If he hadn't become so distracted these past few cycles, he would've recognized the signs. He would've scented the sharp odor of smoke and old sweat laced over their brows; heard the whispering creaks of their wooden ships. They wouldn't have crept through his hunting grounds in such a large pack, their feet silent across the forest floor of wet leaves and vibrant moss. There wouldn't have been that alarming rise of gray and black plumes in the sky, billowing from what he knew was her home.
He couldn't blame it on being inexperienced- he was well over centuries old, a seasoned Elite that possessed an impressive array of trophies from multitudes of successful hunts, both solo and in teams. He had sired his share of pups to contribute to a long-lasting legacy for when the Black Hunter would finally grace him in his fields. He was riddled with scars, tales of lessons learned, and stories of his greatest feats that many yautja sought to claim for themselves one day.
He should've long foretold this day. It would've made for a good hunt…his original reason for coming to this backwater planet in the first place.
He should have never become involved.
…but those thoughts were not with him, now.
It was still a few days prior, a week of blissful ignorance, just his own settled mind and her soft singing with the late afternoon breeze rolling through the meadow they overlooked. Her spine crested into the bark of the tree they idled beneath, its green, star-shaped leaves swaying speckled shadows across their nudity. A buttery flower was plucked between her fingers; the dirt was still coated under her nails from where she had dug into the earth as he had ridden her from behind.
"I've been told you can eat this one," she stated matter-of-factly.
He shifted his golden eyes from under his mask to the petals she held, the color not unlike her own long, wavy hair. A few strands still clung to the underside of her neck, dried stiff from her sweat. He expeditiously sifted through the hours of human recordings stored in his database; he had not once spoken to her in her own tongue since they had met ten years ago, although he was more than fluent at this point. It was perhaps for the same reason he had never removed his mask around her…he liked what she thought of him as he presented himself to be. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Hungry?" a male voice chirped at her, the playback a mere false echo of its former speaker.
She smiled, showcasing her small, dull teeth that would have been scorned and ridiculed in yautja society. Only her tiny canines proved she was descended from a fierce species that had long gone extinct, and even then, they were hardly impressive.
"A little…" She frowned, her pouty, chapped lips forming that expression he had come to learn was her 'critical thinking'. "I wonder if it tastes any good."
He rolled his eyes, unseen to her, and chuffed a breath of air from his own mouth full of serrated teeth as he looked back up to the expanse of blue sky. He didn't have to turn his attention back to her as he grabbed at her wrist with a lightning-fast reflex, preventing the little flower from being sucked between her lips. His entire hand encompassed easily around her, and he held up a single, clawed finger to waggle it back and forth at her.
Don't.
Humans were ignorant…always causing more trouble for themselves than was necessary. His little ooman wasn't necessarily stupid, but she was somehow worse.
She was mischievous.
She tucked her head forward to dip the flower into her mouth before he could counteract her new tactic. An alarming shriek followed a tumble of giggles from her lips as he quickly sat upright and squished her cheeks together under one, large paw.
"You spit that right out!" a recording of a chastising mother scolded her. "Spit! Spit! Out!"
She purposely swallowed, earning a disapproving growl and a sharp click of his hidden mandibles at her. If she had been an unblooded yautja, or even a cheeky pup, she would've been reprimanded in the training pits until she was so exhausted and beaten that she wished for Cetanu himself to come for her. Instead, he released her and reached for her clothes consisting of furs and leathers that he himself had crafted for her.
"Foolish!" a man barked from his audio clip.
She blew out a breath and just sidled her knees to her bare chest, her chin resting languidly over the dirt-stained skin of her kneecaps. She didn't understand why he was so testy sometimes…he occasionally scolded her like a simple child, in turn baiting her own temper from her chest. If it had truly been poisonous, he would have stopped her. Her warrior never let her succumb to harm, whether self-inflicted or by another's hands. She didn't see why something this small was such a big deal.
"You don't mind me swallowing other things," she said somewhat shyly, and when he whipped his head around at her, his long, ebony dreadlocks slapped against his shoulders. "I'm completely fine! See?!" She stuck out her tongue and vibrated her vocals to make a loud ahhh sound, as though the display somehow proved her good health.
