Star Wars 1. Prologue

Prologue

"So, what do you think this beast is that Mandalore wants you to take down?" Mako asked curiously while pulling a mod for her tech out of her storage locker in the ship's cargo bay. When she'd first met the little cyborg Phystte had been hard on her. As a human bounty hunter, she'd been relegated to joining that motley team for a chance at the Great Hunt, but after everything that happened – from the Braden's murder to working for the Empire to scrounge up enough credits to make it day to day – Mako had transformed from annoying side-kick into full-fledged partner. And it surprised Phystte that she really appreciated having Mako around to count on.

They'd won The Great Hunt together. Even though it was her name posted with the few other notorious champions, Phystte knew she couldn't have made it this far without Mako's tech expertise and willingness to brave everything from killer droids and rival bounty hunters to vicious beasts and republic soldiers. They had started out as wary allies, now they were sisters-in-arms, though they didn't look much like sisters. The Hunter was nearly ten years her senior, darker complexioned, and she had the scars and wear to hint at a hard life. Phystte smirked slyly at her little tech, which definitely improved her looks. She'd been smiling a lot more of late with her. Not a bad thing, she thought.

"I don't know. But chances are if the Mandalorians haven't killed it yet, it's got to be big," Phystte marveled. "Could be anything, so best keep on our toes."

"Oh I'm always on my toes with you around," Mako laughed lightly.

"Hey, hey, what's all this giggling I'm hearing? Are you gals having a good time without me?"

Mako and Phystte heaved a collective sigh. Neither one of them were all that fond of Gault, though Phystte distinctly liked him less than Mako did. Not that he was a terrible guy… okay maybe he was a bit terrible, but for a Devaronian that's basically saying he wasn't half-bad. He gave them both a semi-disapproving glare and waved his hands at them in dismissal, only too used to their not-so-welcoming responses.

"Fine, fine. I'll leave you two alone to do whatever girly bonding thing it is you're doing," Gault announced.

"Sorry, Gault," Mako started.

"Why are you sorry?" Phystte asked. "He's lucky I actually agreed to his sleazy scheme. I would have much rather shot him and been done with it."

"Ouch," Gault replied. "Now you've gone and hurt my tender feelings. That's no way to make friends, my little hunter."

"Who says I need friends," Phystte quipped, used to being alone. Before anyone else could answer though she quickly added, "I've got Mako."

Phystte motioned to Mako with a jab of her thumb and Mako beamed at that. It had taken her a lot of time and effort to get through that thick durasteel armor Phystte had around her heart. She was undoubtedly a hardened woman, but Mako didn't mind. It took someone tempered like her to be able to take those bounty jobs and to make the tough calls. And really, once she got through it, Phystte was loyal to a fault. She'd never admit it, and would probably blast her to smithereens if she mentioned it to anyone, but Mako was pretty sure Phystte had a soft side to her. And she was determined to bring it out one of these days.

"You need more than one friend to get good around this galaxy," Gault informed her. "I make all these extra credits for you on the side, the least you can do is pretend you don't still want to shoot me and stuff my body in a crate."

"We made a deal, Gault. I would never blast you," she replied.

"Well that's a relief," Gault started but before he could feel comfortable Phystte spoke up again.

"I'd freeze you in carbonite and hang you on the wall… right over there," Phystte countered with a smile, pointing at a nice big empty spot near the cargo locker. If she hadn't smiled, Gault would have been worried. As it was though, he hoped she was developing at least a small sense of humor.

"At least there would be a chance someone might thaw me out. A slim chance, but a chance none-the-less," Gault supposed. "Now if you ladies don't mind, I think I've had my fill of our hunter's entertaining personality for one day."

"Ah, leaving so soon?" Mako giggled a little. Gault just shook his head and walked back toward his bunk. Once he was mostly out of ear-shot Mako spoke quietly. "You should really think about going easier on the guy."

"Why? He can obviously hold his own. And after everything he put me through on Tatooine, he deserves a bit of razzing."

"Maybe," Mako agreed tentatively. "But he's been with us for over a month now and we're kind of stuck with him. You can't let him go in case he decides to reveal that you didn't kill him. And if he's going to be a permanent part of the crew, it'd probably be best to stay on his good side. After all, he's right and we don't have so many friends as to not need another one."

Phystte knew Mako was right about that and she sighed, giving in. Had Mako said the same things back on Dromund Kaas when they were here the first time, Phystte would have told her off and probably booted both her and Gault off the ship, had he even been on the ship then. As it was, she'd never felt like she had people she could depend on until now. Maybe she was letting her guard down too much. But Mako hadn't let her down once so far, and Gault could have back-stabbed her plenty of times already but instead he continued to help out despite her less than friendly attitude toward him.

"Yeah, I'll work on that, I guess," Phystte conceded. "But only if you do the same. After all, I'm not the only one giving Gault a hard time."

"It's a deal then," Mako stated. She fiddled with her vibroblade, shining it up. "So back to Dromund Kaas. You know I actually liked it there."

"I'm right there with you. After slugging through planets like Tatooine, I'll take Dromund Kaas anyday," Phystte agreed.

"So does that mean I get to come with you on this one?" Mako asked eagerly. Phystte had been taking Gault along lately, mostly because his sniping came in handy on the rugged terrain of Alderaan, but also to keep a close eye on him. However, he'd proven for the most part that she could trust him to keep to his word. Not that she trusted him implicitly at this point, but she didn't feel like he'd run off with her ship if she went planetside anymore. Mako also took that extra down time trying to slice into SIS's databases for more information on that Project 32. With her doing all she could for the moment though, and being back in familiar territory, she wanted to get back in on the action now.

"Sure," Phystte answered. "Besides, we started this together."

"Yeah, I know, but the Great Hunt is over and you're the Champion now," Mako reminded her. "I'll understand if you want me to stay behind."

"Nope," the Hunter reiterated. "I want you right there with me. Besides, animals usually want to get up close and personal. I'll need your healing skills to take on whatever this beast thing is."

"Alright!" Mako chirped loudly. Phystte's raised brow made her stop mid-jump and clear her throat. "I mean, I'll go get ready."

They arrived at the Mandalorian camp by late morning. Phystte wasn't exactly happy with the terse welcome Jogo gave them. That Torian kid almost made up for his friend's blundering… almost. Mako was a complete mess with all the young men around. Phystte couldn't remember the last time she saw her blush so much. She shook her head and pulled her along toward the cave. When they got there, Mako found her head again.

"I wonder why there are so many Mandalorians here?" Mako thought out loud.

"Heard them calling this beast a sith-spawn. Must be big if they've got their men stationed all over," Phystte commented quietly as they crept through the cave.

"How will we know which beast it is?" Mako whispered, the darkness closing in around them as they delved in deeper.

