Chapter 1: The Seeds of Tomorrow

"The trouble with our times is that the future is not what it used to be"

-Paul Valery

Sally was making her customary visit to the well guarded and tended pup vats. Those fleshly Yautja miracle creations made from her own cells that served as wombs for her twenty growing pups. Nodding politely to the sentries, she entered the room and walked down the rows of her soon-to-be-visible children, visiting each one by talking to it in low motherly murmurs, oblivious to the questioning eyes of the room's guards. She was the Matriarch, there was no explanation needed.

Early on, her foreign behavior had been dutifully reported to the High Council in a report made by those on picket and her personal Healer, Myn'dill, was questioned about it. After his explanation that she was merely bonding with her young as any good Bearer would do, the Council went on to other business.

"My sweet, my Arndis," she addressed the yet unseen pup and placed a gentle, disinfected hand upon its container, "I know that you'll grow up to be strong and brave. You'll have wisdom as great as the Matriarch your father named you for. You'll understand how to lead these Hunters and keep them on the path of honor."

Walking over to the next growing chamber, she touched and addressed it also. "Beautiful Ulfrde, you'll be as brave and as honorable as your father. You'll carry on in his tradition and live up to his name." Then, looking back at the pup she had just left, she acknowledged, "I know he would have been proud of both of you." A smile suddenly appeared on her face and she placed both her hands upon the growth capsule of Ulfrde, waiting for a time as though silently communing with it.

She went on to each fetal pup and addressed it by name, speaking wonderful things about the future that she wished for it. It helped her greatly to think of her children and her high hopes for them. Focusing on them eased the hollow pain inside her that Ulfr had once filled with his larger-than-life presence. She didn't care how silly it might look to the Yautja, watching her speak to each organic vat as though it could understand, because Myn'dill had assured her that the pups could already hear her voice and would use it, once born, to recognize her as their Bearer. He also told her that they would know her by the heartbeat transmitted from her hand through the womb to their already sensitive hearing.

The pups were strong, Myn'dill reported to her, and each was extremely healthy. Their Yautja genes had come well to the forefront and there would be no rejects among them. Sally was relieved at that news. She did not know how she would have handled things if any of her children were to be relegated to being aseigan – or worse. Everyone had their place in this society and protectively she wanted the very best for her daughters. To herself, she was amazed at the powerful maternal instincts that had risen to the forefront as her realization grew that each vat contained a living portion of herself – however shoved into the background by Yautja genetics it resided.

So every day she came at least once, sometimes more, and spoke with the younglings, giving them her encouragement and her care. She did not use the word 'love', although she felt it in her heart. She had not yet heard any word like that in the Yautja language and realized that she needed to ask Sig'dan about it – or her impending Consort.

Thoughts and questions about the Consort worriedly wound around her like the silk spun by a spider covering a captured fly. She had compulsively learned all she could about this Hunter, this Arbitrator and Elite Elder that was to become such an intimate part of her life. There were detailed descriptions of his feats and even visual recordings to view. She had watched in amazement as the huge Yautja had sparred with a slightly shorter, but tough, opponent and easily won. His grace belied his size, and while not quite as quick as the opponent he faced there seemed an almost sixth sense about him. He knew what his challenger was going to do next and met him blow for blow, tiring and overcoming him with seemingly little exertion himself.

Her first impression upon seeing him in one of the recordings of the kehrite had been simply his imposing mass. He was easily the largest Hunter there, standing with the others waiting his turn to spar. His mottling was darker than Ulfr and it seemed that his coloring had been passed on to Sig'dan more than the departed Elder. The Arbitrator's locks were a striking silver-white and gleamed down his front and back like a graceful draping halo streaming from his head. The recording held him at a distance, but she thought she saw many rings and heard them clinking out his reputation. His broad shoulders were held proudly and his posture was that of one who compelled respect, reminding her of Ulfr's air of command. Saddened at the memory, she had shut the viewer off, deciding to finish watching it another time.

