Author's note: Hi guys! I'm sorry I haven't updated in ages. Medical school sent me through hell and unfortunately desire and duty do not make good friends. - DG

XI

"Just like that?" Sk'ar asked.

"Yes," Sheelal remarked, "Never have I fought anyone who could do what she did."

Ydros laughed, "It seems to me that our khan may have finally found his soul wife"

Sk'ar laughed and Sheelal responded with an exasperated shove.

It had been a standard week since his confrontation with the mysterious female warrior and he still hadn't gotten over his ignominious loss.

He was not angry.

In fact, Sheelal was intrigued.

Or enamored, as Old Ydros so fondly suggested after hearing the tale for the first time.

"Not everyday do you see a woman who could best our finest," the older warrior said.

"Ar. A fiery one in bed for sure," Sk'ar guffawed from beneath his mask.

Sheelal growled darkly.

For an entire standard month, Khan Sheelal spent most of the time he did not spend training in deep thought.

Who is she?

What does she desire?

Does this have anything to do with my dreams?

Why do I even care?

Questions such as that and more plagued the khan's mind more often as he would like .

Every day he would go to sleep with these questions.

They enthralled him as much as they annoyed him.

He had since taken up rigorous reconnaissance missions across the wilderness surrounding their home-tribe's encampment to keep his mind off things. It was routine, but it kept his skills sharp enough.

Also, the safety of his people was paramount.

A standard month passed and there were no significant skirmishes with the Yam'rii.

He thought it odd, knowing just how greedy the Huk were and how fickle they were to take revenge.

A harsh chorus of insectile clicking and chittering greeted the masked newcomer.

As he strode with defiance through the main chamber of the hive, multifaceted eyes looked at him with unmistakeable enmity.

He was not surprised.

After all, his species and theirs were in the middle of a protracted and profoundly violent war.

He was not afraid, even if he found the clattering voices of the Yam'rii to be profoundly unsettling. It was not like the first time where he felt real fear upon entering one of their hives.

If any of you test me, my sword shall be the last thing you will ever see. He thought darkly.

He knew that every one of the chitinous insectoids would have wanted nothing more than to shred him to nothingness with their shearlike claws.

He could literally smell the open murder in the air with all the pheromonal exchange being done—the Huk too communicated through smell as well as words.

He also knew enough of the Huk language to understand, to some extent, the chorus of clicks.

The lizard thinks himself safe...

Death to the Kaleesh!

Drink his blood...

Off with his head!

I'll strangle him with his own guts!

The stranger fought the temptation to laugh out loud, if only to taunt the innumerable horde of his race's mortal enemies.

The fact that he strode defiantly through their ranks gave him only more confidence.

Onward he strode through the horde.

Soon enough he had reached his destination—a chamber set dead center of the Huk hive.