"With a name like the Ghost of the Darkness, we're sure to know it when we see it. Now we just have to make sure we live long enough to tell everyone about it."

"No kidding," Mako agreed. Then she smirked slyly. "So that Torian guy…. He's kind of cute."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that you weren't nearly as mean to him as you usually are to everyone else," Mako replied.

"I'm not mean to everyone," Phystte countered. "I'm just not nice."

"What are you talking about, you're like the galaxy's biggest hard-ass. It seriously took me two months before I could get you to crack a smile!"

"If all you were looking for was a smile, you could have just bought me a drink, Mako," Phystte laughed softly. "I smile a lot more once I've put away a few pints."

"So what's your excuse for smiling now?" Mako said a little angrily.

"Now I just like you… and you finally used a dirty word," Phystte smirked at her friend and Mako's angry brows softened until she smiled back.

Her eyes immediately looked suspicious though, "And _you've_ completely dodged the question…"

"Look out!"

Phystte pushed Mako down and she didn't even realize what was happening until she heard blaster fire. Mako screeched slightly, but she didn't have time to really let any of her fear kick in since before she knew it, Phystte called out for some help while in the middle of fighting some of the beasts. She recalled the Mandalorians saying those ones at the entrance were the smaller ones, but they were more than four times the size of the Hunter. As Phystte blasted away, Mako remembered now how handy is was that the bounty hunter was like a walking arsenal. The monsters growled loudly against the blaster fire but they were no match for Phystte's pistols and missiles.

The Hunter huffed at the end of the battle, popping one of the dying, but not quite dead creatures in the head and silencing its pitiful growls. "You were saying something?"

"Wha… oh… um…."

Phystte smiled. "It's okay, kiddo. If you can't remember, then it probably wasn't important."

Mako shook her head. "Nuh-uh. You're not getting out of that so fast."

"Getting out of what so fast?"

"You _know_ what!" Mako nearly shouted and Phystte shushed her.

"Geez, you want to bring the whole cave in on us?" She motioned her hand to keep quiet. "Knock it down a notch."

"Sorry…" Mako whispered sheepishly. "But you know exactly what I'm talking about, Phystte."

"Okay fine, if it'll keep you quiet - yes he's cute," Phystte replied. "For a Mandalorian."

"I knew it!" Mako quietly yipped. "You're never that nice!"

"Hey… I'm nice sometimes," Phystte countered back emphatically, though trying to keep her voice down as well.

The cave was filled with the creatures though and they spent a good portion of their time trekking through the cave fighting them. Mako managed to take down one on her own to her immense satisfaction. She guessed all that training with Phystte was finally starting to sink in. Though she still worked much better on the tech side of things, it was nice to have some blaster tricks to help her round out her skill set.

Throughout the cave they popped some spore-like plants which seemed to affect the beasts, and examined some toxic seeds. Phystte jerry-rigged some of the seeds into some aerosol canisters they found laying around the cave, hoping it would help against whatever lay deep inside. They came to huge dark opening and peered inside. Phystte put her arm out, stopping Mako, then pointed to a very large looking boulder. For a moment Mako wondered what it was Phystte was trying to point out to her, until she saw it. The massive boulder that seemed to span half the cave wall had eyes. It must have caught their scent, because it suddenly rose and lumbered toward them.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Phystte gasped at seeing the true size of the creature before letting loose a barrage of missiles at the giant thing and rolling away from a colossal swipe of its massive claws. She let loose the contents of the spray, hoping it might help out, not that she would know the difference at this point. Slamming it with everything she had loaded at the moment, Phystte tried to dodge another swing of the Ghost's claws. She couldn't move fast enough though and she grunted out in pain as the impact tossed her into a nearby rock.

Mako screamed something inaudible while tossing a kolto grenade at Phystte which brought her to her senses quickly. She couldn't let anything happen to Mako. Jumping back up she stunned the beast with her electrodart and ran up to it, ramming its back with a rocket punch before hitting it again with a reload of missiles to distract it from her little tech. The creature turned and she ducked away from its clumsy attempt to catch her. Backing up she aimed for one of the beast's eyes and took it out with a power shot from her blaster. It reared up, roaring and clawing at its face.

Phystte smirked even as she huffed for breath. "Looks like you have a weak spot, beastie."

With that she reloaded her missiles and rockets and aimed for its belly. She barraged it until he roared again, opening his gigantic jaws. "Say ah," Phystte quipped before letting loose an explosive missile down the monster's throat. It detonated on impact with the creature's mouth and it shook its giant bloody head, angrier than ever. Blinking its one good eye, it focused its rage on the Hunter standing before it. The Ghost of the Darkness roared, the sound reverberating through the cave causing the walls to quake and bits of rock and dust to fall, then rushed toward Phystte.

"Oh shit," she managed to say. Hitting the button for her jet pack, she flew up and let loose another round of rockets, but it wasn't enough. The beast had gone berserk. It grabbed her foot and flung her down to the ground, slamming her like a little rag doll once then twice. Suddenly, it dropped her and Phystte struggled to breathe and crawl away when she felt the relief of kolto enveloping her. She looked up to see that Mako had stunned the monster for a few brief seconds and knowing this was probably her last chance to take it down before it rushed her partner, Phystte rolled over on her back so she could face the beast and let loose everything she had left.

Six missiles and two different types of exploding rockets plus an incapacitating rail shot. Even after all that the Ghost of the Darkness still stood, though it wavered a bit. Shaking its head it made another terrifying roar, and the Hunter resisted the intense urge to curl into a ball and cover her ears. As it stood back up, seemingly confused, Phystte aimed one last power shot to the Ghost's other bright yellow eye and it finally faltered about and fell, the cave shuddering lightly when it hit the ground. Mako rushed to her side and Phystte let her head fall back with relief, her body feeling like it had been trampled by banthas. The instant burning of med pacs and kolto brought an unhappy groan from Phystte's lips and she grit her teeth against the strange knitting pain until the cool relief kicked in. She sighed and coughed up a puddle of blood.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" Mako started.

Phystte coughed again instead of laughing like she meant to. "Me? Wasn't that thing scary enough?"

"I'm serious. After everything we've been through together, you can't die on me now," Mako protested a bit angrily. Phystte could hear the tears in her voice even though she couldn't see them on her face with the darkness of the cave and the grime covering them both.

The Hunter chuckled softly at that. "I'm not dead." She tried to get up, but everything still hurt. Her nerves felt raw and her bones protested movement. Slumping back down into the cold hard ground, Phystte grimaced. "I think I'll just…lay here for a while."

Mako sighed and gave her another round of kolto, "Come on. If you don't walk out of here soon, the Mandalorians will think you got eaten and Mandalore won't finalize your big payoff."

