Chiva

Hello there, everyone! Well, I hope you’re enjoying the story so far; I had a particularly fun time adding to this chapter. I was so sucked into writing it that and pausing every now and then to watch parts of movie, by the time I finished the birds outside were singing to me. Now I’m ‘really’ tired, but nonetheless happy. ^_^

Some words for you all… *Yawns*

H’chak: Mercy
Thwei: Blood (For the sake of the story, when I pair these two words they’ll translate as Merciful Blood as opposed to just Mercy and Blood.)

And, I know I said so in my previous chapter, but in case you’ve forgotten and don’t want to look back, Guan H’dlak translates as Night Fear.

Anyway dears, read and enjoy. And thank you all for your wonderfully observant and supportive opinions. I really do enjoy reading your comments, and honestly they’re mostly, if not the only reason I’ve continued with this story. So again, thank you all, you’re wonderful!


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“The Amaryllis; known botanically as the Hippeastrum, from the Greek hippos which means ‘horse’.” Anthea read from the tattered human book on Herbology. Her words were soft and articulate.

Ko’tak decided almost the instant she grew a year older than five, that he didn’t want her to lose her humanity by being raised in a civilization so different from her own. Although the Yautja were a very proud race, and were quite far from the savage beasts most humans thought them to be, there was still something inside of the elder that wanted some part of this little girl to stay rooted to the life she would have known, had her parents not met such a gruesome demise. Anthea was his flesh and blood as far as he was concerned, but he suspected that some day, the time would come when Anthea’s curiosity for the truth would be overwhelming. He knew it was something he could not avoid, and so when she thought about taking such a voyage, and take it she would, he wanted her to be prepared.

“Amaryllis blooms are huge, trumpet-shaped flowers clustered atop stately long, leafless stems.” She continued, her words still delicately spoken. “Members of the Amaryllidaceous family, Amaryllises are at home in the tropics, and are native to South America and Africa.”

Off to the side, placed at the top corner of the page was a picture of said flower; the petals were a lively red. Below the picture listed the colors these flowers were found as. She scanned the rest of the page, reading the last bit with all of her attention.

“The meaning behind the name Amaryllis represents splendid beauty, timidity and pride.” The final meaning stood out to her, even made her smile. How interesting, she thought, that this flower represented a characteristic she was taught to uphold above all else. Her head quirked to one side as she eyed the picture again; they did stand proudly, she decided. Anthea closed the book and ran her fingers over the indented letters on the cover.

Above all things throughout learning the human language, she loved reading the most. Whether it was a work of fiction, geography, science, history or literature; if there was something more she could learn about the human race, she would take advantage of it with a great deal of delight.

Although Anthea was very much interested in finding out who she was before Ko’tak lovingly took her in, she found it hard to feel much of anything toward the subject. The simple fact was that she was just too young when her first family was taken. She hardly remembered much of anything, which of course was funny, considering the severity of the situation then. Perhaps it was only because it had been blocked out. There had been nights though where vivid and repulsive dreams took over. It wasn’t an ongoing occurrence, but it wasn’t seldom, either.

She would shoot up in the middle of the night in a drenched and cold sweat. Sometimes her eyes were soaked with subconscious tears, and that intolerable panic stricken feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away until she cried a little bit more. It was an old and familiar feeling, the kind of feeling she used to get as a child during her first trials. Hysteria was probably the best way to describe it; child like and unaccompanied by any form of encouragement. She had to find it herself back then. It took her a while, but she’d managed it.

Finding her center in this particular situation was a bit more complicated though, because as soon as she was awake, she could hardly remember the details of what had her so utterly beside herself. It was such a heart wrenching feeling though. The most she could ever remember was a shadowy blur, which of course was somehow the epitome of her despair.

Beyond her dreams though, she had no genuine feelings toward her original family. How could one if they had no memory, anyhow? She was fascinated by everything about her race, yes, but all of her fascination aside, she was completely content with the life that she led today. She couldn’t imagine anything different, of having a different life, or father. And frankly when she tried to imagine that, it hurt her even more than those vague dreams ever could have. She was proud to be raised by the Yautja, to be a Yautja. Lost in her reveries, she’d clung to her book, embracing it as if the thing had something to offer. Truth was, her body and mind were in two separate places.

Her thoughts were tossed out finally as her attention was compelled elsewhere. Someone was shouting, someone was very angry indeed. Anthea stood from her seat in the main room of the house, forgetting her book a she dashed out the door. Down below Ko’tak and Kro’nha were confronted by another elder and a handful of Yautja from another clan. She’d forgotten her mask again, but this wouldn’t be like the incident at the cove.

In an instant she was beside the only two she cared anything for. She made sure to keep quiet as the elder from another clan was still spouting his angry opinions. This elder was much different from Ko’tak; he looked rough and worn out, like he’d been through more than his share in his life. His irises were crimson; a common shade for most Yautja, but the difference that defined them was the dark shroud that kept his eyes looking dull and listless, angry as he may have been. He was a fraction taller than her father, perhaps a bit older as well. Looks always were deceiving, though. The cloak he adorned was dark with crimson spatters carelessly decorated here and there. Instantly, she realized what clan this was, and a second after she realized the elder held Kro’s staff firmly in his angry grip.

