Chapter Text
Days passed since the clan got attacked.
Not quietly—Yautja Prime never allowed that—but with a steady return to something resembling order. Scars remained carved into stone and memory alike, but the camp breathed again. Broken structures were rebuilt. Fallen warriors were honored. The enemy clan became a story spoken in low voices, sharp with triumph and warning.
And Njohrr healed. So did Kha'rek. Their bodies recovered faster than Astra thought possible—wounds sealing, burns fading to hardened scars. She watched it happen from a distance, wary and observant, noting how quickly strength returned to them, how pain seemed an inconvenience rather than a limitation.
She did not heal the same way. Her body was whole, but something inside her remained fractured. Sleep came unevenly. Anger simmered beneath the surface, quiet but relentless. She found herself pacing more often, standing still less, as if movement itself was the only thing keeping her from sinking.
That was how Njohrr found her. The main balcony stretched wide over the mountains, stone carved into a sweeping overlook that dwarfed even the tallest Yautja. The air was cold there, thinner, carrying the sharp scent of mineral and distant storms. Astra stood at the edge, arms folded tightly across her chest, eyes fixed on the horizon.
The mountains of Yautja Prime rose like jagged teeth—dark, immense, unforgiving. They looked eternal. Untouchable. She wondered how many had died trying to conquer them.
"You stare as if they might answer you," Njohrr said behind her.
Astra didn't turn. "I'm waiting for them to tell me why I'm still here."
"They will not," he replied.
She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Figures."
Njohrr stepped closer, his presence heavy but no longer suffocating the way it once had. She had learned the shape of him now—how he moved when calm, how silence meant consideration rather than threat.
"You are restless," he said.
"That obvious?" she muttered.
"Yes."
She finally turned to face him, meeting his gaze head-on. "If you're here to order me somewhere, just do it."
"I am," he said. "But not as you expect."
That caught her attention.
He gestured with a tilt of his head. "Follow me."
Astra frowned. "Where?"
"You will see."
She hesitated, suspicion tightening her shoulders. "Is this another test?"
"No," Njohrr said. "This is preparation."
That word lingered.
She didn't like it. But she followed. They moved through the camp in silence, passing warriors mid-training, guards at their posts, humans at work who stiffened and looked away the moment they saw her beside him. The distance around her was still there—wide, deliberate. She felt it like a field of static, isolating her from everyone else.
She hated that she had grown used to it. They crossed into a section of the camp she had never been allowed near before—open ground surrounded by high stone walls, marked by scorched earth and embedded weapons. The air felt different here. Charged.
A training camp. Yautja warriors sparred in pairs and groups, movements brutal and precise. Blades flashed. Bodies collided. The sound of impact echoed constantly, sharp and unforgiving.
Astra stopped short. "No," she said flatly.
Njohrr turned to her. "Yes."
"I'm not one of them," she snapped. "I can't do this."
"You already have," he replied calmly.
She laughed, sharp and incredulous. "I fell off a wall and almost drowned. That's not training."
"You survived," he said. "Many would not have."
She shook her head. "You and Kha'rek saved me."
"And what if we are not there next time?" Njohrr asked.
The question landed like a blade. Astra went quiet. Njohrr faced her fully now, voice low but firm. "You walk freely in this camp because my name shields you. Because Kha'rek stands behind you. That protection is not eternal."
Her jaw clenched. "So what—this is about control?"
"This is about survival," he corrected. "Yours."
She searched his face, looking for mockery, for manipulation. She found none.
"You cannot remain fragile in a world that hunts the weak," Njohrr continued. "If you wish to live without my shadow—or his—you must learn how we fight."
Astra's pulse hammered in her ears. "You want to turn me into a weapon."
"No," he said. "I want to give you one."
Silence stretched between them. Around them, a sparring pair slammed into the ground, one warrior pinning the other with ruthless efficiency. Astra flinched despite herself.
"I'm human," she said quietly. "I'm smaller. Slower."
Njohrr stepped closer. "You are adaptive. Observant. You endure pain that would break others of your kind."
"That's not a compliment."
"It is a fact."
She looked away, eyes burning. "And you're going to teach me yourself?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Njohrr didn't answer immediately.
"Because if you fall," he said at last, "it will not be because you were helpless."