"Can't have them giving my credits to someone else now, can I," Phystte mumbled as she rolled over with a sharp grunt. She heaved a big breath then pushed herself up on her feet, shaky at first but somewhat able to regain her balance. Mako tried to slip under her right arm to help support her but an unhealthy groan from Phystte caused her to rethink the action. Instead she simply stood close enough to try and support her if she needed it and applied another rapid scan to try and staunch the worst of the pain. Burning flicks of lightning shot through Phystte's leg when she stepped forward, but each new step seemed to dull the intense pain a bit more. Either that or she was just getting used to feeling like hell. "Let's not do that again… ever."

"I agree," Mako chirped.

Phystte stumbled over to the Ghost of the Darkness, blasted a few extra times in the head just to be certain it was dead, then pulled out her vibroblade and started cutting into its chest. Chopping at its chest made all sorts of unpleasant noises and Mako turned away as Phystte reached into the big hole she'd just made. Pulling out the heart with a sickeningly strange sucking sound, she wavered back a little. "Gah, that stinks. Whosever idea it was to keep dead animal parts as trophies is just crazy."

"Ugh…" Mako noted in agreement, trying to cover her nose. "Here, we can use this to carry it in." She held out an old sack, no doubt something they picked up on the way in to maybe sell at the markets later. Mako had gotten really good at scavenging useful things here and there. Phystte dumped the smelly, bloody heart into the bag then twisted the top up to seal in the worst of the reek. Together they made their way back through the cave, Mako giving her a med scan when she could. The Hunter would need real rest and better kolto treatments than they had out here on the field to repair some of the injuries she'd sustained.

Phystte limped, favoring her left side a bit, but as they neared the entrance to the cave, she tried walking more upright. It helped that the Mandalorians all started cheering as they came out of the cave. So much that Phystte resisted the urge to limp at all, despite it hurting to walk that way. Mako hit her up with a bit more kolto, which helped, but she'd need a full round of treatments when she got back to the ship to take care of all that internal damage. Mako nudged her when she spotted Torian at the other end of the camp with Jogo. Phystte gave her a tired raised brow and sighed. The last thing on her mind right now was impressing some young man, especially looking the way she did covered in grime, blood, and ash.

Jogo couldn't seem to believe it which made her want to deck him despite the soreness in her arms. Torian at least was respectful and Phystte had to admit to herself that so far out of all these Mandalorians, she liked this guy – sensible, yet not afraid to speak up. Of course it could be that next to Jogo, any man seemed like an improvement. The added plus was that the kid was definitely easy on the eyes. For a few moments she wondered what the scars meant. Some mandalorian ritual? They were going on about her victory, but after a couple minutes everything started to get fuzzy around the edges and all she could think about was getting back to the ship so that Mako or Toovee could fix her up.

By the time they left the camp, Phystte was limping and favoring her left side again and her vision swam with strange blue halos. Mako looked at her a bit concerned and gave her another healing scan. The halos diffused a little and Phystte blinked rapidly, refusing to pass out just yet. "Sure you don't want to hit the med center here in the city? It's closer than the spaceport," Mako suggested but Phystte just shook her head and regretted it, her stomach protesting that much back and forth movement.

"The sooner we're back on the ship, the sooner we can get back to the Spirit of Vengeance," Phystte stated. Hearing her goal out loud seemed to bolster her resolve and she stood slightly straighter and marched a bit more briskly in the direction of the nearest speeder checkpoint. "Besides, I could really go for some of Toovee's new Alderaanian stew."

"Still can't believe it," Mako mused, catching the Hunter's arm as she tripped on an upturned root and helping her rebalance herself.

"I know, that thing was a real monster," Phystte agreed and silently thought she had the injuries to prove it. "I'm almost surprised we got out of there alive."

"Oh, yeah it was, but that's not what I was talking about."

Phystte raised an inquiring brow. "What were you talking about?"

"I still can't believe you were actually nice to that guy!" Mako teased with a wide grin plastered on her face. Phystte just shook her head.


	2. Not a Kid

Chapter 1: Not a Kid

The rakghouls swarmed all around him. Though he kept the majority of them at bay with his staff, a couple bigger ones were able to take a few good swipes at him from the side. Torian grit his teeth against their attacks, wondering where the hell his back-up was. The Hunter said to take them and that she would be right behind him. He took down one of the bigger rakghouls and started on a little vicious guy that had been slipping past his wide swipes and nipping at his legs. She was still nowhere to be seen.

"Gaa'tayl! A little help here?" Torian yelled out from the mass, hoping she was close enough to hear him.

Phystte watched, waiting until two more rakghouls joined in on the mauling before letting loose a barrage of rockets, scorching the remainder of them in a blur of smoke and fire. Once the dense cloud cleared she spotted Torian down on one knee in the middle of the carnage. He pulled off his helmet and spit out a wad of blood. She walked up to him, taking in the damage they did to the ghouls. The kid was tough, she had to give him that. A few rakghouls wouldn't take him down even if he was on his own.

Despite her display, when she approached Torian didn't look at all pleased. He glared up to her from his position and wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand. "There a reason you waited so long to help me out?" He asked, hints of anger seeping into the words.

"Just waiting for them to get all round up so I could take that perfect shot," Phystte replied with a small victory smile, she loved those rockets.

"Next time you're using me as bait – tell me." He grabbed his helmet and stood up, then walked off. Phystte had to jog to keep up with his long stride.

"Hey kid, wait up. You're hurt." She noticed the blood he'd spit out. Who knows what other injuries he had? If he collapsed anywhere, she wouldn't be able to carry him to the medic. Of course she could call in a probe, but that would cost her extra time and credits, two things she didn't want to spare right now. Phystte had always considered it best to patch up as she went.

"Naas. I'm fine."

"Just stop for a minute and let me scan you," Phystte insisted, bringing up her med-scanner.

He stopped and immediately turned around to face her, but it quickly became apparent that he wasn't doing so for her to heal him. Lifting his finger to level with her face he reprimanded her.

"Want to do things your way, fine. But don't tell me you're right behind me when you're planning on using me as bait. Be straight with me." The Mandalorian didn't yell it, didn't even say it sternly. He just said it with that reserved soft voice of his. For some reason that added far more weight to his comment than any amount of yelling would have. Phystte felt a little heat rise in her cheeks and she buried the harsh comeback she wanted to give him.

Phystte scoffed, waving the comment away instead. She wasn't used to anyone telling her they didn't like the way she fought. Mako was excited each time they took down a group of guys and usually so impressed with her that Phystte could probably do most anything in a fight and have her little protégé gawk. Gault on the other hand didn't have any qualms with telling her how she should be doing things… on the business side, but he never insulted her battle sense, probably still too worried she might encase him in carbonite if he rubbed her too far the wrong way. Besides, she'd worked hard to get to this point. Nobody questioned her tactics anymore.

"Not doing that again," Torian stated. "Not without knowing you're plan."

