Dark shadows were stark cold compared to the rest of the surroundings. Every time he passed under one was a sudden shock to his system, and in the frozen forest, there were many shadows. It kept him focused; the stab of icy air gave a sharp sting to the delicate inner folds of his mandibles, forcing them tightly close around his inner mouth. The claws of the wind threatened to dig into his skin, but the links of his suit kept the beast at bay as he came to a rest on a branch. He could see his own breath bloom and cloud his vision before being stolen and whisked away. He put his mask back on.

Claws dug into crackling wood as he leaned forward, long dreads sliding over his shoulders. There was nothing to either side, but below, a very faint, fading trail. He rattled. The odds were severely stacked against his prey. He was close behind. Prying his claws from the branch of the tree he leapt forward, feeling the unforgiving brush of more shadows.

He was painfully aware of the noise he was making, as every hunter is. The more aware of ones sound, the less aware prey would be. He couldn't help but grin as he closed in, seeing a bright spot of heat just ahead. He slowed and moved quieter than before. Avoiding branches where the god-forsaken snow had piled so high a touch would send the whole pile to the forest floor and give away his position.

He stopped above the dot of heat and froze. The heat was there, unmistakable, but there was no body. It was as if his prey had taken to the sky from that spot, but he knew this to be impossible. He rattled despite himself and looked around. There was no other trail, not heat in the blackness of this infernal place. He leaned forward and dropped down, sinking down nearly to his waist. He reached out and touched the edges of the trail where the heat was rapidly dissipating. He growled and pulled himself out of the hole he made, stepping onto the snow and only sinking to his knees.

He kept low, looking around but seeing nothing. Where could she have gone?

Hell erupted around him. The cascading blackness poured across his skin. There was pain against the side of his head, cracking hard against his crest, knocking his mask clean off, causing the vapor tubes to hiss violently. Two more strikes were made in quick succession, against his side, then chest, before he could even react. He swung his wristblades out, backwards, and the non-damaging side struck metal, knocking his opponent's weapon away long enough to tumble to the side. He turned and face her. Her body crisscrossed with brightness, and the squares between slowly brightening to match.

She had hid in the snow. Clever tetch-na. Without his mask he couldn't see the details of her body, but he was sure that pretentious human grimace twisted her face, teeth exposed and everything.

She moved and he fell into a stance automatically, watching as she spun her spear casually at her side and walked. He watched her carefully, moving to follow her circle when she got too close. What was she planning? It was difficult to tell with how relaxed she was. She could very well not be planning anything and relish in letting him suffer in uncertainty.

He clicked a tusk. He did not like being made a fool of, but if she was expecting him to act irrationally she was sorely mistaken.

The snow around his legs was melting, the cold water running down his skin, causing him to sink deeper.

A sheer whistle blanketed her spear as it sailed through the air with a quick swing of her arm. He dodged to the side, the spear sticking out of a tree unwavering. He found his footing suddenly entangled as she came in from the other side of her spear. His own momentum carried him into her attack, causing him more pain in his leg than if she had hit him with her strength alone.

That was how she fought; using a yautja's size against him.

She swept his leg out from under him, pitching him into the black snow. He felt her weight on top of him, spear in her hand, pointed tip at the base of his throat, sharper than any sting of wind or bite of cold, dangerously pressed below the lowest ring of his necklace.

He heard her laugh and rumbled. He remembered that she had earned her name as Throat Cutter among other yautja. She removed her spear and stepped away from him, allowing him to stand.

"Good hunt," Jar-hidda said, trying to sound annoyed.

Hannah retracted her spear and stored it on the pack on her back.

"Let's get back to the ship," she sighed, stepping forward and smacking her hand against his shoulder.

"We're not finished-."

"Oh yes we are," she said tersely with a smile. Her hands lashed out and in a flash had his codpiece off and she was several feet away before the cold really crept through his loincloth.

"Hannah!" he roared, trying to protect that part of him from the elements. He charged after her, pounding deep holes in the snow. There was no contest really, and she had to know that. He caught up to her easily and with a shove of his hand sent her sprawling face-first into the snow. He rolled her over, muffled laughter ringing clear, and pried the codpiece from her fingers. He reattached it and growled at her, still laughing in the snow.

He heard her grunt as he stepped on her stomach and pushed her deeper into the snow, but laughter continued to ring from the clean-cut depression as he turned his back to it and stormed away, hands balled into fists.

She eventually pulled herself out and caught back up with him.

It did not take them long to make their way back to the ship. It was barely warmer than it was outside, and Jar-hidda could see Hannah's hair was slicked against her head, and she had to peel her loincloth off, letting it smack against the ground. Good, being wet in this condition would be very bad.

Despite being cold, she was smiling in a way he knew to be smug.

"Enjoy it while you can," growled Jar-hidda, "next time, I'll win."

"Yeah, sure, uh-huh," she smiled at him and a single tusk tapped once. She grinned and picked out a dry cloth to re-tie around herself. Jar-hidda also followed suit, wrapping a kilt around himself and groaning.

