Jasmine backpedaled right into the landing gear of a parked ship. Sure she'd gotten this brute off of her man, but now he had his hideous sights set on her and there was nothing she could do about it. He'd knocked all her arrows out of the air, so the bow was no good. Jasmine took out her machetes and twirled them, crouched and circled. It was the universal yautja symbol for let's-get-this-shit-started, and she was in no position on her best day to challenge him, but there was no choice. He immediately responded by roaring, jumping at her then cloaking. Unable to see him even with her mask, she backed up instinctively but he landed right in front of her. She felt a heavy hand backslap the hell out of her, causing her to slam her head on the landing gear. Without any time to react or think, she was hauled up for the thousandth time by her throat. He chuckled as he snatched both blades out of her hands, then followed that up with a body shot from hell. Mike Tyson, Muhammad Ali, George Foreman, and any other heavyweight you could think up all wrapped into one, had nothing on this guy.

She had on more armor than anybody on the ship, but that didn't seem to matter at all. He was pounding her ribs repeatedly, making her scream bloody murder, which unfortunately wasn't a hyperbole. She wheezed, unable now to take proper breaths. He must've gotten bored with the body shots, and so just started to slam her against the hull of a ship over and over. Frantically her mind raced. This was the end of her. She couldn't take much more of this, extra yautja blood in her veins or not. Jasmine reached for her smart disc in vain. She couldn't get to it being tossed and slammed like she was. Her head was spinning, pounding, and then she heard her armor give way. She had on shoulder guards which came down over her shoulder blades a bit. It cracked, and the metal began to dig its way into her right shoulder blade. This time she screamed in pure agony as it bit into her flesh, but he showed no signs of tiring. He paused with trying to make her one with the ship, and took the time to backhand her once more. Her mask came flying off and now there was no barrier between her face and his fists. Immediately she stopped weakly clawing at the hands at her throat and just covered her face. He promptly put a knee in her gut, causing her to double over and throw up a horrid mixture of blood and stomach acid.

"Aggghhh!"

She couldn't help but scream out again. It was weaker this time; wearier. Jasmine thought of her children again. She hoped Lijia was okay and still able to protect them. When she died, they would need a strong mother to protect them. They deserved better than what they got from her. Sure she loved them fiercely, but Jasmine realized with each passing moment that she could not live in their world. They spent their time hurdling towards one dangerous situation or another, and humans spent most of their time avoiding that very thing. There was never any ease or comfort in the life of a yautja hunter, only hunting and death. Kill or be killed was the ultimate law, and everything else was incidental. She would be killed. There was no doubt now. He had gone back to slamming her against the ship, and the world was starting to black in and out. Every time it blacked out, an image would come to her. First her children, their scent, their eyes, their laughter, their crying. Then her husband, his eyes, the deep rumble in his chest, the way he could read her without saying a word. Then it was Marcus, walking him to school, his smile, the fear in his eyes the last time she saw him. Her mother, Terrell, all the instances in her life that she tried to bury came rushing back to her in a tsunami of heartache, loathing, and regret. Your life really did flash before your eyes, huh?

Jasmine vaguely felt herself drop to the floor in a heap of blood and broken bones. As if in the grips of a nightmare she could not escape, she tried to move. It was like moving through a fog that somehow had mass and weight. She couldn't have gotten far. Everything was so sore to the point of numbness. She creeped her hand up, looked at her fingers flex, and then it all went black. Amazingly she could still hear, but she could not distinguish between dream and reality. All she wanted now was the bliss of unconsciousness to take her.

K'var's smart disc was the only thing that made that bad blood drop Jasmine. It grazed his thigh and returned to his hand, just before he leaped, extending his spear as he did so. The bad blood was ready for it. He turned with his own spear, and rebuffed K'var harshly as he came down.

"Brave pup, but you interrupted my fun. For that you will pay," the bad blood growled out. He was inwardly pleased to have someone else to beat which could withstand a little more. The ooman was fun, but too easy.

K'var growled at being called a pup. He rushed the larger yautja and attacked. He was unprepared for the amount of sheer strength he encountered. K'var had never faced this breed before, only heard stories about it. They were bigger and supposedly meaner, but then again so were so many other forms of prey they hunted. He was not deterred in the least, even though he was now seeing two of his adversary. His chest felt cool, and his limbs felt numb. It started with his extremities and was working its way up his arms and legs. This in turn made his reaction time seconds slower than it should be, and it was already costing him. The larger yautja pressed him relentlessly with overhand strikes which were driving K'var backwards and to a knee.