He simply held up a threaded necklace by the tip of his claw at her; a small, pearl-colored hawk skull swayed gently in the breeze, the blue stones in its eye sockets resembling her own in color. It had been his first courting gift to her, and she had never been without it.
"Already?" she pouted as she tucked the necklace over her head, the tiny skull nestled perfectly between her breasts. She looked up to the invisible chariot pulling the sun across the sky. Summer was coming to a close, as were her longer days spent with her lover from the stars. "I guess it is that time."
If he had the anatomy to do so, he would have snorted at the distinct disappointment in her tone. Granted, he wouldn't be seeing her for a few days (he needed to resupply his own food stores with a good hunt), but the bear pelt he would be gifting her would more than make up for his absence when he returned. She didn't necessarily need it for the coming months, as she had ample pelts from the many hunts he had made during his time here.
The winters in these lands were harsh, and he hated them. The climate was nothing compared to the hot, humid jungles of his homeland.
A small, growling voice of disapproval rumbled at him from the back of his mind, reminding himself the discomfort was his own fault to begin with. It had been too many cycles since he had been in his own home back on Yautja Prime; he didn't know how many breeding seasons he had missed, or which of his offspring had passed their Blooding Rituals. His clan still assumed he was out on a long hunt, which wasn't too unusual. He had once spent decades stalking a very elusive sort of prey, its skull now decorating his halls back home.
Paya help him…he couldn't have imagined it going this far, but he was more than content with letting it continue. He silenced the more reasonable thoughts snarling at him as he began to reequip his armor and his loincloth around his waist. The day would soon be waning into night, and he needed to ensure her safety back to her village just as he did every time.
When they reached the edge of the sea of flowers, he activated his cloaking and became nearly invisible to the human eye, the slight distortion giving any indication he was there as he effortlessly jumped through the tall canopies of the forest. He kept easy pace until she finally reached her home constructed of simple wood and stone, disappearing inside to no doubt begin her preparations for a meal and a bath. He would return to his ship (just as he did every night), and clean his armor and scaly flesh before he joined her in the dead of night, after the torches had burned low, and the hounds were fast asleep.
He had never slept side-by-side with a mate before her- yautja females were quick with their passion and even quicker with their leave. It was their custom, and entirely expected.
Bedding a human female was certainly not.
But when he eventually (and with laughable ease) stalked through her primitive Viking village and into her home, nestling his huge frame alongside her on what was once her sire and bearer's cot, he would remove his mask and tangle his mandibles through her golden hair, gently stroking his claws along her soft skin and fleshy breasts as she slept through the entirety of the world (and the end of it, if it so ever happened, Paya, did she sleep like a corpse). He would inhale his own scent on her, secretly reveling in the mark he had placed on her those years ago, selfishly keeping her to himself from the other human males that stunk of horseshit and their own piss.
His little human mate, Soel. A clumsy little creature that was pathetic with a sword, and had more than once accidentally shot an arrow at him while together on a hunt. A female entirely incapable of bearing him any pups, or understanding that he was from somewhere beyond her religious constraints. A woman that ate (poisonous, who knows!) flowers with her strange little mouth that could then turn around and pleasure him in a way no yautja female ever could, and that no other yautja male could ever believe.
In the morning he would be gone, just as she was on the cusp of waking, and it would be the last time he ever saw her again.
The ping from his wrist gauntlet was the first thing he received when he strode up the ramp to his ship after having called it down from orbit. He spent too much unnecessary time away (being perfectly content screwing and screwing around with his little Soel) that he couldn't trust something not coming near his craft, even when it was cloaked. Birds more often than not snapped their necks flying into it, and a pile of them at the base of his ship would draw even the dullest of eyes.
His receiver had picked up a message- he swore in his mother tongue at the sets of dashes displayed before him.
Another yautja spacecraft had picked up his whereabouts (not that he had to hide them, per se), and was requesting his audience some odd miles south of his position towards the ocean shore, well enough away from any presence of humans.
