Death was coming, and Saketa was ready for it.

It signalled itself through the silence of the old forest. The birds up in the higher reaches still sang their songs, but the bigger things, the wingless ones, knew to keep quiet in bushes, burrows and holes. And deep in as she was, beneath tall trees with mighty canopies, the wind didn’t penetrate. So the only things making noise were the birds, and her.

She walked slowly, on a carpet of ages and ages of plant matter. Haste was the bane of a hunter, and there was a lot to keep track of. She moved more by trained instinct than thought, telling stiff noisemakers apart from soft leaves, branches and grasses that would bend gently to her passing. She kept alert to signs of her target, and her bare feet tested the ground with each step. Her nose breathed in plants and animals, humidity and dirt. The resin that coated her skin hid her scent to some degree, but it had been a while since she applied it, and sweat was making some progress in cleaning it away.

Saketa caught the tiniest bit of sound; a claw against bark, and she turned. The hunting spear in her hands turned with her, and the tip pointed upwards. The tree was relatively young, compared to its neighbours. A few of her lower branches still clung to the bark, long dead though they were, and a silann had climbed down from one.

The long, sleek-bodied lizard was well out of reach, or her spear and her target both, and just gave her a lazy-eyed look. They didn’t typically attack adult humans, being more suited to scavenging. And lazy though they were, those yellow eyes always held a spark of considerable cunning. It, too, knew that death was coming, and would simply wait for its chance.

Satisfied that it wasn’t going to launch into one of those surprisingly long leaps, Saketa looked away from the silann, and continued on her way.

She found the carcass only seconds later. An intact leg, sticking straight up out tall grass, identified it as a longboar. It also bore all the markings of age, explaining why it had been caught. She didn’t need to look closely to know that the gore was fresh. She could smell it. If she were to walk over and stick a hand into the opened torso she would find warmth. Ferocious jaws had done quick and brutal work here, and almost half of the animal was already gone. And the fact that the silann hadn’t gone for the carcass yet made it clear just how close the predator was.

The boar had been brought down in a bit of a clearing, and she decided to make her stand there. The tiny things of the forest skittered or buzzed away at her approach, but after that it all got just a little bit more quiet. The beast was nearby, and it had almost a full circle of surrounding trees to spring out from.

Her sensitivity would have been able to give a more accurate picture than her normal senses ever could, but resorting to her powers would defeat the whole purpose of this. It would spoil the lesson.

Of course, she couldn’t entirely shut off her sensitivity, but it told her nothing she wouldn’t have known otherwise: The beast was very close, and death was indeed close.

Saketa did one final sweep, seeking an outline that didn’t fit among the trees, or a track. But the life-and-death struggle that had just gone on had left tracks and marks all over, and she was not an expert tracker. So when nothing came out of that, she stepped all the way up to the ravaged carcass, and prodded it with her foot.

That did it. Her target was not going to let its food be messed with.

The skrax growled angrily, and its snout led the way out into the clearing. The predator was almost half again her height, and the serpentine tail made it much longer still. Small eyes sat in a scaly face, and the rather small forelegs were at the ready to grapple prey. Yet despite the power evident in each movement, the beast was clearly old. There were subtle signs of joint pains in its movements, and the head fringe was grey and brittle. That was why it was now mostly targeting easier prey. Such as humans.

Saketa stood her ground. The skrax would not allow her to leave, even if she had any intention to. Its ribs were showing faintly, and it couldn’t afford to ignore a meal.

She bared her own teeth, and let out a challenging bark. It answered with its own, much larger teeth, and a growl from the bottom of its throat, which in turn touched the bottom of Saketa’s own primal instincts.

This was it. Life and death. Life for one, death for the other. The lessons of childhood and adolescence coursed through her system just like her blood did, without any need for conscious efforts on her part. She just focused, and readied.

“Hello, old friend.”

The lunge came, preceded by a tiny twitch. The skrax kept its head low, its eyes on her, and managed surprising speed with aged legs. Saketa prepared to drive the spear home, but the skrax shifted direction just a bit, around the readeid thrust, and snapped its jaws at her. Saketa dove, evaded a grasping foreleg, and felt a whoosh of air as the large predator passed her by.

Surprising speed or no, those old legs could not stop both quickly and gracefully, and it needed a moment to gather its balance as it turned to face her again. It was in a spot of greater light from up above, and Saketa got a glimpse of old blade scars. The beast had survived other encounters with hunters, and learned from the experience.

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It came in a second charge, and Saketa aimed her spear for another standard thrust. The skrax shifted again, but now Saketa was ready for it. She did her own shift, away from the heart, and straight at its open mouth. The spear tip went in, and the beast’s own momentum drove it deep. Saketa only partly evaded, and the ’s passage knocked her off her feet. She turned it into a roll that bounced her right back up, and went for her hunting knife.

