The Tracker

Blade watched the Ooman woman’s body relax and her breathing slip into a slow rhythm. She was unconscious. He almost felt bad for her. The Yautja had great pain tolerance, far surpassing that of the humans, even a woman. The fact that she had stayed awake this long, despite the alcohol she had consumed and the blood she had lost, was commendable.



He returned her to her back, and stared. He had not had much of a chance to truly study her. He had never seen a human with so many dark spots on their skin. He supposed she was attractive for an Ooman; he had definitely seen worse in his years. She had a more primal quality to her than the other Oomans he had seen. Her body was lean and fit, and reminded him of a softer, and significantly smaller, Yautja female.



He sat back on his haunches, contemplating the battle. Her comrades had fallen, taking maybe one or two hard meats with them with their ranged weapons before dying. She had climbed the tree and jumped right into the fray. That was something that Blade could not understand. Sure, he could understand bravery or battle rage, but there was a fine line between bravery or battle rage, and stupidity or suicide.



He turned to the two Youngblood Yautja that dashed into the clearing and eyed them speculatively through his mask. They looked taken aback.



“I could hear you think, pups.” He growled. Ch’hkt-a jumped an inch.



“We thought we heard more Kiande Amedha.” The other one informed him, looking at the clearing and the dead Hard Meat. “Good hunting, Zazin!”



“And if I were to tell you that this little Ooman female killed all that were left of them, Li’ct-ha? What would you say?” he countered back. It was funny to think that since his own Kiande Amedha Chiva, he had preferred the name that a man called ‘Pitor’ had given him. He had always had a softer spot for Oomans, something that his kind rarely put up with unless they were worthy. That compassion put him in line as an Arbitrator when he grew tired of the hunt. He still had many years before that, however.



Unblooded and inexperienced, he had discovered the Ooman male Pitor fighting the Kiande Amedha for his life. Blade had prepared to fight the man, but he simply lay down his weapons and backed away, letting him take over. He had killed the Hard Meats, but he had been horribly wounded. If Pitor hadn’t have been there, he wouldn’t have made it.



Pitor called him Blade as he cared for the young Yautja’s wounds, and explained, after Zazin had growled at the simple, meaningless name, that the reason behind it was because he favored his edged weapons, and that the blade was sharp as edged glass, and taken up in honorable battles. He had decided to let the Ooman call him whatever he wanted, as he had no intention of speaking to him.



By the time he and the Ooman parted ways, the nickname had grown on him. He had not told anyone else his experience and second name, but he kept it close to his heart just the same. Perhaps that was why he had helped Nix. He had been reckless in battle rage as well. He saw a bit of himself in her. He hoped that Pitor would smile down upon him from wherever his afterlife was. He had fulfilled the promise to help another who needed him.



At his posed question, Li’ct-ha took a step back. “The Ooman killed them?” he said skeptically.



“Yes,” Blade answered, standing. “Four hard meat, three of them using a melee weapon, one was killed by that ranged weapon.” He pointed out the gun on the ground.



“And she killed the last one after it had impaled her with its tail.”



The two Youngbloods looked at each other. “Did you not kill any of them?”



Blade was silent for a moment.



“I have hunted Kiande Amedha many times. It is your Chiva, not mine.” He stated.



He looked back down at Nix. She was still sleeping. He expected her to stay that way for a while.



“And what do we do with her now? She has seen us and the hard meat. Should she not die?” Ch’hkt-a asked, nudging the woman unceremoniously with his foot. Blade growled low in his throat at the motion, and grabbed his arm roughly.



“You will show the proper respect! Ooman, though she may be, she fought bravely and has earned her life. You will not shove her about as if she were nothing but Ghequo shit under your foot!”



The high-strung Youngblood nodded and took several steps back. Wisely, Li’ct-ha kept his distance and silence during the exchange. Once his fellow was put in his place, he gazed at the Ooman with hooded eyes, trying to decide if she were capable of such a feet. She was most definitely muscled, her body hard and defined. She had several scars upon her dark, spotted skin, even one on her face. Her scalp was nearly hairless, something he figured was an attempt to make her look more masculine, but it was impossible to think of her as masculine with the barely-covered milk-glands that rose and fell obviously upon her chest. Plus, she carried some of the more subtle scars upon her stomach and hips that Ooman Mothers got when breeding. He thought her attractive for an Ooman woman, though no less strange looking to his eyes. What stumped him further was that he longed to touch her skin and feel the muscle beneath, the scars that lined her skin telling of possible battles and narrow escapes. He kept his hands to himself and looked at the older Yautja. He could sort of see now where Zazin’s fascination came from.



“What do we do with the Yeyinde, then, Zazin?” he asked softly. Blade looked to him and gave him the briefest nod of approval.



“I have not decided yet, Youngblood. I am unsure of leaving her alone here, though I know that there is at least one other Ooman in her party that is still alive. The one that she commanded to stay behind. There may be another that escaped, but I have not seen him.”



A glint of silver caught Li’ct-ha’s eye and he saw a necklace with two small capsules laying on the ground near his foot. He bent and grabbed them, studying them. They were engraved in the Ooman language, which he could not understand. He closed his hand carefully around them.



“Why not drop her in her cave, then?” Ch’hkt-a asked, still skeptical of her supposed prowess. Before Blade could say anything, Li’ct-ha punched the other Youngblood in the arm.



“She’s wounded, S’yuit-de pauk-de.” Li’ct-ha cursed him. Ch’hkt-a hissed and pushed him hard, sending the slightly smaller Yautja into a tree with a crack.



“Ki’cte!” Blade roared, pushing them farther apart. “If you do not behave, I will send you back to your Sires with the recommendation you be put back to nursery with the other sucklings!” he threatened, looking mostly at Ch’hkt-a.



