.x.

It was the cold that roused me from the merciful oblivion, so devoid of anything resembling reality, that I was adrift in. Icy tendrils wound themselves around my limbs and settled deep in my bones, and awareness returned to me slowly. When finally my mind was roused into a coherent state, it took me several tries to open my eyes. Upon succeeding, I found myself staring uncomprehendingly into a night sky full of ever twinkling stars. My first thought—where am I?—was swept aside by a sudden, torrential rush of memory, and as I shook my head to dispel the grogginess that engulfed me I became aware that I was not alone. I was sitting bolt upright in a heartbeat. Scar, crouched at my side, steadied me with a hand on my back. Fighting the panic that was constricting my lungs, trying to think past the heavy disorientation that was the lingering remainder of the sedative, I tried to speak three times and failed. My voice had abandoned me and as I struggled to find it, I cast a glance around me. My heart abruptly sank, and despair flooded my being.

I was sitting in the middle of the whaling station on Bouvetoya.

To be more exact, I had been settled by someone—I presumed it was Scar—upon the frost covered wooden landing of a small building with a dilapidated sign reading "Inn" in one of the broken windows. There was no around but the two of us. I could see, not far off, the remains of the building the large alien had destroyed only days earlier. Snow was falling softly, and my quick, uneven breathing rose on the air in small wisps of vapor. Thank god, said an inner voice with sardonic amusement, that you were abducted while wearing your outdoor gear.

Looking back to the hunter, I asked thickly, "Why?"

No answer, as usual. The gift of telepathy must be a wondrous thing, I thought bitterly. Instead Scar rose to his feet and extended one hand to me. Recalling with vivid clarity what had happened the last time I accepted his hand I got to my feet slowly and of my own accord. Being upright sent me into a wave of vertigo, and I sidestepped suddenly in an attempt to regain my balance. A clawed hand about my upper arm steadied me, and I hated myself suddenly for the gratitude I felt towards the hunter for aiding me. As his fingers left me he growled quietly. Mulishly I stared at the ground, wishing him far, far away and myself back on the icebreaker and bound for home.

Home …

"I don't want to be here," I said softly and to myself.

"Lex," said Scar in Ana's voice, prompting me to return my eyes to him. He reached around and removed something from his back. It was the weapon I'd been given by the hunter elder in this very place several days ago. Seeing it brought upon me a sense of foreboding, and as Scar held it out before me I eyed it a moment before raising a gloved hand and wrapping my fingers around the haft.

It was then I noticed something—Scar was armed. A cannon could be seen over his left shoulder. A shuriken rode at his waist, one wrist was gauntleted while the other served as a perch for another one of the strange computer like devices, and above the other shoulder I could see the length of his own spear. I presumed it was the one he had given me while we were in the pyramid. He was clad as he always was in his thick and stylized armor, and his entire form was encased in the mesh I'd noticed on all the hunters. As I let the arm holding the weapon fall to my side, he reached out and cuffed me lightly under the chin with two fingers before grabbing my arm, turning, and leading me forth.

I contemplated resisting but realized it would be pointless. Any petulance on my behalf would most likely wind up with me being dragged through the snow, and if I had to lose all else here I would at least like to retain some semblance of dignity. Resigned, apprehensive, and more than a little angry I followed him obediently, trying to ignore the way his fingers flexed gently over my wrist, or the way he trilled as though to lull me.

We crossed the expanse of the whaling station, and as we passed the ruined, collapsed mouth of the ice tunnel that had led me into this mess in the first place I couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down my spine as recollections crowded my memory. I forced them aside and instead chose to dwell on something more unpleasant: the purpose for my being here, and what Scar expected me to do. Was he taking me to meet his people? Dread at this thought made my knees weak, for while Scar was most certainly friendly I had my doubts that the rest of his race would be as much so.

My nervous contemplations halted as we came to the outskirts of the whaling station. Waiting for us there, tall silhouettes against a blanket of snow, were Scale and the other hunter I had yet to name. Scar let go of my arm as we approached, and as we joined the two they all began to communicate with each other in a mixture of their growling language and hand motions. I watched, feeling more and more anxious because Scale and the other hunter were also armed. When suddenly they all turned to look at me, I swallowed thickly, and as the unnamed hunter separated himself from his comrades to approach I began to panic.

He approached to within an inch of me –s what was it with the hunters and their preference for violating personal space? Craning my head back to meet the blank visor of his mask, I got the distinct impression that this was an introduction, and I was uneasily reminded of the late Celtic. I hadn't had the opportunity to study this predator up close and I had no choice but to notice now that he was both taller and broader in build than his two companions. If I thought Scar screamed dangerous, this one had deadly written all over him. His skin, what I could see of it, had a yellower cast to it than the other two, but it was still mottled. His hair was tied back with something, but a stray piece falling over his shoulder fell almost to his waist, beringed with metal. The metal faceplate he wore was similar to Celtic's, but less fearsome and more linear. A cannon rode over his shoulder, and along the length of his arms two massive, slightly curved blades rode secure against his skin; I imagined they worked on the same principal as a switchblade.

Quite suddenly I had a name for him – he looked about as fun to trifle with as a tank, and therefore that's what I would call him. My brief amusement at finding a suitable title faded, however, as he leaned and roared directly in my face. Granted, the effect would have been greater had his mask been removed, but it served the purpose it was meant to by intimidating me. Acutely aware of the fact that we were being closely observed by Scale and Scar, weary of having to prove myself yet again, I let my anger fill my voice as I raised my head defiantly and spoke.