The skrax was on the ground, flailing horribly in its death throes. The spear was still sticking out of its mouth, and the end of the shaft slapped onto the ground with the movements. Saketa got up on the beast’s back. It bucked once, though it was probably just more blind flailing, and then her long knife found its heart.

The skrax died, and the agonised movements turned into automatic death twitches. She stayed on top until they stopped; the claws had been known to kill even after the beast’s heart stopped.

Once she was satisfied it was over, she rose. She put a hand over the heart-wound, then smeared the blood on her own face.

She seized the spear shaft. All the blood made the process a bit slick and clumsy, but she did get it out. She would have preferred a neat, clean kill, but the beast’s own cleverness had prevented that.

Saketa let out a long, soothing exhale. She still didn’t fully relax. The Kaleran wilderness was no place for such things. But she did allow herself to think and feel again. Curiosity made her examine those scars. There were two sets, one clearly older than the other. The skrax had survived encounters with at least two hunters, and almost certainly killed both of them.

But time had worn it down, as it did all things, and now it had taken its place in the cycle. Just like the longboar, and just like Saketa herself would one day.

“Rest, hunter.”

She touched the spear shaft against her forehead in a salute, then drove the butt of the shaft into a soft spot on the ground, leaving it standing upright in case she needed it. Next she took a water pouch from her belt and had a satisfying drink. Then she let out another exhale before speaking.

“Come on out, Ayna.”

“What gave me away?”

Saketa turned towards the voice. It belonged to a short, lithe girl with chalk-white skin and hair, who emerged from behind a tree like a ghost.

“Nothing, actually,” Saketa told her. “I just made an assumption. And if I’d been wrong, then there would have been no one around to see me embarrass myself.”

“Oh, you wily snake,” Ayna said with a grin, and walked over. “Wait, wait, how often do you do this when I’m not around? Do you just randomly say my name to empty air?”

“You will never know,” Saketa said, and gave her a small smile.

“Oh, you villain!” the girl said with mock outrage, and held clenched fists up to the sky.

She got more serious by the time she stood over the ’s carcass. Contemplative, even. She might not be native to Kalero, but her people had their own understanding of predators. Supposedly, Dwyyk’s wilderness was truly unique in its hazards.

“Good work,” she said. “I saw it all. Didn’t interfere. You said not to, though I appreciate the overestimation of my abilities.

She walked around the dead , taking it in more fully.

“And this is you NOT using your powers?”

“Well, using them as little as I can,” Saketa told her. “The lesson is lost if there is no real danger.”

Saketa rubbed her blood-covered fingers together.

“Death and destruction on one side, life and continuance on the other. As it went, the skrax is now on one side, and I am on the other. The balance was decided in that one moment, when it was me or the beast.”

Next, she idly smelled her fingers. She’d always rather enjoyed the scent.

“A lesson, a reminder. One step towards my old self.”

“Aren’t you basically back now, though?” Ayna asked. She was lifting up the ’s lip, getting a full look at its teeth. “All balanced up? Back to full Warden supermode?”

“I will not be fully back until I have a sword,” Saketa reminded her. “A trainee must prove themselves to the elders before getting one. I am retracing my old steps.”

She closed her eyes, and breathed in the knowledge that she was still alive.

“But yes. It is almost time. I feel much as I did those years ago, before getting my first true blade. Soon…”

She opened her eyes, and looked up into the canopy, at the complex tapestry of green, brown, and spots of light.

“Soon I will walk up that mountain again,” she whispered with reverence. “Soon, I shall be in balance, and truly be a Warden again.”

Ayna held back any witty comments, as Saketa let her thoughts drift back to the original rite she’d performed upon completion of her trials, and forward to the one to come. Only when Saketa returned and focused on the carcass did the girl smile.

“I look forward to it,” Ayna said. “Really. This is all very fascinating. In addition to, you know, just being happy for you.”

Saketa gave her a nod.

“And I am happy for your company. I’m glad you thought to come along with me. And that I didn’t manage to talk you out of it.”

Ayna’s look changed a little. It veered away from lighthearted silliness, and into something born of the galaxy’s deadliest lifeworld.

“Come now. I think sometimes you forget where I’m from. I may not be a warrior, but this planet still has nothing that scares me.”

“I have never thought of Kalero as a tourist destination,” Saketa said. “But maybe you can change that. Perhaps you’ll go back home to Dwyyk one day, and start a company, with regular visits from there to here…”

“Company?!” Ayna exclaimed, bouncing right back to her usual persona. “With payrolls and offices and stuff like that?! Why don’t you just shoot me?!”

“Because I don’t have a gun.”

She prodded the carcass.

“But seriously now, let’s get to work. Since you’re here, help me with the dressing.”

“Sure,” Ayna said, and drew a knife.