All he could see was black. Perpetual Darkness with no end in sight. He sighed in his despair. He had failed. He had failed his Blooding ritual. True, he had obtained the mark of the warrior, but it seemed so pointless to him now. What use was the mark when he hadn't even survived to make it to his next hunt, or any further past his coming of age? Hopefully she would carry it better than he had. The ooman female who he'd fought alongside during the ritual, who had returned his weapon to him, and had saved his life while under attack by the hard meat. But she hadn't managed to save him this time. He owed her a life debt, a debt which he could never repay; to the ooman who had named him Scar. An ooman named Lex.

His thoughts turned to her, the only glimmer in this endless blackness. He had hunted her, for she and her fellow oomans had unintentionally removed the plasma-casters he and his comrades needed to obtain as part of the ritual and to slay the hard meat. He had lost his two comrades to the hard meat, while she lost hers to his fellow hunters, and the hard meat who either slew them or implanted them with the hard meat embryos. Then the two opposing survivors became allies. As she said: "The enemy of the enemy is my friend."- or something along those lines.

He still couldn't remember exactly how this strange alliance had been forged, between hunter and prey. It had been in the heat of battle with the hard meat, two of which she had managed to slay while alerting and ultimately saving him from the jaws of death. Not bad for an ooman, let alone an ooman female. Her courage had proved her worthy of being his ally, and perhaps... something more than that...

He had forged her weapons of her own from the bodies of the hard meats she had slain, mostly for her protection but also as his sign of respect for her as a warrior, and a hunter, like himself. Her first weapons were also her first trophies. It seemed fitting.

It had become clear to him that even with this strange ooman as his ally, they were both in way over their heads, and he was, or at least had been, several feet taller than her. She had been forced to end the life of her comrade, trapped in a cocoon and with a young hard meat ready to burst forth, to end his suffering. That was the noble thing to do. She may not have killed the hard meat that dwelled within her companion, he had that pleasure, but he couldn't help but admire her, for her courage, her spirit, and her honour. She would make a fine warrior... A fine hunter...

He knew their only option was to destroy the complex, along with all the hard meat before they reached the surface of the ice. The ooman's companion had been right- they mustn't reach the surface. Hard meat where known for their adaptability, the cold wouldn't have stayed them long. They would have spread to the lands where oomans dwelled, and his kind would have a massive infestation to deal with. His emergency self-destruct unit had been their only option, (he sniggered when he remembered he'd had to explain it to her with hand gestures) she had plainly understood, telling him she hoped for every last hard meat's destruction. He silently shared her blood-lust. He wasn't hunting for honour or trophies, not this time. He wanted revenge for his comrades' deaths, and the only way to ensure that was to wipe every last hard meat off the face of the continent. He'd set the timer's setting to maximum to give him and his hunting partner time to escape the exploding pyramid. It had been a last resort.

Their journey to the surface thankfully had been swift. An ooman transport module had been set up to carry them out of the cavern in which the pyramid was based, only the hard meat had overtaken us and were already there. He was attacked, and sustained an injury from the hard meat's tail, but the ooman had saved him, with his own weapon. If he had been able to speak her language, he would have thanked her.

The transport module had got them out of range of the explosion. but not out of the range of collapsing ice. It had been a frantic dash to escape their entombment in the icy bowels of the cavern, but they had both escaped without sustaining any injury. He and his ooman partner had done it, together...

It was then he had realised how much he had come to respect this small ooman female. For her courage, for her skills as a hunter, but also for preserving his life. He deemed her a worthy warrior, and hunter. Worthy enough to see the true face of her comrade... and to share the glory of the hunt.

He had removed his mask, revealing his true, alien features. Most oomans would have screamed or ran away, but she stood her ground. She didn't even flinch. This ooman had a lot of courage. Only more proof that she was worthy of bearing the mark...

He had removed one of the hard meats' fingers and held it to her face, making it clear what he was about to do. She didn't resist it. She simply allowed him to mark her, barely flinching at the acidic blood of the hard meat. She then returned the honour by returning the spear he'd forged for her earlier. To be presented with another's trophy...

