She let out a hesitant breath, then began making cuts. If it was up to her, she would have probably started out by cleaving its head and arms off first. She'd never seen a yautja do that before though, and he'd only provided the knife, so she made do. Amara started by removing its fur. He kept making annoyed clicks and huffs beside her, so she knew she was doing poorly.
He made skinning something look easy. Amara was butchering the tiny thing, not that its pelt was of any value. Before she could get all of the skin and fur off, the knife accidentally punctured too deep into its abdomen. Thick, dark green stuff started oozing from the incision, and it smelled horrendous. The yautja grumbled, then snatched the animal off the table.
Amara panicked, worried that she'd lost her chance at getting a meal, "No, I can just wash it off!"
"M-di, soiled. Me'at for an'i'mals now."
He left, and Amara looked down at the knife in her hand. It was a tiny thing, easily concealed. Few of her previous owners had let her around weapons, and less than that had let her touch them. None of her previous owners had left her alone with a weapon before. Too many yautjas heard stories about human slaves attacking their owners she supposed.
The thought of attacking any yautja had Amara feeling sickly nervous. She placed the knife on the table where it was clearly visible, and moved away from it. About half an hour later, he returned with another animal. This one looked like the combination of a beaver and a sloth. He dropped it into the table, then handed her the knife again.
Amara sighed, worried that it was going to take all night for her to finally make diner, when the yautja stepped behind her. He placed his fingers over her hand, directing the knife. His presence so close to her was unnerving, but he mumbled directions and guided her hands. No one had ever really taken the time to teach her in the same way that he was though. She'd expected to cut off chunks and just cook and eat them, but he seemed to have other plans.
The yautja showed her how to shred the meat, making it like pulled pork. He even insisted that she smell every spice container and pick out what she liked. Amara would have found his actions endearing, but she had her suspicions. Her new chore would probably be serving as a cook next. She knew that he was showing her how to make diner properly because she'd be making his diner for the rest of her days.
Still, she couldn't help but feel grateful. The meat tasted incredible, and she hadn't been made to go hunt it down herself. Amara cleaned up the blood and mess in the kitchen, then got back on schedule. Since cooking had taken up so much time, she was behind on the rest of her chores. She already had to take a nap in the middle of the yautja day since they were longer than what humans were made for, so it was difficult for her to stay up later to finish cleaning.
She was yawning about every five seconds, and her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Her feet hurt, so she sat down on the steps, leaning up to keep scrubbing them. The stains were slowly fading every time she cleaned. She sighed as she remembered that he'd gotten green blood in her cell too now, and she'd have to clean that up as well. Her movements slowed until she shut her eyes for a moment and ended up falling asleep on the steps.
She woke up feeling incredibly well rested, and she stretched, enjoying the cushioned surface and soft furs she was on. Amara's eyes shot open as she realized they she was on a bed. She remembered falling asleep on the steps, so the yautja must have carried her and put here there. They meant, he had touched her. And if she was in a bed, it must have been his bed.
She lunged off the bed in a panic, and scanned the room for the yautja. The bedroom didn't look like his though, and he was nowhere to be seen. She relaxed a little once she was that there was clothes on the dresser. They were too small to fit him, so he must have laid them out for her. Her top had been ripped by that amorous bird thing, so she eagerly tried on the new clothes.
She liked the top. It was a soft leather and it covered her boobs as well as her pudgy belly. The bottom though, was a short skirt and yautjas didn't waste their time with underwear. It was revealing, and she worried that it would allow him easy access to her. Not to mention, those stupid alien pigs with the shark teeth would probably try to goose her.
Her shorts were tattered though, and the fabric rubbed, giving her heat rashes when she was sweating. She put the skirt on just as the door opened. The damn metal collar probably alerted him when she was awake too. The fact that he wasn't dressed in armor for a hunt gave her little comfort. She'd fallen asleep during work, and knew that he'd apply an appropriate punishment.
As he approached, she backed away until her ass bumped into the bed. He pressed closer, hunching slightly as his one tusk scrunched up slightly and his mandibles lifted. Yautjas didn't have noses, but they must have had some sort of olfactory pits, because they had an incredible sense of smell. He was scenting the air around her, something they did to test if a female was fertile and ready to be mated.
Since that ostrich-looking animal had tried to rut with her, and the yautja was suddenly so interested, Amara assumed that she was putting off an attracting scent of some kind. It had happened many times before. Her first owner had been young, and unprepared for her to enter a type of heat that yautja females went into. He'd been lured by it stronger than anticipated, and he'd ended up raping her.