"Stupid!"

"Young,"

"Pup!"

The bad blood said after each blow. K'var was on both knees now, haven been driven by the ferocity of the attack, and his own failing health. The gashes running along his front had stopped bleeding, but the wounds were turning an unhealthy ashen color. That just couldn't be good, he thought to himself. The larger yautja loomed over him, ready to finish the job when K'var took a swing. It was slow and his fist was caught in the hand of his would be killer, and was bent back painfully in an attempt to break his wrist. K'var growled and took a swing with his other hand with the same result. He was now caught, on his knees and with both hands trapped like a stupid little young blood. K'var thought of a million different ways to get out of this grip, but his muscles no longer really obeyed.

From his unfortunate position he could see past the bad blood. It was strange until it became clear, but there was nothing he could do about it. He saw Jasmine's arm lifted and the gauntlet removed from it, seemingly by no one. Then in a brief crackle of electricity, he saw Setg'in come into view then blink back out of visibility. The reason for that would not become clear until a few minutes later. Whatever the reason, K'var knew it couldn't haven been good. He had to get himself together. He dug deep for the burst of energy which allowed him to drive up, head-butting the bad blood under the chin, and knocking him dizzy. The large yautja stumbled back dazed. K'var was about to tackle him, until he heard his sire's roar, and then a split second later, the bad blood was knocked off his feet. Kujhade had shot a net and it had knocked the bad blood to the floor, cutting him in the process. K'var struggled to his feet as Kujhade and Mar'cte rushed over to finish the job.

"See to my mate!" Kujhade ordered, as Mar'cte changed directions and found Jasmine.

Kujhade stood over him, straddling the writhing monster who dared attack his mate and himself. He still was on his last legs, but pushing through somehow. Kujhade donned a special set of gloves which allowed him to handle the net without cutting himself. Kujhade reached down and grabbed the bad blood by the net as you would grab someone by the collar. He brought his unmasked face near and roared directly at the bad blood mere centimeters from him. His enemy was silenced by it. If he was here before him, that meant H'chak was dead. Kujhade's blade slid from its housing and rested against the throat of his enemy. With a defiant grunt, he was about to concede defeat until Setg'in could be heard clear throughout the hangar.

"Let him go," Setg'in called. At first Kujhade tuned it out, intent on the task of killing the bad blood in his grasp, but he was brought to attention when the voice called again.

"Perhaps you are hard of hearing pale hunter. I said let him go," Setg'in repeated.

Kujhade snarled and looked towards the sound of the voice. A few things struck him all at once. First, Setg'in was standing just in front of Kujhade's clan ship. Second, he was holding Marcus in a death grip. Third, he was addressing Kujhade directly. Kujhade's green eyes sparkled with understanding. He was simultaneously connecting all the horrific dots which would lead to Setg'in having his pup, and thinking of all the equally horrific ways he was going to kill Setg'in. He would suffer for this outrage. The bad blood in his grasp craned his neck to see what all the commotion was.

"Put my pup down Setg'in, or I…"

"Or you'll what? Kill me? I will drop him with a snapped neck, very simple for me to do. I won't say it again. The yautja you are about to kill must be let go instead, or suffer the loss of yet another pup," he said calmly, holding a wiggling and whining Marcus in his hand. He even gave the baby a slight shake, causing him to cry which was choked off by the ever tightening grip around his throat.

Kujhade chanced a quick glance at Jasmine. At once he was horrified to find that Mar'cte seemed to be holding a dead body, and thankful that she could not see her pup quite literally in the hand of their enemy. Slowly and very regretfully Kujhade released the net with the bad blood inside. The large yautja scrambled his considerable bulk out of it with a few quick cuts of his own smart disc. Warily he looked at Kujhade, then slowly backed his way towards where Setg'in was standing. No one else moved a muscle. Even Dteinou who had skirted around behind him, had not made a move. In truth, no one was fast enough to get to him before he could kill Marcus, and they were waiting on Kujhade's decision. His pup, his call. Kujhade got to his feet, not making any sudden move which would provoke Setg'in. The reality was that Setg'in did not need provocation, and that thought made Kujhade even more careful. His mind was going a mile a minute, even as his body wanted to die. Now that he had paused in fighting, his heart was hammering at an irregular pace in his chest. One moment too fast, the next it was skipping beats. Still, Kujhade stood at his full height, doing the best he could to put on a show of strength. He could not appear weak at such a critical moment.

