[Author's note: Thanks for the support to those who gave reviews, it helps knowing I'm not doing something terribly wrong :). Anyhow, apologies for taking so long in getting another chapter in, in my defence, the last semester of university has been the worst and most work-filled I have ever had. Seriously, if work could kill you, I would have been killed, zombified then re-killed from that! :S At any rate, thanks for reading and please review so I know what I'm doing right or wrong :).]

Chapter 1:

Growth

The rainforest floor yielded many a reward for hungry animals passing by. The sweetest fruits dropped to the floor attracted all manner of beast to seek the delicious meal.

From behind a wall of bushes, eyes watched the animals moving on the forest floor. Many a beast as there may have been, only one creature tempted these eyes.

A large beast which stood on all four of its legs feasted on the fallen fruit. Though it was not a carnivorous predator, it was clear this creature had evolved to defend itself against any enemy that it faced. Four large horns protruded from its skull, two facing forward for ramming, and the other two pointing outwards with razor sharp edges for slicing. Its hide was thick, its bones strong, and its will to live was fierce.

From behind the bushes, the eyes noted scars on the dark grey hide and small chips in the yellow-white horns – a battle-hardened creature indeed. The beast was of a greater size than the rest of its kind, meaning that before the unseen eyes lay an aggressive alpha male.

The animal paused and swayed its small ears about attentively as the rumbling of leaves sounded for a split second before fading. The eyes behind the bush shot a glance to the left, then to the right. The hunter's pack-members were ready, and so was it.

The hunter waited a moment, watching the beast as it returned to its feast. The great animal moved slowly closer to the hunter, eating the forest's boon as it moved.

Nearly. Thought the hunter. Just a few steps closer.

The beast slowly paced forward, its head down as it ate.

A hand fell upon the hunter's shoulder and so it craned its neck to look up at its elder. The elder gave the hunter a nod and blew a whistle which sounded like a faint bird call.

Now.

The hunter sprang forth from the bushes, its four fellow unblooded warriors darting to action from other parts of the dense bushes thus that the beast was surrounded with hunters closing in from all sides. Flecks of sun glinted off their masks as they ran. All the animals on the forest floor fled for their lives. All but one.

The hunter charged the beast head on, his spear in-hand. The beast's size dawned upon the warrior as he charged, for it stood taller than him even when on all-fours. Though it dwarfed the unblooded hunter, he charged on. Just as his spear was almost upon it, the beast reared up, kicking its legs about. A heavy foot connected with the hunter's shoulder, sending him flying back, his spear falling from his hands. He lay winded upon the moist floor, watching his fellow warriors attack the beast. Their spears seemed to do naught but graze the surface of the beast's flesh. Its hide was too thick. It flailed its head around, slicing the arm of one of the warriors, spilling some droplets of bright green blood on the floor. It agressively reared up again. The hunter still lay on the ground with wind slowly returning to his lungs. It was then he noticed a soft patch of flesh on the underside of the brute. The hunter knew that its heart lay just above the soft, vulnerable patch and that this was the pack's only hope of victory.

The beast turned its back to the fallen hunter, focusing its attention on his fellow unblooded warriors. It struck at them, charging and slashing the blade-like horns on its head about. The hunter watched as one of his pack was knocked to the ground, a wound on his pack mate's chest sending blood trickling forth. The other warriors were cut off from the hunter's fallen comrade. They tried desperately to grab its attention, stabbing at it and making loud noises while waving their hands about. The brute cared not for the other members, it wanted to put an end to the pack, one member at a time, focusing on the most vulnerable member first – just as years of defence and battle had taught it.

The hunter knew that he needed to help his fallen pack member before it was too late. The beast continued to move forward, preparing to end the life of the warrior who could do naught but scramble backwards upon the ground. The hunter summoned all his strength, rolling onto his belly and pushed himself up, slowly returning to his feet. He bent down and picked up his fallen spear, and then giving off a battle cry, he charged. The beast raised a lumbering foot, preparing to bring it crashing down on the fallen warriors head.

Onwards the hunter ran, his body slicing through the air with speed that could only be summoned from such a crisis that faced him. The beast's ear twitched as it heard his thundering footsteps. It turned its head in time to see him leaping through the air, his spear raised high. He crashed into the hulking beast with such force that even it, with all its weight, stumbled from the collision. Though the spear did little against the tough skin of the beast, the act gave the hunter's fellow warriors enough time to grab the fallen unblooded one and drag him from danger.

