Hello again my friends! Long time, no update? I was on a 14 hour flight and decided to try my hand at another chapter. This story always pulls me back somehow. I can happily say we have the plot rolling. Tons of Gur'rung x Camilla interaction in the forthcoming chapters.
I was looking at my timeline for this story and I only see ten more chapters left in this narrative. Hopefully, I can crank out another chapter on my 14 hour flight back home!
I'm indebted to every single person who reads, reviews, favorites, and follows my story. Even you anonymous readers are wonderful!
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The screams were so deafening that they could be heard above the roar of monsoon rain hitting the ground. The violent staccato of the rain was soft music compared to the shrill cries of humans as they took their final breaths. Camilla could not tell the difference between the sky and the ground. The world was a topsy-turvy nightmare, and they were doing their best to survive.
"CAMILLA, WE HAVE TO KEEP MOVING. CAMILLA!"
Her father, mouth-agog in fear, pulled her forward by her hand with strength she didn't even know he possessed. Were her feet even touching the ground? She felt weightless as they moved through the trees. Her father the university professor, her shining beacon, was reduced to stumbling in the darkness; an animal stubborn to live. Everyone had scattered when the first wave of chaos had descended upon the foot of the mountains. They weren't even supposed to be here. The sudden rains had delayed their return to their lodgings. It was almost as if this had been planned. That they had been purposefully left exposed in the wilderness with civilization miles away.
There were gunshots ringing out now throughout the forest around them. Her father's pace quickened. Her fingers were growing numb from his vice-like grip. Wherever he was going, she was going too.
"ADAM! ADAM! HOLY SHIT, I FOUND YOU. THOSE THINGS ARE EVERYWHERE – THEY'VE TAKEN OUT EVERYONE!"
One of the American field guides in charge of leading the study appeared before them. He was a bulky man; muscled shoulders and thick calves. He was carrying a shotgun; waving it around like a madman. His eyes were bulging in panic. Camilla felt relieved. There was strength in numbers; three was far better than two.
A piercing hiss echoed around them. They had been discovered. The field guide aimed for their unknown enemy firing in warning. Camilla closed her eyes as she felt the earth shudder. A thunderous blast was returned in response. Suddenly, her father's hand was gone. He had let go. When she opened her eyes, she saw him standing next to the field guide's limp body. Her father turned to give her one final look –his blue eyes were hidden behind those wire spectacles.
"RUN. CAMILLA, RUN!"
At her father's command, she was through the trees. There was no way to know where she was going, or how she would outrun whatever was after them. The adrenaline in her body was dwindling, but her legs were still moving. There was a clearing ahead. The rain had died down and her legs slowed to a stop.
In the clearing it stood, tall and erect like the statues of the gods they had seen at the temple that day. Was this the monster they had run from? The monster that had destroyed their lives?
Lightening filled the sky, a sudden spotlight dousing everything in white light. Camilla saw the monster's profile; tendril like hair atop a high forehead, mandibles with sharps tusks, and a body that could easily kill a hundred men. It was foreign, alien. The monster stood before a dead body. But, it was not the body of a human. Bright green oozed from the lifeless corpse mixing with the mud and brush on the forest floor. The monster bent over the body with a long knife and in one fail swoop severed the head of its victim from its body. When the creature held up the decapitated head, Camilla observed that the head was that of another monster.
An involuntarily gasped escaped her throat before she could stop it. In an instant, the beast had spotted her dropping the head of the fallen onto the ground. A foreign gun was raised and she felt a red light cover her face. This was it. This was how she was going to die.
A branch snapped under her assault. She was using her combat stick like a lumber axe, chopping wildly at the defenseless vegetation. The trees were not A'chide, nor were they Gur'rung, they did not fight back when she attacked. This wasn't a training session, her strikes were not meant to improve her fighting. They were meant to channel her aggression, to combat the ache Camilla felt in her heart.
Last night's dream had been too much. It had revealed too much about that night many years ago. There had been Yautja present at the massacre of her father's expedition team. She had figured as much throughout the years that the incident in India had something to do with the Yautja race. How else had she come into A'chide's ownership?
The memory's confirmation of that theory did not sit well on her stomach. Camilla had awakened to find herself feeling suffocated by her mask and the suit she wore. It was too much; all of it clung to her skin and made her feel like she could not escape. The others had still been sleeping when she had left for the training field. Nobody bothered much with her anyway now that A'chide was gone with the chiva party. She was free to do as she wished. Two days had passed since they had left. What had turned into an overnight adventure had stretched out into a multiple night expedition. From what she had overheard, the hunting conditions were far too good to pass up and A'chide had ordered the chiva's extension.
Camilla needed to see A'chide. There were so many questions to ask him about her dream if what she imagined while she slept held any truth. The image of that Yautja in the clearing severing a fallen brethren's head troubled her. No death ritual, that she was aware of, involved decapitation of the deceased. Usually the deceased, depending on how they died, were displayed in their home with their trophies and possessions for all to see then entombed in a vault within their clan's capital.
Hurling her combat stick at the tree once more, she was pleased when another thicker limb fell to the ground. Her arms and shoulders ached, but her agitation was momentarily sated. Resting on a nearby flat rock, the woman allowed herself a respite from destroying this particular tree. She removed her mask to chomp down on a piece of jerky. The young woman flopped down onto her back soaking in the rays of sunshine that broke through the uniform gray sky. The woman remained in her relaxed position savoring the unusual quiet of the day.