The berserker yautja had finally made it to where Setg'in was standing and sidled up to him. Now at a safe distance from Kujhade and his cohorts, he focused his attention on Setg'in and the suckling in his hand. Even he had to admit, the pup was still struggling long after it probably should have been choked to death. Setg'in briefly turned his mask to regard the large yautja standing next to him. Fine florescent green lines of blood crisscrossed over his entire body. Setg'in addressed Kujhade once more.

"The Shirxa, Myaz, she comes with us. We leave this filthy clanship once and for all. If you don't fight, you don't lose a pup. If any of you so much as grumble too loudly I will kill him," he said, giving Marcus another little warning shake.

Kujhade looked around until his eyes landed on the creature Setg'in was referring to. She looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing her fate was sealed with the child's life in the balance.

"Go," he commanded without a second of hesitation.

It was T'chnde who had her, and after he took one look at Kujhade's face, he shoved her towards Setg'in. When she turned to plead, T'chnde extended his blades in warning. Resigned, she slithered towards her captor. Quickly, the berserker collared her with a huge muscled forearm, pressing her hard against his body in such a way where her movement was restricted. She was however able to shoot Kujhade a death glare which he noticed but paid no mind to. The life of his son was too valuable for him to care about anyone else's. Kujhade's muscles twitched angrily, and spasmodically. The anger and rage at being pretty much defenseless in the situation, boiled up inside him barely contained, but he had to remain still. Setg'in could and probably would kill the pup, Kujhade didn't doubt it for a moment.

Deliberately, the two yautja backed away into a random ship in the hangar. All the while Setg'in was holding Marcus up like a shield, not minding the fact that the berserker next to him hadn't taken his eyes off of Setg'in or the pup. Kujhade had finally moved to position himself to stay within eyeshot of his pup. He didn't want anything impeding his progress to break Setg'in's neck if the opportunity presented itself. The ship's hatch opened on its own, lowering the ramp for entry. As soon as they were on the threshold, something happened which left the room stunned. The motion was a blur, and everything seemed to happen at once. Setg'in had no idea it would happen, and it took him a literal three to four seconds to really understand what had taken place. The berserker next to him suddenly took a swipe, cutting off Setg'in's other arm and catching it before Marcus could hit the floor. As if in slow motion, Setg'in looked at the spot where his arm used to be. He could still feel it, and the weight of the small pup in his missing hand. He blinked behind his mask, seeing his arm in the hand of the yautja he had just saved. The berserker gave the limb a shake, making the hand release the suckling, and catching Marcus once again. The little baby was shocked into silence, as he kept his hazel eyes glued to his father. Setg'in sunk to his knees, only grunting his disapproval at the current state of affairs.

"Catch!" The berserker called to Kujhade, then tossed Marcus towards his father. Kujhade ran to catch Marcus, who wailed once he was in his sire's arms. He covered his face with little chubby claws and cried into them miserably.

"H'chak's clan hunts only worthy prey. We do not kill pups of any kind," the berserker was saying as he tossed Myaz inside the ship, and grabbed Setg'in up to a standing position. The newly made stump was bleeding everywhere, but Setg'in was too shocked to even vocalize past his continued grunting. The berserker knocked Setg'in's mask to the floor, revealing the fact that his eyes had rolled to the back of his head and a thick line of drool hung from his mandibles.

"Know that H'chak is dead," Kujhade responded as he moved steadily towards the soon to be departing ship.

"And for that I will repay you, but as of now I will keep the promise H'chak made to this one. H'chak wanted to make a slave of him, and after this display, even that may be too good," he replied as he tossed Setg'in into the ship next to Myaz. He turned to face Kujhade, and as the hatch closed he gave the slightest nod, as if to say Kujhade had gained a measure of his respect.

When the doors finally closed, Kujhade moved quickly towards the ship. It was awkward holding Marcus while he worked, but no way was he going to put him down. The roars of his clan members behind him were full of fury, frustration, pain, and indignation that two of their enemies had escaped having not paid with their lives. Dteinou reached him first, instinctively reaching for Marcus, and getting a low growl which made her pull back. They all watched as the ship made its way out into open space, the engines finally firing to truly get away.

