Okay, now we begin the trip back to Yaut.

He had woken up as soon as the sun had risen over the horizon, and had had lied in bed, waiting for the moment.

Mark realized that the arbitrators of this clan could have hostile to him at first glance, so he would have to be quick with his explanations.

It still seemed so surreal that his far fetched plan had actually worked.

He cried in silence, tears of happiness streaming over his cheeks and burning his scars.

He reached over and grabbed a bowl to drink some water, trying to hydrate his dry throat.

The effort had mild success, and he started to slide the awu'asa back into his place on his body, wincing at the pain in his ribs.

He took out Mhei's head trinket from one of the pouches, and sat back down, observing it.

He tenderly rubbed his thumb over the metal ridges, having completely memorized the layout of its surface.

He still recalled the day she had gifted it to him, their first meeting, their duel, how she had royally kicked his ass. He smiled.

Yes, those were happier times indeed.

He sat there for some time, before hearing a ping from the computer wrist; quickly approaching it, he opened the port and read the new message:

"The rescue ship has been dispatched right now. It shall arrive in a short manner of time." he quickly typed a response: "May Lilka bless you for your help."

Then, he exited the port.

True to word, he heard the telltale noise of a ship, landing just outside of the clearing it seemed.

Mark sighed, swallowing back his anxiety and pushing it down to the pit of his stomach. The big moment of truth was finally here.

He walked to the entrance of the room, removed the wooden door, and crawled out from under it.

He made sure to stay behind the large stone, as to not be seen by the arbitrators.

He listened with his ears, and sensed two different footsteps, one heavier than the other; 'A female and a male most likely.'

Mark took a deep breath, and walked away from cover and into their field of view.

The two armored enforcers immediately took notice of him and fell into a battle stance, the male threw his combistick at him, and it was only thanks to his enhanced training that he dodged it by a few inches.

He started to speak to them: "Wait! I sent the message!" the two shared a silent look, before the huntress turned back to him.

"Ooman, you understand me, yes?" she replied in english.

Mark sighed in relief: "Yes, loud and clear. I am the one that sent the signal. I need help." he explained, planting a foot against the solid stone and yanking the spear free, offering it back to the surprised warrior.

The arbitrator noticed his armor: "You are wearing hard meat awu'asa... how did you acquire this?" he asked suspiciously. This one seemed to have not yet learned english.

"I made it myself, it took a lot of days, time and resources, but it was worth it in the end. Follow me." he asked, the woman translating what he said to the shorter hunter.

He presented them with the freshly cleaned skull of the praetorian, all in an effort to add legitimacy to his claim.

They stood there for a while, whispering back and forth while throwing numerous glances at the object in question.

After some more questioning, they took his tale for true, and watched shell shocked as he showed them the entirety of his collection.

They called down a couple more ships in order to transport it back all, and the arbitrators seemed to treat him with some sort of newfound respect.

It unsettled him a bit, but he made sure to get all of his stuff, which included several hides, claws and tails.

Once it was all said and done he walked over to one of the ships, conversing with another arbitrator.

"And so you have survived until this chicle? The gods have gifted you with their blessing. You are lucky indeed." Mark resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that the disrespectful action would not sit well with those around.

He turned back one last time, looking over the base and clearing. Mark was glad he was leaving this hellhole, and yet... a pang of sadness echoed in his heart: for this had also been his home for the longest time now.

The ride back was uneventful: the sudden jolts or tremors had him on high alert, expecting to see a kiande amedha leap at him at any moment.

He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat, leaning his head back to try and contain his nervousness.

Soon enough they stationed the ships in one of the numerous docking bays in the mothership.

This particular class of ship was the largest kind, constructed to permanently be the living area of an entire clan. From what he had been able to tell this was the Long Glaive clan, a minor, but still respectable tribe.

He had noticed that these yautja were a little bit shorter than the ones from Kyiv's clan. The tallest male he had seen was a little over eight feet, while the females were around nine; by his estimations of course.

The return of the arbitrators had attracted a few crowds, and the sight of them destroyed any hope of arriving there undisturbed.

He prepared himself to face jeers and insults, but he was all but used to this treatment.

Mark stepped down the ramp, holding a hand over his eyes to shield them from the blinding change of brightness. The crowd quietened when it took notice of him.

No one said anything, they all stared.

He remembered his mentor's lessons, and raised his head up, marching forward with a strong posture.