Her chest tightened. "You don't get to decide that for me," she said.
"No," he agreed. "You do."
He stepped aside, gesturing toward the open space of the training ground. "This is an offer."
Astra stared at the scarred earth. At the weapons. At the Yautja warriors who trained here since childhood, bodies forged by gravity and violence she could barely comprehend. Fear coiled in her stomach. So did something else. Defiance. She took a step forward. Then another.
Njohrr watched her closely as she entered the training ground, her boots crunching against stone and sand. Heads turned. Conversations faltered. The presence of a human there—his human—was unprecedented. She stopped a few paces from him. "If I do this," she said, voice steady despite the tremor beneath it, "you don't treat me like glass."
Njohrr inclined his head. "I would insult you if I did."
"And you don't touch me unless I say so."
"Agreed."
"And if I fail—"
"You will rise," he said simply. "Or you will learn why you fell."
She exhaled slowly. "Alright," Astra said. "Teach me."
Njohrr's mandibles flared slightly—not in amusement, but approval. He stepped into the center of the training ground and motioned for her to face him. "First lesson," he said. "Do not fight strength with strength."
She squared her shoulders. "Then how?"
"With awareness."
He moved without warning. Astra barely had time to react before he closed the distance, massive hand sweeping toward her shoulder. Instinct took over—she ducked, stumbling sideways, heart pounding.
"Too slow," Njohrr said.
She whirled on him. "You didn't even warn me!"
"You will not be warned," he replied.
Anger flared hot in her chest. "Fine."
She lunged. It was clumsy. Ineffective. Njohrr deflected her easily, catching her wrist and twisting just enough to unbalance her without hurting her.
"Again," he said.
She attacked again.
And again. Each time she failed—misjudging distance, timing, weight. Each time he corrected her with minimal force, guiding rather than crushing. Minutes blurred into something raw and exhausting. Sweat slicked her skin. Her lungs burned. Her muscles screamed.
"Stop thinking," Njohrr instructed. "Feel."
"I am feeling," she snapped, dodging another movement by inches. "I feel like I'm about to die."
"Good," he said. "That means you are paying attention."
She snarled and tried again. When she finally collapsed to her knees, breath ragged, hair plastered to her face, Njohrr did not move to help her up.
"You are not broken," he said. "Stand."
She glared up at him. "I hate you."
"Yes," he said. "But you are still standing."
Astra forced herself upright, legs trembling, fire burning in her chest. For the first time since arriving on Yautja Prime, she didn't feel like prey. She felt like someone being sharpened. And that terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her.
⸻
The training did not stop.
Not when Astra's arms began to shake. Not when her lungs burned so badly every breath felt like tearing metal through her chest. Not when sweat blurred her vision and the ground beneath her feet felt unsteady.
Njohrr did not slow.
He did not soften his movements or lessen the force behind them. Every strike was precise, controlled—and utterly unforgiving. He moved like a storm contained in flesh, each step calculated, each motion designed to test the limits of Astra's awareness.
Kha'rek watched from the edge of the training ground.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, tracking every movement. He said nothing. He did not interfere. But his gaze never left Astra—not when she stumbled, not when she fell, not when she dragged herself back up again with clenched teeth and a glare full of defiance.
Njohrr advanced. "Again," he ordered.
Astra barely had time to brace herself before he struck. She reacted on instinct, twisting her body just enough to avoid the full force of his blow, but it still clipped her shoulder and sent her staggering sideways. Pain flared hot and sharp, radiating down her arm.
She hissed through her teeth but stayed on her feet.
"Too wide," Njohrr said. "You leave yourself open."
"Then stop hitting me long enough to think," she snapped, breathless.
"That hesitation will kill you."
He came at her again. Astra ducked low, heart pounding, and for a split second she thought she'd anticipated him correctly—thought she might actually land something this time.
She didn't. Njohrr shifted his weight and hooked her ankle with brutal efficiency. Astra yelped as the ground disappeared beneath her, slamming into the dirt hard enough to knock the air from her lungs.
She lay there, stunned, chest heaving. Njohrr loomed over her.
"Get up."
Her fingers curled into the dirt. "Give me—"
"No."