Almost in a casual way, Kujhade reached to program his gauntlet. A few seconds later, a spectacular explosion consumed the getaway ship. No one had seen him do it, but Kujhade had detached the explosive part of his gauntlet, and slipped it into an open exhaust as the ship taxied away. With some measure of satisfaction, Kujhade watched knowing that no one could have survived it. The clanship rocked a bit as the debris hit it with the force of the bomb which had torn the smaller vessel to pieces. On cue, Kujhade's body started to shut down. It was as if it were waiting on his task to be complete before it took permission to die. He fell to his knees hard, clutching Marcus in a tight but loving embrace. Breathing erratically, he fell backwards as the blurred images of his clan hovered above him.

One week later

It was Dteinou's idea, and it made sense in a weird sort of way. She knew the most about human culture, so Kujhade didn't argue with her. He set a course for the uninhabited planet they had chosen to bury Nia's sister on. Nia herself was in the cargo hold. When Lijia awakened, she told of her plan and how Nia sacrificed herself to try to prevent Marcus being captured. Without any words, Kujhade listened, watching the kneeling doctor as she told her tale. How she had fought, and how she had hidden Mili in a separate part of the venting system. They'd found him crying with no sound. He'd cried himself hoarse. She had since steered clear of Kujhade, fearing reprisal for her ultimate failure in keeping the pups out of harm's way. In truth he likely would have thought of something to do with her for it, but he was too preoccupied with more pressing matters.

Trying not to lean his weight on the walls as he moved about the ship, Kujhade made his way to the cargo hold. It was not Nia he was visiting. In his mind, her death was no more than a necessary price to pay for having hurt the pup in the first place, but it did remove all rancor from his mind where it concerned her. He reached the lowest level of his ship, and pressed a few buttons recessed into the smooth metal wall. With a hiss and a dramatic show of mist, a small rectangular door opened, and a clear container slid out slowly. When the mist cleared, Kujhade stared down into the face of his oldest pup, K'var. Kujhade closed his eyes, and lay a massive palm on the glass-like container. The memory of his offspring's passing would forever linger in his mind.

His body felt hot, too hot. Kujhade woke up in a panic, grasping for a pup which was no longer in his arms. He tried to rise to a sitting position, and was frustrated to find that he could not. At least, not without ripping the medicine from his arms. His vision was blurred and for a moment, in the relative darkness and quiet of the room he wondered if he was in the realm of the Black Hunter finally. The illness of his body told him differently however. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear vision that wouldn't be cleared. He looked around, momentarily disorientated. From the incessant beeping coming from the other metal cot, he discerned he was in the medical bay. As he sat on the side of his cot, he could see Jasmine once again locked in a pod with her vitals being closely monitored. It beeped rhythmically.

Beep… beep beep….beep…..beep beep

Groggily he got to his feet and took the few unsteady paces to her. He had never felt so horrible in his life. He felt like several hard meat queens had feasted on his flesh day and night, but somehow he had survived it, much to his chagrin. Jasmine looked to be only sleeping. From what he could see, she was stable. He rested his hand on her closed pod, steadying himself as much as seeking some kind of solace from the gesture. With a weary sigh, he turned to look over his shoulder to see who else was in there with them.

Still unsteady on his feet, and hating the feeling of weakness that washed over him, he made it to the other cot. On it he found K'var with no visible medications and struggling to breathe. His eyes were closed, but his fists clenched at his sides. The wounds on his torso had turned an ugly shade of ashy grey. The wounds were weeping a putrid fluid which ran down his sides to the cot he was on. He was drooling and seeming to be unable to control it, or worse; unaware he was doing it at all. Kujhade was horrified and angered all at once. Where was Lijia?! She had failed once, was she going to simply allow his son to perish?! Kujhade had turned to find her, until K'var grabbed his hand. Surprisingly it wasn't a weak grip. Kujhade gripped his hand back and looked K'var in the eyes. They were golden with flecks of green, and they were clear.

"Sire," K'var said. His voice was considerably weaker than his grip and his speech slurred a bit.

"K'var. Why aren't you healed?" He asked, holding K'var's hand with one, and stroking the crest of his head with the other. The contact was foreign among the yautja, but Kujhade had learned it from Jasmine. She stroked his crest this way when he seemed upset, and he noticed it always worked. At first K'var stiffened, but then relaxed into his sire's touch.

"I'm…dying. She cannot…heal….me," he said, struggling for breath after every other word. Kujhade didn't want to hear those words. He would find Lijia, and make her heal his son.

