nothing but my words belong to me, everything else is gene roddenberry's, bless him.
A/N: first time trekker here folks, betchya that scared everyone away.
_this is a combination of two separate pieces, so if anythings wacky just give me heads up
Spock jumps down from the cliff, landing gently, and he begins jogging through the shear walls of red Vulcan rock. He listens to the wind, howling just above and the sand skittering at his feet. He does not feel the prowl of his prey. He is hunting, bereft of company and enjoying the numbing of a normal task, as he fingers his sheath. His father had wanted him to travel towards the sprawling cities to the north were his brother Sybock resided in perpetual resistance to the clan. He had not acquiesced. He pauses on the edge of an overhang leaning forward to breathe the hot wind. The stench of another was nearby and he did not recognize who. He should vacate the area, and leave the Vulcan to their own, and not venture lower, crouching, a hand out to steady against the wind to see the sprawled body just below. He would not retreat for fear of an incapacitated individual. He frowns, where were this Vulcan's clan members, to leave them here to suffer needlessly in the elements. He would not leave a clan member to die; he would not leave a weaker clan member to die; that is what a clan was for, to protect that which will protect you.
This strange Vulcan intrudes on lands claimed by his clan, and he does not know of any recent Vulcans that have petitioned for admittance. Spock glances to the side, measuring the distance between him and a dusty ledge below him. With the wind to his face, it was unlikely that the Vulcan smells him; it is wise to prowl forward with stealth. He stands, backing a step, waiting for the wind to pick up noise before he nimbly slides to the ledge and kneels there. Gloved hands, resting in the sand as he leans over to see the Vulcan who still remains unmoved. He nods to himself, the winds are steadily venturing into gusts buffeting him and the sand, twisting and rocking. It is well that he would continue downwards; a dust-storm comes. He is unsettled by the strange Vulcan's presence, but that is unimportant. With the rise of the sands, his prey will have taken shelter in a shallow cave, and so shall he if the visibility remains as high as it, which he very much doubts at this time. He sits up, raising a leather mask over his chin, and looks around, eyes narrowed for a hint of shadowed depression that a cave entrance would make in the face of a wall of sand. There is nothing to his left as he shifts to the right; and nothing to the right as he shifts to the front. He is uncertain if there are actually caves here so he looks down, below his ledge and spots the Vulcan; as well as the barley defined ridge that they are sprawled near, their body slowly being erased by sand.