tell you to be lenient, Patriarch. I came here to tell you to not go easy. Nalani will fight with everything to keep this, she has here what she has never had and she will not give it up easily.” Sya informs, a sudden and pure anger inside of him.

“For her sake, I hope not.”

“” “” “” “”

Thr'ik moves to stand beside Dhm'Ni, mimicking his stance of arms crossed. He can feel just how serious this situation is, and he for one would miss Nala very much if she is killed. But Thr’ik has seen the Patriarch in action, and he knows just how brutal he is, and that he is an accomplished fighter. He drums his fingers on his arm as he stairs at the back of Nalas head, her hair done in a thing she calls a ‘braid’. Thr'ik smiles softly at the memory of Nala doing those things in his hair, it felt good to have her mess with his tresses but the look it gave him after is something he would rather not see again. He has to wonder though just what she is doing as she has not moved form sitting on the ground for some time. With a quick look to Dhm'Ni, he takes a large step towards her. As he moves to be in front, he sees her eyes closed and he can hear her breathing is very shallow. And yet, her heart beat it loud and fast. He kneels down close, his eyes tracing the lines of color on her face.

“I think the pigment is an improvement.” Thr’ik thrills without thinking.

“Shh.” Nala hisses and snaps her eyes open, making Thr'ik jerk back at seeing them. He was expecting them to be the same blue, but all he gets is the black of her pupils. With a strange walk, he goes back to Dhm’Nis side.

“Something is wrong with her eyes.” He whispers.

“We’re they all black?” Dhm'Ni asks back, getting only a nod from his friend. “Good. Same thing happened before she killed the Queen.” He says, and they both smile.

“Do you think she will throw stones at him as well?” A voice says quietly behind them and they turn to find Sya approaching.

“It would certainly be unexpected.” Lord Khupiee jokes.

“SHH!” Nala hisses again.

“” “” “” “”

When it is closer to the time of the fight, Lord Khupiee and the others have to leave, moving up into the stands to a special spot to watch. Everyone is on edge, some even literally sitting on the edge of their seats to watch. When Kh’Cho, the healer, arrives though, all but Lord Khupiee know what he is doing here, seems that he wants to know if and or when Nala can still be healed after the fight. It is one thing to have Ras’Lech and Nala kill each other, but another for her to be proven unworthy, and sent back to the Ooman planet alive. But they are all hoping to have her win the Patriarchs favor, it is just prudent to have the healer there. Kh’Cho greets them all with a silent nod and sits down behind Lord Khupiee, but still close enough to see. In his hands he has his personal mask, quite like one of a hunter, this one can see inside the body and he plans to watch Nalas injuries as they happen, writing them down like a check list for when he heals her. Kh’Cho shifts in his chair uncomfortably when the Patriarch and Nala are called to the centre of the square, he has never been one to watch fights or battles because he knows he is going to have to fix whatever was broken afterwards. He places on his mask as they bow, the foreboding silence of the crowds strangely comforting in this situation. The two bodies separate slowly, Nala almost limp compared to Ras’Lech, he being stiff and in position even while moving away.

Suddenly Ras’Lech charges, his body moving so fast Kh’Cho has to look twice for him. He watches with wide eyes as Nala just stands there, her arms at her sides and feet unmoving. Even as the Patriarch gets closer and closer she does not move. Ras’Lech raises his weapon into the air, ready to strike. But just as he takes a breath do pull down his arm, Nala jolts to the right. She takes a giant step behind him and unsheathes a short blade from her thigh. In an instant, sparks fly as her blade scrapes against his back armor.

“If he had not had his Awu’asa on, her aim would have hit a vital artery that would have killed him in five minutes from blood loss.” Kh’Cho tells them for no reason.

