Hunting "Tags" (Dire Wolf)

[Squee]

The hunter knew where it was. It had run before the hunter, bounding away, squealing. But, there were now more sounds, just the sound of wind singing in between the stalks of the overly tall grasses that hid the hunted. Foot after foot, she stalked her prey, keeping her head down, emotions pressed down, eyes darting back and forth as she headed carefully into the grasses, which shined a bright golden in the sunlight. The tips dipped in an exotic dance that failed to catch the huntresses eye as she painstakingly slowly stalked her prey. The wind pushed against her head, making her cinnamon layers flatten and splay against her skull while other joined the grass in a wild and loose dance. She kept her eyes moving, back and forth, sometimes pausing and listening for the sounds of scuffling or other giveaways from her prey. She stepped forward, a little more to her left, hearing a small little noise that wasn’t the wind…

And there was a flash and another squeal. The prey bolted up and ran, heading into the tall grass. Valry gave pursuit, hands batting aside the grasses as she chased it down. She was careful not to trip on the slight rise and falls of the uneven ground beneath her. She wasn’t going to let him escape this time…

“Buir!” squealed the boy as Valry lunged forward, catching him from behind and hauling him backwards. She held onto him and he squirmed and writhed. She fell down, landing on her backside, loosely trapping him in her arms and her fingers dug against his sides, tickling him. He laughed and screeched in delight, wiggling as much as two snakes in a fight. Flopping and twisting onto his stomach, face pressed against her leg as her hands roamed his body, searching for new ways to tickle him. The woman laughed, smile splitting her face as he backed away, scrambling to his feet.

“Can’t catch me, Buir!”

“Five seconds!”

“No fair! Faster than me!” he yelled back, voice growing fainter as his giggles were.

Valry leaned back on her hands, lifting her eyes to the sky, not really keeping count as seconds ticked by. Orak wouldn’t run too far. Just far enough and hide in the tall grass, waiting for her to come close and then pop up and attempt to run away as they had repeated for about five times now. She let out a huff of a breath, a small smile still on her face. She was really supposed to be hunting for the farmer and his wife she was staying with currently. Helping around the place was how she paid them for allowing her to stay with Orak. The couple didn’t like kids too much, and so the reason Orak was out here while Valry “hunted”. She’d stop playing soon enough and find something worth getting. Traps had been laid out, but so far nothing had been caught. And until decent hunting time came to pass, Valry was spending time with her son, hunting him instead of animals in the tall grass. Probably not the brightest of ideas, but, she couldn’t resist. He was still her son and he was there, and there was entertainment to be had rather than just following Mommy around the place as she sought out animals to kill.

“Here I come!” she yelled out, not getting a response like she knew she wouldn’t, and began to stalk in the direction Orak had taken off in. Slowly and steadily, making little noises with her feet so he knew she was coming, Valry’s eyes searched out any frame of her four year old son.

And not but a few minutes passed before the squealing and running began again. Orak was fast for his age and very sure footed. Valry wouldn’t have problems keeping up, but she slacked off her pace to keep the chase going for a couple of minutes. She could see flashes of him ahead of her, his black hair overgrown and in dire need of a trim. It was tangled and matted with bits of grass, but nothing that was as permanent as the scar she knew was on his face. She slackened a bit more, letting him disappear from in front of her.

Orak had darted across a well taken path between through the rolling grassy plains. He had tripped on a rock uncovered on the pace, skidded on his knees, but he was fast and stumbled back to his feet and throwing himself into the tall grass on the other side of the path, tumbling into relative safety. Buir was behind him, he could hear her and knew she was close. He stopped and passed to his left, hiding right beside the path road, black eyes peering from the waving fronds. His hands were pressed to his mouth, keeping his excited giggles at bay as he waited.

She had stopped because she couldn’t hear the rustling of his running anymore. Tilting her head so her ear was in front of her, she listened to small bird song in the distance and the wind whistling through the grass yet again. Did he stop running and was hiding again? Valry carried on much more slowly, trying to find exactly where he was and creep up on him. She had not come across the path yet and did not know he had crossed, however. But, Valry was a mandalorian. She could and would find him.

Sometimes one simply had to fit into their schedule a good game of hide and seek with their son. And Valry was just now realizing how much fun this was for her as it was for him. Hardly in their past had they had any time for some real playtime. Never had it been outdoors like this. The plains were expanding for what seemed like forever to the naked eye, allowing so much more freedom and movement to carry out such a game as their's. So much space to roam and cover, plenty of it in fact that, in case they scared the animals away from this area, Valry could hunt successfully some time when she stopped messing around with Orak.

It didn't seem to be happening some time soon, though.

“Orak…” she called out gently, playfully. “Where’d you go, Orak?”

[Dire Wolf]

Nature. Malak never really had too much of an appreciation for the word until a few weeks ago. It was funny how being an inch away from death could change a man... he didn't even beat that aruetii when he insulted him so. That was a thing that he was beginning to regret, he could just imagine the satisfaction that slamming a massive fist into the aruetii's chest would bring. The feeling of the rib snapping as a great amount of force threw itself into his chest, it was beyond words. No. He wouldn't harm the man if he saw him again, no matter how badly he wanted to, it would just hurt Lia further.

