Well, who am I kidding?

You didn't actually think I would end this story here now did you...?

(I hope not)

The chirps of wildlife echoed throughout the clearing.

Said place had been been liberated from the local fauna, except for a large, rocky settlement.

It was large, tall and robust, gray in coloring, essentially the same as any other rock on the planet.

Around the settlement was a moat, that ran deep for several feet. The perimeter of the clearing was laid with wooden spikes, along with a few stone ones as well.

A figure jumped from an overhanging branch, and landed with a silent thud.

It started to slowly walk towards the stone, it's feet making wet, squelching noises in the mud.

In one of it's hands was the skull of a kiande amedha drone.

The human let out a sigh, before gently planting the head on the ground.

Another trophy for the ever growing collection it seemed.

'That makes 76 drones, 119 warriors and 12 praetorians in total.'

Mark sighed once again, rubbing his tired eyes with the back of his hands.

How long had it been? How long since he last spoken with another person? How long was it since the day he had failed?

'Yes... since the day I failed. I deserve this considering everything.' he had received some of the best training: his mentor had been an elite arbitrator, of the esteemed Fire Skull clan no less.

He had caught the eye of a female, a relative of the matron and daughter of the high eldress, and she was a primal huntress.

'Mhei...'

And yet he had failed. He wasn't good enough. He remembered how the female yautja had showed her interest in him, and her wish to bear his children. But that would never happen.

Maybe this was simple and harsh reality of it all. Maybe he had been a fool to think he could have ever had a chance to be a part of that elite group.

He had no idea of much time he had spent on this tropical planet; but it had to be for quite some time: his beard had grown a lot, and now reached past his pectorals, his hair now arrived at the small of his back.

The queen of the hive had sent numerous hard meats to kill him, all had failed.

Through trial and error, wound and scar, defeat and victory, he had learned the nature of the kiande amedha, knew their attack and strategies, and had developed new counters to their fighting style.

With the passing of days however, he had seen less and less of the creatures. It seemed as if they had accepted his presence and had moved on.

He had found this clearing a lot of time ago. He had made it his home, and had use the acid blood of his prey to dig out the trench, and he further added defense by sticking sharp poles of wood in ground, diminishing the chances of intruders making it into his layer.

He had carved a home inside the central rock by sharpening his blades against it.

The solid and thick walls provided excellent protection against the cold winds during the night, and it felt truly nice to lay on top of the numerous furs of the beasts he had hunted and feasted upon.

But now there were no more prey. He would search for hours on end, but still found nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And if there was no prey there was no meat. No food.

Mark hadn't had a decent meal in who knew how long; and it showed with the lack of muscle mass and the clear view of the outline of his ribs.

He hadn't washed in a long time... his body was dirty, almost black with filth. He did not have that luxury. He could not afford it.

Paranoia had become his only companion, and he spent many sleepless nights awake, staring at the stone ceiling of his cave, lost in his thoughts.

Mark sighed, cursing himself for getting so caught up in his head and leaving himself exposed.

He picked up the head again, and moved the wooden cover at the base of the stone out of the way.

He got down and crawled under the stone, into the small opening. He then placed the skull on the rack along the rest. He had been able to kill so many hard meats by taking them on one on one, never in group where there strength lies: in numbers, not singularly.

He adjusted his eyes to the darker light place, not taking long since he was accustomed to the constant chance by experience.

The inside was enormous, and he had at least a lot of room and space in here.

He took off his awu'asa, throwing the armored plates into a messy pile in one the corners of the room.

He did the same thing with his weapons, although with a little more care, by actually setting them down.

The rom was bare, safe for a few wooden structures that passed for furniture. A small fire was present in the center of the room, but its flames had gone out for some time.

He sat on a stool and examined the map of the surrounding area he had drawn on the wall. His stomach rumbles with hunger and Mark tenderly rubbed it, trying to lessen the ache.

He yawned, once again rubbing his eyes.

Then, his ears perked up, and heard numerous little splatting noises.

Mark got back up, wide eyed and grinning.

He unclothed himself, and exited the cavernous home.