Nala jumps away fast, twisting her body towards the Yautja once more. In one hand a small blade, making the other feeling a little empty so she is fast in grabbing another that is shaped rather like an ‘s’. The Patriarch growls so loudly that Kh’Cho could swear he feels it in his bones, the complete stillness in the large room only amplifying the sound. Nala runs straight at him now, her body moving in almost a slow motion to Kh’Cho. She flings the straight blade downwards to the feet of the Patriarch, and just as she expected he is caught off guard and lifts a foot away. She jumps up, planning to slice a shoulder with her other weapon, but when she sees his body, Nala knows he knew what she was going to do. Ras’Lech grabs the same arm that the weapon rests in, and twists around. He slams her body to the ground, the sound of Nala and her Awu’asa hitting it loud in Kh’Chos ears. After he opens his eyes again, he sees a very bad thing.

“Her right shoulder has been dislocated.” He informs them, he voice going into a grave undertone.

Ras’Lech keeps his grasp on her arm tight, so tight that Nala is sure he is going to shatter her wrist and forearm. But to her shock, and dismay, he picks her up again, tossing her across the square. He trills with a deep satisfaction as she stills, her face down and upper body in a lot of pain. Slowly Nala gets on her knees, the fact now dawning on her that the Patriarch must have watched videos of her fights, he knows her move to well. Getting to her feet, the sharp agony of her shoulder presents itself and she lets out the tiniest of whimpers, but it is heard from all the Yautja in the room and in a split second, they are all in a joyous uproar that the Patriarch has hurt her. Nala knows she cannot fight with her shoulder as it is, so she quickly formulates a plan. She ties a length of hanging line to her hurting wrist, while the other end has a lasso. Ras’Lech starts walking towards her, his steps showing his cockiness. Nala starts to move away though, she just needs a moment to breathe and plan, then she will move for him.

“Is she stalling?” Thr'ik asks in a surprised thrill.

“No, she is preparing.” Dhm'Ni answers, his eyes never leaving the scene.

The Patriarch stops suddenly, not willing to walk in circles with her. He growls and lowers his stance, his arms out and ready to strike. Nala too bends her knees and readies the line in her one good hand, turning it so the loop makes the perfect circle. With an extremely loud roar, Ras’Lech charges once more, but as his feet move, so do hers. Matching his steps, Nala swings her lasso at his arm, catching it just the elbow. He jerks his head towards the connection but in that he loses sight of her. Nala twists his arm behind his back and with great precision she hits the nerve by his shoulder blade, causing a wonderfully painful feeling down his arm, making it limp. She pulls away from him and kicks his hip, making him go one way and her the other. Nala pulls her arm as hard as possible, the agonizing pain of her shoulder realigning with a sickening ‘pop’. She quickly cuts the line between them and backs away, her vision blurry from the pain.

Lord Khupiee and the others all gawk at the after math, their mouths open in aw. Dhm'Ni turns around to Kh’Cho, and if he had not been wearing his mask, he would have seen Kh’Chos face was just about the same.

“What just happened?” Dhm'Ni asks.

“Her shoulder isn’t dislocated anymore…” The healer tells softly.

Ras’Lech turns towards her in the most menacing fashion, both of them holding their bodies as still as can be. Nala knows he is in pain, having hit the perfect pressure point on his back so the torture courses through him. She on the other hand can only let her arm hang limp, knowing to wait for a moment for her shoulder to work at least a little.