Her jaw tightened. She rolled onto her side, forcing herself up on trembling arms, legs screaming in protest as she pushed herself back to her feet. Kha'rek's mandibles twitched.
"She is exhausted," he said quietly.
Njohrr did not look at him. "So will her enemies be."
Astra wiped sweat and blood from her lip with the back of her hand. "If this is you teaching, I'd hate to see what punishment looks like."
Njohrr's gaze flicked to her. "You already have."
That shut her up. He circled her slowly now, boots crunching against stone and sand. Astra turned with him, trying to keep him in her line of sight, pulse roaring in her ears.
"You rely on anger," Njohrr said. "It makes you reckless."
"It's keeping me upright," she shot back.
"It will also get you killed."
He moved without warning. Astra reacted faster this time—ducking, spinning away, barely avoiding his grasp. She felt the rush of air where his claws missed her by inches.
Her heart leapt. She didn't stop moving. Didn't give him the opening he wanted. She remembered his words—feel, don't think—and let her body react instead of freezing in fear.
She lunged. Her shoulder slammed into his side—not enough to hurt him, but enough to surprise him. Njohrr shifted back half a step. Kha'rek straightened slightly. Astra barely registered it. She was already moving again, adrenaline surging, momentum carrying her forward. She tried to strike his ribs, aiming for a weak point she'd noticed earlier.
Njohrr caught her wrist mid-motion. Twisted. Pain exploded up her arm. She cried out despite herself as he forced her down, pinning her with terrifying ease. Her face was inches from the ground, cheek pressed into dirt, his grip unyielding.
"This," he said calmly, "is what happens when you overcommit."
She snarled, fury outweighing fear. "Then let go!"
"Make me."
She bucked wildly, desperation lending her strength. Her heel came down hard against his shin. Njohrr grunted—more in acknowledgment than pain—but his grip loosened just enough. Astra tore free and scrambled back, chest heaving, eyes wild. Kha'rek exhaled slowly.
"She adapts," he said.
"She resists," Njohrr replied. "That is different."
They resumed. Time blurred. Astra lost count of how many times she fell. How many bruises bloomed across her skin. How many times she thought she couldn't stand again—only to do it anyway, fueled by something sharp and unyielding inside her.
Her movements became rough but quicker. Less careful. More instinctive. Njohrr hit harder. Every mistake was corrected immediately—painfully. Every hesitation punished. Every success acknowledged only by escalation.
Kha'rek watched it all, expression unreadable. At one point Astra stumbled badly, vision spinning, knees nearly buckling beneath her. She tasted blood again, copper sharp on her tongue.
"Stop," Kha'rek said suddenly.
Njohrr paused. Astra barely noticed. She was too busy fighting the urge to collapse.
"She will not last if you continue," Kha'rek added. "Her body is human."
Njohrr looked at Astra then—really looked at her. At the way her shoulders shook. At the way she struggled to keep her footing. At the stubborn glare she still aimed at him despite everything.
"She has not asked to stop," Njohrr said.
Kha'rek's gaze shifted to Astra. "Have you?"
Her vision blurred. Her throat felt tight. Every sensible instinct screamed at her to say yes. She lifted her head anyway. "No."
Njohrr nodded once.
"Again."
Kha'rek said nothing more. The sun dipped lower, shadows stretching across the training ground as Astra's strength finally began to give out in earnest. Her reactions slowed. Her steps faltered.
Njohrr struck her shoulder again—controlled, but enough to send her crashing to the ground one last time. She didn't get up. Her body refused. She lay on her back, staring up at the darkening sky, chest heaving, limbs trembling uncontrollably. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes—not from pain, but from sheer exhaustion.
Njohrr stood over her. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he knelt. The movement alone made Astra tense, instinctively bracing for more. But he didn't strike her.
"You survived," he said quietly. "That is enough for today."
She laughed weakly. "Mercy at last."
"This was mercy," he replied.
She turned her head, too tired to argue. Kha'rek approached then, looming beside them. He looked down at Astra, then at Njohrr.
"She will break if you do this every day," he said.
Njohrr's gaze remained on Astra. "She will become stronger if I do."
Astra closed her eyes, too exhausted to care which of them was right. All she knew was this:
She had not begged.
She had not run.
And she was still alive.