Lia.

She was the true reason why he didn't pound the man into a bloody pulp, but instead threw him a few choice words. Mal had seen men like the aruetii before... and they only cared for one thing. After they got it, well, they tended to leave the said Woman high and dry... well not dry. Generally in tears. Mal did not want that happening to one of his only friends, Lia, she was far too good of a woman to deserve that. He just didn't want to see her hurt over a lecherous aruetii who viewed her as the latest in a long line of conquests. That thought sickened him.

The leviathan shook his head slightly, attempting to throw off the thoughts, as he slowly strolled down a little dirt path. Cerebrations such as those distracted him from the true beauty that lie ahead of him, so he elected not to focus on them... but rather take in the sights and sounds of the place. The short and sharp chirps of birds reached his ears as they called out for a suitable mate. A cool breeze lapped at the bits of exposed skin on his arms and the back of his neck, and Mal just couldn't help but notice the serene beauty of the wavy wheat field as the wind blew them back and forth.

“Orak… where’d you go, Orak?”

The faint call of a mother to her son broke the serenity of the moment. The leviathon's ears perked slightly as he slowly strolled down towards the source of the noise. He saw the form of a woman, standing up in the tall stalks of wheat, yet something told him to not deviate from the path. He did not. Malak stayed his course until he saw the form of a little boy suppressing giggles, and the giant himself couldn't help but chuckle. Yet, a pang of pain hit him at the sight of the boy... apparently Orak... how old would his own son be if he had a chance to be born? Furthermore... would Mal ever know the same joy of being able to play with his future child... if such a thing was possible of course.

A sad smile curved the corners of his lips upwards as he gazed down at the boy, he wasn't entirely sure what to say... so he simply squatted down.

“What's your name?”

[Squee]

Buir was taking quite a while to find him, Orak was noticing. It hadn’t taken her this long before. He was beginning to feel proud of himself. He was hiding well this time. She hadn’t completely disappeared – the stalks to grass flowed too often, announcing his mother’s presence to his young dark eyes. Dark eyes to which his mother would smile sadly at sometimes, touch his nose and say he was looking like his father each day. He didn’t know his father, never would, but Orak couldn’t understand why he felt slightly sad over it…

His mother was calling his name, sounding like she was talking to a really little baby. Orak’s hands were back on his mouth as he muffled his snickers as best as he could. She shouldn’t do that. It made him laugh. And he can’t hide if he was laughing! Buir was a cheater, cheater. Wasn’t nice of her, not that much anyway. But then she stopped calling, and the stalks stopped moving. He sat there, immobile, waiting for the slightest stir to tell him where she went. His giggling stopped, and something made his skin prickle and another thing tugged at his chest, telling him to turn…

“What's your name?”

Orak was startled. He jumped, turning as he did so, squeaking in his surprise. He fell on his side, legs tangled, turning wide eyes on a form so many times larger than he was. He froze, staring up into the face of the giant man, meeting the man’s blue eyes. Out of his peripheral vision, he could just see the man was absolutely enormous. Crouching down as the man was, Orak was still craning his neck pretty far back to meet his gaze. The boy’s throat bobbed as he swallowed and his nostrils flared with his fear. He didn’t move, hardly breathed, his mouth partially opened. His jaw dipped down further, as if to tell the large man something, but nothing came out, his voice box caught. He had thought he had felt small before, but now he had a new definition. He felt absolutely tiny laying in the grass with the man squatting beside him. His lip quivered for a moment, mouth opening to say something once more, but again nothing came. Orak swallowed again, struck with fear.

“If you have a bone to pick with my family, you can pick it with me instead of my son.”

The voice came behind the giant man, and Orak recognized it as Buir’s, but he still didn’t move. Black on blue, he didn’t let his gaze leave the man’s. The man might’ve been big, but that was the only thing Orak was still fearing: the surprise of the man’s size. It was that and the possibility that the man’s eyes could be tricking Orak. He’d been tricked before, and terribly, and he was wary always of actions, words and had been drawn to eyes since that accident. Eyes would sometimes tell Orak something he didn’t know. Sometimes what he believed was wrong, but sometimes he was right. Every time he saw Valry’s eyes he saw nothing but love and got a sense of security. This man… was he sad? His eyes weren’t like eyes he’d seen before, which were scary most of the time. No, not two shards of crystals, but almost like watery tear drops. Orak’s torso grew as he drew in a large breath, mouth opening:

“Are you sad, big mando’ade?”

“Sir, step away from my son.”

Valry’s words were like daggers, a high contrast in the softness of Orak’s voice. Edged and determined, she was ready to protect and defend her child. She could note the large man’s frame just fine, and she had no doubt he could squash her like a bug. But, he’d have to reach her first. She was out of his arm’s distance, and she didn’t doubt in her abilities to draw her blaster pistols and pour bolts into him before he came within three steps of her. Which might bring him to her.

Valry didn’t look like much. Her frame was small and she only stood three inches above five feet. She probably weighed a quarter of this man’s weight. She looked even less frightening in appearance because of the pieces of grass stuck in her tank top and woven through her hair. It seemed too goofy at first glance that someone such as her had a tone of voice that was full of authority, and came off as promising something dark. Her expression, however, had struck fear into the most courageous of men. If she didn’t look so angry, someone might not have believed she belonged with a culture such as the Mandalorians. She simply did not appear as a fighter. Until she looked angry.