When the Patriarch shakes his body roughly, she knows she is out of time and slowly takes out a small staff. All around her she can hear more then a few Yautja laugh as she has once again had to use the smaller extendable staff meant for pups, but at this moment she does not care. She extends it behind her and lowers her body, lifting her hurting arm out to be ready for anything. Ras’Lech moves quickly and the next thing she knows a shuriken is twisting its way towards her. Nala has spent too much time with these things, but she knows what to do. Dipping her body low, she stabs her staff upwards just as is the shuriken is above her, the small pointed end going through one of the large finger holes. She swivels around and just like her staff is a baseball bat, she swings it at the Patriarch, causing the shuriken to go right back towards him. Stunned for a moment, Ras’Lech simply turns sideways and watches the thing hits the wall behind him. But as he turns his enormous body back, he is unprepared to have her tiny one slam into him. They stumble backwards for a moment with the Patriarch able to hold their standing position, that is until he feels an all too familiar sting of a blade in his stomach. He roars in frustration rather then pain, grabs her braided hair and tosses her off of him, her blade still inside his gut. Nala tumbles to the ground, her shoulder crying out in pain before she stops herself. She watches in shock as Ras’Lech simply rips out her knife, throwing it away. Nala grabs hold of her staff and drags it under her legs and in a move of desperation, she kicks it out towards him, the wonderfully hazardous end aimed right for his thigh. Ras’Lech turns his body and grabs the small weapon in his hand, having to chuckle a little at the move.

Nala turns onto her stomach but stupidly puts her full weight on her hurt arm, her body falling back to the ground with a clang of metal. She grunts in anger and lifts her face in time to see the Patriarchs foot swinging at her. He kicks her dead center on the stomach, sending her flying nearly to the other end of the square. With the wind knocked out of her, Nala arches her back in pain as she tries to breathe, gasps of raged air getting to her lungs in small portions. She can hear the crowd cheer though, their roars and thrills so loud in her ears. At that moment, Nala can almost feel her confidence bleed away as though she had a cut on her skin.

‘What am I fighting for again?’ Nala thinks sorrowfully, sadness filling her soul unexpectedly. Her eyes suddenly go blurry as she turns her head to the side, if only to drown out the cheers for her defeat. When her vision clears, she sees the most wonderful thing. Standing tall among the sitting others, Dhm'Ni stares at her with his eyes full of worry and with fierceness she has never seen. Nala smiles at him beneath her mask, just the memory of his smell and voice making her feel so much better in her last hour between life and death. She gets up slowly, her feet a little wobbly as she steadies herself. She lifts her head up high, silently saying he had not hurt her, despite them all knowing he had. The Patriarch laughs out loud now, even shaking his head for effect. Nala does nothing though, the glowing green blood of him reassuring her that she is doing the best she can.

Nala slips out a blade the length of her forearm, her mind telling her that his Awu’asa is the only thing keeping her from dealing killing blows, and that the same goes for her. She uses the time it takes for the Patriarch to cross the room to her, planning and looking for the different places to cut to make his armor less effective as a shield. When he is close enough, Nala runs forwards and jumps high, twisting in the air and landing right on his back. Ras’Lech tries to grab her, his clawed hands adding new scars to her legs as he tries to rip her off, but to no avail. Nala stabs his armor is just the right places, causing three back plates to fall to the ground with her. But as she stares at his back, she instantly recognizes the pattern as Syas’, her stomach dropping with the connection that they are related. Nala turns little by little to where Sya is sitting, their eyes connecting, her mind suddenly so sad with the fact she is fighting a family member of his.

Ras’Lech does not waste a single second and turns to keep his now vulnerable back away from her, only to find her not paying attention at all. He balls his fists tight and punches her right in the chest, using both hands that feel like steal. Nala flies back with no chance of stopping, only a far wall bringing her tumble to an end. Laying flat on her stomach, she can feel the broken bones in her chest, the blood filling her lungs and gut.

“Three ribs and her sternum are broken…” Kh’Cho tells, his voice taking on a tone of deep sadness.

Lifting her body with a great degree of difficulty, Nala uses a single hand to hold herself up while the other cups her chest. The Patriarch makes his way to her, planning on slicing her throat. Nala backs as far as she can before she begins to cough. Leaning to one side, she lets the blood flow out of her mouth, the red mixture dripping down from the lip of her mask to the ground. Ras’Lech stops in just before her, taking in the image of her on her knees bleeding. He usually isn’t one to just stare down at his opponent. But he loves nothing more then watching his prey struggle just before death. He grabs her by her hair and lifts her high, her body hanging as if lifeless.

