Nineteen

Luar'ka hadn't been expecting anything out of the ordinary as she rifled through the discarded and broken gear in the storeroom, some of it pieces she recognized from her stay there the year before. It seemed that Thwei'ja was something of a hoarder. He never seemed to know when something was too broken to fix. This thought solidified in her mind when she pulled out a gauntlet with its blades bent and warped so badly they dangled from their sockets. She knew she'd catch the wrath of Cetanu if he caught her in here sorting through the broken gear. So, she'd simply have to be stealthy about it.

She about jumped out of her skin when she heard the door slide open, expecting to see Thwei'ja leering down at her. She settled a bit when she recognized the Yautja standing before her, unmoving as the door shut behind him.

"Kar'kha." she said, "I was not expecting you."

He stepped inside, his eyes flitting around the room curiously as he took note of the new shelving arrangements in the dilapidated storeroom. He let out a low, purring rumble in his chest and ticked his mandibles together, "This is interesting. Did you do this?"

Luar'ka shook her head, "No, I came here to find it this way." she said, "Actually, I thought maybe you did it."

He shook his head slowly, his tendrils swaying behind him. Luar'ka noted that they were longer than they'd been the last time she saw him. She hadn't been able to see him very well during their brief reunion in the main hall of the Clan ship. Now that he was the only other focus in the room, she saw that he'd grown a little taller, as well as filled his muscular frame out a little more. His coloring had also brightened with vivid patterns and displays. His once blank reddish gold crest was now lined with elegant black and green markings in eye-catching patterns. He even had a few more rings and trinkets fused to his tendrils. She wasn't sure if maybe she was just not as observant as she thought she'd been back then, but now she saw that he appeared less like a young Yautja and more like the adult Hunter his brothers had both become.

Kar'kha stood in the center of the room, standing perfectly still and watching her. The hum of the engine reverberating beneath their feet was the only other sound to be heard as they cruised through the black void of space. Luar'ka just stared at him, trying to decide the best course of action for greeting her old teacher. Finally, she tapped her talons on the ground with a sigh, "I hope you will forgive me in advance." she said, making him tilt his head curiously.

Before he could truly prepare for it, she charged forward and leaped up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she started laughing. Startled at her actions, Kar'kha stumbled back slightly, grumbling softly at the back of his throat. This growl moved from his throat down into his chest as he relaxed, acknowledging this as just a very weird form of greeting she chose to use. If she'd been slower and given him time to brace himself, she'd never have gotten away with this. He turned his head to face hers, playfully ruffling her feathers with his mandibles. This made her start giggling madly and she quickly dropped down away from him, baring her teeth in that mock challenge he remembered so well. Then, her expression straightened and, in keeping with the customs of respect his kind adhered to, she lowered her head and bowed before him, keeping her eyes downward.

He knew he'd changed a little bit since their last true meeting before her training began. However, the changes she'd endured were staggering. Gone was the bizarre, fluffy material adorning her head that he'd grown used to. In its place grew long, stiff feathers like the kind found on flying creatures he'd seen both on N'-ithya and on other worlds, to say nothing of the tail she now sported growing from the base of her spine below her skull. She'd grown almost a foot in height and now reached the center of his chest. Her body was leaner, appeared stronger. Her arms sported small, developed muscles as a result of her tough training in the kehrite. Her wings had increased in size as well. He suspected that if she possessed the knowledge, she'd be well on her way toward flight. It seemed the tiny, frail youngling he'd stumbled across on that moonless night a full season ago had disappeared entirely, replaced by a confident, tiny warrior-in-training.

She watched as he eyed her up and down, examining her carefully. She was glad he didn't seem too miffed at her impromptu greeting. She spread her wings and bowed respectfully before him, "It is good to see you again, Kar'kha."

He nodded once in kind, ticking his tusks together, "Your speech has vastly improved, Luar'ka." he said admirably, "You have learned well."

"I have been taught well. I am looking forward to Hunting with you when the opportunity arises." she said confidently. He nodded affirmation, "The time will come," he told her, "Once our business with the Illmorein is complete, our course shall be set for N'-ithya. You will have the chance to prove your skills when that time comes."