And she looked mighty pissed off at the moment. Eyes hard, jaw set, hands resting lightly on the blasters to each of her hips.

But she took a breath, settling her nerves. Despite the stance she had worked so hard to perfect these last four years to scare others off, she knew it would be much more difficult on another Mandalorian. They were all raised to fight, all trained to sound and radiate a tough exterior of battle readiness, hardness, and at times a very threatening projection. Was it bravery or stupidity? Whichever, Valry could work with both.

“Is there something you need from us, sir?”

[Dire Wolf]

Mal's head tilted down towards the ground as he saw the boy's reaction to him: Fear. It hit him hard. So hard, that he fell back into a sitting position, gaze still fixed on the dust, the dirt, and the wheat in the field. At that moment, he knew just what he was to these children... and it was partially why he was no good with them. The monster slowly lifted those blue crystals in his eyes up towards the boy as his mother yelled the biting suggestion. He was about to sigh and head back to the head quarters when the boy finally asked an innocent question. Yes. He was sad, to say the least, but could he tell this child this? No. He wouldn't understand... he couldn't. His voice was small, diminutive, and barely above a mumble. A sad little smile cracked across his face as he answered, attempting to hide the sadness about his face.

“No-- no, Mando'ika, I am not sad.”

Sad blue gems looked back at the boy's buir as she, again, yelled a biting remark at him. All of his actions were slow, smooth, and steady. He mournfully repositioned his legs and straightened out his legs, stretching his body up to its full height (though he was slouching), and stepped to the side of the Mando'ika. He looked at the boy's buir, she didn't look like much... but mando'ad women were that way most of the time. Looks were deceiving, though, especially when it came to mandalorian women.

Mal sighed. This woman was angry... again he couldn't blame her... he did approach her child. It was awful creepy of him. He wouldn't dream of harming another Mando'ad, let alone a Mando'ika. His gaze met his feet for a second before the timid giant looked up at the woman who stood beore him.

“No... I was just walking and heard that you were looking for your son... I saw him and figured I might help you find him...”

Translations
ika - diminutive suffix written as 'ika - also added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form, e.g, Ord'ika - Little Ordo

[Squee]

When the large Mandalorian fell back into a sitting position suddenly, Orak had jumped again. He was wary of every movement, ready to attempt to dart away, far into the talls stalks of grass, and run, run fast and run far until he couldn’t any more. That was what Buir had told him to do a long time ago. If he was in trouble, he ran. He ran, and ran, and ran and didn’t stop until he was just too tired to run anymore. And Orak could run for a long time. At least he seemed to think so. He’d never yet had to run from anyone just yet. The boy didn’t really want to, ever, but he would.

But, instead, the mando’ade just stared at other places, as if somewhat stunned. Just sat there, and Orak shifted himself into a better sitting position, lifting his hip off of the rock he’d fallen on. Though the mandalorian’s gaze wandered, Orak’s didn’t, his eyes training every turn of the giant’s face. When he finally looked back at Orak with a small, small smile, he whispered in a small, small voice. It surprised the boy a bit, and he blinked his wide eyes at the man. Tiny voice. So small, so faint for such a large man, Orak’s thoughts were wondering. And in the response, Orak could tell it was a lie. The man couldn’t hide his sadness very well.

“Nayc, big mando’ade,” Orak whispered back, finally looking away from the man’s sad face. His small head bowed as he picked up a rock that was oddly smooth. “Elek, you sad. Very sad…” And Orak didn’t look up again, not when the large man stood and addressed his buir.

---

Valry appreciated that the man stood up slowly and stepped away from her son. From there she relaxed slightly. Her son was now not an immediate interest of the man, and that was all she needed. However, Orak was not moving. Between the stalks, he looked to be sitting and unmoving. Was he afraid? He didn’t stand and come to her, not like he would’ve before. That made her worry a bit. Had the man done something to her son? The slouched posture and the stare at the feet act could be a cover. There was a half shuffle of her foot, and her fingers wrapped lightly around the pistols’ handle. She was ready to give another spiting, almost accusing question, but the gigantic excuse of a man spoke before her.

“No... I was just walking and heard that you were looking for your son... I saw him and figured I might help you find him...”

And Orak moved then. He rose from his sitting position and appeared from the dancing weaves beside the behemoth man. Valry’s hand slipped from her pistol. Orak was standing beside him, and Valry couldn’t really sense much danger from the man. And she started to approach, since Orak didn’t seem to be moving. She could hear her son talking as she grew closer, curious to her son’s behavior.

“…playing a game. Buir would chase me and I would hide, and she’d chase me again, though she’s s’pose to be catching animals…”

“All right, Orak, k’uur,” she told him gently. Orak turned his eyes on Valry, then backed up beside her, taking up space right beside her leg, laying a hand on her thigh. He kept quiet, staring up at the large man. Who was so very, very sad… She laid a hand on his head, rubbing his head lightly with a thumb. “As he was saying, we were playing a game. I apologize for my behavior. I didn’t expect anyone to be out here and, low and behold, someone saunters up to my son.”

