The Hunter's Song

11: Duel (Eh'kt)

I put on my helmet the moment Mourning Crow affectionately referred to me in her native tongue. My mate's figure blurred and blinked in and out of view from the row of heat pits resting beneath my lower lip.

It was the same silence and sharp drop in skin temperature I witnessed when I errored in invoking the Abura.

Our code of honorable combat demanded both parties reveal themselves fully during a duel, but I was conflicted over whether this was the perfect moment to demonstrate the many hazards awaiting Jahaa on Menthla.

I did warn my clan.

Razkurs were not meek. They were predators, evolved to stalk in silence and infrared. When incensed, they could cool their skin instantly, rendering themselves temporarily invisible to our secondary heat spectrum.

I amped up my helmet's sensors into a custom mode I designated DARK RAZKUR. Mourning Crow didn't growl, or hiss, or even flare her powerful teeth. Instead, her internal organs went quiet while she heaved her chest to force warm blood back into her skin.

Good. They need to see.

Renas took an eager position several feet away, savoring what she believed would be an effortless victory. The Reaver was a skilled warrior, smart and decisive. She even mated successfully with Dran during our mating season thirty cycles ago.

I'm not sure why, but Shale, the one who should have been my final opponent in the Grand Nexus melee, pulled his gaze off Mourning Crow and stared directly at me.

Don't come looking to me for answers after you went off chasing phantom challenges and denied me the chance to defeat you in front of an audience! All that pedigree, and you're still clueless.

Screw you! This is what you deserted. No one, not even you, can steal my triumph!

I confirmed my helmet was recording and returned my attention to Mourning Crow. Her face was serene but the formation of her ears screamed, I want her fucking head!

Renas roared and flicked her mass of dark green cranial quills, signaling that the duel was in progress.

Then Mourning Crow closed her eyes, slowed her lungs, took three steps, and froze. Not out of fear. Her posture was downright hostile. Mouth closed, head lunged forward with her shoulders sloped back, ears flat and back, no twitching, arms to her sides, and her bare feet planted firmly with one foot set slightly in front of the other.

My mate locked on to her target, and just like the doomed inhabitants of Thorngate, Renas had no idea that she was already dead.

This was what it meant to be hunted by razkurs.

I'm not sure what I expected, but certainly not what happened.

One second Renas was charging and the next she mangled and twisted in half.

Mourning Crow sat crouched on top of Renas, holding the Reaver's bloody spine in her mouth. Then she crunched down with her blunt white teeth, splintering the wet vertebrae flat and squeezing the organic juices free. Her posture... she perched like a tailless U'la'ke after claiming a fresh kill.

Roars flooded the grand hall and Mourning Crow rose, her face slathered in sticky blue blood. She snipped loose the excess spinal cord dangling from the sides of her mouth, then spat out the chewed-up hunk of Zhaguai vertebrae, flattened her ears, and went still again.

The grand hall hushed.

I had to hit replay in my helm to break down exactly what happened and so did everyone else wearing their helmets.