It was raining outside, raining! Mark didn't care to wipe away tears of happiness cascading from his eyes, mixing with the water of the rain.

He couldn't care less about being bare to the world, he just cared about refreshing himself right now.

He scrubbed at his skin using his nails, causing patches of hardened dirt coming off after many days, even breaking it in some points, but the cold liquid numbed the pain.

He cupped his hands together and watched with joy as the small bowl filled with water, he brought his arms up and greedily drank the clean, pure and cold water.

He repeated this action a few more times. Then, he positioned some bowls around the clearing, allowing them to collect a larger amount of vital water.

'This feels nice.' he thought with a sigh as he entered back inside the cave after being satisfied with his state of cleanliness. He heard the crack of thunder and wisely placed the wooden hatch back into place, preventing water and mud from entering and flooding the place.

He flicked his arms and legs in an effort to shed off most of the water and dry himself.

He got to knees and removed the charred, blackened wood from the fireplace. He placed a new, set of dry wood into a pyramidal shape, before covering it all with leaves and vines.

He grabbed a green colored shard from one of the tables, and pulled out a dagger.

He had named the shard "fire shard" because of its capacity to create sparks.

Mark placed both objects against one another, before letting them scrape against one another.

It took a few tries, but soon enough one of the sparks started to burn into a leaf. The fire that consumed that leaf began to spread to the rest of the wood.

The marine carefully blew air under the gaps, helping the fire breathe. He then placed some bigger logs on the newborn fire, nodding in content when the flame started to crackle and undulate.

With another tired groan he climbed on top of the slab of rock, laying his back onto the pelt covered stone. Mark closed his eyes, and slowed down his breathing.

He knew that the exhaustion of not having rested for so long had caught up to him, and now he was bound to pass out and sleep.

He quickly sent a prayer to Lilka, wishing for his sleep to be full of pleasant dreams, and devoid of nightmares.

He woke up, contently curled in the pelts, still feeling tired.

He didn't make an effort to get back up, instead focusing on enjoying the warmth that he felt.

It seemed that Lilka had heard his prayer, for he had slept well.

It was nice: being able to briefly let down his guard, to not have to be on edge all the time. He started to remember in a bittersweet way, what it felt to actually relax, to not have to worry about going to sleep on an empty stomach.

To have friends that cared for his well being.

'If only I could get off this damn planet...' he sadly thought, before kicking himself for being so delusional.

There was a small part in him that yearned in hoping for salvation, in chance to be able to return to Yaut with all of his kills; but was simply a wish.

Life was bleak, and this is how things were.

The computer wrist came to across from him with a high pitched ping.

Mark sat up in surprise, looking at the instrument in total confusion: it hadn't echoed that noise in so long, that could only mea- the ping went off again.

The human scrambled off his resting place, and immediately grabbed the device and slipped it onto his forearm.

He actually let out a laugh in desperation when he saw the signal of a clan ship orbiting around this solar system.

This was it! His ticket out of here!

He quickly grabbed the other computer wrist he had managed to scavenge, activating those as well. He could, in theory, be able to use the other electric devices to boost the range of his message.

He looked in hope as the message was transmitted, and then his smile turned off.

It wasn't enough: he didn't have enough juice to pump the message out far enough.

He stood back up, and started to pace around in anger and frustration "Fuck, fuck, " he cursed.

Then, he realized a thing: there were other computer wrists in the hive.

Mark made up his mind and began to strap on his gear at record speed.

He took out his desert eagle, counting the bullets contained in the last clip: "Eleven." he counted, and he was going to keep track of the number, for every shot counted.

Mark ran, not caring of the rain pouring down on him.

The ground was slippery, but it did not cause him to slow down: if anything, it enticed him to run even faster.

This was it, the moment of truth, the last push to salvation. This was his test, this was his Chiva come again. And it would end in one of two ways.

This would be the second time he would enter the hive, and this time he would succeed, he was sure of it.

His life depended on it.

I just hope that by the time I wake up next morning, I won't find an angry crowd bashing on the front door, demanding for my blood.

So yeah... sorry for the prank?