When you first told So’lek you would be learning to hunt under Eetu of the Aranahe, his reaction was immediate—and sharp.
“No.”
The word came out low, rough, edged with a growl he didn’t bother to suppress.
You blinked at him. “So’lek—”
“He should not be with you,” he snapped, yellow eyes narrowing. “Find another hunter. Anyone else.”
The name Eetu still hung in the air between you like smoke. So’lek turned away, jaw tight, hands curling into fists at his sides.
You’d seen him angry before—on the battlefield, during raids on RDA installations—but this was different. This was personal.
“What is wrong with him?” you asked quietly. “You’ve barely met him.”
So’lek let out a sharp breath. “I have met his kind. Loud. Reckless. Thinks bravery means throwing himself into danger without thought.” He finally looked at you again, gaze burning. “That kind of hunter gets people killed.”
You frowned. “He’s respected by the Aranahe.”
“So was a man I once followed,” So’lek replied coldly. “Until his arrogance buried half my squad.”
That shut you up.
So’lek could see it on your face—the hesitation, the curiosity, the pull of something new. And he hated that he understood it.
Eetu was young. Confident. Unburdened by loss.
Everything So’lek was not.
⸻
Eetu, for his part, was exactly as So’lek described—and worse.
“Relax,” Eetu laughed as he slung his bow over his shoulder, flashing you a grin. “You’re strong. Everyone knows that. You brought clans together. Took down RDA bases like it was nothing.”
“That doesn’t make me a hunter,” you replied. “And night hunting—”
“Is where instincts are sharpened,” he interrupted lightly. “You can’t learn fear by hiding from it.”
Your stomach twisted. You remembered So’lek’s warning.
The creatures that walk at night do not test you. They end you.
“I don’t like this,” you said firmly. “This feels wrong.”
Eetu tilted his head, studying you. “Are you afraid?”
“No,” you said. “I’m cautious.”
He smirked. “Same thing to a warrior who hasn’t learned yet.”
That should have been your sign to walk away.
But Fury—your ikran—shifted beneath you, restless, sensing your uncertainty. And somewhere deep inside, you felt the pressure of expectation. You were strong. You were capable. You didn’t want to fail.
So you followed.
⸻
The thanator came out of the trees like a nightmare given flesh.
You barely had time to shout before it struck.
The world dissolved into claws, teeth, pain.
You remembered screaming Fury’s name. Remembered the ground rushing up. Remembered something slamming into your side so hard you couldn’t breathe.
After that—nothing.
⸻
When you woke, the air smelled of crushed leaves and antiseptic sap.
“Easy,” a calm voice murmured. “Do not move.”
Etuwa’s hands were gentle but firm as she pressed you back down. Her dark eyes searched your face with sharp concern.
“Etuwa…?” Your voice cracked.
“You are safe,” she said softly, though her jaw was tight. “Fury brought you to us.”
Your body screamed in protest as awareness returned. Your ribs burned. Your leg throbbed. You tried to sit up and failed with a gasp.
Etuwa’s expression darkened. “You were badly injured. Another claw width and your lung would have collapsed.”
You swallowed. “Eetu—where is he?”
Silence.
Etuwa did not answer right away, and that alone told you everything.
“He left,” she said finally. “Went to get help. Did not return.”
Your chest tightened—not from pain, but from something colder.
“No mentor,” Etuwa continued, anger slipping through her calm tone, “should ever place their student before their own pride.”
Tears stung your eyes. “I told him it was a bad idea.”
“I know,” Etuwa said gently, squeezing your hand. “I believe you.”
⸻
So’lek arrived at the Aranahe camp like a storm.
The moment he saw you—bandaged, pale, barely conscious—something in him broke.
He knelt beside you, hands trembling as he brushed his forehead against yours.
“I warned him,” he whispered, voice shaking with restrained fury. “I warned you.”
You managed a weak smile. “You were right.”
That only made his eyes burn