The celebrated Arbitrator had been approached by the High Council, even as Ulfr had taken his final journey to the Blue Planet, where they had respectfully made Sally's bid to him to become her Consort. He had agreed after some initial doubt and several cycles of thought, and was now on his way to Yaut to participate in the bonding ceremony that would take place in only a few cycles.

Sally tried not to panic as there was very little time to study and prepare. She needed to learn the ritual - the proper words and procedure, and the ceremonial clothing needed to be made. During the ceremony, Sig'dan would stand with them to translate for her and for the Arbitrator. She was dismayed to learn that her future Consort spoke very little English or any other Earth language. How would she ever get to know him in private?

She was also distressed that there was to be no meeting with him before the rite took place, and worked on steadying her nerves. She was determined to be every bit the Matriarch in his presence and in front of the High Council. The only Arbitrators I have seen were the ones in the street accompanying Gagr to the Council Hall for execution. I remember their black armor and how imposing they were. But in the great crowd and commotion I couldn't see clearly. He is an Elder, I wonder how old he is? Just how damn big is he? And how damn big is IT?

Ulfr said his father was a very honorable Hunter and formidable in the arena. He'd damn well better submit to me – and be respectful. Who am I kidding? Who in hell could I threaten to mate with that would oppose him, like I did Ulfr? But then…Ulfr wasn't well back then. He must have been ill the entire time I knew him. How much of what happened between us was because he was sick?

The heavy slogging mud of depression oozed up around the Matriarch, pulling her spirits down into the dark soil beneath the floor she stood upon as she contemplated her memories of Ulfr, wondering what he would have thought of her and how he would have acted toward her had he been well. I can't change the past. I can only go on and try my best to do what seems honorable and right. God, I miss him!

She caught herself just as tears were forming. The guards were now staring at her as she emitted the scent of mourning. They wondered why she was so sad over her pups. It would not cross their minds that her grief was for the lost Elder Hunter. He had died an honorable death and was enjoying the afterlife with Cetanu. What was there to mourn? Finished communing with her children, she quietly left the room as the guards nodded respectfully to her, and returned to her quarters accompanied by the recently reassigned mountainous shadows of Yin and Yang.

The Yautja version of a tailor was visiting shortly to measure and create her ceremonial clothing for the bonding ceremony. Sig'dan had explained to her that white was Paya's color, so she would wear white. The tailor would be bringing several different materials for her to choose from, take measurements and then leave. There would be a final fitting tomorrow. He must be going to work all night to create this for me, she thought to herself. This feels like a wedding. A shotgun wedding, maybe.

Sig'dan was waiting for her outside of the officially assigned Matriarch's dwelling to act as translator for the tailor. In spite of the fact that every Yautja went to a tailor for clothing, the job was considered to be of a lower class. This male had probably not had very many, if any, mating opportunities, Sig'dan had explained earlier, and he probably would not be able to speak with her.

She finished pulling herself together as she saw her mate standing at her door. He was as handsome as ever in nothing but his loincloth and light armor. Had he grown a little taller since she had first met him? His well banded locks sprouted in perfect symmetry from the sides and back of his ridged crown and came down to just over his shoulders. They would grow his entire life, exposing new sleek blackness to sport more rings as he matured. The squarely broad shoulders that parted his locks looked even more impressive topped with the pewter colored overlapping scales of his armor. Buckled leather lengths crossed the top of his pectorals, strapping the armor to his body. The rest of his beautifully muscled chest was bare and Sally's admiring eyes could feast upon the contours and often-fondled causeway of stubbly locks that ran down his mid-line to disappear under his cloth.

Yin and Yang assumed their positions as statues on each side of the doorway, as Sally and Sig'dan entered her abode. She turned to him, seeking the reassurance of his embrace. "How was your visit with the pups?" he queried from over her head as his arms encircled her.

"Good. I think I felt one move!" she said excitedly, returning his desire for closeness with her own arms and then moving back so she could converse with him.

"Sei, you will eventually feel all of them move as they grow larger." He appreciated her enthusiasm for the growing young ones. "Which one did you feel?"

"Ulfrde. I think she is going to be the largest of them. I can't wait to see them and hold them!"

