BOUVETOYA ISLAND, ANTARCTICA, OCTOBER 10, 2004
Fires raged. Acidic blood seeped into the snow-covered ground at the mouth of the gaping abyss in the ice-floor of the most secluded place on earth. Also at the mouth of this cavern stood two figures.
One was human; a woman named Alexa Woods, an environmental technician.
The other was not of this world; a freshly blooded Yautja dubbed by Alexa as Scar.
Both were enjoying a victory; Lex because she was glad to be alive, Scar because he had won -- he had earned his rite of passage, signified by the mark which he wore on his mask and his forehead. Lex also bore this mark -- upon the side of her face; Scar had blooded her with the mark of his family, for she was now a fellow hunter. She had shown valor in the heat of battle, first killing a warrior of the Hard Meat, then sending the very Queen herself to the cold abyss. Yes, Scar appreciated this Soft Meat female in many ways. She would make an excellent hunter -- maybe even an acceptable mate...
No!
She was Soft Meat. Not Yautja. She was as much prey as the Hard Meat larva he destroyed within the pyramid after he had marked himself.
Yet, this Alexa intrigued him somehow... enough to mark her with his family symbol.
Suddenly, lights shone about as an enormous craft appeared before them; it was the Home Craft of the Predators, a dispatch office, so to speak. But one of high honor.
Stepping from the ramp was an older Yautja -- he was about a hundred and fifty years older than Scar, judging from the quills that grew from his face. His name was S'bal, but Scar knew him only as Father.
"Father," Scar said (in his native language) in a tone of reverence, kneeling before the Elder, arms spread.
"Stand, my son."
Scar did so, but kept his head bowed in respect.
"G'raal, my son, where are P'jan and Krom'le?"
"I am shamed to say that they have fallen," Scar informed his Father solemnly.
"Yet here you stand," said Scar's Father, "now a hunter of the Yautja. Now you are..."
The Elder suddenly noticed, behind Scar, a small, skinny figure -- a Soft Meat female, he recognized it to be.
"G'raal, why have you let this Soft Meat live?" He motioned to Lex, who had begun to fidget with her Hard Meat-tailspear.
"She is not like the others, Father," said Scar respectfully, "She is a good hunter. Perhaps as good as we."
Scar's Father took note of the mark upon the side of Lex's face. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"You have marked this Ooman!" Roared the Elder.
"Father, she is a Hunter -- "
"Silence! This is a disgrace to the clan. You realize that you have shamed yourself by leveling with prey."
Scar's shoulders dropped in shame.
"Yes."
"I am sorry to do this, but you may not join the others in the hunt. You will forever bear the mark of the Badblood."
"I understand, Father."
"You must give up your combi stick and your caster."
Scar dejectedly removed his plasma caster from his shoulder, folded his spear, handed the weapons to his Father."
"I am sorry, son. I wish you a good life on this planet."
Scar simply clicked a solemn "good-bye".
With that, the Elder turned, headed up the ramp, back into the Home Craft. The massive space ship lifted from the ground, cloaking itself once more.
Scar and Lex stood speechless for a moment.
Finally, Lex said, "Now what?"