"Fine," Phystte conceded. She still needed his help tracking down Jicoln, after all. He turned and marched off again and she rushed to keep up. "Wait up, kid…" Was he really not going to stop? Damn stubborn Mando, of all the…

"Hey! Torian…" she called out to him again. He stopped but didn't turn around. "You're right. I should have told you what I meant to do," Phystte attempted to patch things up. She thought she'd gotten past playing people's games when she won the Great Hunt. But she also knew better than to burn bridges. Phystte could swallow a bit of her pride if it got her what she needed. Besides, it wouldn't do her any good if he left before she got her bounty… or if he got killed.

He turned his head slightly and she could make out a barely there expression that said he was still angry with her. "It won't happen again," she added for good measure. Torian shook his head lightly at that, as if wondering if he really believed her. Phystte took that moment to close the distance between them. "Will you at least stop and let me fix you up before we get into another fight?"

Torian sighed and turned around, only now did Phystte notice the blood dripping out of from his left arm guard. He hardly favored it at all, so that she'd completely missed it when he was walking off. "Fine," he replied, waiting for her to scan him and apply some kolto.

Phystte did a rapid scan. The rakghouls didn't really do too much damage, but any deep cut could be at risk for infection with the rakghoul disease, especially in this humidity. Turning into one of those things had to be worse than dying and she didn't need him getting sick on her watch either. She pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her belt then whipped out some kolto packets. The kid got a couple decent gashes from the ghouls, enough that needed close attention. Not that it was his fault really. She was fairly certain having seven rakghouls clawing at her would have done a number on her as well.

"I'm going to need to get to that wound," Phystte stated, putting the heavy duty packets up to her mouth so she could hold them with her teeth while she unlatched his armguard. Torian stood quietly as she pulled off his armor and rolled up his sleeve to get to a deep gash where his bicep met his shoulder – an open joint in his heavy armoring. Even her armor had spots like this, otherwise they wouldn't be able to move around very well. One of the ghouls got just the right angle on him, sliced clean through his protective padding and everything.

Tearing the first packet open with her mouth, Phystte then smoothly applied the kolto gel to the gash, noting how tense his arm was. Torian grit his teeth against the burning pain, his brows creasing slightly until the medicine killed off any infection and started its cool relief, his cells knitting themselves back together and growing new ones to close the wound. Phystte glanced up to see his contorted expression soften and ripped open the other packet, applying that one as the other fizzled out. The bleeding finally stopped and after a few minutes she wiped the remaining gel away to reveal the thin purple line of a fresh scar. While the outside looked well the inside would take longer to heal. He'd still need to rest his arm and recover after they finished their mission. One more treatment could make the scar disappear as well, but she wasn't in the habit of using kolto for aesthetics.

"You've got another one on your side," Phystte said, pointing to his ribs.

"Naas. That one's not bad. A quick scan should take care of it," Torian noted. He was right. From the initial scan, it wasn't nearly as bad as the gash on his arm had been. But rapid scans didn't take care of infection, just open wounds. Phystte took a lot of chances with people, even with herself, but for some reason, she didn't want to take any more chances with this kid right now. Last thing she needed was some tiny scratch to infect him and ruin her chance at catching Jicoln and claiming that big pot of creds.

"Kolto's better. Besides, a little med-scan isn't going to protect against rakghoul disease," Phystte countered.

Torian actually smiled at that. "If you wanted to get my shirt off, all you had to do was ask."

It was Phystte's turn to look a bit shocked, but he only caught her off guard for a moment. After that flirty comment she gave him at his hide-out to distract him so she could disarm him, she probably deserved that. She smirked and shook her head. "You're cute kid, I'll give you that."

"Not a kid. But thanks," Torian reiterated in that quiet voice again.

Torian sat down on a small boulder and Phystte started to undo his chest piece. She pulled off the armor, setting it next to his helmet and armguard. As she rolled up his undershirt, he only hissed slightly at the pain as the wound opened up from the movement. She had to give him credit for taking all this beating like a champ, especially since he wasn't even a part of her crew. Usually she was the one under most of the fire. She knew what it was like to have a horde of enemies on her.

The cut wasn't even a centimeter deep and probably burned more than anything. Phystte opened a fresh packet of gel, doing her best not to let her cheeks flush as she admired how fit the Mandalorian was, her hand caressing over his wound with the cool liquid. She had to resist the urge to touch the rest of him, even though he was filthy from scouting and sweaty from the fight. Torian's abs flexed involuntarily at her touch and she felt his skin warm and moist under her fingers. He was right, he wasn't a kid. Not at all.

She noted quite a few scars. Many of them from blaster fire, a few vibroblade scars, some others that looked like claw marks. He could probably have avoided a lot of the scarring by getting kolto treatments quick enough. Then again if Torian fought anything like she did, the scars were long starting to set in by the time she made it back to a city with decent med facilities. That and she actually preferred to keep hers to remind her of her mistakes. From the deliberate scarring on his cheekbones, Phystte was fairly certain he was the type to keep his scars as reminders as well.

She cleared her throat and stood up, smacking her hands together to dry out the kolto gel left on her fingers before pulling her gauntlets back on. "Well, you're all patched up."

"Vor'e," he replied, fixing his undershirt and then getting into his armor again. Phystte tried to keep a lookout while inconspicuously watching him dress, not that she was sure she did a very good job of it from the smirk Torian had on his face as he latched everything back up. He grabbed his tech staff, ready to go.

"Should be just another mile to the next imperial camp," Phystte stated, starting to walk.

He joined her, matching her step. "Jate. Target can't be too much farther ahead of us at this rate."

Phystte noticed he rarely said his father's name. She knew that Jicoln was a traitor to the Mandalorians. The other Champions had told her that much. But she never guessed she'd be hunting a black list mark with his son. No matter what, she would take Jicoln down. She only hoped that when it came to it in the end, that Torian wouldn't have a change of heart. Phystte really didn't want to have to take him down as well. Especially when he was starting to grow on her.


	3. Settling In

Chapter 2: Settling In

Phystte looked up from the holoterminal as Mako waltzed back in, a slight smile gracing her bright face. Pushing away from the interface and now standing at her full height, though her full height wasn't any taller than her tech's, Phystte caught Mako's nod that the job was done and their newest member had been acquainted with the ship as well as given a bed in the crew's shared quarters. No doubt she also let him know the other intricacies of living on the bounty hunter's ship like meal times, chore rotations, ship assignments, and Gault's penchant for smelly shower gels that he insisted were some of the few 'luxury' items he could still afford.

Speaking of which, Phystte turned to glare slightly at the sniper, who hadn't been welcoming in the slightest to their newest member. Mako's gaze followed her and before the hunter could bring up some snide remark she chirped in. "So Gault, you didn't seem too happy when Torian came on board. Everything okay?"

Before he could answer, the Hunter got in her shot. "He's just jealous that he's not the only man on my ship now."

