Set's anger simmered just below the surface. He had talked down the larger female simply by mentioning his nephew needed an honoured burial and he could not dally. She had stepped away from him then and released his dreads. The invitation to fight and mate with her would remain open to him should he change his mind. He did not care for it, she had grabbed his hair. No one grabbed his hair.
All that mattered now was Vor'mekta.
He growled to himself. They had returned to his ship with the weapons and trophies, and he had not hesitated to turn on his heels and go back to the clanship as soon as Set had secured Lax's belongings. This insult would not be overlooked.
"W-why are we going back?" Sara whispered, her voice high-pitched despite the low tone she used.
"To challenge a leader," he said with finality, his mandibles clicking not realizing she did not understand him. Sara said no more on the matter and stayed close to his side.
It had been years since he had walked the halls of this ship, but he knew exactly where he was going. Vor'mekta was in the bowels of the ship, deep inside. The elevator took them to the correct floor and he tuned out Sara's sing-song voice. He was not acknowledged by the hunters he crossed paths with. Most did double takes when their eyes landed on his ooman, and none dared to touch her. A shame really, he was ready to kill anyone brave enough to lay a paw on her.
Vor'mekta must have hoped Sara would have been killed on the ship, or maimed horribly. Her small stature, and miniscule weight sorely outmatched by even young unblooded yautjas. She could have easily been crushed, purposely or accidentally. They were nearing the kehrite when Set paused for the briefest of seconds. Sara was scared, her heart was pounding hard.
He didn't give her time to pay much attention to the training young warriors. He outranked everyone in the room, including the instructor and if one dared, his blade was ready to decapitate without hesitation. His anger was wholly justified, he was an Elite, a veteran. He had completed the chivas required to become a leader, and he could turn Arbitrator any time. Hunting other Yautjas did not appeal to him though, not like the kiande amedha did. The serpents were a challenge, and one he relished. To be disregarded, completely ignored as though he were newly Blooded… Set growled quietly to himself.
They were out of the kehrite and moving deeper into the ship. Sara was still singing under her breath, though he thought he heard his name, he was too focused on the task at hand. He had to stay calm. He had to control is anger, turn it into a weapon. He rolled his shoulders, flexed his claws, loosened his tense muscles. Traditional challenges would call for all removal of weapons and 'awu'asa, armour. Brute strength, fists and talons.
He heard his name again as Sara continued praying to her deities. They were close. He could feel his thwei, his blood, singing with anticipation. The doors to the clan leader's sanctum was just ahead. The ooman grabbed his belt just as he raised his arm to access his wrist computer. Set had to issue the challenge formally, announcing it to the entirety of the clan, no matter where they were. Their masks would announce it once they accessed the clan updates.
He lowered his arm as he heard the last of Sara's words, "Please don't leave me…"
Set huffed. He had already told her he wasn't selling her. That she needed constant reminding annoyed him a little, so he said nothing as he waited for the doors to open. He would discipline her later for doubting him. Vor'mekta would not keep him waiting for long. A challenge had been issued. Other yautjas would soon start arriving to witness the battle.
He was braced and ready. The doors opened and he pulled Sara into the room, his mandibles flaring beneath his mask automatically.
"Vor'mekta!" He snarled, his eyes seeing nothing but the larger, maskless burgundy yautja as he stood regally across the room. His yellow eyes fixated on Set, unblinking.
"Setg'in-yu'san," he answered, his dark red paws fisted at his side.
Set stopped about twenty feet away from the leader. He unhooked the chain from his waist and turned his head to glance down at Sara while pointing towards the wall. "Sit," he growled in English, dropping the chain loudly on the floor. The ooman was staring wide-eyed at the leader, she jumped, startled when he removed his mask and held it out to her without taking his gaze from Vor'mekta.
"Wolf…" she licked her fat lips, her heart beat wildly, and her fear surrounded him like a perfume.
"Sit," he repeated, pointing to the wall, "Stay," he added as an afterthought. He didn't want her moving. If somehow he lost this challenge, he needed to memorize where she was so that he could kill her with his wrist blades. He would not let her be taken by another.
Sara swallowed, her throat moving with the action and obeyed. He took note of where she was, implanting it in his brain so that he would know precisely where to aim. It would be quick and she would not feel it. He was taking her with him.
"You dare bring that thing in my chambers?" The leader growled, unmoving. Set's head whipped back towards Vor'mekta, his dreads snapped around his head, striking his shoulder, the beads of his life clicking together.
"You dare ignore me?" Set roared, facing the leader, mandibles flared in aggression.
"Have you lost your instincts?" Vor'mekta countered, his voice raising, he remained standing where he was, "you marked a ooman! Prey ! You are s'yuit-de." Set bristled. He had never been called a pathetic fool before. His chest enlarged angrily.
"You are nothing but a trophy that has yet to be cleaned," Set returned.
"And you are h'ulij-bpe," Vor'mekta pointed at him, "the kiande amedha wounds have addled you!"
Set spread his arms and roared, the sound bellowing and echoing in the room. His claws opened wide and he bent his legs as he advanced towards Vor'mekta. How dare he insult him further! The leader answered, spreading his arms and copying Set, except he did not advance, he remained where he was.
They were ten feet apart and just as Set was about to launch himself at him, the leader straightened and raised a paw, the aggression leaving him momentarily, "Unarm."
Set stilled and also straightened suddenly. His mandibles clicked together as he turned on his heels and went to stand in front of a pale Sara that was hugging his mask to her chest as though it were a lifeline. Her eyes were leaking water and she watched in horror as Set began undressing. He set his armour on the ground beside her, until all that remained was his protective metal loincloth, his neck armour, and his protective footwear. His chest was bare, he'd removed the netting, back armour and pauldron.
Vor'mekta was doing the same when Set turned back to face him, removing everything, including the cloak of power, keeping the same gear Set had.
"You will make a terrible leader."
Set tensed, and slowly turned back to face his opponent. He was calmer, and he had regained control over his anger. Vor'mekta had almost succeeded in getting under his scales, was still trying if his last taunt was anything to go by. Set tightened his mandibles against his mouth, annoyed with himself for letting the leader get to him. He was better than this.
It was time to take note of their differences. Set was an avid hunter, hunted the most dangerous prey at every opportunity. His trophies reflected this. Vor'mekta was a politician, facing the problems of the clan, hunting very rarely. He was powerful, but his instincts were not as honed as Set's.
This was an unfair fight. That was why the red yautja was trying to anger Set. To give him an edge, and Set had almost given it to him. It would not happen again.
The leader roared at him and signalled him forward with his paws. Set heard the doors opening just as he advanced towards the leader. He answered and they collided with animalistic sounds that could have been mistaken on earth for fighting lions.