“You think you could ever earn my respect, Ooman?” The Patriarch asks in a quiet hiss.

“I know I might never earn your respect…” She breathes out, blood continually dripping from her mask. “But I don’t know what I have done to earn your disrespect.”

Nala jerks suddenly and before he can move, she slices his arm to the bone, making him drop her to the ground. She swipes her legs under his, the Patriarch slamming into the ground with a very loud thud, the crowd silencing, holding their breath as she stands up. Nala can’t feel anything anymore, the pain gone from her mind and nothing but the task of surviving in it. Ras’Lech rolls to one said and jumps up, one arm flying backwards and hitting Nala right in the chest, an unstoppable scream coming from her. With her shriek of pain, the crowd starts up again. Roars and snarls of encouragement for the Patriarch to kill her are so loud that is she could have, Nala would have covered her ears. Ras’Lech grabs for her neck, but on instinct, she grabs his hand with both of hers. Nala twists it around and slams her elbow down onto his, cracking it rightly. Not a single sound comes from him, only a small gruff of air. Nala weaves to one side and jumps on his back again, a long blade soon through his back to his chest. Finally Nala is gifted with his roar of pain, it soon changing to one of agony as she twists the knife around. The Patriarch tries to grab her once more, but is unable to as his one shoulder cannot go all the way back without great pain, and the others elbow being cracked.

Grabbing two weapons that are more like fish hooks, Ras’Lech turns them around in his hand and before Nala can jump off, he moves despite the pain and impales her on the two blades, her back armor giving way to the sharp points. He roars as he tears her off his back, the sound of his hooks ripping through her skin and bone very loud. Ras’Lech throws her to one side, only wanting to get her away form him. Nalas body, unmoving, rolls for what it seems like forever, her back nearly split in two.

“Her spine has been severed. Odds are she cannot move anything below the injury, maybe even above it…I don’t know.” Kh’Cho informs them.

The Patriarch growls to himself as he walks towards to unmoving body, the sweet smell of Ooman blood wafting through the giant room. He walks with great pride in his steps, his head held high with honor. He kicks her shoulder with a foot, turning her onto her back and steps over her, standing with one foot by each of her shoulders. But when the recognizable sound of shurikens opening in his ear, he knows he has made a mistake. Nala uses the last of her energy and lifts her only two shurikens in her hands and slices the back of the Patriarchs knees. He falls forwards with a hiss of torture as his knees hit the ground. Nala aims more hits to his sides but Ras’Lech is quick to grab her hands. He lifts them above her head but in his hast he jams her hands so tightly that the blades of one weapon slice through her right hand, severing her pinky and ring finger off. Nala screams loudly now, not caring anymore if they crowd likes to hear it or if it shows weakness. The Patriarch, once having her still beneath him, takes a deep breath to calm down, his body aching from the many, too many, injuries she has given him. Securing her wrists with one hand, Ras’Lech decides to view the face of the Ooman female that has caused such disarray in the world of Yautja and rips off her mask. He takes a moment to stare down at the blood stained faced, beads of red down her chin and mouth, even a few lines flowing down her forehead and eyes. But as Nala focuses on him, the Patriarch has to acknowledge the scowl on her face, her determination not to die without fighting rather impressive.

“Lord Khupiee…” Kh’Cho grabs the Clan Leaders attention. “If I do not treat Nalani within ten minutes, she will die. And the Patriarch must be healed as well or his injuries will impact his future, in a very bad way.” He whispers.

“The Patriarch is the only one who can end the fight if Nala still lives, and her heart still beats.” Sya tells in a very angry voice.

Ras’Lech lets his full body weight fall onto Nalas stomach, only getting a small flinch from her eyes as a reaction. He snarls loudly at her perseverance, having to admit that the fight in her is very strong. After another moment, the Patriarch suddenly takes off his own mask, throwing it to the side with hers and he leans down to have his face inches from hers. His thinned and graying tresses fall around their faces, making a curtain around them.