"You cannot die," Kujhade said, his tone on the edge of authoritative. He finished the sentence in his mind. I just found you. I don't want to lose you, but he couldn't formulate the words. They were in his heart, unable to escape.

"I…meet the black…hunter. Proud to… have… you…as…sire," K'var managed, wheezing and then going into a bad coughing jag. Spittle flew everywhere, and the drool never stopped. With each flex of his abs, the foul pus-like substance oozed out of the wounds.

The words he spoke filled Kujhade with immense pride. In their short time together, they had bonded. They had fought side by side, and it was more than many sire's get to do with their pups. He felt a little better about the inevitable outcome.

"I am also proud," Kujhade said, stroking his oldest pup's brow constantly.

"You saved my mate, and earned your place. Go to the black hunter, a proud hunter," he told his son. K'var coughed a few more times, and drew a long wearied breath after. It was his last. He closed his eyes, and his grip loosened on his sire's hand.

With one more affectionate rub over the coffin-like container that held his son's body, Kujhade pressed the buttons on the wall again. It receded back into its housing and locked. Kujhade would never again revisit it. When they made it back to Yaut Prime, he would bury the remains with little ceremony. By that time his grief will have waned, and the memory of his son would not be tainted by it. Gathering himself once more, Kujhade made his way to the ship's bridge.

Six months later:

The whole ship was abuzz with excitement. The yautja onboard were reserved as usual, but it was obvious they were actually happy. Jasmine had gotten up at what she thought of as the wee hours of the morning. They were passing through a solar flare unharmed, but the view was beautiful. Out of the panoramic window with at least a 270° view, the light filtered in. It gave the impression of morning and daylight, and it gave Jasmine a deep down feeling of comfort. It had been a long time since she had seen sunlight.

By herself, she had prepared a meal fit for kings. They had recently hunted and for a while had a surplus of fresh meat, vegetables, and fruit. She had even managed to enlist Lijia to help her gather herbs and spices for seasoning. Jasmine was busy cooking, hoping that she could get the majority of it done before the children awoke. She had her back turned with her trusty iPod and earbuds in her ears, when she felt two large hands grab around her waist. She jumped and turned, but with a warm smile to greet her husband.

"We are almost set to land. Only a day or so away from our home planet," Kujhade said, leaning down to run his tusks through her wild hair.

"I know. I'm so nervous," she admitted, standing on her toes in order to nuzzle under his chin.

"Why?" He queried, although they'd had this discussion before.

"No one there is gonna like this, us," she said motioning between the both of them.

"No they will not, but as long as you prove strong, you will be respected. Respect and honor is all that matters. Only humans need to be liked," he said matter-of-factly. Normally that would have turned her mood sour, but not today. She was nervous but also excited to see where her strange and wonderful husband had hailed from. She wanted very much to learn more about him and his culture.

Jasmine turned back towards the meal to finish preparing it, when Mar'cte strolled in. He was followed by Lijia, who bowed her head demurely once she saw her clan leader. They had barely spoken since the fight, but Kujhade bore no ill will. She had fought bravely, and his pups were safe in any case. He gave her a slight nod, which seemed to brighten her right away.

As he and Mar'cte greeted each other, T'chnde and Dteinou joined the gathering. They were in turn followed by the female pup, and the surviving young bloods from the old tribe who had sworn fealty to Kujhade. All of whom were chattering excitedly among themselves and sitting for the meal.

Before she sat herself down, Jasmine went to wake her boys. When she made it to their room, the were already up and ready to eat. She quickly changed their diapers and washed them up, before heading down to eat and feed them. They allowed her to carry them down the stairs, but as soon as they got to the bottom, they squirmed their way out of her arms. With little arms outstretched for balance, Marcus and Mili toddled into the dining area. They were ten months old and had started walking. They were even trying to formulate words more clearly. They were tall, already standing to a little above Jasmine's knees. They looked more like a human of two or three years, than babies less than twelve months old. No doubt they would have the famous yautjan stature. They made their way over, climbing into Kujhade's lap for him to feed them, which he did with great relish.

"Strong pups, like I said before. Marcus even carries his first battle scars!" Mar'cte said excitedly, referring to the permanent bruising around the baby's throat.

Kujhade looked at it with pride. Yes, his pups were strong indeed.

