Kurin's memory had started to slip. She vaguely remembered stumbling through the halls with strong hands trying to steady her. The walls were a drab sort of creme color. Or were they grey? She could remember someone talking, but it filtered through her hazy state as deep, rough mumbling. She couldn't make out the words or intent behind the speech. She remembered being hoisted onto some sort of platform, and here she was, staring into blinding lights.

Her vision started to clear, and her swaying decreased. She was able to remember a sharp pain in her neck before she became dazed and confused. Whatever they had shot into her hadn't intended to keep her a stupid, stumbling mess for long. Even as her head started to clear, she was aware of the other effects the drug was taking on her dainty body.

Her muscles were almost completely relaxed, and moving seemed to be the hardest thing she'd ever done. Just stumbling to catch herself as she started to fall winded her. This chemical was only meant to make her immobile. Incapable of running or escaping. It essentially gave her the balance and coordination of a three year old, and like a three year old, Kurin wanted to stomp her foot and pout at the unfairness of it all.

Only moments after she assessed her mental situation did she become of her physical one. The platform that she had originally thought she was placed on was actually a massive stage. It was set outside, almost resembling a loading bay. She could see the line of tree, just of in the distance behind the blinding lights. The wind picked up and ruffle her dress, carrying it high up her thighs. She tried to hold it down, but her movements were sluggish and sloppy, like trying to wade through quicksand.

A whimper to her left drew her gaze, and she realized she was not the only girl on stage. Women of all ages were lined up, row after row, on stage. Their movements were just as slow. Just as sloppy. Their faces showed just as much fear, hatred, longing. Longing to be home in beds, or with their family, or out with friends. Safe.

The girls seemed to be arranged by age. The closest girl to her, who Kurin assumed the whimper came from, was maybe about six. Luckily, her clothing was a lot more modest than what Kurin was sporting. Still, Kurins throat tightened and a knot formed in her chest.

A child. A young girl. What could they possibly do with a young girl?

To the child's left was another young girl. She was maybe eleven. The age seemed to move up in small, varying increments from there. By the time Kurin's eyes found her age range, she was already being pulled along and placed with the others. Her age, eighteen, placed her right smack dab in the center of the stage. All the brightest, blinding lights seemed to focus directly on her, and she winced. Insta-headache, anyone?

All was quiet. That is, until a soft clicking reached her ears. And then more, and more, and more until it was a roar that was deafening and eerily beautiful at the same time. Shivers of excitement and horror rocked up her spine, causing to shudder. Horror, because she was vaguely familiar with those sounds. They were akin to the ones she'd heard the night before, in the alley. They were the ones that replayed, over and over again in her dreams like a damaged record player. She realized that she could see the barest hints of silhouettes behind the searing lights. They were huge. All of them. And they all seemed to be in movement. Her eyes couldn't track one silhouette for more than a few seconds before it was dwarfed by another, and another one after that.

Whatever was going on, it was causing a scene. The big, burly men on either side of the stage brandished weapons of all sizes. Most, surprisingly, were unfamiliar to Kurin. They were strange, alien almost. They were slightly too large for human hands. Slightly too heavy, as they caused the arms of the men to shake with the effort of supporting their weight.

After a few moments, the restless audience began to calm. A man to the right of the stage jogged up, holding a mic. Or rather, what appeared to be a mic. When he spoke, his voice was not what was amplified. Instead, it was replaced by clicks and growls. The audience went silent. Kurin, for the life of her, couldn't hear or figure out what he was saying. She stayed right where she was, sandwiched between two teenage girls, and watched as he gestured to the youngest girl. He would point at the small child, address the crowd, and write a few notes. After a minute or two, he pulled her forward and presented her to the crowd as a separate being.

Massive, silhouetted arms shot up all around the crowd. The clicks, the growls, the alien language itself bounced off the walls and echoed. The speaker got excited, pointed happily to a raised arm in the audience and ushered the terrified girl off stage.

First one down.