She didn’t look angry now. She was more relaxed now. Her eyes were still cautious, but they weren’t as angry as before. Civilian, would be the best way to describe her at the moment. Her expression was now neutral and there was a sincerity of her tone now other than the bite of an mother animal protecting her young.

“And I also apologize profusely if you’re a local. Don’t think badly of the Hettr family on my account. I’m not from around here.”


[[ Nayc, big mando'ade = No, big mandalorian
Elek = yes
K'uur = hush, quiet, shush ]]

[Dire Wolf]

Nayc, big mando'ade... Elek, you sad. Very Sad...

Those little words from the Mando'ika hit the big Mando'ad hard. Very hard. Those sad crystals in his eyes figuratively hit the dusty ground almost the instant that the words registered in Mal's mind. Yes, he was very sad. Though, to be fair... Malak did try to hide it, apparently he did a terrible job if an adiik'ika (small child) could see past his attempts. Blue amethysts drifted over to the small boy as he explained the game that he and his buir were playing. The game that he should be playing with his son right now. He smiled sadly. The man loved children, although more often than not they didn't love him, and honestly wished that he could have one of his own some day.

“Again, I apologize ma'am. I would have done the same thing if roles were reversed.”

The man's body quickly shifted into the demenour that oh so many warriors held, he straightened out his back, broadened his shoulders, then held and set his chin high. He was a verd in the Mando'ad vu'traat, it was best that he started acting like it rather than some mournful coward. Mal shifted his gaze from the child's buir to the child himself, and then back to the mother. A small smile pursed his lips as he spoke about him being a local. “Local” was not exactly a word that one would use to describe the hulking form that was Malak.

“No need to apologize, I am a member of the Vu'traat... not a local. Mostly knocking off the rust after Reclamation.”

Yes, he was a member of the team that stole the sole remaining Basilisk war droid from its “final” resting place. The military made a fairly big show of it, too, it was a big source of pride to have the war machines that one was associated to so strongly back in one's control. She would no doubt know what he meant by “Reclamation”... unless she was hiding under a rock for the past week of course.

[Adiik'ika = small child
Mando'ad = Non plural Mandalorian
Vu'traat = Special Forces]

((sorry, Squee, v_v Mal isn't liking me much today))

[Squee]

“Oh, well, I’d like to apologize anyway. I shouldn’t be so hasty to assume the worst in people like I have had to do these past few years. My son,” her hand ruffled the boy’s hair a bit more. Orak gave a tiny squeak and ducked away, rounding behind his mother to appear on the opposite side of her. His hand was flattening his hair, shooting a glance up at his mother. “… Has to remind me not to be so mean to people sometimes.” And she smiled at this, even giving a small couple of chuckles.

It had been a while since Valry had spoken to someone like this. It arose awkward in her chest, tugging at her mind. Usually when she spoke to anyone it was Orak, and using a motherly tone with simple speak was not going to impress a man such as this. How embarrassing that would be. It would be demeaning herself.

And at the same time trying to project the right words and voice, she was trying to act like a normal person talking to another normal person. And this was where more of the awkward set in. The family she was staying with didn’t speak much to her. And when Valry, for the past four years, had spoken to someone, it had been when she had been about to put a bullet through somebody’s head or crushing a boot down and lifting a chin and declaring what exactly was law. That or stating that the town was simply not big enough for the two of them. She didn’t have to be mean here. She didn’t have to protect her child. She didn’t have to shoot anyone. She didn’t have to stand up to anyone.

And if felt strange.

“Reclamation?” Valry asked in return, more dumbstruck than wanting to know what it was. “Oh Mandalore, I challenged one of the Vu’traat.” But she smiled, showing that she wasn’t too worried. At least, that would be what was presented to this man. Orak’s small eyes had widened and he had ducked a little further behind Valry as if to hide behind her legs, a little more than half his face looking up at the mandalorian man. “I heard what I could about that. At least what was rumor and leaks and medias. Which contain, usually, little to no facts.”

One of the rules Valry developed and learned to listen to: Never believe people or the media. Not fully, anyway. Second hand sources were curses, and liked to include own assumptions and input and to add to stories to create something of a fantasy to ramble about to the net person.

“Risky to go into and snatch a basilisk from a museum. There’s honor in that. The war droid belongs to the Mandalorians again, as it should always have been. I’m happy that everyone made it back, though. And I’m sure there’s strife over that now. The Vu’traat left behind a pretty big boot print in Coruscant, the Republic’s head.” Orak giggled and she glanced down, out of instinct and really to just take her eyes off the large mando’ad, releasing a nervous breath as quiet as the gentle breeze. Looking up at the man, Valry asked, “Would you mind if I know which one of you you are?”

[Dire Wolf]

“Its alright... don't blame you, honestly, a strange person approached my son I'd shoot first and ask questions later, personally.”

He nodded lightly at her apology, accepting it, and looked down at the woman's son. He was a cute kid, but the fact that the boy was hiding from him, to be honest, hurt him on the inside. Mal couldn't help but feel like a monster... but then, in a way, he was. After absorbing so much blaster fire and taking a nasty knife wound to the gut how could he be anything else than a monster? Well, he was a gentle one. To say the least.

