He needed to get warm. There was always a good way. She waited by the door, crouched, combistick in hand. It was obvious he was cold, and as reptile-like as he was it meant that his energy was drained. He ate so much more than she had previously seen, much like when she had rescued him. He had called this place 'hell,' and she could very easily see the toll it took on him.

They had been here nearly a year at this point, and she had begun to worry about him since the first week passed with no rescue. He was true yautja through it all, never showing his discomfort, continuing on hunting and training, just as he had for these past ten years. It was the life they led; him clanless, and her a pyode amedha, no longer prey, not yet predator.

She smiled in anticipation as she heard him move and waited. It was one of the indicators that he was off his game, that this planet was bad for him to be on; the fact that she could often hear him moving. Then, she heard nothing, though she strained. Rather than think he hadn't noticed her, or had given up, her muscles tensed, ready. A blur whipped around the corner and came right at her. Jar-hidda was no fool; he knew a trap when it was there, waiting.

His fingers curled around the shaft of the combistick and he roared as he fought for control over it, twisting and throwing Hannah about. Finally she relinquished it, dashing to the wall and grabbing his glaive. She heard the thundering steps behind her and turned in time to extend the glaive and deflect the blow to the ground.

She tumbled to the side, swinging the long-end of the glaive to strike at his ankle. He stepped back deftly, avoiding the blade tip and arching his arm, going for the opening she left near the top of her head. The tip grazed into her hair and across her shoulder, and she could feel the irritating tingle of blood as it started to creep through the follicles.

She had to maneuver herself away from the strike, which had left her in an awful position. He had the upper hand and he was not about to relinquish it. Hannah had to dance away from a back-handed swing that cut through her kilt and left a thin line at the top of her breast. She had no option to retreat, to buy her just that hair of a second to get her footing. He was a breath behind her, intent on not giving her the time to gather herself together, but a breath was all she needed.

It always amazed Hannah how the alien metal rang like crystal, the sound reverberating melodiously against her ears. She recovered from the first blocked strike and shifted the glaive to reflect a second, swinging the lower-end of the weapon up towards Jar-hidda's inner thigh, forcing him to twist the combistick to block. It was definitely awkward fighting with each-others weapons, his much larger than the combi-stick he had made to her size. She had half a mind to call time-out so that they could switch. But working hard was half the point.

The impasse lasted for mere seconds before the two sain'ja parted to regard and strategize. She was working up a sweat, and she could see a light sheen on his steeled muscles as well. Good.

He in turn looked her over. She was sure the heat of her body was showing her strain; her heart was pumping causing hot blood to run through her veins, just as surely as his waltzed with excitement. There was resolve in every part of her stance. She was as still as a statue, her breathing deep and controlled. Hannah was smart, in many regards more intelligent than he, but she was also down to earth, with an iron conviction, and a humor much like his own. He, in turn, was unlike other hunters, someone she could talk practically to, who understood emotion a bit better than as something to be shunned.

She had no greater friend in the universe.

He rattled in warning and shifted his stance. She gave him a cocky grin. She was planning something, he knew it, and he wasn't going to give her the time for it. Hannah, however, was ready, and when he advanced she stepped away, silent and graceful. She laughed at his awe; that she expected him to strike and where, or maybe she had moved just that quickly. It was of course all thanks to his training, after all. Either way he growled, she laughed.

The training room was decidedly far too small to be a competent battle ground, especially the care needed to not hit the trophies, but going outside was out of the question. So she continued to dance, just out of reach as he advanced and gliding along the walls of the room, forcing him to follow. She could tell he was irritated at falling for her ploy, as he stopped to rethink his strategy. Hannah swerved on the ball of her foot and struck out, the glaive grazing his crest, bright glowing blood trickling down his brow and to his mandibles.

His roar beat against her ears and deafened her momentarily, as it always did when she drew blood from him and he started to take her seriously. With renewed ferocity he advanced, bringing out the true warrior and not the sparring partner. Like an avalanche he hurtled towards her, pushing her back, strikes so fierce her hands felt numb from impact. She could barely keep up with blocking, the glaive stuck at the center of her mass where a simple twist as all she could accomplish to do away with the worst of the blows.

Foolishly, she lost track of how many steps she had taken and she felt her back against the wall, between two trophies. The glaive was up in an instant, crossing her body diagonally as the shaft of the glaive was thrust towards her, striking her like a jackhammer and knocking a good deal of wind out of her.

She gasped to recover. The sharp-tasting heated breath of the yautja pelting her face, unhindered by sharp teeth and mandibles, reminding her that he was a predator. The heat from his body washed over her in waves. She could see the subtle twitches of the muscles in his arms, and saw a single bead of sweat roll down his chest, navigating the small spines that trailed down his body to his kilt. She coughed, which turned into a laugh.

"I yield," she gasped and he grunted.

"Of course you do," the three tusks reached out and stroked her face and she sputtered and swatted him away with her hand. He walked away laughing, putting the weapons away.

"As fun as it is to beat you little telide," he grunted and she scoffed, "I am tired."

"Getting older and uglier," Hannah chimed and Jar-hidda growled.

"I'm not old!"

She laughed on her way down the hallway, not hearing Jar-hidda until he shouldered her against the wall then thundered down to the room.

She laughed and kept her pace. She was getting old, too, after all.

She hoped his 'gentle brush,' hadn't meant that he also intended to have another fight for the bed. She was most relieved to find him stripped to his loincloth, holding the large white pelt up so that the bed was uncovered. Hannah nodded in thanks and stripped, letting the kilts lay where she untied them and half-jumped into the bed, snuggling down into the furs.

A heavy shift said Jar-hidda had lain down behind them, and the soft fur was soon laid over the top of them. It was cold, like a neglected sheet, and she knew it would take some time to gather her body heat to be comfortable. Frowning she shifted back until her back found the front of the alien, little rubbery spines brushing her skin. Her little body fit easily against his. This was only half for her benefit. He needed her constantly to stay warm enough to be comfortable, especially while sleeping, though he'd never admit it.

A massive arm wrapped around her waist and she felt his breath in her hair as he grumbled something too low for her to understand, but was aware it was the yautja version of 'sweet nothings.'

"I swear Jolly," she exclaimed, elbowing him in the ribs, earning a laugh, "if you try to mate me I will kick your crotch so hard you won't be able to breed."

Jar-hidda grunted unamused, shifting so that his head was at a more natural angle on the bed, "that isn't funny."

"Neither is your nok-long rod spearing my body!"

Jar-hidda laughed again and Hannah smiled, shifting back down and letting the weight settle on her. It didn't take long for the alien to fall asleep. Poor guy. She hoped they got help soon. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, comfortably encircled in heat.

Afterall, he hadn't moved his arm, and she saw no reason to escape it.