The hunter stood, facing the beast head on, his spear tipped in its blood. It grunted and fixing its orange eyes on the hunter, it gave off a loud bellow. Its legs sprang to life, charging the hunter. He followed suit, running on a head-on collision course with the creature. When its piercing horns were ten paces before him, he dived feet first thus that he slid upon his back. The creature did not know what to do against such a move, and so it kept on running in the hopes of trampling his body. He continued to slide upon the slippery, leaf and moss covered ground. The soft patch of flesh was in sight. He knew this was his chance to finish the beast here and now. He readied himself and just when the beast was almost upon him, he thrust the spear in the direction of its vulnerable underside. The spear seemed to glide towards its target, its piercing tip moving ever closer to victory or to ruin. All was a blur to the hunter as the hulking mass passed over him. He felt the impact of his spear making contact as it was torn from his grip, the beast's feet narrowly missing his body as it passed him.

He looked back at the creature. The spear was protruding from its chest, blood dripping gracefully down the shaft. The spear had failed to hit any vital organs. The beast simply placed a foot on the shaft and walking backwards, it slowly dragged the weapon from its body, grunting and roaring as it did so. It gave off a roar which thundered through the hollows of the forest, sending birds fleeing from the tree tops. The beast was now frenzied with a desire to do nothing but destroy the hunter who had wounded it. Its eyes glowed with a foreboding terror, the orange within them now glazed with furious hatred.

The hunter's fellow warriors returned to the fight, stabbing and slashing with their spears, but the beast cared not for them, only for its new nemesis. As a warrior got too close, the beast tossed its head to the side, knocking the warrior to the ground with tremendous force.

It ran lumbered towards the hunter once again, but this time the hunter had no weapon with which to defend himself. Seeing the peril that the hunter was in, one of his fellow warriors ran to his aid, tossing him a sword and standing side by side with him, the fighters spear in an attack-ready position. The creature brought its pace to a run, its eyes burning with the need for destruction. Saliva dribbled from its mouth, falling backwards in thin strands as the beast ran. Its body was but a few paces from the two warriors. At the last minute, the warrior brandishing the spear made a thrust towards the beast's eyes, causing it to rear up on its hind legs. The hunter took this opportunity. He knew this was it. He had one chance. One shot at victory or death would be his. He ran towards the beast at full speed. The beast prepared to bring its front feet thundering down on his vulnerable body. It tossed its head forward, preparing to send all of its weight crashing down. Time itself seemed to slow as his sword cut a path through the air as he drove it towards the beast. With a wail of pain, the sword slid into the gargantuan's chest, spilling blood across the hunter's hands. The blade had struck the beasts heart. As it roared, the warrior holding the spear drove his weapon into the roof of its mouth, piercing its brain and killing it instantly.

From the bushes an elder appeared, his mask painted with the scars of former battles. The hunter drew his sword from the beast's chest and stood before the elder. "Qui'aleen," he said with a bow. "The beast is slain."

Qui'aleen gave the warrior a nod. "You have all done well. Stand proud knowing what you have achieved this day. With every kill, you all grow closer to readiness for your Kainde Amedha Chiva."

The warriors raised their weapons in the air and gave a cheer before setting to work on claiming the fallen beast's skull. As the hunter whose hand still clasped the sword turned to help his comrades, a hand fell upon his shoulder. He looked up at Qui'aleen who spoke in a voice soft enough that the others could not hear. "You make me proud, Tygrhen. Though you were not born a Yautja, through your determination you are more than worthy of the title."

Tygrhen gave a bow of gratitude to the clan leader before returning to the task of salvaging the fresh corpse. The clan leader's words warmed his heart as he approached his brothers. Though he had been in existence for but ten years, they had not been easy. Though he had been acknowledged as a member of the clan by Qui'aleen, not all had accepted a human as worthy of standing by their side as part of their tribe. He would often see them staring at him through the corners of his eyes, and hear them whispering comments about the "Pyode Amedha". Many of the unblooded warriors who were around his age did not look kindly upon him. Even those with whom he hunted the beast whose corpse he approached often reluctantly stood by his side on a hunt. One member of the clan in particular had taken a savage disliking to him.

He stood at the now severed head of the beast and offered his help to the unblooded ones. The warrior who had given his sword to Tygrhen before standing by his side against the beast now crouched with the creature's head before him. He shot a bitter glance at Tygrhen before coldly saying, "Not from you."

"As you wish, Kraezak," replied Tygrhen coolly. He was used to the pure hatred from this clan member, and chose not to let it give pause to his thoughts any longer. He simply chose to limit the amount of time he had to stand in Kraezak's presence.

Kraezak returned to peeling the flesh from the beast's skull with his laser cutter. "You can assist us you wish," offered Vey'lek, a fellow unblooded hunter.