He chuckled meanly at the comment. "You know, _I_ didn't get a tour of the ship when I joined your crew, little hunter," Gault brought up. The devaronian didn't move from his spot as he leaned against the metal wall of the inner hull, arms folded across his chest. Mako looked over at him a little sheepishly while Phystte waved away the comment.

"We just figured an old-timer like yourself would know a ship like this better than we did."

"Right. And I suppose that chasing Tyresius all over Tattooine didn't have a thing to do with your animosity, did it."

Phystte had to give him that. Every once in a while she still wanted to kill him, just out of principle. "You didn't exactly join the crew so much as you bought your way into it," she reminded him.

"Same thing, little hunter, same thing. I'd wager everyone on this ship has a stake in something with you, which is why we're here. Mine just happened to be the most costly, seeing as I paid with my life."

"Another man's life," Phystte corrected.

"He wasn't really using it all that well to begin with," Gault countered conversationally. "We all know why I'm here. Mako helped you get to where you're at. So what's Mando boy got?"

"He helped Phystte track down Jicoln," Mako chimed in almost proudly. "With a bounty that's been out for ten years, that's got to say something that he helped her catch him, right?"

"Sure this isn't personal, little hunter," Gault mocked lightly, his yellow eyes hardening. While he'd wanted Phystte to go easier on the team and maybe loosen up a bit, he didn't really think she should be going soft. At least, not over some boy and definitely not over some Mandalorian. That bunch took their murdering a little too seriously for his liking. Damn crazies even had the gall to call it honorable.

"It's always personal," Phystte stated dangerously. "Don't forget that _no one_ would be on my ship if I didn't take things personal."

Mako sighed slightly at that while thinking the devaronian certainly had a knack for putting the Hunter in a mood. Gault simply grinned with a shake of his head knowing the truth of her words. Well, either way, it was a good thing Phystte hadn't been swooped up by Mandalore before she contracted his bounty. A Mandalorian bounty hunter was the worst luck a con man could come across, all of them would kill a man if he tried to bribe them just on principle. And talking his way out of an imminent death had been hard enough with Phystte. Gault wasn't certain he would have been able to charm his way to a new life had a Mando caught him instead of her. Fortunately, he knew her before she was adopted by the bunch. Yup, lady luck was still on his side. Funny, she was starting to look a lot like the little hunter in his mind.

Somewhat satisfied with Gault's silence at her last comment, Phystte walked toward the rear of the ship, her boots clanking solidly down the metal stairs. Toovee showered her with some of his nonsensical droid affection and she settled for at least giving him a decision on what he should cook up for their supper meal. The droid immediately whisked off to the galley, no doubt in preparation. After watching him leave, she glanced over and spotted the newest member of her crew over near the cargo lockers in the hold. Torian leaned back against the hull wall, his staff leaning much like he was as he worked with something in his hands.

"Mako get you all settled in?" Phystte asked as she strolled to the crafting bench and pulled out a few supplies from the tool drawers to clean out her pistols.

"Elek. Don't need much. Used to traveling light," Torian commented as he fiddled with his generator.

She smiled at that, knowing from their brief conversations before that he wasn't going to one to complain. "If you need something, let me know."

"Sure," he replied back though for some reason Phystte felt like she wouldn't be hearing any requests from him for anything anytime soon. She made a mental note to check over their supplies and his room to make sure he had everything he needed. After all, they'd been making good credits lately. She could afford to spend a little extra on some creature comforts for the ship and its crew.

"You left pretty quick back there," she started. "Wasn't sure I'd see you again after you shot him."

"Just needed time alone to think," Torian answered. He didn't look angry, not even sad. Phystte wasn't sure how he felt about his father really. He said Jicoln dishonored his clan. All of Clan Cadera lost standing with Mandalore after Jicoln's betrayal. Whatever reasons Jicoln had, whatever he told Torian in those last moments, only he would know. She didn't want to press Torian, some things weren't meant to be shared with other people. Phystte could understand that, she had a few of those herself.

"Still… you had guts kid. Not many people would've pulled the trigger themselves," Phystte commented. It was supposed to be a compliment, but Torian frowned slightly. Figuring she'd probably do more damage if they kept talking, Phystte turned to the table and started working on one of her pistols.

"Have a question for you," Torian spoke up, joining her at the table.

"Alright, shoot." Phystte replied, wondering what he wanted to ask.

"Never got the chance to ask why you stuck around to patch me up at the traitor's bolt. Didn't think beroya like you worried about collateral damage."

"Beroya?"

"Bounty hunters."

Phystte's brows furrowed a little. She'd built this ruthless reputation and it had been hard work to make it so. After all, she couldn't have people thinking she was soft. But in some ways, her reputation made people think of her as less than a person. Maybe in some ways she was. In her profession, she had to be. It was a job. Nothing personal, though she would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy it. She craved the hunt, reveled in its completion and soaked in the rewards afterward. It was a dangerous life but it was hers and she wouldn't trade it for any other.

But for some reason, Torian's comment rubbed her wrong. She felt a pang of guilt that he honestly thought she would just leave him there, as if she lacked a sense of humanity. Of course she didn't help him solely out of goodness of her heart either, which made her feel even a bit more guilty, especially after all the help he gave her in tracking down his father. She'd helped him mostly because he was her best chance at tracking down Jicoln. He'd done such an efficient job of finding the artifacts for Jicoln's challenge, and even his hiding spot, that keeping him around until she killed the target just made sense. Besides, killing for creds didn't make her heartless, not completely anyway.

"Well, I'm an adopted Mandalorian now. Couldn't leave one of my own behind, could I?" She taunted instead.

"Just like that, huh. From cold-blooded killer to honor-bound Mando? Not sure I buy it," Torian shook his head.

Phystte stopped cleaning her pistol and sighed. Part of that was true. She'd spent so much time killing without regard to the aftermath. Taking the hunts, taking the creds, working on the premise that no one else mattered except her. Then Mako came along and changed everything, softened her quite a bit even. She remembered how hard she'd been on her in the beginning. But the cute little tech worked hard and pulled great results. If it weren't for her, she'd have never won The Great Hunt. She nabbed the title, but really they were a team and Phystte wasn't arrogant enough to believe she would have been able to do all that without Mako's help.

She never did feel like she was a part of something bigger though. Mako seemed to have this innate connection with the empire. She talked about it all the time, how their hunts could help the Empire, how awful the Republic was. Phystte didn't share her opinions really, mostly because she didn't care about the Empire or the Republic, though she was more than happy to work with the Empire. They seemed more sensible than the other guys at least. Belonging to one side seemed completely pointless. However, after the Hunt, after Mandolore made her an official Mandalorian, her feelings changed.

