She had such a lithe body. Designed for running perhaps? That was indicative of prey...So why did his body react to her so strongly? Many of his species found them ugly. He did not. He loved the feel of her soft body as his strong muscular arm wrapped around her waist. She let out a bleating yelp of surprise and jumped some, but quickly melted into his grip.

Her big blue eyes turned to look for him, but his cloaking device was still engaged. So close to him, she might see a glimmer of bending light, but he was otherwise invisible. His clawed hand brushed through her soft golden strands, and then he released her waist.

"La'ja m ya'day." Run and hide he told her. He knew she probably did not know the words, but she did know the action she was supposed to take.

She took off running through the forest, and he watched her disappear between their trunks that had white blobs stick to the bark like marshmallows. He gave her a good head start, and then he continued his pursuit of her. It was fun and playful practice.

He did not find her before someone found him.

A yautja like him stood nine foot tall beside a tree, absolutely still, metal mask watching him like an omen of death.

"Ic'jit." Badblood, the man spat. All bio masks were programmed to recognize criminal's faces like lists of mug shots.

He took a deep readying breath and allowed his cloaking device to fall.

"Sei-i." Yes, he admitted to the stranger.

The yautja's twin wrist blades slid out. As a badblood, he could be killed without any reason except existing. Moreover, the yautja who brought back his body would be honored for killing a criminal. His own blades dropped with a deadly metallic slide.

He would have to fight for his life.

However, he had never killed one of his species and never wished to.

The other yautja attacked first, his plasma caster leaving holes in trees as he quickly ducked away. Then the stranger advanced, going for his stomach to spill it his guts or his throat to end his life quickly. He could dodge and defend himself, but it was difficult only using harmless defense moves on someone who sought to rip out your soul.

Strong armor protected each of them from most easy, weakening shots. He had to work his way in and be quick to land his blades elsewhere. Serrated blades tore through the strangers tendons of his elbow as the man let out a roar of pain and defiance. He only wished that it were the arm carrying the blades, not the wrist controls.

Metal clashed with metal as they continued to battle. However, the stranger would not fight honorably, and did not have to against a badbood.

He saw the luminous green blood oozing from holes in his chest before he felt it, but the crushing pain would not escape him. He fought not to show it on his features, not to show pain or weakness, and he forced his body to keep fighting.

He blocked the stranger's blows, waited for other shots, and tried to strike at the straps that held his armor to his body. The material, though it looked like ordinary cloth, could not be cut by ordinary blades-but a yautja's blades were not ordinary. The yautja could defeat incredible beasts, conquer armies, and best most weapon technologies-but yautja against yautja was a more even match.

Sharp serrated blades plunged into his thy, barely missing bone. He growled but refused his body to react to the wave of pain. He grabbed the stranger's throat in his claws, staring at his bio mask, but the man retracted his blades. Metal ripped through muscle on its way out, but still he held his ground. He would not drop.

One hand tightened on the stranger's throat, the other held the man's wrist gauntlet away. Both of their chests were heaving. Blood dripped from the strangers elbow. Blood still oozed from the holes in his own chest.

Thought the stranger did not have use of his unrestrained arm, he had two good legs-the shift of his weight gave him warning but the man still managed to land a blow on leg, twisting it at the knee.

They broke apart but as he regained balance, he shot out a net at the stranger. Pain riddled his body, but he quickly yanked the netting to force the man to the ground before his blades tore himself out of the tangle.

He rolled the stranger into his back and pressed his serrated blades to his neck, his chest pulsing with a low growl.

"A-ka'ta." Stand down, he commanded.

"Thei-de bue geur're." Death before surrender, the stranger spat back.

He would not kill him. Badblood or not, he felt it was not right.

Blocking the pain as best he could be smashed the man's shoulder cannon, and destroyed his wrist blades. Then, he took off for his ship as fast as he could manage. The muscle in his thy felt like it might just start peeling away, but he ran.

He knew he was so close to reaching his ship, but he could also hear his pursuer gaining on him. He had not searched him for other weapons, and that turned out to be a big mistake. A series of small blades lodged into his muscular back, but it only when one hit his injured leg that his footing then faltered. Blood caked muscles straining, he stood again to face-to-face his attacker.

He let out a deafening roar, comparative to the volume of a t-rex with the deepness of a lion, daring the stranger to make a move.

However, it was not the stranger who caught his attention. No, out of the corner of his eye he could see the girl, now holding her hands over her ears in pain. A pang of guilt entered him, knowing that the stranger would kill her if he failed. But he could not fail. Could not give up.

He let his serrated blades descend, the metal shimmering in the light. His breath was more ragged then usual, but he still had a chance. The stranger ignored the girl and began a slow circle around him, small Chinese throwing star like blades held in one clawed hand. They were small, but were sharp enough to sink all the way into your flesh if thrown correctly.

As he threw the first one, his wrist blades rose to block it with blinding speed and accuracy. It tinked away, stabbing into the soft ground at his feet instead. Three were thrown at him in quick concession, but with the arc of his swing, his blade deflected each of them.