Mal began to scroll through the events on Coruscant, he nearly snickered as he remembered swinging that nude statue at the gaggle of officers. Then shooting down that helicopter with his rifle... heh... good times. A little smirk cracked across the man's face as he saw the chopper spin out of control and smash into that building, then fall to the ground a smoldering wreck. He honestly hoped that the next mission had half as much challenge as Reclamation did. Though he doubted it. It would be nigh impossible to top that one.

Well, there was one thing that could happen that would top Reclamation for him. But he elected not to think about it. His time was short enough as it was. The man smiled as she finally realized that he was a member of the special forces, the very same team that “borrowed” that Basilisk war droid. Of course, it probably helped that he told her that he was. Mal shook his great head at himself, sometimes he was very, very foolish.

“Very true. I don't watch the media too much, not big into the “spin” that they put on the news. Heh... they probably found a way to downplay their losses on Coruscant. And that I know... my boot is in many-a-republic officer's forehead. So are my bullets too...”

The big Mando'ad smirked slightly at his little joke. Humor had always been lost to him, well, not always. It has been said that he actually had a somewhat-humorous bone in his body before his wife died fighting. He was still recovering from that event, unfortunately, and he probably always would be... he just wasn't built for having relationships with other people. Then he finally got one, and so when it ended he assumed that it was his fault in some way, shape, or form. In his mind, he was good for little more than one thing... what he was bred for... killing.

“I'm Captain Malak, I figured that the large... stature... gave it away, hehe.”

[Squee]

That was truly one thing about Mandalorians. They had a sense of honor and pride and dignity that was stronger than most in the galaxy. They were all warriors down to their very bones. It was a prideful culture and its practices were known, but being part of it held a few downsides. First of all, any other person who had heard about Mandalorians would believe they were all the same, all alike, and there wasn’t much difference between one Mando’ad from his brother beside him. It certainly wasn’t true. Delving further in each person was something of a personal code that each life dedicated themselves to and followed. A different personality under the gruff exterior presented to the rest of the galaxy.

What Captain Malak had said had brought that forth. Valry did not shoot first unless order to. If she had the entire control behind the trigger and if the circumstance permitted, Valry would not shoot. It would be mindless murder. If Orak had been screaming, her instinct would have been to fire and ask questions later. If Orak had been screaming, he would’ve been in immediate trouble. If he had been screaming and Valry had not began shooting, she wouldn’t have ever forgiven herself. It was Valry’s personal code. Someone might share the same belief and others did not, like Malak. Malak would’ve shot if any boy of his had been screaming or not. It was still undoubtedly about loyalty and strong impulsions to protect their offspring, but different. Mando’ade were not all the same.

“They probably would have lowered the casualties quite a bit, yes. The Republic don’t like admitting any large defeat. Their pride is too strong and trying to cover up their wounded ego. To have such a large faction be kicked in the behind so strongly by the “little guys” like us, it’s quite shameful. It’s like the Vu’traat being overrun by four or five children.”

“Buir…”

Valry rested a hand firmly on Orak’s head again, squeezing, telling him to be quiet.

“But Buir!” Orak insisted, in a hiss, trying to grab her hand and pull if off of his head.

Ignoring her son, Valry continued: “I’ve heard mostly word of mouth about who the Vu’traat was consisted of. And like I said, a lot of rumors. But, I suppose you are just as tall as they say. Except I have a more definite appearance now than simply as tall as a building. You’re not quite that tall, I’m afraid.” Not in Valry’s definition of “building” anyway. A house, yes, Malak could be as tall as a house. But that was not a building compared to the skyscrapers Valry always thought.

“Buir!”

There was an annoyed look across Valry’s face, but she continued to disregard Orak.

“I’m Valry Justic, and, of course, this is my son Orak Justic. And I apologize for the rude behavior he’s displaying now…”

“Buir!” Orak patted her leg, sounding just as indignant as his face expressed. “Buir, buir, sun’s there! You told me to tell you when sun there. Have to check traps, you said! ‘Emember? Trying to tell you.” His hand tugged at her pant leg and he pointed at the sun. He had come out from behind Valry to catch her attention a bit more. “Just trying to tell! You not listen.”

Oh, Valry was going to have to lecture the boy later. She was finally looking down at Orak, mostly to hide the red flames of embarrassment on her face. Orak now settled his eyes on Mal, insistent.

“Have to go check, or’mando’ad,” Orak stated, his mando’a running together. “Gedet’ye[Please]?”

[Dire Wolf]

Mal chuckled at her similie regarding the vu'traat being overrun by a few children. Silly as it may have sounded, it was very true. The Republic seemed to forget the history of them regarding the Mando'ade, which involved the former discounting the latter because of their small size, and the latter mopping the floor with the former's guts. Not that he had a problem with being the one that is discounted to be brutally shut down, it only gave him more of a prerogative to try harder and slay as many as he could.

The big man suppressed a chuckle at the rumors of him, he may have been as tall as some buildings... but most certainly not most. He couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Sure he was tall, but some people were saying that he was as tall as a building, which had the general connotation to a massive skyscraper. “I'm tall enough, thank you very much,” he suppressed a snicker at the thought.

