Happy Holidays

It has been awhile since my last chapter, and I thought of doing something for the holidays... Involving the always lovable, ever devouring Kroot.

As always I do not own Warhammer 40K, Games Workshop does. I do own the OCs though.

And as always read, rate and review.

(All flamers will be fed to the Kroot with flamers.)

"They are fierce indeed these Kroot, and savage. I look upon them and tremble at their ferocity. I can only hope that when the enemy sees them they tremble as I do."

— Por'Vre'Tau'Cho - Water Caste Envoy to Sy'l'Kell prior to the ambush of the 17th Brimlock Dragons

Winter, The Western Thornfell Forest, Caesena.

He moved beneath the canopy of mighty evergreens, which allowed a few rays of waning sun through their thick boughs. To Gurix, a Kroot Shaper loyal to the Tau, every noise in the forest gave him information required for survival. He could infer the lack of nearby predators from the calls of birds and the movements of small animals beneath the crisp layer of frost-coated detritus. His acute sense of smell could detect even the faintest scent of prey, but now he smelled the strong, coppery tang of fresh blood. Following the scent trail, he soon found the mutilated body the smell originated from. /p

He moved quickly towards the carcass, recognized the heavily muscled creature as a Krootox. Gurix kneeled and breathed in deeply. Beneath the krootox's pungent musk he could make out the scent of another great beast - a feral nob. Gurix noticed the smashed remain of huntas surrounding the beast. Their remain pulverized so badly that there was not enough meat to eat. Even the krootox' corpse was not fitting to eat, even though it had proved itself a srong adversary, the huntas had clearly enjoyed torturing the beast and the biggest carried off most of its meat. He spotted a broken bough, its green needles and grey-brown bark covered in dark crimson. Picking up the branch and bringing it to his nose, Gurix smiled at the gift that had bestowed upon this day's special hunt.

He rose and motioned to a smaller figure behind him who wore heavy furs similiar to his own. Despite the difference in size, the young Kroot possessed the same predatory features as Gurix, including the same yellow-flecked green eyes.

Gurix cringed as Nawat bounded forward at his gesture, any care to silence his footfalls forgotten in his enthusiasm of hunting along side the shaper. As the young Kroot came within reach Gurix grabbed him by the throat and yanked him off the ground. "If you continue to crash about, I will end this hunt and return with your carcass to our kin," he growled.

The young krootling kicked helplessly in the air for a moment and grasped as Gurix's hands about his throat. "Forgive me, Father," he choked out, keeping his gaze averted in submission.

Gurix set the boy down and released his grip. despite his actions, he held no anger towards his youngest son; he simply wished for the lesson to take root. Nawat would come of age in only a few days, when he would undergo the change that would allow him to channel the power of a Shaper. Then he would no longer be considered a child and would forfeit all privileges and protections provided by the status. His life would be measured only by his skill and his cunning within the kindred. This hunt was the last Gurix and Nawat would take as father and son. If they... When they would hunt again, it would be as fellow warriors.

He handed Nawat the branch. "Tell me, what does this show you?"

The young Kroot took the branch from Gurix and carefully examined it. "It is freshly broken, perhaps only an hour past." He sniffed, pausing to consider the scents that filled his nostrils before continuing. "The blood in not from the krootex. It is from an ork."

Gurix gave a mixture of clicks and whistles to show his approval. "Good. But what kind?"

Nawat dropped the branch and looked at the grizzled remains of the huntas mob. Gurix held hidden pride that his youngest took the time to study the bodies and not give into eating the spoiled meat. "A nob!" Nawat chirped at the realization.

"Good. Let us prove ourselves worthy of this hunt." He drew a wickedly serrated hunting knife from his belt and presented it handle-first to Nawat. "Today you shall complete your last hunt as a child not with a rifle but with a blade."

Gurix watched his son's face carefully, looking for any sign of fear or trepidation. He was pleased to see neither as Nawat grasped the worn leather hilt of the knife. The blade was sized for a fully transformed male, and in Nawat's hands it looked more like a human short sword then a Kroot hunting knife. Despite its size the young Kroot wielded it easily, taking a few practice swipes before shoving it through his own belt.