Again, not a single voice carried over to his hearing, the footsteps of his armored feet, along with the ones of the arbitrators flanking him were the only noises in the area.

He quickly scanned the inside of the ship, and remained impressed: the bridge they were own extended into various other structures, elevators and floors. His blue orbs could clearly make out the elegant marking decorating every surface; everything was displayed in a neat organized manner, still retaining a beautiful scenery though.

While still not as grandiose or luxurious as the building style of the Fire Skull clan, Mark could only marvel at the jewel of technology.

Again his side screamed in pain, and Mark instinctively placed a hand to the spot.

The arbitrator next to him turned to look, and spoke: "I know that you are in pain, but out honored matriach has requested your presence."

He let out a silent sigh of annoyance at the thought of having to deal with another matron he did not know, clearly remembering the last time he was in this kind of situation.

Still, he had yet to earn the ire of a single yautja, and this fact irked him deeply.

The throne room was the only thing that came close to the extravagant style of his clan; but that should have been expected, seeing as this was the seat of power of the matriarch.

The alpha female was sitting in the large bone throne, adorned in a beautiful dress that was not suited for combat.

Utilizing proper etiquette, Mark bowed on his knees, waiting for her signal to get back up.

"Rise." she simply ordered, and he did, keeping his eyes to the ground.

Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace before she issued another command.

"I have been told that you were left on the planet, and that it was you who requested the pickup."

"Yes." she nodded her head at that, then, she regally stood up, and climbed down the steps of the seat with a series of soft thuds.

She still held an aura of dominance over the room, 'Seems like a common thing among matrons.' He thought, the tips of his lips pointing upwards.

"Arbitrators, you may leave us." she said, looking behind him.

The tall female started to walk around him, observing him like if he were a freshly cooked steak.

That was the impression she gave off... and he didn't like it one bit.

She finished her circling and came to a stop in front of him.

The matriarch grasped the front of his armor in a fist, feeling the rough texture, the taloned hand moved to his side, and pushed against his broken ribs.

Mark yelled both in pain and fury as he stabbed his knife towards his throat, the animalistic reaction kicking in automatically.

In a blink of an eye though, he found himself hugging the floor, head jarring and gasping in pain from the violent collision. As the ringing stopped, he became aware of the plated feet crushing his limbs, followed by the sharp tips of the combisticks, he also felt the knee of the matron, pressing against his lower back; but surprisingly, she did not put weight in her hold.

Using his own knife, she cut the awu'asa open, revealing his back to her. The marine could only lay there and stay still, least he wanted to suffer the wrath of the royal guards.

Unexpectedly, she moved her clawed digits towards his mark, lightly tracing them over it. Then, she gave a few quick prods to his sides, counting the broken ribs; she was gentle, and removed her digits the instant he winced.

After some time, she sent a signal to the guards, ordering them to return to their respective posts, and helped him up.

Mark coughed, a bit of blood escaping his lips, a detail that did not go unnoticed by the yautja.

"You are from the Fire Skull clan." she stated in english while he carefully removed the awu'asa that was now rendered useless.

"Yes, the fuck was that for?" he demanded, challenging her gaze. The guards openly growled at him but were silenced with the wave of a hand.

"I needed confirmation of your identity, and I now possess the answers I required." she explained, holding the dagger back at him, hilt forward.

He retrieved it, "And?" Mark pressed impatiently, tired of her stalling, "You will be able to return to your clan in due time, for we are also heading to Yaut in occasion of the life ceremony."

'Where did I already hear that... ah yes... the festival.' the celebration was made to honor Lilka and to better relations between clans by paying respect the code of honor.

The matron walked back to her throne, sitting in it with a calm posture. "For the time being, you shall remain my honored guest. My healers have been notified of your condition, and are awaiting your arrival." she informed him, dismissing his presence.

He was closely followed by a couple of royal guards, who escorted him to one of the medical quarters.

Mark noticed a lack of males in the matriarch's staff, and now that he thought about it, that would've explained all the stares he was receiving.

The hunters did a few scans on his body, accompanied by a lot of touching and little talk.

'Finally... some comfort.' he thought as his eyes started to close, the sleeping drug began to affect his tired body, lowering his heartbeat and pressure.

And there's chap 20. I apologize for the delay on this one, but homework had been a painful thorn in my side for these past few weeks.

Until next time my friends.