“Do you have any last words for me to pass on?” Ras’Lech asks in a whisper.

“Not for Glory. Nor for Honor. Nor for Riches. But rather for the sake of Freedom.” Nala tells in the strongest voice she can, but she knows her voice is quivering.

“What did you just say?” Ras’Lech barks in surprise, his mind reeling with her words.

“Not for Glor…” Nalas words slur and her eyes roll into the back of her head, her consciousness leaving her. The Patriarch instantly roars for a healer, Kh’Cho running for the square as fast as his feet can carry him. He gets to the scene just as nine other healers do, all going to the Patriarch.

“No, tend to the female!” Ras’Lech orders, more then a few confused. Kh’Cho on the other hand is immediately at Nalas side, checking her pulse and what not, only to find her hanging onto life by a very thin thread. With the help of a single healer, Ras’Lech limps out of the fighting deck behind Nala as she is carried out by the rest.

“” “” “” “”

Lord Khupiee is closely followed by the others as he makes his way to the healers deck, expecting to find Nala being worked on. But as they enter the white room, they only see the Patriarch sitting on the table, his knees being healed by Kh’Cho alone. Sya moves around all the standing Yautja to the other room to find Nala floating in the air, her body being put in stasis to be healed later. He stomps back in with anger clear on his face.

“Why is Nala not being healed?” Sya hisses, not willing to even look at his father.

“The Patriarch has precedence over Nala.” Kh’Cho sighs regretfully.

“I wish to speak to Lord Khupiee and Sya alone, now.” Ras’Lech says strongly and in a moment the three are alone. “Nalani said something to me that I never thought I would hear.” He rasps, his voice tired.

“What could she have said?” Lord Khupiee asks, offering the Patriarch a wet cloth to wipe the blood from his side.

“You two are the only two I am going to tell this too.” Ras’Lech starts, once more ignoring what ever else someone has said. “As you know, when a Yautja is appointed to be the Patriarch or Matriarch, they must go through the process and in that they have contact with Paya, a vision.”

“Yes, we know this, father.” Sya says, trying to hide his anger.

“But what some may not know, is that the conversation between the Patriarch or Matriarch and the Goddess is full of many things. From advice, to predictions, even warning of what is to come. The last thing Paya said to me was ‘spare the one who does not fight for glory, who does not fight for honor, who does not fight for riches, but fights only for freedom. The day I came from my vision, I have been waiting for someone who seems they would be like that. But today, Nalani…she said ‘Not for Glory. Nor for Honor. Nor for Riches. But rather for the sake of Freedom.’”

“It is her motto.” Lord Khupiee informs with a great amount of aw.

“As much as I do not want that Ooman apart of the Yautja, Paya told me not to kill her, so I must not.” Ras’Lech huffs.

“Is that the only reason?” Sya asks slyly.

“What other reason would I have to keep that female alive?” The Patriarch hisses in anger now, his patience gone. “Get the healer and get out.”

“” “” “” “”

Standing in silence, Dhm'Ni and Sya wait for the last of Nalas healing to be finished by Kh’Cho, her body taking more then 10 days to heal. To be true, her body has not fully healed as some parts are completely gone, her two severed fingers will have to be replaced with metal counterparts. It will take time for her to figure out how to use them, but she will have to no matter what. Even the split vertebrate in her back have been replaced with a metal equivalent, her ribs and sternum reinforced by metal holdings as well. Dhm'Ni shifts in impatience, he has yet to have a goodnights sleep and he has to acknowledge the fact that he misses having Nala with him. Sometimes he would turn over to hold her and wake to find her gone. Even Thr'ik has been sulking around, missing her like she was a sister. Sya on the other hand didn’t seem to miss her, but it is reasonable as he has been in this room from when he woke until the last moments before he had to sleep.