All of a sudden, there was shouting in the direction of camp. Her muscles tensed as she raised herself up to listen more carefully. From this distance, she could not understand what the shouting was about. It reminded her of the dream from last night, but it was foolish to allow her nightmare to cloud her judgement. The chiva party had probably returned which meant A'chide had returned.
Eagerly, the young woman grabbed her combat stick and hopped down from the rock breaking into a jog back to the Yautja camp.
As she broke through into the camp, she was expecting to find A'chide and Gur'rung with the unblooded that had left. Instead, everything seemed to be in an uproar. There were Yautja everywhere; scrambling around the site in fashion she had never witnessed before. Some of the ublooded that had left for the chiva were present, but she had yet to spot her master. There were nervous tittering and rough growls emanating from those present. Camilla felt a nervous chill run up her spine.
Moving forward, she pushed past warriors and medics, seeking out someone who she could talk to. In the center of the fray, her heart soared when she saw Gur'rung. He was not A'chide, but the second-in-command would have answers. Sensing her approach, the Yautja turned his head to appraise her signaling for her to wait. He was in conference with the other warriors, "…we have orders to kill onsite. They have sequestered our leader under the mountain where they have moved their camp."
Our leader - A'chide!
Camilla whipped her head around illogically praying to find A'chide safely present in the camp. There was so much going on, perhaps he was off somewhere tending to more important matters. Gur'rung could be referring to another leader, someone who was not A'chide.
A heavy hand on her shoulder brought her back into focus. The warriors had broken apart to fulfill whatever orders Yautja had given them. Roughly, she brushed off Gur'rung's grip. In a frustrated tone, she demanded, "What happened? Where is A'chide, what is all this?"
She motioned to the bedlam for emphasis. Her tone was challenging causing the second-in-command to bristle.
"Go to your pallet, pet. Get your things together; you will be departing to the ships with the first group."
Anger was boiling and threatening to burst from within. Camilla felt like hitting Gur'rung with her weapon, taking her frustrations out on him like she had done the tree. Doing so would secure her death. If he thought she was leaving when A'chide was obviously missing, he was sorely mistaken.
"A'chide has been taken. I can see that for myself since he is not here. I want to know what happened, I am owed that much," she followed the second-in-command as he made his way back to the fireside where his sleeping pallet lay. Gur'rung growled in warning, but Camilla continued to trail him.
Finally, the second-in-command spoke, "There are enemies present on this island besides the one we came here to hunt. Early this morning they attacked our camp in the hopes of causing us to scatter…they are Yautja without honor who have been exiled from our world. They are ic'jit and have taken your master."
Ic'jit translated to Bad Blood. She had heard the phrase before used in passing by patrons of the marketplace. They were renegades from society, cast outs with no hopes of return. All of it made sense now, the bits and pieces of hushed conversation between her master and Gur'rung; their use of 'they' was much more clear. Bad Blood had been spotted on this planet before the hunting party had arrived. A'chide had known this yet he had pushed for the chiva to continue on. Now, her master had been taken and, for all she knew, would die by dishonored hands.
A'chide could not die. Camilla would not allow it.
"I am not leaving without A'chide. I will go with you."
The statement was more a plea than a demand. Gur'rung thrilled in sardonic amusement as he rummaged through his trunk for weapons retrieving guns half the size of her body, "You would not survive long on this expedition. You will return with the unblooded to the ships-"
"-A'chide is my master; I will fight for him and die for him if I have to," she interjected.
Gur'rung gave her a hard stare. Loyalty was prized in the Yautja world. Her declaration held weight despite her status as a possession to be owned. She squared her jaw and returned the Yautja's gaze. Unlike humans, Yautja did not have expressive eyes; their expressions were nuanced in their words and actions. However, there was something within Gur'rung's amber gaze; a flicker of imperceptible emotion that was gone as soon as she saw it. The Yautja growled in frustration before returning to his rooting.
"I promised A'chide to keep you safe. If you die on this journey, I will be at fault."
Camilla quipped in return, "Then keep your promise; don't let me die."
A snort was her only response as Gur'rung kept rummaging until he found what he was seeking; a compact hand gun attached to a leather strap. He threw the weapon at her, and Camilla caught it with the hand that didn't hold her combat stick. It was light but sizeable spanning the length of her forearm.
Gur'rung pointed to the strap, "Attach it to your weaker shoulder for travel. It unclips when necessary."
She would have to cut some of the extra leather off, but she would be able to manage the gun. All those years of pretending to shoot A'chide's weaponry would pay off.
"We leave at nightfall, pet."
With that, the young woman was dismissed by Gur'rung.
The Yautja left to order more people around while she returned to her part of the camp. She glanced at the empty space where A'chide normally slept and she bit her lip from crying. A great victory had been won, tears would only ruin it. Her hands were shaking as she kneeled down on the furs. Furs, A'chide had gifted her with. Clenching her fists together, Camilla closed her eyes and breathed deeply to steady herself.
She was going to rescue her master. She was going to survive.
End of the chapter note: I had a friend of mine read this chapter beforehand, and he confusingly asked, "Who is Adam?"
If you are confused, as well, Adam is the name of Camilla's father. The American tour guide was calling out to Camilla's father = Adam. Just clarifying. I'm hoping to edit this chapter when I have internet again. My sincerest apologies!