The next one went quicker. And the next one, even faster than that. As the countdown progressed, the crowd grew restless again. The young woman directly before Kurin, a short little brunette thing, was next. The man stepped up to her, gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and proceeded to auction her off. The poor thing, despite being drugged, could not stop shaking. Her eyes darted back and forth, never stopping or focusing on one thing for long. She jumped when anyone even so much as leaned in her direction.

Kurin wanted to console her. To tell her everything was going to be okay. But she couldn't, and wouldn't lie to her. Everything was most definitely not going to be okay. This entire situation was as far from okay as Kurin had ever been.

Sure enough, the girl sold only moments after her personal auction started. A small glimmer of hope for the frightened girl sparked at the last minute. Kurin watched as the men came to drag her away. Her shoulders stopped shaking. She squared them, and she set her jaw in a stubborn manner. It was the look of a survivor, and Kurin had hope for this one.

Without realizing it, Kurin had lost herself in her own thoughts. The man finally stepped up to her, and when he placed his hand on her shoulder, her stomach turned into a ball of ice shards. She felt as if she might be sick, or cry, or collapse, or implode at any second. Her heart sped up, hammering a veracious tattoo behind her ribs. She was sure anyone watching could see it. She was suddenly acutely aware of what everyone else was seeing. All these sickos saw a young, teenage girl in nothing but a silk slip and undies. They saw the large breasts, the small waist, and the elegant hips. They saw the long, bright red hair that tickled creamy thighs, and the frightened, lively green eyes.

They saw the perfect little toy, to be sold at auction.

Before any words were spoken, arms shot up in the crowd. Kurin's icy stomach dropped into her toes and she held her breath.

Multiple things happened in that moment. The building, directly across from where the stage was stationed, exploded with such a violent, rocking force that everyone on stage collapsed. Debris flew everywhere, peppering the women with glass and metal fragments, and skewering others. Two of the audience members, using the distraction, climbed on stage with hurried, sure movements. The things, whatever they were, grabbed the women nearest them and ran. Soon after, others got the same idea. While everyone was busy screaming, crying, writhing in pain, women were snatched up and carried away. Kurin was trapped beneath the girl who, only moments ago, had been standing to the left of her.

She was heavy, but not in the overweight sense. In the sense that her entire body had gone limp, and was now resting entirely on Kurin's small frame. Kurin's ears started to ring, an after effect of the explosion possibly. She struggled under the girl as hard as she could with her noncooperative muscles, trying as hard as she could to remove her. Just when it was getting hard for Kurin to breath, the weight was lifted. Gone, like it was never even there.

She rolled over onto her back, preparing to try and stand when she realized a huge, hulking shadow had been cast over her. Looking up, she realized this must have been one of the audience members, because he was huge. Seven entire feet of muscle and bone and deadly grace. Dark green, spotted skin stretched over every bulging muscle. Every washboard ab. He had broad shoulders, far larger than the spanse of a regular door frame. Huge chest, slender hips, insanely muscled legs. The thing that caught Kurin's attention most was not, in fact, it's face. Although a metal, red eyed mask was indeed strange and slightly terrifying, what caught her attention most were it's hands. The huge, clawed, savage looking fingers held a deadly, mesmerizing kind of beauty. The beastly part of him was glorious. Glorious and terrifying and utterly beautiful.

She sat gawking, horrified and mesmerized for countless seconds before the huge beast bent down to retrieve her shell shocked form from the ground. She wondered absently if she should be afraid of this man.

It was a man, wasn't it? Because it was most definitely Male.

She knew that sooner or later, after the shock wore off, she would be in hysterics, clutching Jayson to her chest like she always seemed to do.

Jayson…

Kurin suddenly started to thrash in the huge males grasp. The drug prevented her from causing any real harm or trouble, since she seemed to just flop around awkwardly, but it didn't muffle her screams.

"Jayson! Jayson, where are you?!" She beat her hands as hard as she could against his chest, demanding she be let down.

A dark, condescending sound escaped from her captor. It was a sound like that of dark laughter. Rich and mysterious and frightening.

