My determination to learn and to wait grew harder with each passing rotation of the blue-green planet spinning below us, however. Time continued to grate on all our nerves and to aggravate the other un-blooded, who were growing tired of waiting to see blood and waiting for their now long delayed first hunt.

Perhaps their blame of me for this delay could in part explain their continued favoritism of Vk'leita. This thought was a persistent cut to my already bruised ego. The fact those who were once meant to share the first hunt with me now saw me as the cause of their frustration left me both irritated and shamed. This was not how a warrior was meant to be seen by his companions.

And it was yet again because of my foolishness.

If I had not allowed myself to become uselessly incensed and strike out in a rage as I had, I would not now find myself in such a situation.

Learn the gift of all sights…

The words would not leave me as the heavy tension mounted and the time stretched long. Vk'leita and I were not confined on the Ne'dtesei. We may have been disgraced and nameless, but we were not prisoners. We were allowed to move about as we saw fit, and in a way also expected and near forcibly encouraged to be present in the kehrite, an example to the other youngbloods of what happened when you strayed from the Path. An exhibition for the un-blooded to bet on and to attempt to insight into violence.

Blood would be necessary soon. If the youngbloods were not sated shortly they would create their own reason for blood to be drawn.

And as time grew taut as steel wire I wondered again if partly this tedium was design.

Leaving the small space that was mine on the Ne'dtesei and taking my place in the kehrite, I watched the un-blooded and off-handedly took note of Vk'leita. All of them had the air of shortly wanting to become a swarm. And the deadly, unnatural quiet only made this more apparent.

My once companions paced through the kehrite, eyes wide and mandibles flaring. They rotated between Vk'leita and I, stroking our dreadlocks, curious of what it was to have fallen so far and obscenely intrigued by we two s'yuit-de who had not only raised our hands against blooded Yautja, but were now favored with the Leader's compliment of the Crucible.

Their interest was wearing. And their unspoken attempts to pit Vk'leita and I against each other before the beginning of the hunt tiresome.

It must be design. The Dance of Fallen Gods was above all else a test. A way to determine if a fool could learn, could be placed in the fire and have something worthy come out. Was an idiot even worthy of a second chance if he could not exhibit patience? Vk'leita was my prey. Could you stalk prey if you allowed yourself to move too suddenly and too swiftly?

I thought the answer was no, and so I chaffed at the boredom and the repetitiveness, and I waited. I slept, I woke, and I went to the kehrite. I practiced so as not to become slack in my training, and then I meditated so as not to attempt to disembowel Vk'leita too soon.

But more than anything I watched.

The Crucible Hunt was not like other hunts. It required more of the Yautja placed in it if that Yautja wished not only to live but to distinguish himself.

A first hunt, that thing all hot-headed youngblood males dreamed of, was little more than shooting confined prey compared to the hunt awaiting me. On a first hunt a Leader took his hunting ship to some deserted planet, planted some kainde amedha eggs, and set the youngbloods loose to shoot the resulting drones.

It was true the kainde amedha, the xenomorphs we admiringly called the Hard Meat, were not easy prey. They were prone to infesting everything they touched, near-mindless in their twin instincts to reproduce and to kill, and devastatingly good at killing. Even their blood was an acid that devoured everything it came in contact with. But kainde amedha were also infuriatingly unintelligent in many ways. The drones did little but hunt and obey their queen, and the queens wished only for their offspring to be the only life in existence.

A singular hunt against the kainde amedha, who multiplied like insects, was honorable and difficult. Especially if the hunter decided to forgo burners and plasma casters and faced his prey with little more than blades.

But a group of supervised youngbloods shooting at thoughtless drones was hardly a worthy hunt. It was more than anything a way for the youngbloods to learn and to make a kill.

And to be blooded.

The kainde amedha was a warrior's first hunt for more than one reason. A warrior was blooded with his kill's blood, mixed with his Leader's blood and saliva. This mixture reduced the acidity of the Hard Meat's blood just enough to allow it to be used as a kind of brand without it eating right through flesh and skull and killing the recipient. A youngblood made his kill, and his Leader drew his mark on the youngblood's forehead, making the un-blooded into a hunter.

The Crucible was a different matter.

The kainde amedha were somewhat revered by we Yautja. But they were not the only exquisite prey we valued. There was also the pyode amedka. On Prime they were often demeaningly called the Soft Meat, the ultimate contrast to the xenomorphs.

Humans.

The name was like an exhilaration tingling all through me, and I let out a satisfied click that made several heads turn toward me. I ignored them all, pretending to fall back into my meditation even as I dwelled on this single enticing thought I was able to harbor.

Humans were indeed very soft. They lacked all natural means to defend themselves, their teeth and nails mostly blunt, their hide easily cut, their physical strength limited. And yet they were not easy prey. They were unpredictable and dangerous, and hunting them was something only blooded warriors were allowed, and that only after special petition.

Humans were not like the Hard Meat. They were not drones. They were intelligent. Their technology might not ever rival ours, but it was advancing every cycle. Humans shot back when they were hunted. They also adamantly refused to die. A cornered human often fought back with those blunt teeth and nails if they had nothing else, and it was only an extremely foolish warrior who thought he could kill a Soft Meat human just because he was stronger and well-armed.

Yautja had died this way.

And in the Crucible it was human prey you hunted.

Partly.

My eyes drifted fully open and I caught a quick glimpse of Vk'leita and his following of un-blooded warriors before I chose to ignore them again.

The Crucible was unique. The human prey was the ultimate goal, but the human prey could not be hunted by two Yautja. Only by one. In order to complete the Crucible and become victorious an un-blooded must kill his opponent and then take the prey. And in the midst of this, while the two would-be warriors hunted each other, they must not allow the humans to become overtly aware of them. They could kill none of the humans, except one.

The one. The prey selected by the Leader. That prey and only that prey would be acceptable. If any other human died by the youngbloods' hands the hunt was failed and the s'yuit-de died.

It was this more than anything that made the Crucible difficult. Humans were smart. They would not be fooled long if strange things began happening around one of their pack habitations. They would group together and the prey could become unreachable. Disturbing the humans' normal patterns was ill-advised.

Especially as the chosen prey would already be on alert.

Before any Crucible could begin the Leader went down to the blue-green planet currently spinning below the Ne'dtesei and selected a prey. Marked a prey.

'Aseigan had hunted the Soft Meat before, he had been on their planet numerous times over the course of his long life, and he had made it known shortly after leaving Prime that he had a prey in mind. A particular prey. This had given me the impression our wait would be short when we reached the human's planet. I had been wrong.

'Aseigan had gone down to the planet to mark the prey and had come back bloody and speaking with admiration of a prey that had almost outmatched him. A prey that had nearly shaken him off in a blind run with nothing but speed and knowledge of terrain. A prey that had known it was both injured and caught, and yet had turned at bay and fought him with no fear. Even managing to slice open the Leader's hide.

The Soft Meat was no easy hunt.

And this too was a reason we were drifting in orbit and waiting. 'Aseigan had admitted with pride the prey had excited him to the point he had gone a little too far with it and had needed to heal it after marking it. The prey, he said, would need several rotations to recover from the chase before it would be ready for Vk'leita and I.

All of this only added to the already heated anticipation rampant on the Ne'dtesei. Even doing all to contain myself I knew there would be blood soon, and most certainly before the true hunt began.

But all I could do was wait.

Wait… and hope to gain the gift of all sights.