He entered the control room of his spacecraft, reverse tracking the unknown messenger. Another curse snarled from his mouth as he clicked his mandibles in agitation. It was none other than his old rival, who had followed him across time and space.
I will beat him within an inch of his life. He thought with some smug satisfaction. They had always been butting heads and drawing blood since they were mere pups, and not much had changed throughout the centuries. He would show his clanmate what intruding on his solo hunt would garner him- a cracked skull and a broken tusk, perhaps.
The yautja left the flight station and passed through a series of doors until he entered inside his personal trophy room, the array of skulls from his hunts on his journey to Earth glistening from their showcases along the walls. He considered arming himself in his full regalia, but his rival wasn't a female to be impressed. He already knew of his skills and accomplishments, from since the time they underwent their Blood Ritual together. No…he would go as he was. Fashioned with nothing but his simple loincloth, his netting, and a few weapons he always considered the minimum to be armed with. He would show he was in no mood for a team expedition, even if it was a friendly challenge. He needed to perform his own hunt so he could return to his more pressing desires.
The journey on foot was quick. The gray, gritty sandbank gave way under the weight of his sandals as he walked the rest of the way to their designated meeting spot. The thermal suit he wore provided ample body temperature regulation from the cold shouts of the ocean calling. The stormy clouds overhead gave a promise of frigid rain, just what he wanted…
Soel loved the thunderstorms. She praised them as Thor's hammer pounding against his anvil...she especially loved to crawl all over him after she came inside like some wet mutt, earning his displeasure while she kissed his mask and undressed over his giant body with that cheeky little smile on her face.
He was visualizing the moments that always followed afterward, heard how the booming thunder silenced her sultry cries, felt how her ass was cupped in his hands. He had to forcibly pull himself away from the scene of their mating as the ship shimmered into view.
The ramp began to extend, and his clanmate whom he had not seen in many a cycle came striding down it to greet him. An achingly familiar chitter of clicks and growls erupted from behind the mask of the yautja Elite, and for a moment, he was glad for the company in which he could finally speak his own tongue.
"Surely, you have left some good prey behind for all the cycles you've been here, Za'ytaele."
The crimson and ebony speckled yautja clasped forearms with his fellow hunter, both giving a sharp nod of their heads in respectful acknowledgment. He then cracked the equivalence of a yautja grin behind his mask at the shorter, but wider clanmate.
"I have only left that which I think you could manage, Ve'jab." He then gave a jut of his mask at the fields just over the sandy cliffsides. "There are some smaller game worthy of your skill…if you are lucky, perhaps they will come to you."
The jest was taken with a mixture of amusement and offense. The smaller, forest-green and cream-colored yautja puffed his chest and flexed his muscles in a subconscious manner of eliciting respect for his physical prowess. It only made Za'ytaele want to goad him further. They released each other and took a step back.
Ve'jab made a disgusted noise behind his faceplate, taking in his long-time rival's sparse condition. "Paya, what have you been doing here? You reek of human."
"That is the cost of hunting them," the bigger yautja smoothly lied. He would never divulge Soel's existence to him; he would have to kill him, lest he killed her.
"You do not have the scent of blood on you." The statement was clipped, and almost accusatory. If Za'ytaele could glimpse behind his other's mask, he would see the critical narrow of his eyes down to slits. "I have hunted humans before. This smell is different."
"I have not yet made my kill." The crimson hunter stood his ground, now, in turn, drawing himself to his full size to wordlessly challenge the threat aired between them. He just might have to crack his skull after all…
A sharp clicking of mandibles said otherwise. "You smell of a female…they are not prey worthy."
He was right; they were not. They were mainly smaller in size; easier to overpower in both speed and strength. They were also necessary for the breeding pattern to keep them in good numbers. They were cunning…as a species. He was now thinking back to his own little ooman, probably still asleep at this early hour, naked with half of the wolf pelts already strewn across the dirt floor. Paya, he should've washed before agreeing to this meet…not that it would have helped, everything had her scent on it.
Ve'jab ran his talons across his wrist gauntlet, raising the ramp to his ship and sending it off to circle in the outer atmospheres. "Show me this human you find as commendable game…I am most curious."