"I am anxious to greet them also. The latest data says that it will be another five moons before they are ready to come out. Can you wait that long?" he teased her, scenting the bit of previous sorrow still clinging to her.

"Looks like I have to," she smiled at him. "I'm thanking God and Paya that I'm not physically carrying any of them though – those vats are HUGE! I can't imagine how any of the human women carry them to term."

"Myn'dill told me that the ooman females are often confined to bed during the last part of the pregnancy. These artificial wombs were constructed to be the size of a normal Yautja womb in order to allow the pups to develop completely normally within the natural period of time. The standard Yautja pregnancy will be perfectly imitated. Pups born of ooman females are not as large at birth as these will be."

"They're not? Then, do you know why they have to be delivered via C-section?"

"C-section? I am not familiar with that term."

"Oh…by surgery, Sig'dan. Why do the human-carried pups have to be delivered surgically?"

"The head size would never pass through the ooman birth orifice. Both Bearer and pup would die."

"That makes sense. Human children…pups have large heads at birth also – but they usually are not so large that they cannot be born," she grinned a little.

"Our pup's heads are large," he made a chortle at her, "to contain their large brains. I am certain that the bumps made by the buttons of their lock growth spots add to the size also."

The tailor arrived promptly, lugging bundles of white cloth through the doorway. He was rather short and squat for a Hunter although he did bear a Clan mark on his forehead. Sally figured that he had probably not done very well in the arena and that accounted for his low social rank. Sig'dan saw her assessing him and scented her curiosity.

"Matriarch, do you wonder about this Hunter?"

"Sig'dan!" she seemed embarrassed, 'I can't talk about him like he's not here!"

"Sal'lee," he explained, "he cannot understand us. Ask your questions, he will think we are talking about the cloth, or the ceremony."

Sig'dan had been the Matriarch's nearly constant companion through these past three moons of cycles as she began to weave her way through the complexities of this alien culture and prepare for the life ahead of her. Yin and Yang once again provided for her physical safety, but it was Sig'dan who was her source of information and translator as well as providing respite during this trying time.

He had mourned too, but had taken his brother's death in stride as all Hunters do. Death was merely the completion of the cycle set in motion at birth. Death made room for the unfolding of more life in its ever increasing complexity and variation. The round of Paya and Cetanu was a holy thing to be looked upon in wonder and appreciation.

"Well, I was thinking that he is a little…a little small and even a bit chubby for a Hunter."

Sig'dan had to stifle his laughter. "Sei, he is shorter than most of us. But what does 'chubby' mean?"

"Uh…that means fat, Sig'dan. He's fatter than any other Hunter I've seen. And I want to know about his rank in society and how he became a tailor."

"You are always curious about us, Sal'lee. That is good. You learn that way," the Hunter opened his lower mandibles fondly at her. "His height is genetic and no fault of his own. It may have placed him at a disadvantage although I have met Hunters before who were short and excelled in the arena and on the hunt. What they lacked in height they made up for in speed, agility and stealth. Let me ask him."

Sally was horrified, "Sig'dan – don't!"

Sig'dan turned his questioning waving face to Sally. "You don't want to know about him?"

"I don't want you to embarrass him by asking personal questions."

"Sally, I am mannerly. I will not ask this honorable Yautja anything that will embarrass him!" his mandibles opened in slight assertion.

"Okay. Sorry. I was thinking in terms of Earth manners. I certainly didn't mean to offend you."

"I am not offended," he offered gently as he turned to the tailor who was patiently waiting, holding his large cloth bundle until his customer had finished obviously dressing down this Hunter. The tailor wondered how the Hunter had affronted the Matriarch but wisely stayed quiet. Sig'dan conversed with the tailor for a bit as he set down his wares and began opening each cloth and spreading it out over the table for the Matriarch to examine.

"Sal'lee, he would like for you to look at the cloth and pick one that you like."

Sally began running her hand over the different types of cloth, picking one up after another and holding it to the light enjoying the texture and drape of each one. "Did you find out anything about him?"