He had come into the room from the cockpit. It was the first stop he always made after waking up, training, or hunting, and always just before sleeping.

"You just don't want to admit to yourself that you're getting old and slow," she grinned and he rattled in warning. She chuckled.

Now dry, or at least in dry clothing, Jar-hidda watched Hannah move to her shoulder pack and opened it up with a touch of her finger. From within she removed some herbs, now limp in the heat and brought them up to inhale.

"What is that," the yautja asked, stepping behind her.

"Found it under the snow," she answered, "smells good, I think I'll try it on some meat."

She held it out to Jar-hidda who bent and opened his mandibles, inhaling audibly. He had to admit he enjoyed spice very much, since having some of Hannah's back on Earth a long while ago. He would never admit it to her, but he appreciated that she would find plants for the sole purpose of putting flavor to meat and stews.

"Maybe," he said, "try it."

Hannah nodded and turned to head to the kitchen. It was the warmest part of the ship, also the most pungent. It was here that Hannah had started to tie up the herbs she collected to dry and be used as spice. Jar-hidda had entered with her, reaching over and touching one of the spices, an audible and crisp sound coming from between his fingers.

"This one's ready."

"Good, you want to try it tonight?"

"May as well."

Jar-hidda stepped back and watched as Hannah untied the bundle and took a single sprig. The plant, when she found it, she teased Jar-hidda for the resemblance to his coloration, purple and green, a concept that he was still trying to grasp. Lately though she was teasing him as Jar-hidda's skin was taking on a decidedly grey tone.

The fact that he was changing color disturbed him on some level, knowing he was changing but not understanding how.

She took some of the fresh meat from its cupboard and turned on the hotplate. As it heated she worked on crushing the plant into tiny pieces in her hand. She rubbed the grains into the surface and slapped the meat onto the hotplate, searing it, and then letting it sit. Jar-hidda moved and sat beside her, eager for the meat to cook and to have something warm in his stomach.

He would normally not let her cook for the both of them, but the last several times he had tried had caused the meat to burn.

This planet did things to him...

It took only a minute before it was done, and the meat was divided into proper portions, his much larger than hers. The meat was tough, taken from some white ape-like beast at least three times the size of Jar-hidda. But it was a stupid animal, easy to take down, worth more for its meat than as a trophy. The thick heavy pelt of fur was also a nice prize. Since they had found themselves stranded on this planet, where it was always winter, all the animals were aggressive and dangerous, and the smallest of them was the ape beasts. It was a planet Jar-hidda was keen to tell her was named Cho't and was owned by no one.

Which made the likelihood of his beacon being heard by anyone anytime soon very slim.

To conserve power, they lowered the heat down to barely tolerable for Jar-hidda, which was an almost-uncomfortable for Hannah.

He, however, figured she would be accustomed to a place like this, considering where she had been living when they had met. It was much the same.

Jar-hidda, as much as she had been teasing him, was moving slower, and he knew it wasn't because of age. He hated being here; the cold always negatively affected his kind. What they considered the place of eternal punishment was cold. He would be grateful when they could leave.

"How is it?" she asked as he had taken his third bite, distracting himself from his thoughts.

"It is strong," he answered, voice muffled by food, "I like it, we should get more the next time we are on No'haus."

Dinner was otherwise quiet, as usual, and once they were done, Jar-hidda went to the cockpit to see if there had been an answer to his call. Hannah followed, folding her arms and waiting as he tapped buttons and muttered curses. He didn't sit down and wait for hours like he had for the first few days, he couldn't afford to be still, and staring at the screen would not make a ship find them any faster.

"This thing...," he heard Hannah say and he looked over at the piece she was fiddling with, a vaguely flower-shaped thing. He had attempted to explain its purpose and function, but ultimately he had given up. It was one more part of his ship that he knew what it did, but didn't know how. An engineer would have been more suited to her questions.

"Still nothing?"

"No, it will take a while," Jar-hidda said as fact rather than optimism. He stepped away from the controls and she set the device back down on the arm of the chair.

He had all but lost track of how long they had been stranded in this place, and it would likely be for much longer. Ch'ot was a place no one went to, save for their Final Hunt, at the end of their Path.

Rattling in annoyance, he turned away from the screen and moved back into the ship, only to be passed up by the female who quickly darted into the training room, like she was being stealthy about it. He clicked a tusk in amusement.

At the very least, the life the two of them lead now had not dampened her spirits. She had grown accustomed to him and his ways, she spoke fluidly now, no longer requiring the clicking of her fingers, and she had earned the respect of other hunters, finally. No, rather than bring her down, Hannah seemed to finally be flourishing in a life on the Path.

For him, it felt like she was finally where she had always belonged. His only concern, a fear he would never admit to, that twisted his gut and tightened his chest, was the short duration of a human lifetime.

He shook his regret away, seeing the small space that had been left open to the training room, and he chuckled, crouched, and approached silently.

He would enjoy her company for as long as possible.