Author's note: I hope that you guys take my word that I will finish this. I have the story fleshed out actually, it's how to put everything together that makes it difficult . I refuse to relinquish quality for the sake of churning out a bunch of words that ultimately come out half baked. Surely, as fellow lovers of literature, you would understand and have my undying thanks for it. :)

Also, just for the record, this is where things SHOULD start to get much more interesting. Please enjoy and reviews are most welcome! -DG

Edited May 15 2016 - grammar errors were seen. I'll get back to writing in a few weeks ^^ -DG


IX

The next step he took sent splinters of pain shooting up his leg.

Sheelal cursed under his breath and paused to see a rather large thorn the color of the forest floor embedded deeply in the sole of his foot.

The thorn belonged to a native plant called Ung'iiz, otherwise known as Hookhedge in Galactic Basic.

He cursed aloud in anger, sending several forest creatures flying or scampering in panic.

Though not poisonous, the thorns of these plants were notorious.

Every thorn was riddled with tiny backwards-pointing hooks that made sure that once embedded, were impossible to remove without tearing out a generous amount of fleshe. Their points were also so sharp that even the naturally calloused, scaly soles of the Kaleesh offered little protection.

Simply pulling the offending thorn out was not an option.

Hobbling to a rock outcrop in a nearby clearing, he then reached onto a pouch on his bandoleer, pulling a small bottle of antiseptic, a roll of bacta-infused bandages and a thermal knife.

'The gods have made their will known' the old priestess said. Is it their will to make me bleed? Sheelal thought frustratedly as he activated the knife's cautery action.

It was early morning that day when he had trekked into the Kunbal Jungle alone, just as the Myystan had instructed.

'Hunt you must, for the blessed truth shall be your quarry' the Myystan had proclaimed.

So far, he could not count much of anything as a blessing during his sad hunt.

Curses more like...

It was an exceptionally hot and humid day and he had been most unfortuitous in his hunt for a mumuu. It was already past midday and he still had no sign of the tusked beasts.

That in itself was an unwelcome surprise since at that time of year, mumuu were supposed to be plentiful.

The thorn was the latest in a long line of curses that the gods had so far, seen to piss on him.

He had no idea what he had done to deserve these, and until the thorn, had shouldered all with silence.

Blood for the gods, it is. And he went about the messy business of the thorn's removal.


Sheelal ignored the sharp pain as he pulled out the meticulously cut plug of flesh where the thorn had embedded itself in. He tossed the bloody lump and proceeded to dress the cauterized wound on his foot before resuming his hunt.

He grasped a handful of moist forest soil and proceeded to sniff it; a traditional method of tracking that had been passed down countless generations that took advantage of the Kaleesh's exceptional sense of smell.

All day he had been repeating the same ritual to find the scent of nearly every beast he knew of—all except the precious mumuu.

But in that small glob of earth did the khan finally take in the scent of his quarry, and thought that perhaps the gods were finally starting to become a little kinder to him that day.

He took in the scent of the mumuu, closing his eyes to focus—so keen is the sense of smell in the Kaleesh, where pheromone expression was as good as words— and actually determine how long and in which direction his quarry had headed.

His heart fluttered in anticipation as he continued to track his prey with the same timeless technique.

The mumuu could not have gotten that far, he thought. He postulated that only around an hour had passed since the great tusked quadruped had gone through that clearing.

Silent as mist, he quickened his pace.

So close...he thought, astonished at how he could have missed this cue.

And then he found his quarry.

Over two meters tall at the shoulder, with an elevated set of ornate vertebral spines and a barrel-like body that was almost all muscle, the mumuu noisily browsed on a low branch of the tree it was facing.

Sheelal looked through his mask, itself made of the skull of a long-dead mumuu, and beheld the beast's great four-tusked head as it continued to snatch down leaves with its prehensile tongue.

The mumuu were herbivorous and near-sighted—something which the young khan was thankful for as he stood little more than twenty feet upwind from the great beast.

It was also alone, meaning it was a male.

More aggressive, and more dangerous than the females save for when a mother had to defend its calves.

This is getting better and better, he thought, smiling under his mask.

The leathery hides of the mumuu were tough enough to survive anything short of a blaster burst from a starfighter—his holdout blaster would do little except to enrage the beast and his trusty slugthrower rifle was far too unwieldly in the battle to come.

His heart instead started to hammer in anticipation as he brushed the handles of his two lig swords.

Traditionally, Kaleesh would hunt down mumuu with shoni spears; lig swords were more commonly seen in mumuu fights—staged gladiatorial contest between trained matadors and captured beasts.

In any case, Sheelal favored sword over spear, and his own seven night dream beheld him with sword rather than spear.

Their Will be done—

He was about to throw himself out of the forest brush when the great beast suddenly bellowed and reared onto its hind legs.

What?


The angry male mumuu continued to thrash about in place, its massive tusks tearing the surrounding bushes and small trees up by their roots, when Sheelal heard a battle-cry from a large hedge, west from his position.

Although possessing poor eyesight, mumuu had exceptionally good senses of hearing and smell and it turned immediately to the direction of the sound.

Immediately, Khan Sheelal saw why the tusked quadruped had become agitated—someone had lobbed a short shoni spear which had embedded itself on the beast's shoulder.

Not nearly enough to do any real damage, but painful enough to elicit fury.

As the mumuu pawed the ground, readying to charge, a figure leapt out of the hedge.

The mumuu was momentarily surprised and Sheelal even more.

Based from the iron armor and the patterns of the warrior's robe, Sheelal knew that this particular warrior must hail from the distant, icy, southern continent of Grendaju. He would have wondered what in the world would this individual be doing in his own home continent of Zarashj, but for the fact that he noticed other details that were unmistakeable.

Long, wavy, ochre-colored hair flowing from behind a mask carved from the skull of a karabbac.

An athletic, yet slender build that betrayed sinuous curves and ample sized bosom even under the individual's light armor.

Unmistakeable.

A woman? He thought, stunned.

Women warriors, though not unheard of nor forbidden among the Kaleesh were an uncommon sight. Women usually took greater eminence in religious affairs while men predominated the militia.

His golden eyes widened further as he saw the female warrior draw two lig swords similar to his own, pointing them both forward in a gesture of aggression towards the mumuu.

Apparently deciding it had enough of its assailant, the mumuu let loose an bellowing roar and charged, tusks ready to impale the warrior from Grendaju.

Sheelal saw what the warrior had intended and immediately recalled his dream.

Impossible...

The mumuu, in its rage and natural shortsightedness had failed to register that behind the hedge from which the mysterious warrior had emerged was a massive tree—far too large to be toppled even by a beast as powerful as the mumuu.

It was as if he was dreaming again when he saw the warrior leap high into the air just as the great tusked quadruped slammed headfirst into the tree.

Crouching and in silent astonishment, Sheelal saw the female warrior transform her leap into a rolling drop, with both her lig swords pointed down onto the mumuu's back.