Author's Note: I decided to revamp the story all together. The old one just wasn't working for me anymore.

She Would Not Die

By: Lady NeverAfterNon

The air was hot and humid. Pollen choked her throat while sunlight filtered down through an unfamiliar jungle. She was running, always running. Running until a stitch grew in her side and she thought she would vomit, but she couldn't stop. Something was chasing her, and when it caught her it would-

There was a roar, so loud it rattled her bones. Briefly, Lex stumbled. Right as she did so, a knife the length of her forearm hissed passed her face, missing her by millimeters. She fell hard, hitting her chin on the dirt. Blood filled her mouth and she clawed herself to her feet. Her tongue throbbed; she'd bitten it.

Lex made it a few feet before claws dug into her shoulders and more encircled her neck. She gasped as she was lifted off her feet. Lex screamed as she was brought around to face to creature that had been chasing her. It looked like a Predator, but was more fearsome and strange than Scar had ever been. This thing was a monster straight out of a Lovecraftian nightmare. Futily she kicked her feet.

The thing clicked at her and drew a knife. Lex struggled harder. She knew what that knife was for instinctively. That was a trophy knife. Something hot seared into her back and she screamed.

Lex came out of her nightmare like a freight train. She was out of bed and halfway across the room before she even registered what was happening. Shaking, she raked her hands through her sweat damp hair. Maybe this had been a mistake. Her psychiatrist had wanted her to stay in the States so she could continue treatment, but Lex had insisted that the mountains where the best therapy for her. So here she was in Patagonia, on the doorstep of the Fitz Roy, pretty sure she was going mad.

The nightmares haunted her sleep and they were getting worse. Lex had caught perhaps a few hours, and tomorrow she and her climbing partner were going to attempt to tackle the Fitz Roy. She blew out her breath in a huff, she could not afford to be sloppy.

It was early morning, not even light out, but she shuffled downstairs in search of coffee. The hostel was quiet, so she brewed a pot as quietly as she could. Cupping the steaming mug, Lex went outside and sat on the stoop. The stars were bright in Patagonia. It was cold, but she had hot coffee and her alpine puff coat that made her feel like a blueberry.

Leaving her guide job had been hard, but Lex hadn't been able to take clients when she was distracted. A mistake could mean death. She had to get her head right before she could go back to guiding. The trouble was, she didn't think she could ever let the events of Antarctica go. Her nightmares were consumed with the strange planet and the monsters chasing her, and her daylight hours were filled with the memory of the faces of the people lost in Pyramid. She had passed official debriefing and been cleared to rejoin society. Lex wasn't sure what the government had gotten from the wreckage, if they'd gotten anything at all.

The back of her neck burned like there were eyes on her and she shivered, resisting the urge to look around. It was her nerves. Nothing was out there. There was never anything out there, and she had certainly checked dozens of times. Hundreds of times. Lex gripped her coffee and forced herself to slowly sip the steaming liquid.

Even though she'd packed and repacked for this trip for months, she went over her list in her mind. Cataloging gear made the nightmares disappear faster than any pills. Crampons, Rope, Boots, Food, Ice Tools, Harness-

The list whittled away and soon her mind was calm, and she dozed against the door frame under a blanket of cold starlight

.X.

The human's heat signature had stilled, her vitals registering that she was asleep. One long taloned hand reached out to tap the computer, and engines roared under the strain of remaining cloaked. It irked the Predator to remain hidden, but alerting mass Prey to the Hunt would get in the way. It was patient. It could wait. The best Hunts came to the ones that waited. New elements arose, new challenges.

On the outside, the woman wasn't all that special. She spent her time in harsh environmental conditions and she was an exceptional athletic specimen, but she wasn't a warrior. Previously, the Predator had strictly stuck to humanity's fighters: soldiers, criminals, mercenaries. This woman had survived the frozen temple, however, and had earned the respect of on of the Lower Breed. The Predator still didn't consider her to be much of a challenge, but it would take her when it was ready.

At the very least, she would bring something different to a Hunt that had been going on for millennia.

.X.

Light Years away, another Predator slunk through the underbrush of a jungle planet fertilized with corpses of the fallen Hunted. This Predator had a heavy raw scar that bisected its chest. It didn't quite remember how it had come to be here, though it certainly knew that it should be dead.

Unknowingly, it had carried an abomination to its brethren. It had been the cause of its entire clan's destruction and it lived in dishonor. Try as it might, it wasn't allowed to die. It had killed many on this planet, and had been killed. Each time it awoke in a clearing with its battered weapons and armor beside it, a grim reminder that there would be no honorable death or trophies for a kinslayer.

It paused to take sap from a poison tree. It was beyond the dishonor of fighting with weapons other than that of a Yautja. It was beyond dishonor. Briefly, the Predator caught sight of the mark on its forehead in the reflection of a murky jungle pool. It grimaced, dragging a claw roughly across the mark. Vibrant green blood stained its claws and it snarled. It had not earned its mark though it wore it.

Only one creature had earned its mark that night.

Briefly, the Predator thought of the human creature that had fought her way out of the temple along side it. She was fierce, despite the seemingly frail nature of her species. The temple had brought its might down on them, the Alien Queen had unleashed her spawn, and even the Predator itself had attempted to kill her. Anyone else would have fallen. All of her comrades had fallen like wheat in front of a great scythe. He himself had died despite his best efforts.

The woman hadn't. She'd stuck to his heels, saved his life, and snarled in the face of the Queen's rage. The Pyramid threw everything at her and in spite of all of its malice, she would not die.

The Predator tipped his remaining weapons in the poisonous sap from the tree. He would do the same. It was all he could do.