He stepped forward and gave her shoulder a rough shake, his upper mandibles stretching aside in a grin.

He stayed with her for another hour, listening to her tales of her conquests in the kehrite against the Unbloods, sitting across from her on the floor and watching her carefully. He was particularly fascinated of the story of how she acquired her shoulder plates, which he openly admired. He listened with rapt attention to her stories, watching in amusement as her various fluid motions she unconsciously threw into her words seemed to carry the memories back into her present. One talent the Yautja all strove to perfect was the art of storytelling. Hunting was crucial, of course. Other skills learned by Blooded warriors who chose different Pathways carried their own challenges. But what was the point of performing your chosen Path well if you couldn't regale the glories of it to your brethren? The art of storytelling was one of their oldest customs they held onto, passing down their exploits, conquests, legends, and myths. Continued through the generations through word of mouth by Hunters, healers, artisans, metalworkers, leaders, females and their young, and even the eta. It was the one thing every caste of Yautja held in common; tales of great leaders and Hunters of the past, the creatures they faced, the horrors they overcame, the honors won for their Clans. Their memories were as vivid and lively as the times when they occurred. As Luar'ka integrated images of her own memories of the past season into Kar'kha's mind through her words and gestures, he couldn't help but swell a bit with pride at how much she'd learned in her time away from him. From what his brothers had told him, she was only becoming more adept in their ways. His admiration of her continued to grow and he had a feeling that in time, he would cease seeing her as anything other than a comrade. His only regret was being unable to see her growth during the past year. His own training still commenced and he had much yet to learn about the ways of a Hunter. He had much to learn yet in general. He faced opposition at every turn. He was learning to pilot a shuttle on his own at the moment and such a skill was necessary if he ever wished to Hunt alone. He'd also been successfully permitted to mate this previous season and had succeeded in convincing an older female to submit to him. However, Yautja females did not conceive easily and the window of opportunity closed quickly. Despite his efforts, he'd failed to impregnate the female who had chosen him before she became enraged at his mere presence, forcing him to flee for his own safety. Such setbacks were common, he knew, and sometimes they couldn't be helped.

It made him wonder what Luar'ka would make of her life once she passed the boundaries into adulthood.

She concluded her stories and moved to her small bundle of belongings sitting on her ragged sleeping mat in the corner. Kar'kha watched as she fished through her items, coming up with a few strips of dried and salted meat. She trotted back over and sat down beside him, handing him a strip of meat while grinning in that bizarre mock challenge. Again, her strange mannerism of sharing her food caught him off guard, but he placated her and took the proffered meat regardless. He watched her bite into it, her sharp little teeth struggling to rip a chunk free. He noticed she had quite a few more fangs than she had had previously. As he nibbled on his own piece, mostly out of boredom, he wondered just how many she'd develop.

Luar'ka bolted down her food in a hurry and then sat staring calmly playing with one of her new shoulder plates, watching the stars fly by out through the void. A whole season had passed since they'd met like this, but it hardly felt like a day had gone by. Kar'kha found himself realizing just how quickly time had passed.

They sat in comfortable silence and Kar'kha handed her the rest of the dried meat. The fact that he'd accepted and partially eaten it seemed enough for her and she took what was left, finishing it off quickly.

"This is so strange." she said softly. He trilled, cocking his head as he turned to stare at her. She absently tugged at one of her feathers, "I will soon return to the world of my birth. I wonder if I will feel at home there again, or if I will feel out of place."

He wasn't sure what she meant. He had no way to relate to what she said; his home was technically nowhere and everywhere at once. Anywhere there was game to Hunt, anywhere his brothers were, the Clan ship, or even the homeworld. He even felt at home in the void of space, entirely uninhabitable without the most advanced of their kind's technology, so ancient and yet so familiar to him. He had assumed Luar'ka felt the same way. If she was trying to feel 'at home' somewhere, whatever that entailed for her exactly, he assumed it would be the Clan ship, which they'd now left far behind them.

"I wonder if my mother and brother are still alive." she said, her tone hollow.