“Just you two?” Kh’Cho asks as he injects a concoction to wake her.

“Seems so.” Sya sighs. Lord Khupiee and nearly every other member of their DropShip have gone through rough mockery about having spent anytime with her, Dhm'Ni taking the brunt of it but he handles it very well. But the others, they are another story. It won’t surprise Sya to see the many Yautja Nala has come to call friends to turn their back on her, the constant harassment from the other ship to much for even the most comfortable male. A small moan emits from Nala, the white sheet covering her body moving with each breathe now. Both Dhm'Ni and Sya move closer, one on each side of her so she can have a familiar face. Nala shakes her head to get the cob webs out, the dizziness and nausea way to prevalent in her head.

“I don’t feel so good.” She says in a shaky voice.

“You won’t for some time.” Kh’Cho tells and places a small, cool wet cloth on her forehead. “You have to go very slow.”

“Yeay.” Nala moan in distain. “Sya?” She asks, her eyes still unopened.

“We are here Little One.” He says, petting her hair a little.

“’We’, who ‘we’?”

“Dhm'Ni and I.” Sya answers.

“Thr’ik wished to be here also.” Dhm'Ni thrills, trying to be normal. “But he was challenged because of what you have been teaching him.”

“Is he winning?” Nala asks, finally opening her eyes and looking at Dhm'Ni. But at seeing the blue again, he losses his train of thought for a moment.

“Yes, he is gaining much respect.” Sya answers for him. Kh’Cho gets Nala to sit up, with much help from the others. She can’t help but tell that it feels as though she had drunk to much alcohol, her head spinning constantly. In an attempt to calm down, Nala runs her hands through her hair, but in doing so she notices some thing, or some things, are missing.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…But no nine or ten.” She asks in a composed panic. “Why do I have only eight fingers? Am I missing something?”

“You lost you two fingers Nala.” Kh’Cho then tries to explain about the metal implants, but at the word ‘implants’ Nala instantly says she doesn’t want to do it, her past experiences with Yautja implants not being so pleasant. After some convincing, Nala sits through a pain free ordeal of metal fingers being placed on her hand, the metal being connected to the bone and cartilage so they move just the same. By the end of it, Nala was adamant about getting out of the healers, not wanting to spend another moment in there. So after getting dressed in cloths that covered everything, Sya can’t help but notice she has purposely chosen garments to cover her new scars. He will have to talk to her about that later, for now they have plans. For the second time in her life, Nala stands on the lift with the door opening to Yautja not wanting to be near her. That definitely being something she never wants to feel again.

“They are waiting in the conference room.” Sya says suddenly.

“Is anyone else having deja vous?” Nala asks, gaining a few laughs.

When they finally get to the conference room, Nala finds a rather large and unfamiliar Yautja talking to Lord Khupiee in a rather disrespectful manner. She looks between the two for a moment, trying to decide if she is meant to slap his face for calling Lord Khupiee ‘weak’ in front of the Patriarch and Elders who are also in the room. Finally he stops when Lord Khupiee stands to acknowledge Nala, making the Yautja turn around. And to Nalas shock, he has the same eyes as Dhm'Ni.

“Det-Onda’Ni, this is Nalani.” Lord Khupiee introduces them. Det looks nothing like his father or Dhm'Ni, Nala guessing he is more like their mother. But as Nala bows her head in greeting, Det hisses loudly and turns his dark skinned back to her, walking out of the room a second later.

“Is it genetic for your family line to hate me Lord Khupiee?” Nala asks in a very serious tone. “Your second son wished to kill me when I met him, you nearly killed me when I met you and your brother can’t stand even the thought of me. And now your first born has disrespected you and me in the same breathe. Do you perhaps have a sister I should watch out for, just to keep my neck safe?” She smiles, and Lord Khupiee laughs.

“Nalani, the Patriarch is allowing you to live within the Yautja.” He tells. Nala slowly turns her gaze to Ras’Lech finding his already on her.