"He found at an early age, before he went to the trainers, that he enjoyed cloth, leather and fur. He practiced making things in secret to avoid the teasing of his peers until he went to his Chiva. After passing, he made his own choice to become a maker of clothing. It is an honorable, though not esteemed, profession."

"He did? That's great, Sig'dan. I like that," she smiled at the tailor. He opened his upper mandibles a little and seemingly beamed back at her.

"This one," she held up a silken like cloth of purest whiteness. "What do you think, Sig'dan?" She tried not to falter as she recalled the teal cloth in the market with Ulfr.

"That is a perfect choice, Matriarch. It will look…beautiful on you."

The uncontrolled tears formed in Sally's eyes. She took the cloth and gave it to the tailor with a nod and turned her back to Sig'dan as the stout tailor remade his fabric bundles, chittering and growling regarding when he would be back for the final fitting to the young Hunter.

Sig'dan came up behind Sally and placed the strength of arms around her, saying nothing as he scented her grief. "I'm okay, Sig'dan. It just gets to me sometimes. I'll be okay."

He pulled her to him a little more strongly to reassure her and softly massaged the top of her head with the bottom of his chin.

"You know, you're going to give me a bald spot someday!" she chided humorously.

"Ah, that will make you look more Yautja," he teased.

The reddish purple streaks of a setting sun bathed the rocky landscape in gaudiness. As the shadows lengthened, one of them moved away from the rocks towards a small metal craft, deadly with weaponry. As the shadow grew closer, strong legs could be seen stepping up the stony platforms to where the lethal ebony ship sat. Once on the plateau, the full form of an imposing figure could be seen as the Arbitrator entered his vessel, his task finished on the trivial planetoid. A black cloak, signifying profession and rank, hung from his strong shoulders – the final curtain of death to any and all Badbloods who were hunted by him. Silvery locks dripped down over his back and chest, exceptionally long and punctuated with the many rings signifying his achievements. Here and there, a tiny skull rode upon a lock between the many metal bands.

Elite Elder Arbitrator Aldúlfr sat in the command chair and clicked on the console with his formidable talons, setting in the coordinates for the Homeworld. He was ready to undertake a journey to Yaut and complete the binding ceremony with the new Matriarch as her chosen Consort. After that, he would determine how much he would let this new role interfere with his life.

He had been surprised when his offspring, Honorable Ulfr, had contacted him with the request. What an odd last request – for him to become Consort to his offspring's ooman rut interest, an ooman who he claimed had been declared a Matriarch! At first, the Arbitrator had thought his offspring was either engaged in some outrageous treachery or not right in the head from his illness, but a quick check with his Elder on the High Council had confirmed the story – the High Council had indeed selected an ooman female to ascend to the rank of Matriarch.

Ulfr had told him much of the female, of her bravery and surprising understanding of honor. His offspring had sent him recordings from the High Council proceedings and Aldúlfr had witnessed her businesslike composure with the Council Elders, as well as her control over his two bloodline sons who submitted almost as though she were a Yautja. When the High Council officially made their request on behalf of the Matriarch, he made an inquiry of his own and contacted the respected and honored offspring of a valued Hunt Brother, Honorable Healer Myndill.

Myndill recognized and was surprised to see the Elder Arbitrator and Sire of his former mission Elder on the com screen. What this highly ranked executor of the law wanted with him, he could not fathom. Glad that the Elder could not scent his nervousness through the screen, he lowered his eyes and head most respectfully.

"Honorable Healer, I am the Arbitrator, Elder Aldúlfr. I wish to question you regarding the ooman Matriarch."

"I am honored to be of whatever assistance I can," Myn'dill replied.

"Is she honorable?" the Arbitrator queried.

"I believe that for her species, she has a far greater understanding of honor than would be expected."

"Trustworthy?"

The Healer thought for a moment before answering, "I trust her to do what she thinks is best in any situation. She has shown that she will put herself at great risk in order to do what is honorable, and is willing to submit to the consequences of her actions." Myn'dill was becoming curious as to why the Arbitrator was asking all these questions.

"Is she capable of discretion in what she reveals?"