"They do not concern you." he said, causing her to look over at him, "You have chosen your Path, and now must walk it. The Paya have accepted you. You cannot turn away from them."

"I will never stray from their guidance." Luar'ka said sharply, as if offended that he'd suggest she might, "Am I not allowed to simply suppose?"

"It would be best to purge any thoughts from your mind that do not pertain to our task at hand." he said.

She didn't answer, staring off into space. Kar'kha clicked his tusks in thought. It suddenly occurred to him that he didn't remember her ever mentioning her family group before. He recalled the first time he'd ever seen her, sleeping alone in that small canyon. He'd found it strange even then for a youngling like herself to be out on her own. And during the time he silently pursued her, he never once saw or heard any others of her kind searching for her. The only other being besides the kainde amedha that she came into contact with was that older female ooman.

"You still have much left to learn, Luar'ka," he said, though he honestly felt like he was hardly one to talk, given how inexperienced he himself still was.

"Sshien n'hatzh so-skoit'ra mansso." she snapped. Kar'kha jolted in surprise to hear Hssinian coming from her so fluently. It was a language he was currently learning himself. While he wasn't entirely sure what she'd just said, what little he caught was hardly respectful. He snarled viciously at her, stalking toward her angrily. She jumped back, flaring her feathers and baring her teeth. Kar'kha decided to take his leave, then. He exited quickly, this time leaving the door unlocked. Luar'ka was no longer a trespasser in their midst; now she was a member of their crew. So long as Thwei'ja permitted it, she had free roam of the ship.

He calmed his irritation in his chambers by cleaning his most recent trophy, the skull of a bipedal bird he'd taken down on N'-ithya. He'd initially had mixed feelings about killing the thing considering how much it resembled his apprentice. He'd found it in a particularly hot, dry climate, barren of lush vegetation and only sparsely populated by humans. When he'd spotted it running at a distance, his first thought was that he'd stumbled across another Avian. It wasn't until he drew closer to it for the final blow that he realized it wasn't an Avian like his apprentice, but rather an ordinary species of N'-ithyan bird. It had taken eight shots from his sivk'va-tai to bring the fast-moving creature down and then a slash to its belly from his wrist blades to actually kill it. For such a delicate creature, he hadn't expected it to go down with so much difficulty. Seven of his shots had missed it completely.

Kar'kha slouched slightly in his chair with a rattling sigh, his tusks clicking together slowly as he stared at the wall. For the past season, he'd worked hard to concern himself with the Avian as little as possible while he trained and bettered himself for the Hunt. It wasn't until about a full moon cycle before now that he'd heard of Elder Sechinde mulling over the idea of releasing her from the kehrite. When he heard from Ikthya'de that Luar'ka had been cleared to return to them, Kar'kha hadn't been sure what to think. Granted, the situation could very well be temporary; he and his brothers remained a Hunting pack with Thwei'ja on the elder Yautja's insistence. Though he was aware that the three of them annoyed the older male to no end, Thwei'ja obviously saw the benefits to having such a diverse set of talents at his disposal. It was probable that the four of them would remain a Hunting pack for some time yet. He assumed with guarded caution that Luar'ka would now be considered a member of this pack. Thwei'ja was nearly five hundred years old. Yautja his age and with his prowess usually moved on to bigger and more important things than simply being a Hunt leader. However, he seemed oddly content in his station and appeared to enjoy the long excursions in the void of space. It was rather odd, actually; he never seemed to get worked up over the Hunts, only the journeys. Kar'kha wondered if Thwei'ja tolerated the Avian because of this; because she had shaken up the status quo in the life that he kept rather monotone of his own volition.

Whatever the reason, Kar'kha knew better than to ask or dwell on it for too long. He stood up, intending to head to the cockpit to take over his shift at the controls.