“I do not understand why you did not kill me. Will I ever?” She asks.

“Maybe one day.” Ras’Lech rasps.

“But not today.” Nala laughs. After about an hour of greeting the other Elders, Nala takes her leave to go sleep. She, Sya and Dhm'Ni chatted about rather stupid things on the way to their room, from how the different males on the ships were mingling and the fights that came from it, even news that Dhyot’te’ka and his brother had another scuffle. But the talking was very calming to Nalas nerves, the ‘everydayness’ wonderful. When the door opens to their deck however, it takes less then ten seconds for hall way to be bare of life, everyone either going to their rooms or taking the stares to get away. Nala asked if something was wrong, but both Dhm'Ni and Sya saying they only wished to give her time to heal. She kisses Sya on the cheek before he leave their room, wanting her to rest up as he knows her life from here on in will never be the same.

“It is still rather early.” Dhm'Ni tells as he watches Nala chance into her sleepwear. His eyes trail down her body, her back having more stories then the thickest of story books of the universe. Her legs prove to be his favorite, he even found himself thinking of them during the days without her. He couldn’t help but imagine them wrapped around his waist…

“I don’t care if it’s early.” Nala peeps up. She climbs onto the bed and pushes back the thick fur, but sits on her knees waiting for Dhm'Ni to join her. She tilts her head at him and extends her now half metal hand to him. “Fall asleep with me.” She practically orders. Dhm'Ni doesn’t waste another moment and changes into his long legged sleeping pants, not even bothering to go to the bathroom to change, being naked in front of Nala no longer a problem for him. He gently grabs her hand, having to admit to himself that he misses her soft fingers as much as she does. But as he climbs into bed with her and she rests her head on his chest, he couldn’t care less about her fingers.

“” “” “” “”

In the next days, Nala found a lot of things out. Firstly, she figured out that the other ship of Yautja do not like her, not one bit. Secondly, that the views of the second ship have rubbed off on those she already has a very strenuous relationship with, only making it worse. Thirdly, she figured out who her real friends as her once small circle of friends is now tiny. And fourthly, she has never felt so low of herself in her entire life. Her new scars are completely and utterly ugly in her books, despite Sya having yet another talk about how the Yautja think scars on a female are attractive, but like it matters in her case. Dhyot’te’ka is unexpectedly forward with his intentions now, having made many attempts to show his collection of Ooman skulls to her, Nala always telling him she does not view him in that manner.

This morning though, Dhm'Ni left to train with a few old friends from the other ship, so Nala decides to run to the galley. She of course says hello to those she shared the lift with, but got nothing but scowls or blank faces back. She has had a lot of situations like this happen in her life, even before the Yautja. It wasn’t too far of an ordeal for her to deal with, Ooman and Yautja it seems are just as judgmental as the other. The doors open to the galley the busiest it has ever been, many Yautja having to stand near tables with food in hand to talk with others. But as Nala exits the lift, they all go quiet. She expects them to just stare for a moment like they had done before, but to her shock and dismay, most of the Yautja begin to leave.

“Wait, wait!” Nala yells out, her hands in the air as if she is giving up. “I’ll leave.” She says, and starts for the stairs. She can’t help but feel her chest fill up in sadness, her mind wishing this wasn’t happening. She would hate to make others leave the galley just because of her, so it is easier for her to go. Well, easier for them. She walks fast towards the stairs with her head held high, her eyes straight forwards, until a strange color catches them. Her eyes flick towards the brightest red stripes against ivory skin, an extremely large Yautja with beautiful skin standing just beyond her reach. Her eyes go to his red ones, and he watches her until she disappears beyond the stairwell.

“” “” “” “”

After checking the training deck, Nala ends up having to go to her favorite purple society room to find Dhm'Ni with his friends. She only comes into their pit after being invited of course, sitting next to Thr'ik who puts his arm around her shoulders, having a wonderful time looking at her metal fingers. If she had been paying attention, she would have noticed that more then a few Yautja in the pit with her were getting agitated with her being near them. The next thing Nala knows, Dhm'Ni is challenging another male.