He had become attached to this strange ooman, not just in respect for her as a fellow hunter, but something beyond that...If he been able to speak in ooman tongue, he would have asked her to return with him. To the ship. To the next planet. To the next hunt. To the next... he sighed when he remembered that was all now impossible. For more reasons than one. As it was, they had just stood their, staring at each other, both sharing a sense of some connection between the two of them, only to be snapped back to reality by the untimely arrival of the hard meat queen. Enraged by the destruction of her offspring, and injuries from the blast, she had attacked the allies. He had tried to protect them both by attacking the queen with his shuriken, managing to slice off sections of the queens' overly sized crown-like cranium. In both cultures, both ooman and yautja, nobody likes a big-head.

But this had done little more than anger the queen, and had sent him crashing through the remains of the abandoned ooman settlement with one sweep of her mighty tail. It had hurt like hell!

When he had the strength to stand, he had realised the situation. The queen was attacking the ooman. HIS ooman, trapped beneath an ooman water storage unit on the edge of the cliff. they had gone through too much together for her life to end like this. He had rushed to her aid, landing a blow which forced the queen away from her. One life debt repaid. One left to go.

It then became clear to him that she had developed some form of plan. The Queen had become bound in an ooman chain, which his ooman was trying to attach to the water storage unit. It struck him as genius! The pair of them might not be a match for her, but try being submerged miles below the surface of freezing sea water on for size! All the same, the ooman had been struggling to attach the chain to the unit. The queen was too far away and the chain was too simply too short. He'd had to intervene...

He'd grasped the chain, summoned all of his strength into one great heave, and given the ooman the extra length of chain she needed to finally leash the queen to the unit. She called out to him that she'd succeeded. That was when the pain had struck. A deep, searing pain had pierced his body, and erupted through the other side of his body. The snow was stained luminous green as the queen had lifted him, skewered on the end of her tail towards her mouth. He couldn't see the ooman anymore. All he could see was the black, soulless face of the queen, staring blindly and snarling mockingly in victory. It was clear what she meant, even though all she ever uttered was shrieks and growls: "Game Over, yautja."

Her victory was very short lived. With a sudden jerk, he was thrown from her cruel tail into the snow debris, his side still burning in indescribable agony. He couldn't see, blinded by pain, but a crash and two very satisfying splashes told the ooman had done her job. The unit had been dislodged, and the queen had been dragged over the cliff to her icy tomb beneath the frozen wastes. The cold wouldn't kill her but, but drowning would.

Then, all was silence, expect for the soft sound of footsteps and the crunch of fresh snow underfoot. He had regained his vision, temporarily at least, to see her, the ooman, kneeling beside him, looking down at him through grief filled eyes. There wasn't anything she could have done to help, and they both knew it. He had wanted to reach up and touch her face, to comfort her in some way before he lost his ability to do anything at all, but his arms had simply been too heavy. As heavy as lead. A tear had formed in her eye, rolling down her face onto his, as she stared down at him. She was grieving for him. Even when marked with sadness, her face was beautiful, dark against the unforgiving white and grey surrounding them. He'd never looked at oomans as beautiful before, and never would again. Her face had been the last thing he saw before the darkness took him, but not before he had breathed his final word, a word which he didn't care she wouldn't understand in his native language: ".......Lex....."

She seemed to understand, for although he couldn't see her through the darkness, he heard her last word, as quiet as a whisper of the wind: ".........Scar............"

Then, everything was gone.

"Scar"

Everything except the echo of that one word, repeating over and over again.

"Scar",

All the time getting louder and louder until it became a droning hum, starting to cause him pain.

"Scar".

Such a pain! Such an indescribable, agonizing pain!

"Scar"

He couldn't take it any longer!

"Scar"

Scar suddenly sat bolt upright, alarming the healers who were attending to his gaping wounds.

"Lex"

The healers stared in disbelief. Scar didn't see any of them. He just looked straight ahead, staring at nothing.

"Lex"

One of the healers turned to face a computer and stared. The Readings were going wild.

"Lex"

Finally, one of the healers grabbed hold of a breathing mask and clamped it down between Scar's mandibles.

"Lex"

The Gas took effect in a matter of seconds. As Scar's mind clouded over, he slumped back down onto the bed, healers continuously fussing around him.

Just before the gentle caress of the darkness settled over him again, one word escaped his lips, going unnoticed by the healers as the mask muffled his speech:

"Lex"

The hunter's eyes finally closed and his mind as blank as slate, aside from one name and the image of an ooman woman.

"Lex..........."