As he moved down the misty, humid hallways, he heard voices coming from the engine room to his left. It was a spacious chamber that housed the powerful engine driving the shuttle through the void, situated in the center of the oval room with two floors, the metal stairway the only way down. He stepped inside, pausing at the railing as he looked over. He was surprised to see Ikthya'de down there, looking up at at the many gauges and pressure sensors monitoring the engine's status. Kar'kha blinked in amazement when he saw Luar'ka clinging to the wall by her claws, reaching through a narrow crevice in the metal where the wiring for the sensors lay behind. Under his brother's apparent instruction, she felt around carefully for the correct junction of cables and tugged slightly, pulling a thick cord out of the wall with a quick shock of blue static and a mild gush of fluid as it came free. He heard Ikthya'de praise her efficiency and then direct her to another segment to do the same thing to another sensor. Clearly, Ikthya'de was replacing the old monitors with new ones and needed Luar'ka's narrow body for the more delicate work his larger form wasn't truly suited for. He knew what he was doing, but he was mostly self-taught. It was clear he felt comfortable explaining the gritty details to someone small enough to reach them and clearly proficient enough to learn them quickly, saving him precious time in the long run. A wise move on his part since Thwei'ja wasn't fond of others mucking around with the delicate innards of his ship, despite the clear need for maintenance.

Ikthya'de picked up on his brother's scent lingering nearby and turned abruptly. He nodded his greeting before facing the other way again, watching as Luar'ka pulled another set of cables free. Following this, she spread her wings and glided down to the floor, folding her wings back behind her again. Kar'kha had to admit, he was impressed at how her wings had grown since they'd met. They were at least double the size they'd been previously. She flared her feathers briefly at the sight of him and lashed her tail. Kar'kha made his way down to their position, growling shortly at his apprentice for her show of defiance. To his surprise, she growled right back, her feathers fluffing out in all directions as she bared her teeth at him. Seems she wasn't about to be bullied, no matter how mild it was. Kar'kha clicked his tusks together and glared at his brother not even bothering to hide the amused smirk in his eyes. Ikthya'de had his upper mandibles raised in a wide grin, clearly finding the insubordination from the Avian hilarious. Kar'kha was hardly surprised.

"Do not encourage her, Mei'hswei," he admonished, "She will only become more cantankerous."

"She is female; she will become cantankerous regardless." Ikthya'de said. Luar'ka started growling. Kar'kha sighed, shaking his head, "To business; what is our estimated time of arrival?" he asked.

"Why are you asking me? I simply care for the engine and our armor." Ikthya'de said tartly.

"You are certainly in a good mood." Kar'kha grumbled, irritated at his brother's quirky mannerisms. They were slightly worse today than usual. He wondered if his brother was just keyed up for the journey and the possible Hunt for the kainde amedha, or maybe his supply of fruit snacks had dried up,or maybe it was because Luar'ka was back.

Kar'kha extended his tusks in an irritated snarl and Ikthya'de clicked his own tusks rapidly in amusement; oh yes, his mood was dangerously good today.

"We are expected on Illmianyar within two more rotations, give or take." he said mirthfully, "Gyun'r Mei'jadhi, go and assist Kar'kha with his needs."

"What needs are those?"

"Gathering the scattered pieces of his sanity, I expect."

Luar'ka started laughing, which was quickly echoed by Ikthya'de's amused trilling and clicking. Kar'kha resisted the urge to snarl again. It couldn't be helped that the two of them got along so well, even if their shared humor was at his expense. It was particularly ironic when Kar'kha remembered that Ikthya'de had been one of the loudest opinions against her arrival in the first place.

They left his brother to finish his repairs. Luar'ka trailed behind Kar'kha easily, her tiny clawed feet barely making any noise as she moved. Kar'kha intended to take up his shift in the cockpit, monitoring their progress toward their destination. And since Luar'ka had been shoved back on him now, he figured he might as well teach her how the controls worked.

Thwei'ja was in the cockpit, slouched in the command chair and looking very bored. Kar'kha didn't suppose he blamed him. Between launch and touchdown, sprinkled with the occasional run-in with the odd space debris, journeys to Hunting locations were fairly uneventful. Even though Kar'kha suspected Thwei'ja secretly enjoyed the extended downtime, he figured even their irritable leader had his breaking points.