Now Myn'dill's interest was completely peaked. Was the Matriarch's future Consort going to embellish her with the secrets of the Arbitrators? "Sei, my Elder. She has an understanding of what is proper and also great composure, from what I have witnessed."

"You are her personal Healer?"

"I am, most Honorable Elder."

"Would you be my Healer, if I become Consort?" the Elder crisply requested.

"It would be my privilege," Myn'dill replied. As he finished speaking the com went dark, leaving a very curious Healer pondering the conversation.

To be Consort was not an honor the feared Elder Arbitrator would have sought for himself, preferring the excitement of the hunt to the tameness of politics on Yaut. But now it was dropped upon him as easily as a fired capture net. He was not concerned that he was somehow a victim of circumstance, but he was leery of what such a life might offer him. True, he was getting on in years but his strength had not yet failed him and his mind was still quick. He evaluated that even though he was an Elder, he would still easily outlive the ooman female and his significant reputation would be shined further by having been her Consort. He could then return to the only profession that brought him pleasure – being an Arbitrator. No other prey satisfied as deeply or as profoundly as his own kind. In the end he had accepted the Matriarch's request and found himself now on his way to the Homeworld.

The Matriarch, as he had viewed her in the recordings, was a fairly average ooman. She was on the tall side for her sex, but still much smaller than an Elder Yautja. She wore the clothing of a Yautja female, and did so without looking completely absurd, he decided. Not a horrible face, but certainly she would never be beautiful. He still wasn't sure just what his two offspring saw in her, but being her Consort would not be a thing to object to, and would certainly further his greatness and the reputation of his line. The fact that she could not naturally bare him pups had been countered by an offer to let him Sire a few of her vat-grown offspring, for which he intended to enlist Myn'dill's help.

The Arbitrator clicked thoughtfully as he thought of his two sons. Ulfr had done very well for the family line bringing great honor for his deeds. He was not surprised as this particular offspring had always performed well both in physical endeavors as well as those requiring intellect. He had often garnered reports on young Ulfr from his trainers as he was usually off wandering the Universe in search of some Badblood to bleed out and send to Hel. He felt a moment of regret that he had not spent more time with this one before he went to Cetanu, but the past could not be relived, he reasoned.

Now, Sig'dan – that was a surprise. That his firstborn hybrid offspring had brought such honor to his line with his dispatch of the suffering Ancient, and had been part of the crew that set things right at that ooman place of abomination was truly a pleasant revelation. And he was also credited with the discovery of what caused the disease of the Ancients! He had not expected that much from a hybrid. He was looking forward to something enjoyable after the disappointment of this hunt. Meeting with his offspring, the young Healer who had also rutted the Matriarch, might just be that enjoyment. So much accomplished for one so young! And only half Hunter at that, he mused.

As the ship hurtled from the planetoid on a trajectory to Yaut, the Arbitrator thought over his latest judgment. That the Yautja he had just completed killing had turned Badblood so early in life was a great waste - a waste of all of the effort and time of raising and training him. Even the rut that had created him was a waste, the Arbitrator quickly decided.

The young Hunter had been on Chiva and, having made no kill of his own, had claimed the kill of another. The rightful possessor of the trophy had bravely defended his ownership of the Kiande Amedha skull and had been shamefully murdered by the Badblood. The dishonor he brought to his line was so great that the Badblood's own Sire had requested Aldúlfr to go after him as he blotted his offspring's name from the record books. The Sire, being an old Hunt Brother of the Arbitrator's, was not refused – even though the mission was a small one.

The brains of c'jit UnBlood was barely out of puphood, in the Arbitrator's opinion, and he was dismayed to find that the young one ran and attempted to hide rather than face him like a Hunter. Aldúlfr harvested him for the darkness with a single swipe and dissolved the body without taking what would have been a worthless trophy. He made a simple report to the Sire from his command console, 'Honor is served,' and piloted his swift craft towards home, grateful to Paya that none of his offspring had so shamed him.

