Chapter Seventeen

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Chapter Seventeen- H'chakde

H'chakde pulled the ooman behind himself as he walked back to his quarters. Trying to grumble away the fury that burned in his chest. The evident look of amusement she held on her face made H'chakde's blood boil even more.

This ooman was supposed to be a servant, a barely tamable one at that. She was as intolerable as a bloodthirsty unblooded, with the temperament of a suckling to boot. Now he was to treat her as if she was another one of his students.

Training plans began to flourish in the young warriors mind, but he knew he would have to wait. Oomans are fragile creatures, easily injured and easily made sick. He certainly didn't need her dying from any sickness her wounds caused, and he didn't need the stitches ripping.

H'chakde would allow her a few days rest before they got to work. If he was now to mold her into a hunter like him, he would make her the best one he could. And that took a lot of hard training.

He smirked to himself as he slammed his hand on the pad to his door. H'chakde shoved the ooman in as soon as the door opened, being sure to lock it tightly after both were inside.

The ooman stood a few feet from him, doubled over and taking deep breaths. Her hands placed on her wound as she let out a slew of curses.

H'chakde understood some of them, the ooman had cursed at him enough for him not to. Other he wasn't so sure about, but he didn't care. They could both curse and grumble all they wanted, they were stuck in their predicament.

"Rest!" He commanded, pointing over to the little mattress. Much to his surprise, the ooman didn't budge. He would have thought she would have jumped at the opportunity to rest. Instead she straightened herself up, taking a quick moment to glance down at herself before looking back up at him. Her arm still firmly pressed against her abdomen.

"I need garments." The sentence came out to the hunter in broken bits, but nonetheless he understood what she was asking. Her clothing had been shredded to pieces in her little encounter. She was now bare from the waist up, only covered by some of her bandages that were wrapped tightly around her.

H'chakde didn't understand what the problem was. Males and even Females of his kind wandered around the ship wearing even less covering then she had. Another ooman issue he supposed.

A problem he would have to fix either way, lest the ooman bother him to no end about it. And with the other things going on, he certainly didn't want to hear her complaints about it.

"I will handle it. Rest!" He growled pointing to the oomans bed again. This time she obeyed. Staggering slowly to the mattress made of furs before dropping on it.

While the ooman began resting, H'chakde began contemplating how to solve the clothes issue. He knew she would need armor eventually, but she hadn't earned it just yet. She would want a substitute in the meantime. His gaze landed on the creature she had killed, maybe he could use that? He turned his full body toward the kill, a new layer of frustration pulling over him.

It had been meant for her to skin and do with as she pleased. But given her injuries, that wasn't possible at the moment. He could use the fur from his kill, but if she were to start training, it would be better to wear her own.

Ceasing his grumbling, he started the process of skinning the hide from the creature, and cleaning it. The next step would be the toughest for him. 'What to craft, what to craft?' H'chakde asked himself.

He didn't want her to wear something too flashy, that much he was certain of. It wouldn't do her any good to develop rivals till she was better, and well trained. In her current state she would easily be defeated and humiliated in front of her peers. Or even worse (for him at least) killed.

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