A little smirk crossed his lips as she introduced herself, then her son, and then finally her son revealed just why he was bothering her. They had traps. They were busy. Children: he always simply adored them, it was really too bad that they were always so terrified of him. Of course, it didn't help that he constantly wondered what his own child would have been doing right then and there, or if he would look like this kid or that one. If he had a child... one that was born anyways. His only shot at that died with his wife.

“Its alright Valry, he was just trying to help.”

The little smirk turned into a little grin as the child addressed him, at least he wasn't so afraid that he couldn't talk to him. He had that experience with children before; they were so taken aback by his size that they simply huddled into their parent. Though, he wasn't entirely sure what Orak was asking of him... so he simply looked at the boy and smiled. Then it hit him: he was holding Valry and her son up, they were likely charged to hunt for a family or some such. He, of course, gathered this from her earlier statement about not wanting him to think ill of some other clan.

That meant that she was likely without a home if she was forced to hunt for animals for a clan. His mind flashed to asking her if she was interested in joining the military, but he quickly squished the thought. She had a child. A young one. And it was unlikely that Orak would take kindly to someone asking his mother to go off and crusade for her people.

“I will leave you two alone to your business then, sorry for bothering you”

[Squee]

Valry glanced up at Malak when he said Orak was trying to help her. Of course her son was trying to help her. He did in every way possible. If the boy thought he could do it, and if Valry had not said something about it, Orak would help Valry. Whether that was climbing up on the counter to reach eating ware or simply thinking he could do anything at all, he would do it. If Valry didn’t chase him away or lecture him off of it, he would repeat the deed. She’d gotten him to stop climbing on the counter, thank goodness.

And he was just helping. Reminding her. She had somewhat forgotten, she would admit to herself. She had forgotten about checking the traps between playing with her son and encountering Malak. But, truly… well, he was only four. He wouldn’t understand the importance of people over other jobs. She was speaking to someone, and he needed to learn a more polite way of interrupting. Oh the joys of parenting. She’d have to take the polite thing one thing at a time. By beginning with talking to him a little bit. In the past there hadn’t been much politeness in his surroundings and his experiences. Nothing but filled with grouchy men and women who worked too hard for too little. There were people who had busted down his front door and threatened to kill him and his mother. And people who came around ordering mother and son to follow them or be killed. The same people Orak would’ve seen Valry lift her blasters and rifles to in a blur of motion and strike them dead with bullets. Polite would have been hard to learn in that kind of environment, when neither the people or his own mother had been polite, but rudely shout back or take another’s life.

Polite on Concord Dawn could be established. There were people here that weren’t dead set on killing them for one reason or another. People who actually did their work respectfully. The people, most of them anyway, had some kind of honor and knowledge of right and wrong. It was a pleasant contrast for Valry, who was settling into it. A restless settling, however. Valry was having some doubts about herself, living among the people she was now, taming herself to the totally different life she was living now. She doubted her attitude. She doubted her ways. She was so clueless sometimes about what to do she felt stupid. And through it all she worried about Orak, who was timid and shy most of the time. He hardly spoke to anyone she spoke to. Someone had a little girl who was trying to talk to him and Orak just looked at the girl, holding Valry’s leg. The boy wasn’t doubting his ways of associating. He couldn’t associate.

And with him out right talking to Malak made her wonder something fierce. He wouldn’t talk to a little girl as big as him but he would talk to someone three times Valry’s size? It was curious. He wasn’t hiding much behind her leg. He hadn’t shrieked when the man snuck up to him. He hadn’t moved away from the mandalorian until Valry had told him to quiet down. She almost hadn’t wanted him to stop talking because the boy had been speaking to someone other than her for once. But, really, what parent let their kid speak to a stranger?

“I will leave you two alone to your business then, sorry for bothering you”

“Oh, very… very well then.” Valry felt awkward just then. Again. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t going to ask the man anything. Most of the conversation had been awkward already. Might as well just end it with an awkward finish. “As usual, Justic.”

“Buir!” hissed Orak, startling Valry. Her eyes shot down at him where he stood with his arms crossed and… disapproving look? She blinked. “Ori’mando’ad come with us, gedet’ye [please]? He very—“

“Don’t point. That’s rude.”

“Sorry,” Orak dropped his hand. “Very sad. He very sad. You make me happy when I sad. Why not mando’ad?” Orak suddenly dropped his chin and his voice to a mumble. “Please?”

Valry almost wanted to ask what Malak had done to her son. Had he said something to Orak? Done something?

“I bet Captain Malak has other things to be doing. Probably more important things other than following you and me as we hunt.”

“Gedet’ye. Or’mando’ad?” Orak said the question but didn’t look up to avoid Valry’s gaze, whatever might be there might be trying to shoot him down.

Valry suppressed a sigh and looked up at Malak, palms rising from her sides and offering a shrug. “The offer is open. I… I don’t mind.” She had to correct that crack.

[Dire Wolf]

Mal was about to give a curt nod and turn around when he heard the child's voice behind him. Then Valry's quick retort. He proceeded to listen in on the following exchange between mother and son, again wondering how the little boy knew that he was so sad. Was it really that obvious? Did the sadness roll off of him in waves? He couldn't tell, but for the sake of those around him he hoped not.