Gurix took his powerful rifle that was decorated with totems from his back and nodded to Nawat to take the lead. This time the youth moved swiftly and silently, as Gurix had taught him. The elder Kroot recalled their first hunt together, when the krootling had barely turned five. Gurix had brought down a massive Tyrant Guard on Pech with a well-placed shot, leaving it alive but immobile. Nawat had not hesitated when Gurix placed a dagger in his hands. He had instead darted beneath the powerful creature's claws and fangs and slit its throat, claiming his first kill for the tribe.

The smell of their prey was heavy in the air, and Gurix could almost taste the nob's musk. He felt the urge to cast off his heavy fur cloak and loose himself in the hunt, letting himself shape into something more fit to kill the ork. He did not fight it. He felt the tingle of energy course through his veins as he summoned fourth the appropriate genes. His muscles expanded and his bones lengthened. His snout became boarder, and larger razor-sharp fangs gleamed with saliva.

He looked ahead to Nawat, who was scaling a pine tree. Even without the powers of devoured genes imbuing him, the youth bounded up the tree with grace and agility. The young Kroot would wait for his signal to attack. Gurix drew a clip of ammo from the pouch on his side and slammed into his rifle.

Slowly, he moved toward the shadow of his prey, drawing his rifle with practiced ease. His eyes were locked on the massive form of the feral ork nob. He could see a large dent in its chest, along with several lesser wounds from its fight with the Krootox. The beast moved slower than usual, but its wounds were clearly not bothering it. It instead too its time to eat the Krootox's meat. This laziness gave them a chance.

They had been careful yo stay downwind lest they aleat the nob to the presence. As the creature tore the meat from an arm bone, Gurix could see a soft area where the beast had struck the ork. Time was short, nob's hides were thick and they could heal quickly from eating meat.

Gurix dropped to one knee, aimed, and fired. The heavy lead ball struck true and with precision. Though the nob did not fall, instead it stumbled a bit, and examined the wound in its side. From the monster's size and stength, it seemed almost child-like as it poked and prodded at the wound.

"Not deep enough," Gurix swore as he readied his rifle for another shot.

The nob's innocent confusion quickly evaporated into that of a bloodrage. Its smell eyes blared red as it took the absurdly large, jagged axe from it's back and swung viciously at Gurix's position. The Kroot silently jumped out of the way before the nob's crude weapon could thresh him. The nob saw him and have a ghastly smile of yellow, rotting fangs. It spoke to Gurix in its gutter language as it continued to sever the shaper's head from his body. The genes in him gave Gurix the energy and strength he needed to kill the beast, but this hunt was not for him; it was for Nawat.

A high pitch scream came from the tree tops as Nawat leaped down. It was a perfect feral leap, with enough speed and strength behind it to cleave the head off an unprotected Space Marine, but this ork was bigger than a Space Marine. Though Nawat landed the blow with the precision of a Kroot five times his elder, and the blade sunk deep, the ork refused to die quickly. It struggled and shook and tried to tear the young Krook from his back. Nawat knew to hold on in order to prove himself a proper hunter, and it would make the ork bleed out that much faster.

A full hour past before the ork finally fell. It took several stab wounds to the neck and back, and one more bullet shot to the head to fell the beast, but finally the ork was dead. The forest returned to stillness as steam rose from the bloodstained ground. Nawat looked at his father, and Gurix returned the look with a surge of pride. He no longer saw a child; a blood-covered Kroot warrior stood before him now. The shaper held out his hand, and Nawat quickly returned the knife. Wasting little time, Gurix set above carving open the nob's chest. His muscles burned as he opened the beast's chest cavity and ripped out the warm heart.

"Eat," Gurix gave the heart to his son. "Eat, and we all will be strong."

Nawat nodded reverently, then brought the massive bloody muscle to his mouth and began his first feast as a warrior of the Kroot.

Author's Notes

Hello everyone, hope you had an enjoyable and relaxing holiday season.

Though of doing something holiday-ish... Okay, it's not holiday related but it is during the winter and connection with family.

Hope the names fit. Trying to come up with Kroot names is not easy, mainly because there are only three (known) examples of Kroot names.

Thank you for reading, and have a relaxing rest of the year and prosperous new year.