"You are one ugly motherfu—"

Scar made an abrupt, loud, and somewhat rude snarl, drowning out the rest of my sentence. I had no idea if Tank understood what I had said, and as he stared down at me in silence I began to steel myself for the blow I knew was most likely coming. I was pleasantly surprised when he instead gripped my shoulder while with the other hand roughly touched the mark on my cheek. Stepping back then, he thumped himself once on the chest and gave a bark of what I perceived to be approval. I relaxed, for I was familiar enough by now with the gesture of mutual respect. As he moved back to his companions I followed closely behind, at ease enough now to try and discern from them what exactly I was doing here on the very last place in the world I wanted to be.

"Why am I here?" I asked Scar because he was the closest to me and the most familiar of the three. Although I hadn't expected an answer and was in fact asking merely to make myself feel better, I was annoyed when Scar ignored me and instead watched as Tank moved his fingers over his arm device and prompted what seemed to be holographic image of the area to appear. Fascinated despite myself, I peered closely at it and made a sound of interest as I recognized the small, digitized versions of the four of us. Abruptly the image vanished, and with a grunt Tank closed the device and began to walk. Scale trailed him, and Scar again grabbed my arm before continuing after his brethren. I was beginning to resent that he felt he had to haul me everywhere, and while I couldn't say I wouldn't have run, I didn't appreciated being lugged around like I was a wayward child. A few steps later I managed to wriggle free of his grip. He stopped and turned, but when I strode determinedly past him he gave a low rumble of amusement and followed.

We walked for a long while, and I became increasingly grateful of the fact that I was wearing suitable clothing. I wasn't warm, but I wasn't cold either, and none of my extremities were numb, so I took this as a blessing. Staring at the broad back of Scale, I wondered how the hunters countered the extreme temperature—perhaps the mesh that covered their bodies had something to do with it? I stumbled then, and a snort from Scar behind me made me bite my lip in irritation and focus more on walking. I was glad I didn't have to break the trail, for the snow by now had risen to my knees. Walking as I was behind Tank and Scale I had only to step in their large footsteps, but it was still tiring work.

I was in a full sweat by the time Tank held up a fist to signal a halt. As Scale moved I caught glimpse over his shoulder of the mountains of Bouvetoya. From the whaling station they had been visible, looming silhouettes in the perpetual night, but our journey had brought us to the rocky bluffs and hills that bordered them. Tank flipped open his arm device once again and began to study it. Scar moved up to stand beside me, and as he did so he caught my hand; he pressed something round and cold into my palm before curling my fingers around it with an almost inaudible growl. As I lifted it to eye level for closer inspection he strode to stand beside his companions. Curious, I opened my hand to find that I held a large metal band, nondescript. It took me a moment to realize it came from one of the strands of his hair.

I could only gaze it for long moments, wondering at the implications such a simple trinket held. I was both unnerved and touched by the gesture, and the fact that I was so torn deeply disturbed me. Knowing the metal ring was too large to fit on any of my fingers, I crouched and laid the elder's weapon across my knees before reaching back to undo the length of wire around my neck that the tooth was strung on. I slid the metal band onto the wire and refastened it, and as I stood again both tooth and ring rode against my collarbone.

When I looked up again I found Scale regarding me, head tilted, as Scar and Tank conversed in hand gestures. Wondering vaguely if I'd offended him somehow by making a necklace out of the metal band, I regarded him warily as he approached me, reaching behind him as he did so. What he produced had me flabbergasted; it was a shotgun—the same shotgun I'd used and subsequently lost on my previous adventures. I took it from him gingerly, amazed, but when I cracked the barrel I was somewhat dismayed to find only a few rounds left. That aside, I was honored that he'd actually deigned to secure another weapon for me, and so I mumbled a thank you and gave him what I hoped was a grateful smile. He nodded once, stepping back, and just then Tank gave a growl meant to catch our attention. He pointed with two fingers to the right, where Scar was standing a short distance away under a rocky overhang.

Moving closer, following the lead of Scale and Tank, I discovered the overhang was actually a very dark, very ominous opening into the rocky, snow blanketed hillside. The hunters, as one, began to prepare their weaponry. Scar and Tank's shoulder cannons activated themselves with the high pitched whine of machinery, Scale and Scar withdrew their spears, and Tank flicked one of his arm blades into an outright position with the flexing of a muscle. Watching them, noting the purposefulness with which they prepared themselves, a thought strayed out of the depths of my mind to make me suddenly numb.

This was a hunting party.

My gaze went from the predators to the shotgun and the spear I held in my hands. There was no way out of this, I was certain, and I dreaded whatever it was we were hunting. No amount of pleading would assist me in escaping what awaited, and so it was with grim resignation that I strung the elder's spear through a loop on the waist of my pants. It wasn't secure, and would bump against me as I moved, but I needed both hands for the gun. Shouldering the rifle, ensuring the safety was on, I found Scar watching me, and instead of screaming at him, instead of shooting him the way I was half-tempted to, I merely gave him a quick, grave nod.

He made a sound to Tank, who strode forth into the darkened opening without a backward glance. Scale followed after, and then it was only Scar and I outside in the stillness of the snowy landscape. He took the three steps he needed to be in front of me and touched a finger to the metal band he'd given me where it lay outside my clothing. A grumble of approval left him then, and he tipped my chin up with one finger before beckoning me to follow.

And so I did. Reluctant, confused, and growing steadily frightened, I followed him, this hunter, this predator, who for some reason regarded me as an equal, or perhaps even more. I followed him into that shadowy void, and though I dearly wanted to, I did not look back.

.x.