The jungle burned under the red sun of Yautja Prime. A tense silence hung between the twisted trees. Four young hunters, still unmarked, knelt before the towering figure of Ka'thra, the elder female of Clan Vor'tai. Her dreadlocks were braided with xenomorph fangs, and her body was covered in ritual plates as black as obsidian.

"They are not warriors until they bleed for their rights," Ka'thra snarled, activating her double-headed lance. Her voice echoed with authority. The young ones bowed their heads.

From a high branch, Zek'tal, an elite hunter, watched, designated witness. He had earned his place after hunting a plains dragon without camouflage. Beside him, a Yautja hatchling watched silently, mimicking its mother's stance.

One of the fledglings took a step forward. His arm trembled, but he did not retreat. Ka'thra extended a claw and pointed at the dense fog.

"There's one in there. If you return without your prey, never return."

Without a word, the young man disappeared into the mist. Zek'tal grunted in approval. Courage isn't taught; it's tested.

Ka'thra looked from the hunter to the hatchling.

"Thus we choose the worthy. Thus we decide who may give life."

The roar of a beast pierced the air. A plasma shot lit up the mist.

The jungle watched. Silent. Judging.