The next cycle's morning, Sig'dan was going to meet Honorable Myn'dill at the Healer's invitation. The Healer had not had much opportunity to speak with the younger Healer-in-training, who was very near to receiving his formal recognition as a full Healer. Myn'dill wanted to speak with him about that and also see how the young Hunter was fairing since Ulfr's death. s His loyalty to his previous mission Elder extended to the younger brother who had also been part of the crew.

It was not quite daybreak as the young Hunter turned down the wide pavered path that led to the Healer's dwelling. He was absorbed in thinking about his enjoyment at seeing the Healer again and not totally aware of his surroundings. In an instant, two large, very strong Yautja were upon him, seizing his arms and placing them in a hold to incapacitate him. They threw a fur over his head and bodily dragged him into a waiting transport which quickly levitated onto a main avenue and was gone.

Sig'dan was shocked and startled when he felt the strength of their grips upon him. He immediately made to defend himself but it was over before it began. He felt shamed as he struggled to breathe clearly under the weight of the hot fur. I should have been on my guard! But who would be my enemy here on Yaut? The space between their overly warm bodies where he sat was confined, and Sig'dan had to lean forward as his arms were fastened behind him. He could look down at the floor of the craft in the small crack between his face and the draped fur. It was an oft used transport as he could see the yellow-red dirt of Yaut caked upon the floor. Slightly turning his head from side to side he could make out the feet of his abductors – huge taloned feet visible between the strips of dusty sandals. Their feet were much larger than his own, these could be Elders, he reasoned. He moved his head to the right just a little more and made out a bit of the greave protecting the Yautja to his right's left shin. It was a deep bottomless black. Arbitrators! A cold chill went through his bones, but I have done nothing dishonorable!

The vehicle made its way through the avenues, skirting around both pedestrians and other hover-craft in the heavily trafficked city. It veered down another street away from the residential area and took the main causeway towards the spaceport.

Inside, Sig'dan still sat between his unspeaking abductors, unable to see where they were going, wondering why they had captured him and what his fate was to be. He steadied himself and relaxed in his bonds. Tension would just eat up valuable energy. He needed to be level-headed and alert to deal with whatever was going to happen. Soon, he felt the transport slowing and then it came to a halt. He sensed the Hunters leave both of his sides and then felt their claws as they dragged him from his seat to a standing position outside the craft. Roughly, they pushed him forward and he began walking, his vision still blocked by the draped fur. He knew that questioning them would be fruitless and might garner a blow, so he remained mindful and quiet.

He felt the rise beneath his feet and looking down saw they were walking up the gangplank onto a ship. He wondered if his abduction would end here or if he were about to leave his planet. So far, none of this made any sense.

His shoulder was grasped to a halt after they had walked for some small distance inside the ship, turning down several curving corridors. Sig'dan heard the soft whoosh of a door opening and the three of them stepped into what he presumed was a room.

"Elder, we have brought you the one you requested." Sig'dan thought he felt great nods of submission and respect from the Hunters at his sides. Not knowing to whom they bowed, he simply stood and waited. He heard someone walking toward him – the sound of sandaled feet striking the ship deck and the clink of honor rings as that someone drew closer. A low rumbling growl of anger preceded the footfalls, and the young Hunter froze trying not to emit the scent of fear.

"C'jit! I ordered you to bring him, not capture him as a Badblood. Release him!"

The fur was abruptly dragged off Sig'dan's head and his arms freed. He stood blinking in the light and staring at one of the largest Yautja he'd ever beheld. Sig'dan's eyes quickly adjusted to the room's brighter light and he examined the giant that was before him. Great quill-like white locks sprouted from his brow and ran down the sides of his outer jaws. Golden eyes pierced his own and made him look quickly down to the great chest and armored shoulders. Between the armor and strapping the skin was rife with ancient faded scars.

Sig'dan still controlled his scent. It seemed this massive Hunter did not will him ill. He continued to take in the black armor and the dark cloak which dripped frosty locks loaded with honor rings and tiny skulls. An Elder Arbitrator! Recognition of superiority immediately brought both the young Hunter's head and eyes down in true submission to greater rank and age.