It wasn't just being the Champion, Phystte expected that. What she hadn't expected was how much trust Mandalore instantly put in her. He gave her his token spot in the respected Blacklist, and practically treated her like his own daughter. She'd never felt like she belonged to something bigger until now or like she belonged to a family. For some inane reason, she didn't want to let Mandalore down. Before, she'd only ever been on her own side. Now, she actually felt proud to be on the Mandalorians' side.

Phystte shrugged finally, remembering Torian's comment earlier while they were hunting Jicoln. _Be straight with me._ She decided she didn't really have anything to lose by doing that. "You were useful. I wouldn't have found Jicoln without you."

"Suvari. Figured as much," Torian commented with a touch of disappointment.

"I'm new to this, you know," Phystte added. "The Mandalorian thing… honor in the fight. I want to do right by the Mandalorians."

His expression softened. "I get that."

"Do you? Weren't you born a Mandalorian? Isn't it… in your blood or something? All I know is that I'm good at killing and can make decent credits doing it. The Great Hunt, that wasn't honor for me – that was a shot at a life out of the slums."

"You sound angry," Torian stated quietly and Phystte realized she'd raised her voice. He'd grown up with a clan, with people who cared about him, people to hunt with, to train him. From the sound of it, he'd gotten to live his life in a decent way. No scrounging the trash bins for food while her mother plied her trade in some rank back alley. No knifing the gang members that tried to rape her when she started to look like a woman. No… he'd never had to deal with the stuff she did growing up. Maybe she was mad at that. He questioned her honor and the really sad thing was, she didn't have much to begin with. Perhaps that's what upset her most of all.

"Maybe I am," Phystte clutched the blaster pistol in her hands.

"Didn't mean to upset you," Torian said. She sighed and he went on. "Mandalore saw something more than a killer in you. Wouldn't have sent you on the bloodletting otherwise."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am," Torian replied. Phystte glanced over at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "Ni haa'tayl ijaat o'r gar. I see it too."

With that he got up and walked off, leaving her alone to her work. Phystte looked down at the blaster, worn with heavy use, scratched and scuffed from being modded too many times. It was one of her first blasters when she started the hunt. She'd grown attached to it. The blaster of a killer. Maybe it was time to get a new gun. A gun for someone more than a bounty hunter. A gun for a Mandalorian.


	4. Women

Chapter 3: Women

Phystte turned and left, the smirk leaving a lasting imprint on his mind along with her comment of finding better things than fighting to do with him. Torian couldn't seem to make heads or tails of her. When they'd first met on Dromand Kaas, the Hunter had been aloof. She hadn't shown any concern for him or the Mandalorians. However, when he saw her on Taris she appeared overtly interested in him, but shortly after he realized that she was only using her femininity to her advantage. Phystte had given him permission to board her ship, join her crew, but he still felt on some level that she was just toying with him with all her flirtatious remarks. They were welcome, of course. He wasn't the type of man to turn away the affections of a pretty woman, but he couldn't rightly decipher whether Phystte was truly interested in him that way, or if this was just a game she played.

Shaking his head, he turned about and began working on the armor crafting assignment she'd given him. The Hunter certainly didn't waste any time putting him to work. He didn't complain though, after all Phystte put herself to work the moment she boarded the ship. Torian was certain that her right-hand, that little tech assistant Mako, could navigate and pilot the ship if need be, or at the very least, make ready the systems for take-off. But Phystte always took that duty upon herself. Like clockwork she'd board and check with the crew to make sure everyone was ready for space-flight, then head up to the cock-pit and start the systems check. He'd gotten used to that after the first three planet-side operations and figured piloting must be one of the things she really enjoyed.

That was about the only routine thing about his new commander though. Her moods were as shifty as an ion storm though he had to admit it fitting since he thought of her as being just as beautiful. She had a brilliant smile that could charm the creds off a hutt, if she'd ever use it, and an intimidating scowl with matching threatening blasters that were even more convincing, which were her weapon of choice. She got into more scrapes in a day than he did in a week, which he couldn't help but enjoy since it gave him constant opportunities to test himself in battle. But the crew never knew when a job was going to make her happy or set her off. So far it seemed that when she liked her employers, chances were they would be celebrating after a job, but that wasn't always a guarantee. Even with her inconsistencies and his preference for dependability, Torian felt drawn to her though. He'd felt it back on Dromand Kaas even.

Phystte was different than the Mandalorian women he knew – hot-headed, unsympathetic, and brusque, though he had seen glimpses of unexpected kindness in her, moments that were both rare as well as a struggle for her. He got the feeling that she hadn't received much compassion in her own life and so learned to work hard for what she wanted, even if the work was grueling or cruel. The question was, now that she was a Champion of the Great Hunt, what did she want now? Certainly taking down a mark wasn't the only thing that drove her. He vaguely wondered if that was why she teased him so much, if he had somehow become something… someone she wanted. Torian wondered just how hard Phystte would work to get him. He cracked a grin at that thought, then suddenly frowned realizing he wasn't much of a prize for any woman in Mandalorian standards let alone the Champion of the Great Hunt.

His thoughts of what to do to change that were interrupted by Phystte's chirpy partner. Upon seeing her round the stairwell, Torian wondered vaguely how these two vastly different women ended up together. Phystte didn't seem the type to take young girls under her wing, and Mako certainly didn't seem like bounty hunter material. He'd heard mention that they were partners at the beginning of the Great Hunt, but how they ended up working together was a mystery to him. He continued working until Mako had reached him and perched herself up on the workbench, the hints of a smile touching the corners of her mouth.

"Su cuy'gar. Need something?" Torian asked non-committally, uncertain of Mako's intentions. The first time he boarded the ship she didn't stop smiling at him the entire time she gave him the tour, which at first started to make him uncomfortable. At least until he realized that Mako wasn't smiling at him in an attempt to court him so much as she was smiling like she knew some big secret about him that he didn't. At which point he felt more annoyed when she gave him that cheeky grin than uneasy about what it meant.

"Just thought I'd see how you were doing," Mako started, trying to act nonchalant, though it didn't much work. She might be a great slicer, but she could never pull off being a spy. "You haven't talked much with the rest of us since you came on board."

"Not much to say," he admitted.

"Uh-huh. Unless you're talking to Phystte, that is," Mako teased. When he didn't reply to her remark she went on. "I think you like her."

"Ret. Shouldn't I?" Torian said with a shrug. He was fond of being near her, she stirred him in more ways than one, but to confess out loud to actually liking her was another matter, especially to her right-hand who would no doubt scurry off after this conversation and divulge all she had learned about him to Phystte herself. Torian was already fairly certain he did like the Hunter, but he'd be keeping that to himself until he could be certain about how she felt about him.

Mako huffed at his answer. "Of course you should… well, at least enough to work with her. So, _do_ you like her?"

"Ret."