Thwei'ja flared his tusks aggressively when he heard their approach, turning and glowering viciously at them with his mandibles still spread. Kar'kha checked his composure inwardly; Thwei'ja's breaking point had officially broken. Or at least it was close to it. He was even baring his teeth at them. For whatever reason, he was steamed almost beyond logic. Or maybe they'd just startled him, as he suddenly calmed, closing his mouth and folding his tusks back over his face, clacking them together once in the process. He stood up fully, exhibiting his impressive height of almost nine feet, signifying his advanced age. Though growth gradually slowed over time, it never halted for the Yautja. Kar'kha had endured several spontaneous and often painful growth spurts over the past several seasons, resulting in the modestly average near seven foot height he currently boasted. Given that his brothers were slightly shorter than he was, it was safe to assume their sudden growth was soon to happen and they'd probably pass him.

Thwei'ja was in a league of his own with both his power and the abnormal amount of scars he carried, even for a Yautja of his age. Nearly five hundred years old, Thwei'ja had certainly seen more than his fair share of fights. His deep red hide was riddled with so many scars that they interfered with his natural skin patterns. He might have sported dark stripes in his youth, but it was honestly hard to tell these days.

Kar'kha steeled himself as he faced his leader, lowering his head submissively to placate him. Thwei'ja grappled for some composure and let out a deep, rattling sigh that morphed into a low croon as he turned away toward the screen. His long tendrils swung idly behind him as he pulled up their coordinates, his rumbling continuing, "What is it?" he muttered.

"I am here to relieve you." Kar'kha replied.

"And the Endling?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder and shooting her a poisonous glare. Luar'ka didn't budge, meeting his glare head on. This caused the spines lining his forehead to stiffen, making her immediately lower her gaze. He settled again.

"I am going to resume her training." Kar'kha said cryptically, "I will teach her to handle the controls."

Thwei'ja drummed his claws on the armrest of the chair, his tusks tapping unconsciously as he stared mostly unseeing at the coordinates. He sighed heavily, standing slowly, "Wait until we have touched down," he said, "I do not want to risk any mistakes while we are on route."

Kar'kha nodded, "Sei-i." he replied. He stood motionless as his leader slowly made his way out of the cockpit, moving deceptively slowly. Luar'ka stepped quickly out of his way as he passed her and he glowered down at her viciously, the continuous rumble in his chest deepening into a growl. He stalked out, the door closing behind him. Kar'kha sighed heavily and sat down at the controls. Luar'ka took a seat in the other chair a short ways away from him, monitoring the view field showing the immediate vicinity around the shuttle. She ruffled her wings and glanced over at her comrade as he sat quietly, his mandibles moving every now and again. Again, she felt small and immature in comparison to him. He was a young Yautja, yes, but he was also already quite accomplished as a Hunter and warrior. The whole small group shared this status. Luar'ka knew how fortunate she was to have been discovered by them instead of some other group of roving Yautja.

"Are you prepared for your role in this assignment?" he asked out of the blue.

"What? You mean as Communicator?" she asked, "I suppose I am. Or if I am not, I will be soon. Sechinde made it seem as though I had little choice in the matter."

"You have no choice," he reiterated, "You will serve as translator for us. This should cut our time spent with the Illmorein in half. Prepare yourself; this may not be the last time you will be called upon for this duty."

He gave her time to think on that. For the past season, Luar'ka had lived under the strict control and rules of the Yautja, never straying far from their guidelines laid down for her. Kar'kha knew her pathways were very limited. However, Sechinde seemed to have decided to open up a potential path for her to walk, having noticed her unique affinity for languages. It was common knowledge among certain Yautja that aerial species such as birds from N'-ithya and a few other avian creatures on familiar Hunting worlds displayed a curious ability to mimic the languages they came across. In the trading sector of the ship, he'd often come across trader Yautja from other allied Clans bartering goods, food, and weapons, as well as some animal species acquired from Hunting worlds all over the galaxy. He'd come across aerial species more than once that displayed lingual capabilities, sometimes even picking up Yautjan chatter around them. But with Luar'ka's species, it seemed this went beyond simple mimicry, extending into full on understanding and comprehension, as well as a penchant for fast learning. It was also clear she was able to use her knowledge to effectively communicate with those around her, a simplistic but highly useful skill to have. He could understand why Sechinde had decided to place her in this position. The Yautjan translators were effective, but they weren't infallible and inflections were lost completely through usage of them. With Yautjan, inflection meant next to nothing since tone was more useful when applied correctly to their vocabulary. But many other languages, such as the Illmorein tongue, required inflection to understand certain meanings.

