A stiff breeze blew across the Ashlands, plucking ash from the earth and sending it to drift through the remains of a caravan as well as the large group assembled beside it. It wouldn't take an intelligent man to realize what had happened; there were the corpses of men and mutants all around with their blood seeping from numerous wounds, while the group was obviously divided. On one hand there was a number of men and women of numerous races chained together, bruised and dirty, and alongside them were men whose garb matched the garb of the corpses and most of which were nursing fresh wounds. The other group was composed entirely of Nyr'kiin, many of them mounted on great lizards but even more of them on foot. And every single one of them had several weapons sheathed somewhere on their bodies, most of them wielding maces or bows but more than a few with several primitive firearms each. The Nyr'kiin had obviously attacked the caravan, and were now dealing with the survivors.

The leader of the Nyr'kiin was at the front of their group, mounted on one of the great lizards and with a pale blue markings painted on her face and body. Her name was Chyn'Ik'Zakeer, and like all of the Nyr'kiin present she had been a member of the warrior caste for her entire life. And at present she was looking down on who she assumed was the leader of the caravan she'd just raided; or perhaps they'd killed the leader and he was just the second-in-command. She didn't know for certain and she could not care less; the result would be the same either way. The man was dirty, just as dirty as the rest of his men, and he had a open wound above his eye causing his greasy hair to be glued to his forehead with blood.

For the longest time Zakeer simply stared at the man, waiting for him to speak. Her face betrayed no emotion aside from the occasional twitch of her antennae, at least to their captives; her subtle body language and pheromones made her irritation and impatience with the man evident to her fellow Nyr'kiin. But finally, her impatience made her the first to speak as the man did nothing but glare.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" Zakeer asked, not enjoying the way the words flowed from her mouth. Her jaws were made for speaking the tongue of the Nyr'kiin, and the word of the apes felt wrong in her jaws; sounded wrong as well because of the hint of hissing and clicking underneath her speech. Of course, she didn't realize how off it sounded.

But at those words, the man's glare turned into a snarl of rage. "You monsters attack us without any provocation, butcher my men, and then ask what I have to say for myself?" he said, not even trying to hide the fury in his voice.

Zakeer felt nothing but annoyance at the man's overt display of emotion, "Of course."

The answer shocked the man into a moment of silence, before he began to sputter angrily. He hadn't been expecting an answer so blunt and without any hint of explanation and he momentary had no idea what to say to the monster before him. But finally he managed to yell "Why the hell did you attack us?"

Zakeer cocked her head, the first sign of emotion recognizable to the man that he'd seen, and answered by gesturing to the group of battered and bruised captives chained together. "They are slaves are they not?" she asked.

"So?"

"Yes or no."

"Well, yes they're slaves but why the hell does that matter?"

"Where did you get them?"

For a moment the man was confused by the question, and why exactly it mattered. But then it dawned on him, and he couldn't help but think to himself how much of an idiot he'd been. Everyone knew that the Nyr'kiin hated the Dratha, and there likely wasn't anyone else he could've acquired the slaves from. He could've believe he'd accidentally wandered close to enough to the hive to be caught. "Why the hell does that matter?" he answered defensively, in the vain hope that not admitting to dealing with the Dratha would perhaps lead to some small measure of mercy.

But Zakeer was growing even more tired of the man, and chose this moment to jump down from her mount and stride right up to the man. They stared at each other for a moment, the man forced to crane his head upwards to look into the Nyr'kiin's eyes and then the man opened his mouth to speak. But he didn't get a single word out before Zakeer's fist slammed into the side of his face.

The force of the blow had knocked the already weakened man over, and as he stood back up on shaky feet he spit a shattered tooth onto the dusty ground. He glanced over at his men, but none of them made any move to help him as they were paralyzed by fear. But the man stood defiantly again, spitting blood onto Zakeer's face. She simply stood stock still for a long moment, the blood beginning to run down the leathery shell on her face. She was infuriated by the man, of course, but there was no way he could know that. That is until her hand shot out again, but this time grabbing the man by his throat.

The man tried to get out of her grasp, but when he brought his hands up in a vain attempt to pry her hand off his neck, she grabbed them both by the wrist with her lower arms. And she simply stood like that, watching as his face turned red and his eyes began to bulge out. But she was cut off by a shout from one of her men.