"What does that even mean?" Mako asked, not bothering to cover the frustration in her voice. She stood up off the bench now and crossed her arms over her chest while wearing what Torian thought was probably her best impression of Phystte's scowl on her face. Mako's features and personality were far too adorable for it to be effective on her though. Besides, Torian was sure that the scars around Phystte's eyes and the tattoos to cover the worst of them lent more severity to her glare than the expression alone. As it was, Mako's unblemished and youthful face made it much easier to not take her seriously.

"Means 'maybe'," Torian supplied, not bothering to look up from his work to see if her scowl went away.

"Maybe yes or maybe no?" Mako inquired further, the curiosity in her voice grating on Torian's nerves now. Why did she want to know in the first place? Did Phystte send her down to question him on his motives? No, she could easily have asked him herself just a short while ago if she'd wanted to know. He could only guess that Mako simply wondered how he felt about the Hunter because she was her partner.

"Just 'maybe'," he answered, looking up this time with a faintly severe grimace to show her he wasn't going to give anything away. If he could discourage the tech from asking any more questions about this he would, but only amiably. He didn't need some angry young girl after him. Mako's brows pursed down in scrutiny for a brief moment before she stiffened and tilted her chin up in indignation.

"Fine," she replied. He worked silently while she watched for a few minutes and he heard her sigh in defeat finally. Obviously, she was hoping that by just standing there, she'd change his mind somehow. Shaking his head slightly at what was seemingly more and more Phystte's little sister, he held a finished bracer in his hand and tapped it squarely with the metal mallet, noting with satisfaction that the piece was sound. Torian set it aside just as Mako hopped back onto the work bench, her perch now just as perky as the first time she set down. Apparently, she didn't stay angry for very long. Probably a good thing for him, he noted. "Alright, be that way. But if you do like her, I _am_ going to find out."

It sounded more like a promise than a threat and Torian snorted something beneath his breath. Mako smirked at that, not a victory smile but something along the lines of at least feeling more satisfied now. "So, Gault says that Mandalorians have a special code they have to live by or they can't be Mandalorians anymore," Mako started back up conversationally as she changed the subject.

"Gar serim. The resol'nare, six actions. As long as a Mando lives his life by the resol'nare, he can call himself a Mandalorian," Torian recited. So far he could rightfully claim five of those six, though the last wouldn't technically be required of him until he had young of his own. Even so, he did his best to educate the youth in his clan of their responsibilities when he was at home. Mako waited for him to go on, but he didn't elaborate. Instead of asking what those actions were like he expected though, she asked him something else.

"So Jicoln, your… father… did he break your code or something? Is that why he was on the Blacklist?"

The question was innocent enough and Torian assumed that these familial questions stemmed from Mako's own renewed interest in the fact that she may have a family out there looking for her. From what he'd gathered, she'd already had a strange brush with a sister named Coral which left her with more questions than answers. Unfortunately he didn't have any hopeful tales for her about family togetherness. Most of Clan Cadera had stayed with the Mandalorians under Mandalore's protection, but that didn't lessen the dishonor they felt when Jicoln left to help the Republic and took with him many other Mandos from various clans. The fact that Jicoln was a friend to Mandalore made the cut that much deeper. Torian frowned.

"Elek. He betrayed us, betrayed Mandalore. I vowed one day I would find him and make him pay for that. Guess it was luck that you and Phystte found me first. Looking back, I'm not sure I could have taken him on my own."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mako agreed. "She said… that you were the one to kill him."

"Did what I had to. You will too, whatever happens," Torian added, leaving it open. Mako would make what she would of it and he for one hoped that whatever happened between her and her family, whether for good or ill, she would have the strength to do what needed to be done in the end. As difficult as it was for him to execute his father, he was proud to have been the one to do it. Then again, Mako wasn't Mandalorian, so he couldn't be sure she'd feel the same satisfaction if worse came to worse.

"You aren't mad at Phystte for hunting him down then?"

The question took him off guard and he actually turned to look at her at that. Mako held a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Not a worry for herself, but the kind of worry you'd hold for someone else, for someone dear to you, maybe even someone you loved. Torian shut his eyes with a slight grin and shook his head. Yes, maybe not by blood, but Mako and Phystte were as much sisters and any two girls born from the same mother could be, he decided. And with that sudden insight, he found a fondness for Mako that hadn't been there just moments ago.

"No. I was glad for her help… and her company," Torian added the last a bit hesitantly. It had been both easier and more difficult to face his father with Phystte there. He had the means to take Jicoln down, in that he appreciated her being there. But to kill his own father was an intimate act - a debt between father and son, traitor and betrayed. He always imagined facing Jicoln alone, proving to his father, his clan, even Mandalore that he had strength enough to do so.

Phystte had left them to that private conversation in the end, but even so it seemed… less personal. That he knew she was there more for the credits than the principle had made her help almost seem unworthy, although he knew he shouldn't think of it that way. Mandalore himself had adopted her into his clan. Torian knew he should feel more proud for her being there to bring the traitor to justice than robbed of his own vengeance. And truthfully, he felt a kind of relief in not having to shoulder the burden hunting down and killing the man by himself. At such an important moment in his life, Phystte was standing there beside him. He could never begrudge her that. In fact, it seemed to bind her to him more than anything.

"Sure didn't seem like it," Mako mused out loud breaking his thoughts.

"Me'ven? What do you mean?"

"Oh just that you pretty much gave her the cold shoulder after you guys took him down and even on the ship you've been curt, at least as much as I've heard you talk to her anyway. Not that _she'd_ say anything. I just got the feeling that maybe you were mad at her for something and that was the only thing I could think of you being angry with her for. I mean, normally she's mean to any guy that crosses her path so her flirting with you is like any other girl throwing themselves at your feet, and you don't even seem to care."

"That doesn't appear to bother her," Torian brought up. After all, she'd left with a definite smile on her face last they spoke and she didn't seem to mind in the slightest his cautious approach to her.

"Of course she wouldn't act like it bothers her! She's as bad as you are!" Mako gasped with exasperation.

"Suvarir. Something you want to tell me then?" Torian coaxed casually, pulling out the materials for another piece of armor, which only seemed to vex Mako further. Not a purposeful intention but one he wasn't disappointed to see. He kept the smile from reaching his lips though. No need to get her even more riled up, as if she wasn't doing a perfectly good job of that herself. In that case, there wasn't much he could do to stop her from exploding soon, which meant that he would have an angry girl after him after all.

"You know what I'm talking about," Mako chided. "I _know_ you know!"

"Can't be certain I do know," Torian replied calmly. He thought he spotted her eyebrow twitch from the corner of his vision.

"That's it! I give up! You're both on your own!"

Mako stomped off leaving Torian bewildered at what just happened. He watched her march up the stairs, chin stiff, until the upper deck swallowed her out of sight. The conversation couldn't have really been that upsetting, could it? It didn't seem like something to toss a fit over. Not only could he not make heads or tails of Phystte, he was beginning to think he couldn't rightly understand any female whatsoever. Torian scratched his head for a moment then shrugged and went back to work on another bracer. _Women_.