"I hope I can live up to his expectations." she said worriedly.

"He has no expectations. You are to perform well or you will be removed from the position and placed within the eta, most likely."

He resisted the urge to smirk in amusement when her feathers fluffed up around her head in alarm before settling down as she exhaled. He neglected to mention that she'd have to fail rather spectacularly in order to be degraded that far in their society in such a short amount of time, especially considering this was literally her first assignment, but he figured a little healthy fear motivation never hurt. She groaned, her wings sagging, "That would be rather tragic," she whined.

"Then do not fail."

"Easy for you to say." she grumbled.

"Be silent." he snapped. She chattered irritably at him, but did as she was told and resumed watching the monitor. He hadn't taught her how to do this task; it was straight forward enough to figure out. It showed their pathway through the spacial coordinates programmed into the computer and then revealed an in-depth map of every spacial body in the immediate vicinity around the shuttle. If something was drawing too close, Luar'ka was to alert him and he would alter their trajectory to avoid collisions. Normally, the automatic navigator handled this task, but he wanted to see that she was trained sufficiently until they landed, when he could begin to familiarize her with the controls.

The comforting hum of the engine, the settling silence of the cockpit, the stars whizzing past through the portal shields before him; Kar'kha hadn't realized how much he'd missed this. For all of the chaotic Hunts, exhilarating fights, and honorable challenges he was growing to thrive on more and more, he found he rather enjoyed these idle, peaceful moments now and again. With time left alone to stew in his thoughts, he found leftover periods of contemplation allowed to him during these times. Often, the subject of his 'apprentice' came into his head and he cast a furtive glance toward her where she sat still staring dead-eyed at the monitor. He'd begun to come to terms with the fact that Luar'ka was hardly his apprentice, more like their apprentice. His brothers had done more for her sculpting and training than he'd been able to. Pauk, he was still a training youngster himself. What in the name of the Paya had been going through his head that night he found her, thinking he could train a suckling like her sufficiently? Even the Elders who took fully grown sentient beings as apprentices on a whim struggled to train them. Many didn't survive. He'd taken a youngling, practically a newborn, and one from a virtually unknown species no less.

However, he thought as his mandibles twitched ponderously, she certainly wasn't drowning under their harsh regime; in fact, she seemed to be thriving. She was still so small, but already such a handful. He couldn't suppress the pride he felt at her progress, but he knew he had to rein it in. Nothing good ever came from over-indulging younglings on their accomplishments. It made the scarce praise all the more sought after and all the more rewarding. Most young Yautja trained under skilled and experienced mentors used to molding clumsy, uncoordinated, naïve youngsters into hardened warriors. Kar'kha and his brothers had trained under their sire on Me'vi-te's insistence on the matter. The old Arbitrator was brutally harsh and had only ever praised his offspring's accomplishments four times. But Kar'kha remembered each time well and had used those four compliments to enhance his strength of will. Assuming she could handle it, Kar'kha considered using these same techniques on Luar'ka. Once they finished their business on Illmianyar and proceeded to N'-ithya, he planned to take her on her first true Hunt. It was time to see what she could do.

He chuffed loudly, causing her to look over at him from the monitor. She stared at him a moment before ruffling her feathers and resuming her post. He was muttering unintelligible gibberish to himself, probably lost in thought. Luar'ka couldn't make out any actual words, but she could tell from the faint tapping of his tusks and the occasional soft snarl that left him that he was restless and most likely bored. He hated watching the controls. She was tempted to rile him up a bit, if only to give him something to do. Instead, a question popped up in her mind that she'd been meaning to ask one of them anyway. She raised her head, looking over at him as he fidgeted his mandibles irritably.