He was laughing at her! After a moment, she started laughing too. She laughed, because this morning, she had a normal life. This morning, she had a brother, and a house, and a job. Now, she was the victim of a kidnapping, of human trafficking and of another possible kidnapping. How in the world does someone get dealt this kind of hand? What cosmic events have to line up that cause one persons life to flip completely upside down, around, and sideways in a matter of a few hours?...

The male looked at his human captive with worried eyes. He was familiar enough with human psychology to recognize signs of trauma and stress. Her hysterical laughter, accompanied by the occasional tear, had him a little freaked out. However, mainly he was pissed. Pissed, because he finally got his hands on a woman who looked to him like a worthy lou-dte kale, and she seemed to be slowly going insane. Pissed, because he hadn't had the chance to kill every last, filthy, human male who had laid hands on her.

He wound through the holding complex where the women were held, headed for the back doors. It was the opposite direction of his ship, and where he actually wanted to be in general, but behind these buildings was the holding cell for his little yeyinde's kin. The boy was a pyode amedha like his sister. All soft flesh, dull nails, creamy skin and flat teeth. Vulnerable and weak in every sense of the word. But he was attractive for a pyode amedha. It was his innocent, childlike vulnerability that made him desirable. It made the huge male want to keep him. Raise him like a Yautja. The fight was definitely there, in his soul. It just needed to be harnessed.

The young child was also important to the Yautja's female. She had protected him from everything. Comforted him when she herself needed the comfort. Screamed his name and fought her captors when they were separated. The bond between the two was nearly palpable, and he couldn't bare to break it. It was something that was nearly unheard of for his species. Siblings hardly ever grew up together. They were raised by their Mothers, taught at a young age to survive, and released when the time came. Bonds were never formed, therefore, never broken. But the Yautja had studied the humans, as a precautionary measure when it came time to own one. The mental damage the loss of a sibling or family member could inflict on these weak beings was immense, and painful.

When they finally reached the back door, and it was bashed down with one, powerful kick, Kurin stopped her laughter. She was suddenly aware of her surroundings. They had gone through a building, something she wasn't aware of during her mental breakdown. They were outside now, behind said buildings, facing was looked like rows of cages. Her eyes scanned the cages curiously.

Is he planning on putting me in one?

Her eyes landed on the cage furthest to the left and a pitiful, hope filled wail escaped her throat. Jayson was hunkered down in the corner of his steel prison, wailing to himself. All his fear and anger and loneliness was poured into the heartbreaking sounds.

The large man took only a few large steps before he was in front of the cage. Jayson heard the approach and looked up just in time to see a man, probably the largest he had ever seen, carrying his sister in his arms.

"Kurin!" he screamed. His face was wet with fresh tears, and a left eye was black and bruised. It had started to swell and his eye was nearly swollen shut. A disgusted sound left Kurin when she spotted the mark, and she squirmed to be let free. The Yautja's grip tightened on her as he reached forward and shredded the lock on the cage. Jayson busted through as soon as it was open and tried to launch himself into Kurin's arms. If it hadn't been for the clawed hand catching the back of Jayson's shirt, he would have crashed to the ground. The Yautja pulled him up, effortlessly, and placed him on his back. Jayson's arms struggled to encircle the Yautja's neck, and instead settled for grasping the straps of his chestpiece. Jayson settled in like it was the most natural thing in the world, and the Yautja wondered if both pyode amedha had trouble understanding fear. Right now, they should be afraid of him. Cowering in a corner, or trying to run away.

Sure, the female was still struggling, but exhaustion was obviously clouding her mind and the drugs administered to her helped her along to unconsciousness. She went limp and lifeless in minutes, breathing soft and evenly in his arms. The young boy, however, was as aware as he was. His heartbeat was quick, his eyes alert, his head always on a swivel. This one, he knew, would make a great hunter.

He would make a great human turned Yautja.

pyode amedha- Soft meat (human)

lou-dte kale- Child maker (female)

yeyinde- Brave One

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review. I made this chapter longer, I hope you enjoyed it.