"You are Sig'dan of the Clan Od'hroer-ir and the brother of Ulfr?" the question rumbled forth in an earthquake's low groan.

"Sei, Honorable Elder, I am, or I was – Ulfr is dead."

"Do you know me?"

Sig'dan huffed cautiously; there was a familiar tinge to the Elder's scent that brought him memories of sorrow, and his quick mind deduced the colossus' identity. "I believe that you are my Sire, most Honorable Elder." Sig'dan spoke in respectful tones, keeping his focus on the floor and his head bowed low.

The Elder Arbitrator regarded his offspring. He was well sized and fit for his age and obviously intelligent. Little of the ooman genes were apparent, to the Sire's relief. He scented his offspring. This was their first meeting since he had taken the small pup from his dead Bearer's side to his oft times mate Auðr and requested that she care for him. The carrier of his lineage scented of stress and confusion, but not of fear. This satisfied the Sire and he reached his large hand to give the young Hunter a hearty shoulder shake, which Sig'dan reached up and somewhat gingerly returned.

"You have honored our line. This surprises me, but…I am satisfied," the rumble went on. "Come, drink! I have questions." The Elder dismissed Sig'dan's captors with a sour look, making them grateful that no harm had come to the Hunter they had brought in as ordered.

The offspring and his Sire seated themselves and the Elder poured them both a hefty portion of c'ntlip in intricately carved stone tankards. He raised his to Sig'dan and consecrated his drink to strength and honor, "Thar'n-da s' yin'tekai." The young Hunter raised his also and repeated the phrase. They both took a long drink as their mandibles assisted their hands in grasping the large mugs. Several swallows later, the Elder began to speak.

"You mate the ooman Matriarch?"

Sig'dan was not particularly taken aback by such a question. Hunters were usually direct with each other, especially Hunt Brothers or those of blood bond. "Sei," he answered, looking directly at the Sire, but not challenging by staring into his intensely golden eyes.

"Will you defer to me as Consort?"

Sig'dan felt himself involuntarily tense as his mind pictured his Sally beneath the grunting thrusts of the Arbitrator. He shook off the image and stonily looked at the tabletop where his drink sat. "Sei, you will be the Consort, and your demands for her will be primary, my Elder." He knew that this was for Sally's protection and had been wisely set in motion by the ailing Elder Ulfr before his death. He would now have to accept his Sire as her rut mate, rather than his brother. He knew, intimately in fact, of his brother's deep care for Sally and that he had never caused her true injury during their intimate moments. His Sire was an unknown quantity in this respect which troubled the Hunter.

The Elder simply nodded his recognition of Sig'dan's words and then asked, "I trust your honor, yet I scent your distress." He saw his offspring's hesitation to answer and countered that with, "Do not hide from me."

"My Elder," Sig'dan began, "Sal'lee, the Matriarch…she gave herself, of her own accord, to me when I was on the Blue Planet for my first rut. Ulfr assisted us. She became a Hunt Brother in ceremony, by Ulfr's command, and…we continue to see each other."

The Arbitrator nursed his drink, saying nothing, concealing his surprise. It was not unheard of for an ooman to give herself to a Hunter, but it was extremely rare. He searched his mind for any recollection of an ooman participating in the Hunt Brother bonding and found none. He interest in meeting her now peaked, this female who had assisted his hybrid issue.

"Some of her pups are sired by Ulfr?"

"Sei, Elder. There are two still-enwombed new females in the line of our Clan."

Changing the subject, the Elder asked, "How were you captured by my Arbitrators?"

Sig'dan felt the shame again, "I…was on my way to visit a Hunt Brother and did not notice them. They…surprised me." The young Hunter felt the scrutiny of his Sire's gaze upon him and steadied himself for a possibly physical reprimand. Only silence and the sensation of the Elder's stare answered his preparation. After a space of quiet, the Elder spoke.

"You still need work. I will train you. My blood line must not be so easily captured," he stated seriously.

"You honor me," Sig'dan replied, amazed that after all these cycles his Sire was going to pay attention to him, while hoping he was up to the challenge.