"Kar'kha." she said, making him turn his head slightly. A low rumble echoed from deep within his chest as he regarded her silently. She continued, "Thwei'ja refuses to call me by my name; instead he calls me 'Endling'. He says it is what I am. What does it mean?"

Kar'kha exhaled softly, slouching slightly in the chair as though fatigued, "It is exactly as it sounds," he said simply, "We believe you are the last of your kind. Thus, you are an Endling, 'The Last'."

"Am I truly the last?" she asked softly.

"Quite possibly. I was fortunate to stumble across you. Be grateful, Luar'ka; your status as an Endling saved you from me."

He heard the rustling as her feathers flared, "What?" she exclaimed.

"I wished—and to some extent, still do—to claim your skull as a trophy. However, I had no information regarding your kind in my database. And it is forbidden to Hunt creatures close to extinction."

Luar'ka sighed, "That makes sense, I suppose. You cannot Hunt it if you wipe it from existence. But it is also discouraged to Hunt youngsters and I was certainly no adult."

"You fought well enough to earn my interest." he said flatly.

"Until you pinned me against a tree." she grumbled distastefully.

"You backed yourself into that corner."

"You pushed me there!"

He turned and snarled darkly at her, his lower mandibles jutting out angrily. He'd had enough of the conversation, telling her as much with his head bowed and his back arched. Luar'ka wisely chose to stay silent. Considering his size compared to hers, it was a petty victory and Kar'kha didn't dwell on it. Instead, he set the ship to automatic navigator and reached over, grabbing her arm and dragging her out of her seat. He set her on her feet beside him and turned in the chair to face her while she stared at him in plain confusion.

"Thwei'ja will eventually understand you are a bit more trustworthy than hot-tempered youngbloods." he told her firmly.

"You are going to defy Thwei'ja?" she exclaimed, "Kar'kha, do you not enjoy living anymore?"

He gave her a sharp whack that knocked the wind out of her and set her keeling forward. She straightened back up with a snarl at him before settling, watching as he relayed the controls to her. He did see Thwei'ja's point about not letting her actually practice while en route to Illmianyar, since the shuttles were at times rather difficult to manage. Most youngbloods didn't get a chance to handle them until their chiva, when the shuttles they piloted to their chosen worlds were almost eighty per cent automated. The young Yautja only had to worry about keeping track of the pressurized atmosphere within the cockpit and activate the landing function. If they became Blooded warriors, they would ascend to shuttle control as the next step in their training.

Luar'ka paid rapt attention to his instructions. It was unclear how much she understood, but the important part was that she was at least absorbing the information. He planned on letting her test the controls once they'd landed and she'd completed her duties.

He shoved her back into the other chair when his sensitive hearing caught the sound of footsteps approaching the cockpit. Luar'ka didn't protest and immediately glued her eyes back on the screen, watching for obstacles. Thwei'ja stalked back in, eying them both sternly. He looked around and went to the other side of the cockpit, grabbing a box of tools from beneath the console. As he moved back and headed toward the door, he paused behind Kar'kha's chair, "I do not mind the defiance so much as I mind the deceit." he growled irritably. It took everything in Kar'kha's power to stay perfectly stock still while Thwei'ja left the cockpit as silently as he came in. Once he was out of earshot, he whirled to Luar'ka, her body shaking as she struggled not to laugh. He snarled and lashed out to grab her, but she was prepared this time and tore out of the chair, hightailing it out of the cockpit while Kar'kha roared his displeasure after her.

Luar'ka sought shelter from her brother's wrath in the storeroom. She crawled onto her sleeping mat and folded her legs beneath her, tucking her wings against her sides and folding her arms beneath her chest as she gazed out through the wide portal. She was still giggling mildly over that whole incident and knew Kar'kha was humiliated enough to stay angry for days. She smiled as she yawned and rested her head on the soft pelt of the mat. It was probably in her best interests to avoid him for a while, it seemed.

A/N: Newest update, but I don't dare write for long after watching The Goonies. Knowing me, it'll infect my writing. I love that movie, but it's as far from Predator as is possibly conceivable, lol. Enjoy!