"I have been thinking of what he should be called. Perhaps he has earned a name already," he said, almost to himself. The chatter melted into a hush. Naming was very important, and whatever name was chosen now, the pup would have to either live up to, or change to one more fitting which would be humiliating later. Kujhade seemed lost in deep thought as he watched Marcus try to cram food into his mouth. He was only making a mess. He grazed a clawed thumb over the bruise.

"For his bravery, I will name him Yeyinde. I believe that is fitting," he said, and after a few seconds, the room erupted in roars and hooting. With a smile Jasmine sat next to Kujhade, gathering Mili in her lap and letting him feed himself as best he could. They were already showing independence, and did not like help where they didn't feel they needed it.

There was only one more morning like that as they passed out of the solar flare. Yaut Prime loomed, and Jasmine couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her belly. Kujhade had dressed in his finest loin cloth. It was long and bore the symbol of their clan. One that he and Mar'cte pored over for hours, and had marked each clan member's cloth with it using a dark ochre. It was the yautja symbol for Nain-Desintje-de, which loosely translated into absolute victory. As Kujhade explained to his newly formed clan, he believed in absolute victory. That it should be achieved without doubt, and without question, both within and without. To Jasmine, it meant to be the master of oneself, and one's surroundings. It made sense, and apparently all the clan members approved and wore the symbol proudly.

She dressed herself similarly, and even placed small loincloths on the twins; over their diapers of course. T'chnde had even gone out of his way to create the smallest armor anyone had ever seen. It was made of old broken armor, but they were adorable in the tiny shin guards and makeshift wrist gauntlets.

The ship entered the atmosphere, and soon initiated the docking and landing sequences. They were welcomed like conquering kings, and they all realized that most of the fanfare was for Dteinou, who still outranked everyone else in the clan. As they made their way off the ship and through the throngs of yautja, Jasmine found herself walking just a bit closer to Kujhade's side. They walked slowly, ushering the boys ahead of them, as they had refused once again to be carried. The sounds coming from the crowd were a mix of celebratory roars, and curious grunts and growls. Of course Kujhade and his nuclear family were the recipient of those, but you would not know it by his confident walk. As leader of the clan, he was in front of what had been for all intents and purposes, a procession. His head was held high, his shoulders back, and his steps strong and sure. Seeing him, Jasmine followed suit. She willed herself not to appear as if she did not belong in the strange company she kept.

Finally, they had made their way to a tall building. Unlike anything Jasmine had ever seen, it appeared to be made of one single sheet of metal, without any break or seam anywhere except where the enormous double doors stood. As the clan approached, the doors opened, swinging inward on non-existent hinges. The whole thing was a feat of engineering as far as Jasmine was concerned.

The large metal double doors opened upon a large hall. The walls were ornately carved and every so many yards stood a yautja guard, as still as any statue. It was oppressively hot outside, and inside provided little relief, as they marched down the very long hall. They reached another set of double doors, these made of some other material. Maybe what passed for wood here. They were ornately carved with pictures of a yautja killing something long and bony looking. The doors parted as Jasmine couldn't help but gasp at the sight that greeted her. In the middle of the room sat the largest throne ever, and on it an extremely large elderly female. The matriarch. It had to be.

Jasmine's heart hammered in her chest. All she could do was follow Kujhade's lead and hope for the best. He stepped forward towards the seated matriarch, getting close but still keeping a very respectable distance. He then kneeled with one fist on the floor. Behind Jasmine the rest of the clan did likewise. Hurriedly, Jasmine did the same, and the boys did too, but more in mockery and play than in any real understanding. The matriarch cast a judgmental eye over the group before rising to her feet. With measured steps, she took her time coming to a stop right before Kujhade's kneeling form.

"Rise pale hunter, with a human for a mate," she said, her deep voice gravelly yet somehow oddly still feminine. Kujhade did as bidden and stood firmly in place, while not quite giving any eye contact out of sheer respect.

"Matriarch," he said simply and then waited.

She stood nearly a full two heads over him, even taller than Dteinou. Her golden eyes examined him and his clan closely, before she raised a gnarled hand to his shoulder, then shook gently.

"Welcome home."

A/N: Well, this is the end. I kind of put the epilogue in with the last chapter instead of making yet another chapter add on. I hope you guys liked this ending. I'll be continuing this story although I haven't decided whether or not I will do a few one shots in between this and the next multi-chapter. Thanks to all for all the likes, faves, reviews, and follows. This story has even more reviews that Somewhat Damaged, and that is very humbling and rewarding also. Love you, and be on the lookout for my next story.