A/N: I hope everyone's doing well! I come offering a new update to everyone. It's just something I dreamt up; a continuation of the last chapter. Well, I hope you like it. Any comments are greatly appreciated and valued.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: A wish upon the Mother Star was all it took to flip Velkhana's world upside down. She had exactly one year to learn about the hunters. One year to realize her purpose and question everything as she came to know it.

Here are additional characters:

Marten's Wife: Eliza

Head Nurse: Lucia

Chapter 3

Marten rested on a wooden bench overlooking the great white expanse of the Reach. Pinched gingerly between his gloved fingers was a brittle, sepia-toned photograph with crisp edges. The momento lost its glossy sheen over the years kept protectively in his pocket, over his beating heart. Marten's aged eyes scanned every detail of it, remembering sweet laced words exchanged with the love of his life that very day. His memory of his wife never once faded from his mind best described as a wooden box. Over the years, cracks appeared around its edges, forcing precious memories to spill into the unknown. All memories, even small ones, were precious.

"Twenty years." His voice broke the silence of the whispering wind. "You've left my side for twenty years. There was never a day I didn't think about you, Eliza."

A gentle breeze rolled across his shoulder as if to calm the man. Deep inside, he was conflicted, no, troubled by the sudden turn of events.

"But have the gods gone too far this time?" He asked no one.

Twenty years have passed since Eliza entered an eternal slumber on her deathbed to join the Mother Star. Marten was by her bedside, on his knees with hands cupped over hers drawing in her last breaths. He remembered she tried to speak, tried to tell him she'd be alright and they'd see each other tomorrow. That tomorrow never came. Marten prayed for the Mother Star for mercy and perhaps, for forgiveness for sins he didn't know he committed. He wanted Eliza to breathe, just a little longer. His wish was denied.

Then, this happened. What kind of trickery was this? His white brows knitted; how could someone suddenly come back from the dead? How could someone be vividly identical to her appearance? His heart refused to rest.

Marten shook his head. "I shouldn't jump to conclusions so swiftly,"

Tucking away the photograph, the Commander waded back into Seliana to the warmth of the Council Table. Perhaps focusing on work would do the trick, he mused. Upon arrival, it was unusual to spot a vacant Council Table. Odd. Where did they all go? The white-haired man turned his head, scanning Seliana, only to spot the Provisions Manager trudging through the snow with eyes glued on her clipboard. A small sound escaped his lips before he was interrupted by a bulky hunter entering the premises with thick snow boots.

The man saluted. "Sir, our guest has regained consciousness."

"Understood. I'm going to head over to speak with her." He spoke as his heart did somersaults in his chest. He needed to know. No, he had the right to know.

"That… might not be a wise idea, sir." The hunter responded with an odd look on his face. His eyes shifted away from the Commander's piercing gaze.

"Well, what is it? Speak up."

"The woman is feral." The hunter voiced. "She refuses to let anyone near her. The Chief's trying to calm her down."

"That gives me more reason to go and see her," Marten adjusted his winter coat and strolled past the man. "I'm going to go and see for myself. Maybe I can talk some sense into her."

The Commander looked over to his grandson before his gaze returned to the woman bundled in a white sheet pressed in the corner of the room. Guttural sounds bubbled from the depths of her stomach, tumbling through her chapped lips. One of the nurses tried to calm the woman down but just like a feral beast, she lashed out, slicing the woman's arm with her chipped nails. The nurse hastily retreated.

Wordless and confused, no one knew what to do or make of the situation. This was their first encounter with a feral human. The man took a moment to absorb the woman's features and frightening shrieks of terror. Her golden colored eyes moved from person to person and the shiny metal attached to some of their sides.

Marten was the first to break away from the group. He gently approached her with an extended hand. "We will not hurt you."

Her eyes thinned in terror as she tried to merge into the wooden wall.

"My name is Marten Blake," he introduced himself. "Commander of the Fifth Fleet."

She scratched his gloved hand, leaving a trail of disfigured cloth on his glove.

The Commander kept his calm composure. He gently inched closer. "Grandfather," Richard voiced from behind. "Be careful."

The white-haired man acknowledged and continued to inch forward, determined to communicate he wasn't a threat to the terrified woman. "We will not harm you." he reiterated. "I give you my word."

All eyes dropped onto the woman. She looked left and right, trying to plot her escape. Her heart slammed against her chest in rapid succession, her mind trying to think of a way to survive. She knew these things were here to kill her and strip her clean.

"I won't hurt you." His lips curved into an upward smile.

Just mere inches away from victory, a hunter stumbled into the room with a sharp object in his hand. Panic consumed her. She lashed out at the Commander, leaving a bloodied trail on his face. Marten cradled his face as hunters pounced and subdued the feral beast. Her screams filled the air. Screams no hunter had ever heard before. Richard skated to this grandfather and pulled out a white handkerchief to dab his face.

"I told you to be careful, grandfather," he said worriedly, watching as blood seeped onto the white handkerchief. "Did she get your eyes?"

Marten shook his head. "She missed it by an inch or two. Pressing the piece of cloth on his wounds, he watched while hunters dragged her away, perhaps to Seliana's makeshift holding cells.

"I'll have Lucia take care of you, alright?" The Chief gently coaxed the man to stand up. "You know how she is if injuries aren't reported."

The Commander smiled at his grandson. "Very true," he weakly laughed. "Ow."

Richard watched as the hunters escorted her out of sight. He turned to a female hunter. "Do make sure the woman has adequate clothes to wear." He instructed. "Make sure her cell is warm and there are food and water for her."

"Yes, sir!"

The bouncy girl dashed away.

"Do we have to go to the head nurse?" Marten asked his grandson.

"Of course." Richard smiled. "You know what happens if the injured don't report to her."

"Ah yes, her hour-long lecture. That's something I never wish to experience again."

The two shared a quiet laugh as Richard escorted his grandfather to the infirmary.

Lucia was not impressed by the lacerations decorated onto his face. The man winced as a soaking roll of cotton smeared across it. The stocky nurse remained silent throughout the entire ordeal. Voices from the infirmary echoed outside while nurses talked with each other about today's shifts or the injured list. Marten shifted his weight.

"I was careful." he started.

"Of course you were, Commander." Lucia discarded the cotton ball and picked up two bandaids. Peeling them off, she stuck them onto his face.

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not," she responded hotly. "What if she scratched your eyes? Then what? We don't have the necessary supplies to operate. You, of all people, should know that."

A small smile formed on his lips. "I'm well aware of it," he responded. "But she didn't get my eyes."

The nurse rolled her eyes and stepped back, giving the Commander legroom. She crossed her arms. Here it comes.

One hour later.

Marten exited the infirmary stunned and somewhat numb from Lucia's infamous lecture. He kept up with her for the first twenty minutes before his mind went blank. All he could remember was… absolutely nothing. He tapped his noggin for a couple of moments, trying to scramble his memories.

Ah, pesky buggers.

The Commander expelled a tired sigh. The day had barely begun and he was exhausted to the core. He felt a pinch of pain throbbing from the base of his skull, signaling an upcoming tension headache. Quickly pinching the area between his eyes, the man hastily made his way to the makeshift cells. Maybe if he could talk to the woman one-on-one he might get the answers he desperately needed.

I have to find out one way or another. He mused, walking through Seliana. It's worth a shot. This could be a breakthrough or a dead end. One way or another, I'll get answers.

With one final huff, the man was on the hunt for information about why this feral human looked identical to his deceased wife.