He thought on the Valry's offer for a few seconds before nodding slowly. Apparently little Orak wanted him to follow, which was awful unusual considering the circumstances... children didn't tend to be so fond of people so tall that they had to crane their head up at nearly a ninety degree angle in order to see. At least in his case. It was almost painful sometimes... mostly because he simply adored chilren.

“I don't really have anything to do... I might even be able to help you hunt a bit... if you're sure that you actually want me to follow, and not just your son. I'm fine either way.”

Sure, that sentence came out kind of wrong, but he wasn't about to scramble to correct himself. He knew what he wanted, and it certainly wasn't a relationship... especially not with a woman who he just met. He shook his head ever so slightly, dispelling those random, and useless, thoughts from his head.

He looked down at Orak and smiled, trying his best to tell the boy that he wasn't going to harm him... without telling him. Somehow, the hardened and weathered face of Malak-kra'nelen looked to be... soft? Surely, such a thing wasn't possible... he looked like a warrior. He was a warrior. Killer of men. But then... his face, at that moment, grew soft as he gazed at the boy, attempting to look as un-menacing as possible.

[Squee]

The big mando’ade would come? Yay! Orak had almost feared that the large man would say he couldn’t or that his mother was right. He hadn’t wanted to hear it. The man had seemed so sad earlier, and though Ori’mando’ad was chuckling and speaking to his mother, Orak could only see blue eyes. Blue eyes that had stood out against the man’s large face, that, when Orak first saw, was chiseled to be set stone cold against battle. That’s how so many people looked here. They wore armor on the streets as if getting ready to fight. Many held their heads high. And it hadn’t been just the men; it had been the women too. The women were VERY different: they didn’t hide or shift their gazes as often as he had seen others in the mangy underworlds. It was different here on this planet; the planet Valry had called home. His buir didn’t contrast here as she had in other places. She still looked very nice, though.

Ori’mando’ad had scared Orak, yes. And there was still some fear toward the really tall man. He was… really big. It made him really scary. Orak had seen a scary man when he had turned around. The man looked like all the rest: tall, brave, and strong. It was the mando’ad’s eyes that wore off some of the fear. Orak had seen sadness. And it was piquing an interest that such a large person could actually feel sad. Orak knew sadness. He had felt it before and he’d seen it in his buir. He understood how sadness felt to him, how it seemed to cover his entire body. If Ori’mando’ad was feeling sad… well… that was A LOT of sadness. And that much sadness cannot be good for someone, Orak didn’t think.

“As I said, I don’t mind if you come along,” his buir was saying. “In fact, I have a couple of questions for you now. Ad’ika,” Orak’s head turned to his mother, “Do you remember what direction the first traps were?”

Orak blinked, almost blankly, and turned about ninety degrees to stare at the tall, golden grass. He gestured at it, seeking guidance from his buir, “Came from there, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Um… Lift?” he shook his head, his overgrown hair spreading everywhere. He pushed it back as Valry came forward to lift him up. Sitting on her arm, Orak looked again. “Need shoulder, Buir.” She bounced him, grasping his legs and he twisted and pushed himself onto her shoulder and then he sat there and looked for another few moments. “Um…”

“If you don’t know, say so.”

“I… I don’t know.”

Buir lifted an arm off at an angle to their left. “It’s that way.”

“Oh,” was all he said as Valry shifted and gently placed the boy on the ground.

“Start on ahead, we’ll be following.”

“Kay!” Orak spun around and began to dash into the grasses. He suddenly tripped and fell, crying out that he was okay and was back on his feet, scrambling further into the grass. The stalks waved and parted as he passed and weaved in his wake. Valry began to walk after him.

“You didn’t by chance do anything to him, did you?” Valry asked Malak, a hardened eye turned to him. “Because he never talks to others. It makes me glad and worried at the same time. If he’s speaking on his own will, I suppose it’s a reason for… Well, if he’s talking to you, I…” How could she put this to the giant she had just met? Her hand rose up and her fingers slipped into her hair, mussing with it slightly. “I don’t know why. Of all the people I would expect him to talk to, he talks to someone like you.”

She paused and cringed at her words. “I don’t mean to be… hostile like that sounded. Orak speaks better than I do.” Her hand stayed at the back of her head and she kept her gaze ahead of her, watching the plants weave where Orak had just vanished among. She was fighting the flush rising to taint her face, a physical display of her embarrassment. “I’m just surprised he’s speaking, is all.” “For crying out loud, Justic, shut up.”

[Dire Wolf]

A small smile appeared on the big mandalorian's face as he watched Orak and his mother talk. Children were so cute sometimes, it made him wish that he had done a better job protecting his wife so his own child had a chance to live. To see. To breathe. A sigh pushed itself out of Mal's mouth, “But he didn't, did he? Aly may have had an honorable death, but at what cost?” His teeth dug into the area just below the inside of his lips at the thought, but he didn't weep. Malak's eyes didn't even water in the slightest and the stoic look that had since crept across his face belied the thoughts within.

The grin on Malak's face turned into a smirk at the cuteness of Orak as he sprinted off into the tall grass, then trip over something while yelling that he was okay and was on his feet. He was tall enough to see a tip of the boy's head as the grass weaved and waved in a great wake at his passing. Yes, Orak did make him wish that he hadn't failed his wife. Well, he failed her in his view anyways, in truth there was really nothing that he could do to stop her death... and by extension the death of the unborn child in her womb. He looked at the mother with a quirked brow as she asked if he did anything to her son.