“You will never call me that again!” Dhm'Ni roars, pushing his friends shoulders in anger.

“Do not like the label Dhm'Ni?” The male asks. “Then perhaps you should not have become an Ooman pauk-de!” Dhm'Ni once again pushes the males shoulders and before Nala can even voice a word, the pit empties of life, even Thr’ik going to watch the fight. And so Nala was left alone in the pit, her mind reeling at the exchange.

‘Am I so disgusting that Dhm'Ni would so heavily deny being with me?’ She asks herself, her whole body heavy with sadness.

“” “” “” “”

“I do not think he meant it like that Little One.” Sya sooths and rubs Nalas back as she softly cries on his bed.

“Am I that gross?” She nearly yells. “I’m so angry.”

“Why angry?” He asks and moves his pelt of fur closer around her body.

“Because I didn’t think he would be so defensive. I understand that being called that is a major insult but…”

“But what Nala? You think Dhm'Ni thought more then friendship is between you?” He finally asks.

“I thought, now I know I was wrong.” Nala sighs and falls to the bed, her headache pounding away. “I guess it is for the best, I just wish I knew life with the Yautja would be similar to that of living with the Oomans.”

“Why would you say that?” Sya thrills as he lays down with her, combing her hair with his claws gently.

“Because they are all the same.” She growls and turns so her back is to Sya, ending the conversation. He kisses the top of her head then leaves, having a full day of appointments ahead of him.

“” “” “” “”

Thr'ik stands to one side in the bathroom as Dhm'Ni washes off the blood of his once friend, now deceased. He has been wondering about Nala as he realized they had left her in the society room rather abruptly. Dhm'Ni has yet to grasp what he had done, though his anger for what his friend had said is understandable. Dhm’Nis reaction though, with challenging him and killing him, Thr’ik thinks not. He cannot help but wonder what Nala had thought of the exchange, as she hadn’t gone to watch the fight with all the others. He hasn’t seen her since, so Thr'ik guesses she didn’t think a lot of it. As Dhm'Ni gets in the small divots of his skin, making darn sure to get all the blood off him, Thr'ik leaves to the other room and takes a moment to study Nalas Awu’asa. It is viewed as a disrespectful thing for a Yautja to touch another’s Awu’asa without permission, but long ago Nala said he can touch what he wished, of her armor that is. He grabs her mask and softly chuckles to himself at the small size, the plate fitting in his hand perfectly.

“Where to now?” Thr'ik asks at seeing his old friend come out of the bathroom.

“I am going to find Nala.” Dhm'Ni huffs and leaves the room.

“” “” “” “”

Sya sits with two other Arbitrators in the conference room, a small disturbance the main topic of their discussion. It has been to long of a day and all Sya wants to do now is get back to Nala, knowing she is having a worse day. Just as he and the others say their last words, Dhm'Ni walks in with a worried look on his face.

“Can I help you Dhm'Ni?” Sya asks as the other two leave.

“Why is Nala in your room?” He asks.

“Because she wants to be.”

“I have been looking for her all day. I even assumed someone had taken her to kill her!” Dhm'Ni hisses and sits down in a chair. “So I go to the Bridge and find her in your room.”

“Why does that matter to you?” Sya asks blankly and grabs the many books he had been studying.

“Of course that would matter to me!” Dhm'Ni tries. “Why would you think it doesn’t?”

“I know it matters to you, but Nala thinks it doesn’t.” Sya tells as he starts to walk out.

“I do not understand.” Dhm'Ni runs to Syas side.

“Then you and Nala are in the same boat. You do not understand her thinking, and she does not understand why you so adamantly denied having a more intimate relationship with her.” With that Sya leaves Dhm'Ni alone.

“” “” “” “”