Worthy.
The concept felt almost absurd. What could a human, small, soft, untested, offer a Kha'Ruun warrior? What could she possibly understand about the hunt, about the bond, about what it meant to face a predator and survive?
"And if I refuse?" Makrath asked.
"Then we find another candidate. And you wait." Zhoren's silver eyes fixed on him, unblinking. "But you do not have much time left, Kha'Ruun. We both know this. The deterioration is accelerating. Another incident like Central Station, and the Council will be forced to take measures. Containment. Isolation."
Makrath felt rage rear inside him, feral, vicious, immediate.
Containment? Let them try.
The thought must have shown in his posture, because Zhoren raised a hand.
"Peace," the High Arbiter said. "I am not your enemy, Makrath. I am trying to save you from becoming theirs."
The silence stretched between them.
"Where will the Hunt take place?" Makrath asked at last.
"Earth."
The word struck him like a blow.
"No." His voice came out harder than he intended. "It must be here. In the jungles of Ythran. That is tradition. That is law."
"The law permits exceptions," Zhoren said calmly. "And this is one."
"I will not hunt on alien soil. The female should be brought here?—"
"And risk killing her motivation entirely?" Zhoren cut in. "Think, Makrath. She is human. She has never left her world. If we transport her across the galaxy to a planet she cannot comprehend, surrounded by species that terrify her, how do you expect her to hunt? She will freeze. She will break. And you will have wasted your only chance."
Makrath's claws flexed at his sides.
"She must feel confident," Zhoren continued. "Grounded. The Hunt requires her to come after you with everything she has. That will not happen if she is paralyzed by fear before it even begins."
"She should fear me."
"She will." Zhoren's voice softened slightly. "But fear alone is not enough. You know this. The Hunt requires fire. Resistance. The will to fight. If you take that from her before she even begins, you doom yourself."
Makrath stood rigid, his tail coiled tight behind him, every instinct screaming against the concession.
But beneath the resistance, he knew Zhoren was right.
He had seen what happened to Hunts that failed, males who pushed too hard, females who shattered under pressure, bonds that never formed because one side had already been broken before the ritual began.
He would not let that happen to him.
"Fine," he said, the word grinding out like stone against stone. "Earth."
Zhoren inclined his head. "The transport will be ready by morning. The journey will take three days. You will have access to observation feeds during transit, her training, her progress, her temperament. Use the time wisely."
Three days.
Three days to watch a human female prepare to hunt him.
Three days to decide if she was worth the risk.
"And if I find her acceptable?" Makrath asked.