Oh did her words have a bite to them, but he hid the effect... as he always did. The little smirk on his face was promptly replaced by a once again stony face even as she corrected herself. He knew what she truly meant, and that she didn't intend any sting... but that still didn't change the fact that he did. A slow nod bobbed his head up and down a few times as he attempted to formulate a response.

“I didn't do anything to your son, Valry. And its alright... to be honest I'm surprised that he speaks to me as well. Most adiik'ika tend to run back to their buir yelling something about a monster when they see me.”

The blue crystals that were set into his eyes continued to watch the child as he darted through the grass. It was almost cruel, the kind of person that fate turned him into, he was an eight foot tall wall of solid muscle... yet he didn't fit into the stereotype that most lumped him into upon seeing him. Quite the opposite, actually, rather than being some kind of hardened beast that lived for killing all manner of creatures he was often described as having a “big heart of gold.” A quick little burst of air escaped through his nose in a suppressed snicker, “heh... too bad a heart of gold doesn't translate into a long life.”

It was true, back on his home world the scientists that oversaw his “birth” in the true-born style had figured out exactly what day his heart would give out. It was surprisingly shorter than most, but he was considerably larger (and stronger) than most of his brethren, his heart's final beat would be six and a half months into his fourty-ninth birthday. They told him this every day when he woke up, and right before he went to bed. Of course, his heart probably wouldn't last nearly as long as they thought, mostly because he had done things that elevated his heart-rate even faster.

“You said something about how you're not from here? I'd guess that you're staying with the hettr family, then... seeing as you mentioned them. How much are they charging you for room and board?”

He was honestly wondering about how much it would cost to live off-base and stay with a family. Of course, it wasn't half a second later that Mal realized that he was prying something fierce. He shook his head and gave a sigh, speaking before she could answer.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry... I was just wondering how much it would cost to live off of the military base... they don't charge me for a house to stay in... eh, never mind, was just curious.”

[Squee]

“Monster?” Valry glanced over her should for the briefest of seconds, just regarding Malak from her peripheral vision as he lumbered behind her. Valry took on in front of the large man for reasons of her own. The first was so she could start running forward immediately if Orak began to howl and descend her wrath upon whatever dared to frighten her child. Mothers were the high ranking response teams. The second reason she directed Malak to remain behind her was so they didn’t ruin much more of the land than they had to. She and Orak had been doing a good job at messing thing up earlier, she thought as she gently brushed golden stalks away with her hands. But at least they had been further away from the game trails and her traps. They were going toward the game now, and too much destruction would alert the animals.

“You’re a very tall man, Malak. I’m sure you don’t just scare children away. I’m sure you could scatter a few strong hearted and strong willed warriors if you decorated yourself in mud and hid in the trees, jumping out to shout ‘boo’. Of course, you’ve got better things to do than scare young males and females. It sure sounds like an evening event if you get bored enough, however.”

They came up on the first trap, and even at a distance Valry could tell there was nothing in it. Orak stood not to far away. He was up on his tiptoes, trying to see the trap just outside the perimeter Valry had previously instructed he was allowed to be while the trap still presented a danger.

“Nothing here Orak. Let’s go.”

The boy nodded, darted Malak a quick glance as if making sure he was still there, and took off to the left. Valry had set up the traps so they’d eventually lead them back to the farm. It probably wasn’t the smartest trapping method. It gave the trap further out less time for an animal to wander by. Valry was teaching Orak a sense of direction if but subtly.

“Not from around here? No, not really. Concord Dawn is my home, do not get me wrong. I was born here and raised here. I just married and my planet wandering began. I then gave birth to Orak and had to find my way back home again. It’s been a little over six years now. I just had to get Orak back here, have him grow up as much as possible around the people who he will grow up to be like. How he should grow up to be like.

“Charging for board?” Valry gave Malak another glance. It had seemed a rather odd question for someone who lived on a military base, but Valry was soon nodding with her understanding. “I got it. Sounds like a reason worth saying.

“I don’t really pay with money. I do a lot of work to keep us in the room we have now. They were about the only people who would let me work to repay them. So, I do the household stuff. It is a farm, so I do some of that. And then I’ve got the hunting, which I do part for them and part for me because Orak and I have to eat sometime. What little credits I have left from my planet hopping back here I use to buy what is actually needed for Orak and I. Like he probably needs new shoes, now that I think about it. I pulled strings to be able to stay with the Hettr’s with Orak. They’re sorta older folks, but not exactly if you understand, and they don’t like children all that much. I try and make sure he stays out most of the time. That’s basically my outline. It could be worse.

“If you wanted to rent though, I’m sure you’d find some place where you could pay credits and the folks would make your breakfast and you could come and go as you please. No chores for you to do. You could be sailing smooth.”

Orak had come back to them by then, walking up to Valry. “Buir, trap ahead. Walked back here to be with you. I’m tired.”

“You were running around.”

“My feet hurt now, Buir!”

“I wasn’t saying for you to continue running! You are going to have to walk, though. I can’t afford to carry you at the moment.”

“But… N’vermind.”