The elder locked eyes with the girl and she stared bravely back, as was the least she could do, knowing that this was her fault. There was an awkward silence for a few beats until the footsteps of another Yautja approached. He didn’t waste any time in raising his arm to swing forcefully at the girl’s delicate face. She fumbled back a step as her head swung to one side, her burgundy hair blanketing a fresh set of gashes across her cheek.

Anthea was indeed surprised by the stranger’s actions, but she revealed nothing and firmly held her ground. Ko’tak stepped forward, clearly incensed; something she’d never seen in him before.

“How dare you strike her!” Her elder roared with his mandibles flared.

“She is a worthy opponent!” The stranger only spat hatefully toward Ko’tak.

“Your actions are dishonorable.” Ko’tak spoke down to the Yautja, as only an elder could do. This roused the stranger’s anger and he raised his arm to strike again. He was quickly stopped short as his elder placed his ornamented weapon in front of him as a sign of warning. The stranger settled quickly and Ko’tak shot his unpleased gaze toward the elder.

This stranger was worse looking than his leader. He had many scars, a chipped tusk, his skin looked chapped and uncared for, and even some of his locks were cut short. He’d seen much, which was safe to assume. His eyes were hateful and bitter, the exact shade of his blood, not to mention.

Kro’nha was silent so far, but Anthea couldn’t deny the amount anger he generated. He’d kept still and silent, trying to stay respectful as his actions were the reason they’d come. The very instant she’d been struck though, his stance became overwrought as his arms shook from angrily clenched fists.

“What will you have done to resolve this issue, H’chak Thwei?” The elder spoke the name of Ko’tak’s clan with such disdain.

“Syt’ka, please.” Ko’tak started, almost exasperated. “Kro’nha has explained the situation more than once. And we have apologized more than once. His intentions were purely justified. That creature attacked my daughter. He had no choice but to defend her. Kro’nha was merely fulfilling his duty to me as her protector, and honorably I might add.”

Syt’ka, the elder of clan Guan H’dlak, took a small step forward, still scowling with unblinking eyes. Ko’tak let the other Yautja scrutinize him; it didn’t faze him in the least.

At this point Anthea had stepped forward, breaking the hostile eye contact between the two elders. She faced Syt’ka, standing tall and unafraid. She would take any punishment he had to offer. No matter what Kro thought, this truly was her fault.

The three gashes across her cheek bled well, a trail spilling its way past her chin and down her throat. Her state seemed to bring the elder pleasure, but what pleased him more was her watery eye. The tear finally spilled and painfully stung her first cut. Again, she showed no signs of pain; she’d been taught well how to save face. Still, the elder was pleased; tears showed weakness, and in her weakness he had grown smug. Had he been more perceptive, he would have realized that her tear was not of sadness or shame, but only because his underling had cut her so close under her eye that it was merely a bodily reaction for it to well up. Not to mention that that should have plainly been given away by the fact that her other eye was completely unquenched. Her pain seemed to be enough for him though.

“Kill any of our game again, and next time we will settle this dispute with a battle do the death.” He looked to both Anthea and Kro’nha, deliberately avoiding sight of Ko’tak; another sign of impudence. The elder carelessly tossed Kro’s weapon at his feat and turned on his heal. For yet another awkward moment, the impulsive Yautja who’d struck her stared her down, his stance tense and ready give a beating. “Come, Tal’lik!” It took him a moment, but he snapped to attention and soon caught up with his elder.

As soon as the insufferable clan was gone Kro’nha left his place and cradled Anthea’s face in his hands, carefully inspecting Tal’lik’s work. She pursed her lips as he looked her over. He held her face so gently, as if she would break if he touched her any other way. His soft golden eyes probed her with unmasked concern, and somehow it gave her the most pleasantly flustered sensation in the very pit of her stomach. In their silent trance the two unknowingly and very slowly closed the distance separating them. Her hands rested loosely at his wrists and suddenly her heartbeat echoed loudly in her ears.

Ko’tak, whose presence they’d grown utterly oblivious of, cocked an amused brow with folded arms as he watched the scene unfold before him. If he hadn’t been paying attention he would have ruined the whole thing by laughing in irony. How fateful this situation was, and yet he hadn’t suspected it, even though he knew now that he should have. The pairing seemed perfect, he thought; he couldn’t have chosen a better companion for his dear little one. Kro’nha was as much a son to him as Anthea was his daughter.

‘But’, he thought as he placed his hand over the surprised girl’s shoulder, he wouldn’t let this romance bloom too rapidly. Kro’nha awkwardly cleared his throat and stepped back to regain his composure. Ko’tak brushed Anthea’s hair away from her wound with a doting manner all parents conspicuously showed.

“I’m sorry darling one,” he said happily, which of course had the girl quirking her head. “Let us go dress that wound.”

As the trio made their way back to the house, Anthea found she was curious and confused as ever. Her father was always composed and straight-faced, and although his outburst was more than understandable, what she couldn’t understand was how his mood completely turned a corner. And what did he have to be overjoyed about? Whatever it was though, she enjoyed seeing him happy.