They talked about going back to Noland's drill, possibly salvaging. The later crews might not know about it, Isabelle and suggested. And too, it was pretty likely that the soldier had squirreled away things that would make their stay on the preserve a lot more survivable.

Royce agreed with all of that. His worry was that the hunting teams probably DID know about the drill, had probably KNOWN about Noland for a very long time, and had just allowed him to continue existing like he was some kind of trophy.

"And we're the new trophies." Isabelle stated it plainly.

"Not yet."

"Just alive then?"

He looked down at her. She had wound up sliding down his torso and plopping her head in his lap. Relaxation was almost foreign to her at this point. So was touch. She almost HAD to have died. Either that or this was all just some sick cosmic joke. This kind of sensation just…it didn't exist in the world of Isabelle Meir. It just didn't. But then again, neither did getting kidnapped and dropped on an alien world.

"Half-alive," he said.

"What's the difference?"

"Noland was just alive. I guess…."

She cocked a brow.

"Shut up. I guess we've got some human pieces left."

"Maybe."

"Slight possibility." He burped.

She shook her head. They were pretending. They both knew it.

There was nothing….human…at all…..about this experience.

0oooooooo000000000ooooo0000

Royce let her sleep, watched her face move. He didn't move. He didn't feel like he could.

Hell of a woman.

Setting and listening, he went about the business of being alive as opposed to being human. He'd separated the two in his mind. If you were going to keep breathing, there came a point where you could only do one at a time.

The next hours were slow. They kept the fire low and worked their way through part of what was left of the meat. They took their turns sleeping. The only difference between this round of the light cycle and the three that they'd gone through before was that they were full. It made a difference. Isabelle smiled. Royce smiled. They breathed a little easier.

0ooooooo000000000ooooo0000

Safe they weren't.

Yautja can smell fire.

Humans can too, but the thought didn't cross Royce's mind until he heard Isabelle shriek, saw the giant draw blood, and put a knife in the thing's chin, up past the mandibles and deep into the brain-pan. It snarled once and died angry.

He let it fall and leaned over to pick up Isabelle in the same motion. She brushed him off.

"I'm alright, I'm alright. He was meaning to toy, I think." She looked down at the shallow line opened on her arm, swiped at it.

"We better clean that thing," he said as he picked over the body.

Isabelle lifted the mask off and then started going through the thing's rucksack. They packed her scratch with the last of the salt and wrapped it. It was carrying food. They ate it. It was disgusting to taste, but it was mostly protein and it filled the stomach.

Day had not yet come, but they moved anyway. Where there's one white man, there's more.