[i]"Chyn'Ik'Zakeer, we have three!"[/i] came the voice, speaking in the tongue of her own people.

She quickly threw the man down, leaving him coughing and heaving in dust as she made her way quickly towards the voice. It had come from near the slaves, who were all huddled in a terrified mass. But they parted for her, and those few who didn't were shoved roughly aside until she came to the one who's called her.

She was a fellow warrior, with the blue paint and weapons of their caste, but she was kneeling beside three other Nyr'kiin. They, however, were stark naked and without markings in addition to being chained together. Zakeer knelt down beside them, looking to the warrior and telling her to grab some food from their packs. She attempted to greet them by gently brushing her antennae against theirs, but they recoiled from the touch.

"No, no, it is okay," she said hoping they understood the language of the men at the very least, "You are safe now."

"Never safe," one of them said, "Never."

"No, you are safe now. I swear; just come with us," she said, but was interrupted by another.

"We can't; they'll find us," he said, blabbering, "They always find us. Hurt us."

"Your brothers and sisters won't let anyone hurt you again," Zakeer said, trying to calm them.

The Nyr'kiin seemed confused by this, looking among each other. But then the warrior arrived once again, handing a small leather pack to Zakeer. She pulled a piece of white fungus from it, holding it in her hand and offering it to the slaves. They were hesitant at first, but the one who had yet to speak eventually took it and stared at it.

"Eat," Zakeer simply said, pulling another piece of fungus out. The slave quickly consumed it all, and soon the three were gorging themselves on the fungus. And when one of the other slaves, a human, attempted to move closer the warrior had to do nothing but draw her sword and stare. The other slaves quickly took the hint, and didn't even attempt to disturb the Nyr'kiin. 

"What do you mean brothers and sisters?" one of them asked in between bites, "They were all taken away..."

"No," Zakeer replied forcefully, "We are all the children of the Queens, we are all brothers and sisters. And we protect our family."

"The Queen?" another asked, confusion evident in their voice.

"Yes, the Queens," Zakker replied, "I am no priest, but come with us and I will tell you all I can on the way to the Hive?"

"What's the Hive?"

"Home."

It was a long moment before any of the Nyr'kiin replied but eventually one stood up, iron shackles clanging together as they did so. And it wasn't long before the others stood up as well, but then one looked around at the other slaves. The one who weren't Nyr'kiin, "What about the others?"

"They can do what they want," Zakeer said, "It does not matter."

"Can't they come with us?"

"If they want to," Zakeer replied, but as a murmur went through the throng of slaves she made a quick amendment, "But they have to keep up on their own."

Though the three were unsure about their saviour's callousness they followed her nonetheless; after all the things she spoke of intrigued them and it was the first time freedom had ever been dangled in front of them. Zakeer quickly made her way back to the slaver's leader, who was still lying on the ground. Then she turned to the three Nyr'kiin slaves, her face blank despite her feeling a malevolent joy.

"Go ahead," she said, gesturing to him.

They were confused, and did nothing before Zakeer explained. "Surely you want some revenge?" she said, "Go ahead, do whatever you want."

At that the man looked up at Zakeer, and then to the three slaves. "Boys, boys, there's no need for this now. We can talk this out, right?" he said, his tone almost pleading as the three moved in around him. Then Zakeer drew one of her knives and handed it to one of the slaves.

"Have fun," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she turned to mount the great lizard once again. As the man screamed, she focused her attention elsewhere; whether or not they'd be able to carry all the supplied from the caravan, whether the corpses would spoil before they arrived back at the Singing Hive, and whether it'd be easier to kill the slavers now or let them walk to the Hive on their own legs. Then the screams stopped, and she looked over at the three slaves only to see them covered in crimson blood and looking over at her.

"Enjoy yourselves?" she asked.

The answer wasn't immediate but soon one of them replied, "It felt good."

"That is what I wanted to hear," Zakeer said happily, hoping at least one of them decided to join the warrior caste. Their kill was rather sloppy, and she'd love to teach one of them the true art of killing. But for now, she was certain they'd fit in back home at the Singing Hive.