I wake up with a start, yet another nightmare involving memories from my other life: fshes of moments and situations that seem so distant now. Sunlight streams in through the window; apparently, the morning has just begun. I sit up in bed and take in the vastness of my room, a huge stone cube. I rub my eyes and stretch as I think about today, which will be an important day.

  I hear heavy footsteps approaching the entrance to the room; I lift my head and see an imposing figure:

  “Father”— I greet him.

  “Get ready, we’ll be leaving soon.”— He announces in a calm tone.

  My father’s name is Var’Keth; he is one hundred and forty-seven years old, and his greenish-skinned body, simir to mine, is covered in scars. The crest on his forehead is full, a sign of his age. His dreadlocks reach slightly past his shoulders, almost halfway down his back. At this moment, he is wearing simple robes, but he is equipped with a wrist computer, a dorsal power source, and, of course, his hrist bdes.

  I get out of bed as my father leaves. I approach my gear, which is id out on a bench, already prepared. I get dressed quickly but carefully, putting a bracelet on my left arm, shin guards on my legs, and shoes on my feet. I stowed the daggers in a belt and then equipped the hrist bdes. I checked to make sure they worked perfectly and, finally, picked up the sword. The prey I’m going to hunt is almost the same size and weight as me. Besides, everything will take pce in a forest; you can’t use a spear in the midst of dense vegetation.

  As I leave the room, I spot my mother in the distance, in the ancestral hall. I approach her. Upon entering the spacious room, I bow to the ancestors. The entire room is a massive trophy hall, dispying the main weapons used by my grandparents and their parents before them. Here lie the skulls of creatures of various sizes and shapes. My mother was meditating on her knees, facing an ancient combistick—the weapon of her mother, my grandmother, a great warrior.

  I knelt beside my mother and said my prayer to the bck warrior, then meditated. I could feel her gaze. When I finished, she stood up, and I did the same shortly after. My mother is one hundred and forty-four years old; she is an adult in peak physical condition. Her skin has a cool tone, somewhere between green and blue. In addition, her entire back has a striped pattern, which also extends up to her crest. Her dreadlocks are long and retively thin, reaching down to her lower back. Her piercing amber eyes scanned my body from head to toe; she was examining my equipment. Finally, she nods for me to go. I wave goodbye and start walking out of the enclosure.

  As I cross the wide, high doorway leading outside our residence, I see my father waiting. Now, he’s holding a combistick and a bow and arrows.

  “Let’s go.” – He says, after inspecting my gear, just like my mother did.

  We set off, and I see the cn’s children watching us from a distance. We enter the rainforest that surrounds our vilge. Here, the trees have thick, broad trunks, and the rgest reach a maximum height of twenty-five meters. The pnet’s strong gravity prevents tall, retively narrow or slender objects from standing upright without suffering structural damage. We don’t have to go far to hear the sounds of the jungle’s creatures in their eternal struggle for survival. Looking up, I see several kethras, creatures that resemble bats. They are omnivorous and feed on fruits, invertebrates, and small creatures that live in the trees. Spotting several of them here means there are no predators nearby.

  “I still don’t understand why you chose the vrask as your first major prey. Youngsters your age prefer more fshy, rger creatures."– My father comments. Unlike my mother, my father is quite empathetic and kind. When I was human and watched or read about the Yautja, it was common for me to see stern, hard-to-please creatures—true brucutus. The truth is a little different.

  "They’re invaders, a pgue, and this is my first big hunt. In the future, I’ll have the chance to hunt bigger and stronger things."– I expin, and he, on the other hand, smiles.

  Finally, we reach a clearing off the trails used by the other hunters, and my father announces:

  "From here on, you go alone."

  I nod at him; he steps closer, pces his hand on my shoulder, and rests his forehead against mine.

  “Go.”– He orders, giving me a gentle push.

  After our farewell, I take a deep breath as I look out at the dense forest before me. I hate to admit it, but I’m anxious and afraid of failing. It’s been nineteen years of intense study and training; I’ve nearly died a few times. I have to succeed! After calming down a bit and gathering my resolve, I step into the underbrush, while I hear my father activate his camoufge to watch me from a distance.