Tygrhen nodded in appreciation and moved to assist his clanmate. Vey'lek and his brother, Tor'wick, had never judged Tygrhen negatively. To them, he was simply another Yautja – albeit one with a strange mouth and odd blue eyes and not to mention hair which would not meld in the same fashion as Yautja hair. They cared not for these superficial flaws though. "Tygrhen," said Tor'wick, still holding the fresh wound on his chest. "My thanks to you for helping me when I was down."

Tygrhen gave the unblooded one a nod. "Any time, my brother."

Qui'aleen watched on as the young pack worked. His mind wandered back to the night he returned to his home planet, the human babe cradled in his arms. Being the clan leader, he had a life mate who served as the clan's matriarch. As he returned to his clan's camp with the baby, opinions were divided. Some thought the decision was a poor one, though others respected him for abiding to Yautja honour.

The matriarch, Maevrithia, had argued at length with Qui'aleen in private. Her objection to the matter was further enhanced by the couple's newly born son, Kraezak. She did not want any rivalry between her son and the human. Qui'aleen had given Maevrithia the human baby to hold. He told her that if she wanted it to disappear, she had only to walk outside and desert it in the wilderness herself. She had looked down at the baby now cradled in her arms and stared deep into its eyes. She gently brushed a finger along the cut over the babe's eye, to which it responded by outstretching a hand and grappling onto her finger. She could not bring herself to let the baby die, and so yielded to Qui'aleen's desire to raise the child.

Knowing no other means of feeding the baby, she fed it as she did her own son – with her own milk. Qui'aleen had encountered humans on many occasions and had even studied them for a time and therefore knew their limits. However, as he saw the boy grow, he noticed the child's strength, speed and overall effectiveness grow beyond that of most humans – even those in their prime. As the boy grew, so too did his abilities. Qui'aleen attributed it to the feeding of Yautja milk at such a young and malleable age. It was a pleasant surprise for him nevertheless. He believed that Tygrhen needed to know of his people, and so he tasked himself with teaching the boy the human's primary language. Tygrhen would occasionally grow frustrated with the learning of what he deemed to be useless information, but Qui'aleen taught him nonetheless.

While the child grew, so too did the hatred that Kraezak felt towards him. Qui'aleen oftentimes found himself playing the guardian making sure that the two did not break out in an impetuous duel to the death. He feared what would happen upon his passing from the mortal world, for he knew that of the Yautja in his clan, it was these two that would grow to be the strongest. It was their rivalry which made their strength grow, as each constantly wanted to best the other in the eyes of their clansmen. And so they would push themselves to their limits and beyond, enduring what few their age would subject themselves to. Though their hatred for one another burned ever strong, when faced with enemies beyond their strength alone they laid pause to their dispute while the foe was overcome.

Qui'aleen broke free of his reminiscing as two blooded Yautja of his clan appeared. They approached the felled beast and after congratulating the young warriors, assisted in binding the corpse to the central length of wood. They helped the unblooded hunters in carrying the great beast's body back to the camp thus that the clan could feast upon its juicy flesh.

The company marched triumphantly into the campsite, their boon carried with great effort. Other members of the clan moved in to take the body, leaving the young ones to massage their sore shoulders and stretch their backs. Though Maevrithia had once looked poorly on Tygrhen, her pride and affection towards him grew as he did until she simply saw him as another son. She saw red blood smeared across Tygrhen's arms. Were it any other clan member it would be easy to see that the blood did not belong to them. She hurriedly approached the boy and stood before him as her eyes scanned him for wounds. "The blood is not mine. I was kicked on the chest but my armour saved my body from any serious harm."

She nodded in relief and took his mask off before doing the same for Kraezak.

Night fell, and when it did, life flooded the camp. Fires danced under slabs of the cooked beast while music filled the air.

Tygrhen sat on a log by the fire, eating the tender flesh of his kill. He found himself looking up at the night sky. Qui'aleen noticed the boy staring at the stars. He watched as Tygrhen stroked his hand over the scar that covered his right eye and the clan leader knew instantly what the boy was thinking. He moved through the lively mass, taking a seat next to Tygrhen. He looked at the boy and simply said, "Soon, my child. Soon."

Tygrhen nodded and went back to his meal. He knew that he had numerous years left before he would be allowed to undertake the trials. He would train until he was beyond ready, for when he completed the trials, he would hunt down and destroy the traitor who shamed not only him, but the entire clan. He listened in when members of other clans were around. From the news he heard, it seemed that the traitor Vae'zan had become most adept at slaying his own kind. Tygrhen was determined though. He would slay Vae'zan or die trying.

He looked to the stars once more, knowing that Vae'zan was out there, but in the shadows of space something far more sinister lurked. It lay in the maw of darkness with greedy eyes set on wreaking utter destruction. It lusted for blood and desired conquest. And in the shadows it waited like a spider in a web, preparing to strike.