The stranger used his good arm to raise his other and aim his wrist controls at me. He hesitated, that was his downfall. It took him too long to see the small attachment on the side of the stranger's controls. He moved before he shot it, but the yautja swung his arm and kept aim. A sharp metal barbed steak hit his shoulder, and stopped me dead, pinned to the trunk of a tree.

As his hand tightened around the steak to pull it out, another one hit his other shoulder, yanking his hand back. One plunged into his chest as well; he felt it shatter through his sternum, probably only millimeters above the heart. He felt warm blood gush up into his mouth.

He was still defiant though, leaning forward to rip himself away from the tree and his wrist blades raised and ready for an attack. The stranger knew he was done for through, and simply began walking up to him as though he was harmless.

The small ooman girl, as frightened as she was, rushed over to stand in front of the staked yautja. The stranger tilted his head at the display, his footsteps pausing.

"Ell-osde da'ra Ic'jit?" You defend a badblood?

Her heart was racing, her chest heaving, but as the stranger took a step foreword, she held her ground. Even as he stomped up to her, menacingly so much taller and reached for her, she did not think to defend herself, only him. Her arms rose to shield his masked face from anything the stranger might do.

The yautja paused again, watching the ooman, and seemed to be thinking. Nevertheless, he always came to the same conclusion-it did not matter why what she was doing. Fugitives deserved to be exterminated. He grabbed her by the throat on tossed her aside.

An unarmed and not attacking ooman could not be killed within the rules of their moral code. He could do nothing with the girl, until she attempted to harm him, except for usher her out of his way.

The stranger then grabbed a hold of the badblood's bio mask, took it off to reveal his face, and tossed it in the dirt. Phosphorous green blood dripped from its mouth. The girl had bounded up from the ground however and squeezed herself between the two aliens, her eyes watering and her mouth uttering so many strange sounds. Her palms pressed together, fingers towards the sky.

He gripped her shoulder and shoved her to the side so his hand could wrap around the criminals throat. The girl screamed now, and once again shoved her way between them, but this time placing her palms on the stranger's abs. His chest pulsed with an annoyed growl, but her blue eyes staring at him through his mask was strangely unsettling.

"Please!" He did not know the meaning of the words but knew what she wanted.

His hand tightened around the criminal's throat, but when he looked at his eyes, he found that the man was watching the girl-more concerned with her than the yautja about to end his life.

He growled at himself for such an absurd decision, but his hands left the man's throat. He glanced down at the strange ooman, and slowly she took her hands off him. Before he changed his mind, he swiftly turned and left, allowing the badblood to live, and disappeared within the forest. He just had to hope that he has not let a murderer or traitor go, but something told him he had not. The badblood had restrained from trying to kill another yautja, even when in the face of death. That earned him some credit at least.

With a rapidly besting heart, the girl turned back to the staked yautja, dripping green blood, and she placed her palms on the side of his face, whispering words unknown to him.

He had to get himself back to the ship to begin healing the wounds, and the girl was too weak to pull the steaks out. He was feeling weak as well. But she had saved him. Somehow, she had saved him. And he could not give up now.

He strained and growled and the barbs dug into his palm as he yanked the first one out. More adrenaline was starting to inject into his system and he did away with the other two stakes. The girl attempted to help hold him up, and pressed her hands to the wounds to stop the bleeding. It was useless actions as the blood continued to gush through her fingers and he was far too heavy to assist in walking-yet he did enjoy her fawning over him.

Once to the ship, he had to get the metal out of him before healing himself with the machine. However, his shoulders were becoming too pained to reach around to his back and yank them out. He grabbed the girls chin gently, tears in her eyes.

"Ve de'reg, ell-osde is-ta flar-res kef." The blades, you must remove them.

He turned his beck to her, and painfully crouched down to the floor so she could reach them.

"H'ka-se!" Now, he commanded with a growl.

She did not budge.

He grabbed one of the small circular blades he had already removed from the back of his leg and lifted it up to her, "Flar-res." Remove.

Slowly, he felt her fingers on his back, and then slight movement as she touched one of the blades buried in his back. She began whimpering and making more talking sounds.

He growled.

She gently tugged on the blade.

"Pauk, lou-dte kale gat a ya-bre!" Fuck, child-maker do it already!

His harsh words caused her to remove it like a Band-Aid, swiftly ripping it out with a nervous jerk. The pain was excruciating, but he found himself not showing any of it for her sake. As to not freak her out any further.

"Ral." Again.

She gripped another one and quickly ripped it from his back. His whole body looked like a splattered painting of green by the time they were done. He stomped into the tiny medical room of the ship, undressed, and laid inside the machine. It healed his shattered sternum, and accelerated the healing of his other wounds too mere scars.

The girl was waiting for him just inside the doorway. He was healed but felt like he had been struck by lightening then pummeled, and his strength was not at its best. He brushed past the girl and continued to the bathroom, immersing himself in the showers hot water.

It had an instantly calming effect, and his head stopped pounding. The girl peeked in from around the corner, sad blue eyes catching his. He extended out his arm for her to come closer. As soon as she stepped within reach, he hauled her into the shower and picked her up. His muscles protested, but he held her to his chest, her arms draping around his neck.