“She’s awake.” Li’ct-ha said quietly, motioning to the Ooman, whose eyes were open, but narrowed, her hand clutching at the antiseptic-cauterized wound.



Blade looked down at her and dropped to a crouch next to her. He pointed at the wound.



“Better now?” he asked. The woman stared at him quietly for a moment before nodding.



“It still burns like hell, but it’s nothing compared to that crap you put on it.” She answered. Blade chuckled. She turned her gaze warily to the other two Yautja. Absentmindedly, her hand reached for her necklace. When her fingers touched bare skin instead of slightly-warmed metal, her eyes widened and she shot to her feet, looking around.



Blade took a step back, growling in warning.



“Not move much, Ooman. Healing!” Blade told her, touching her shoulder. She flinched out of his grasp and growled right back at him.



“My necklace! Where is it?” she asked, her voice venomous. The Youngblood looked at the jewelry in his hand. Nix caught the movement.



“Give it to me. Give it to me now! Right now!” she yelled, starting after him, hand outstretched. At the threatening tone, Ch’hkt-a hissed at her and extended his wrist blades.



Blade rumbled at him.



“Why so important, Ooman?” Blade asked, a humored undertone in his voice at her anger over such a small thing.



She ignored him and jumped for Li’ct-ha, trying to pry the necklace from his hand. The Youngblood, hesitant to hurt her, raised his hand over his head where she couldn’t reach it.



Blade closed his eyes and shook his head. Like an irritating older brother keeping his sister’s doll from her just to tease her.



“Give it to me! Please! Don’t…Don’t ruin them. Don’t take them away from me!” her voice was panicked now, and it made Blade pause and reconsider for a moment. He watched her desperately try to reach the silver necklace, all in vain of course. Whatever was contained within those capsules were extremely important to her. She reeked of fear, the first time he had scented it from her.



“Give them to her.” He ordered. The Youngblood immediately did as he was told and gave her the necklace. With a relieved sigh, she scrutinized the vials carefully, looking for any sort of deformity, before slipping it over her neck and holding them reverently in her hand, the beginnings of frightened and frustrated tears at the corners of her eyes.



“Away with your weapon, Ch’hkt-a!” he did as he was told, watching the Ooman continue to cradle the silver with a repulsed expression.



“Don’t touch them again. Don’t take them from me.” She breathed, eyes hard, looking at Blade. Them?



“What is there?” he pointed at the capsules.



Nix frowned at him. “You take off your mask and show me what’s under it, and I’ll tell you.”



Her fire was back. Blade was glad to see the fear leave her. Li’ct-ha laughed, leaning against the tree. She obviously didn’t expect the Yautja to agree to such terms. This should be interesting. No Yautja had ever put up with the impudence of a human to his knowledge. Though he was beginning to like the Ooman a little, he wanted to see what would happen.



Blade glanced at his two charges before turning to Nix. Slowly, he lifted his hand and detached the tubes that fed him air from his homeworld, and pulled the mast from his face.



Nix’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in a small gape. Blade tilted his head.



“One ugly Mother-fucker?” he asked, pointing at his face, his mouth pulling into an amused grin, which he was sure would scare the Ooman more. He could not count how many times he and his fellow Yautja had been called that. Many of them had no idea what it meant, but those few that took the time to learn the human language usually looked it up and learned it’s meaning first.



But, instead of screaming, she grinned and threw her head back, a laugh escaping her lips.



Li’ct-ha watched her breasts bounce with interest, glad that nobody would see where his eyes were. He knew that he wouldn’t have her; it was most definitely frowned upon, with the chance of a relegation in Caste, but it didn’t hurt to admire while he could. After a moment, he looked away, shame filling him. When she finally stopped laughing a minute later, she shook her head.



“I’m sure no more to me than I am to you.” She replied, her face gradually drawing a serious expression.



After another few moments of quiet, Blade pointed at her necklace.



“Your turn.”



She looked down at the capsules and sighed, her head reaching for something in the back pocket of her leg coverings. She pulled a small square of glossy paper out and handed it to him.



Blade saw an adult Ooman male, and a suckling male, both smiling next to a woman that looked like Nix, but was too soft in the face and had long hair.



“They hold the ashes of my husband and my son.” She whispered, caressing the silver. “They died four years ago in a car wreck. Some teenagers were racing down the road. We were pulling out of a restaurant, and we got hit on the left side where Sam and Cal were sitting. They told me that Sam died instantly. Cal died two hours later in the helicopter on the way to the hospital from massive head injuries and internal hemorrhaging…” her voice was even lower now.



The Youngbloods did not understand her, and looked curiously at Blade. The Older Yautja stared at the picture of the three of them. Nix looked happy in the picture. To lose one’s Mate and Suckling must have been devastating. Though Yautja did not mate for life, he knew that most Ooman’s did. To carry her passed loved ones around her neck meant that she had still not accepted the loss of them. That revelation was even clearer with the reaction to the temporary misplacement of them.



He looked at the Ooman female, his red-orange eyes piercing. Despite the bravery and strength she had shown, he could see her for what she truly was now; fragile and broken. She separated herself from others, and did not spare grief for those scattered around her.



It was obvious to him now that she had not jumped into the Kiande Amedha out of bravery, at least not at first. She had jumped in expecting, and possibly hoping, to die.





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Pauk-de- Expletive

S’yuit-de- low and demeaning, description of something.

Ki’cte- ‘Enough!’

Yeyinde- Brave one



Zazin means: Totally centered, within oneself. It is Blade’s true name.



Li’ct-ha is a fictitious name created by me.





Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have reviewed! Please let me know what you think!