	5. Finding Something Worthy

Chapter 4: Finding Something Worthy

Phystte huffed and blasted the last Quesh soldier revved up on adrenals in the chest, the blaster hole in the female's armor smoldering with the sickening scent of burnt flesh while the Hunter holstered her pistols without the usual flourish. Panting slightly, she freed herself from her helmet, clipping it to her belt then rested her hands on her knees to catch her breath while Torian staggered up to join her. He slumped down, leaning his back to the nearby wall and pulled off his own helmet, his face shiny and blond hair damp from sweat. The Hunter turned to look at him and grinned victory before straightening. The smile was welcome and Torian returned it with a very subdued version of his own.

She shuffled in his direction and crashed down to take an ungraceful seat next to him, inclining her head back and shutting her eyes for a moment, mouth parted as she finally started to catch her breath. When she opened her eyes, her cool-blue orbs rested on him. "That challenge enough for you?" Phystte quipped, her tawny cheeks still flushed from exertion.

"Elek. Definitely worthy… for now," Torian replied. He was far less out of breath than she was, even though he'd done quite a bit more running about the factory than she did. The fact that Phystte was winded proved how much tougher that group had been than the last few. Or maybe it was the cumulative effect of fighting so many of these republics high on stims that wore her out. He was right there with her, though his exhaustion didn't manifest itself as much in his breathing. He could jog a good ten miles in his full armor and still keep decent breath so long as he had water on hand. But his muscles felt stiff and sore to the point where he felt he couldn't drop his staff even if he had wanted to. His shoulders ached and his skin itched from his sweating and drying and sweating again.

The Hunter appeared to be just as spent. Even so, she rolled her shoulders back then sighed and stood up again to survey the top floor of the building looking for the last bit of equipment to destroy that would halt the Republic's production of any more of these adrenals. The added bonus was that it would cripple the Three Families' operations here on Quesh and Phystte was always up for making a few Hutts squirm. She spotted the cylindrical encasements and loaded a set of explosive missiles on her bracer's launcher. Taking aim she let them loose, the explosion booming throughout the factory and deafening them both for a few moments without the protection of their headgear on. The orange-yellow light from the fire highlighted her face, reflecting off the shiny sheen of sweat and making her glow. Torian watched her as she gazed at the flames, captivated by the flashes flickering in her eyes and the warm shine of her skin.

Clearing his throat, more to distract himself from her than to call her attention toward him, though it did both, Torian stood up and glanced over at the carnage before nodding in grim satisfaction. Phystte eyed him, taking in the way his blue eyes shimmered like the ocean at sunset in the flame-light and how his damp hair stuck out at haphazard angles after he'd pulled off his helmet. For some reason that made him appear more touchable and she felt a brief urge to run her fingers through his messy locks to straighten them back down again. She walked up toward him, pulling off her right glove. Looking up into his unreadable features, Phystte raised her hand and ran her bare fingers through his coarse sandy hair to fix it.

The corner of his lips tipped up into a barely there smirk as he enjoyed feeling of her fingers raking through his hair, even as dirty as it was, and he looked down into her eyes, though hers were focused intently at the top of his head. "Me'ven? Need to present me to someone? Should I duck so you can reach it better?" He teased in that calm unassuming voice of his.

Phystte roughed his head to the side. "Smart ass," she quipped, trying to force the smile from her mouth, though the twinkle still held in her eyes. At any other time the brusque contact would have been pleasant, even welcome, but his muscles yelled at him against the pressure. Torian didn't say anything though and just slightly chuckled at the Hunter's miffed expression.

They stumbled back through the desolate factory all business now and without conversation, bodies still lying where they left them to fall, the adrenal analysis stations aflame and pouring black smoke into the air. The pair put their helmets back on once they reached the lower areas where the smoke had thickened, switching on the filters so that they didn't breath in the toxic fumes. Phystte took point as usual, though they didn't expect to find any more soldiers alive in this place. Once they exited and cleared a few hundred yards from the building, they removed their head gear again to breathe in the hot, but fresh air. The Hunter glanced back at the building shading her eyes with her hand, tendrils of smoke sneaking out of the doors. Turning away, she skirted the main road, Torian beside her.

"Haven't thanked you yet for bringing me out here," the Mandalorian started up, clipping his helmet to his belt while she did the same.

Phystte laughed at that. "You're thanking me for bringing you to this dump heap?"

"Nayc," Torian replied completely serious. "For giving me the chance to fight. Mando can't prove himself without a battle."

"Seems I'm never short of battles to be had," Phystte answered with a wave of her hand, dismissing the need for him to thank her for bringing him along. After all, it was the job. "Besides, Mako would be complaining the whole time about the heat and Gault hates fighting in close quarters."

"Suvari. Still, want to thank you."

She stopped and turned to look at Torian then, taking in the sincerity of him, then smirked. "Well, if you're that happy about it, you could show me just how much you appreciate it back at the ship."

There was a glimmer in her eyes that would have made him blush if he wasn't already used to her flirtatious remarks. Not phased anymore by it he simply commented back, "Might do that."

Phystte shook her head, not certain she believed he would. Torian seemed as adept at dodging her advances as he did blaster fire. Not that she minded too much. If he were an easy catch he wouldn't be worth it. Besides, she wasn't quite sure how much she liked him in the first place. Granted she enjoyed seeing him, but talking with him sometimes felt like she was speaking to a wall. He wasn't all that expressive and he hardly smiled. And the smiles he did give her were always guarded or slight, like a hint that could easily be missed. Perhaps she was just so used to Gault and his extremely obvious pantomime of expressions. She never had to guess with the devaronian, he said things plain as day and his face always held a look to match.

Still, there was something about Torian she couldn't help but be fascinated by. He was almost exotic even though Mandalorians and their mantra were fairly well known. And unlike the other Mandos she'd met he was quiet and reserved, not like the loud braggarts she'd seen in the fleet or even in the few Mando camps she'd crossed. She couldn't be sure whether it was the fact that he was a Mandalorian or whether it was just something all his own that piqued her curiosity. He was a puzzle to her, definitely. Phystte tried hard to read him, but he usually kept a blank face. She made a mental note to herself that she should probably never play pazaak with him.

Perhaps they should have gotten on their speeders by now, but Phystte knew walking off her battle sores would do her a world of good. Besides, Torian hadn't made any mention of wanting to get back to the Imperial base any sooner, not that he would, she vaguely realized. Turning to watch him, his gaze forward and someplace in the distance, hair tousled again from putting on and pulling off his helmet, she found herself thinking that she'd misjudged his age. She'd thought him as young as Mako, but studying him more closely now Phystte realized Torian was more likely closer to her own.

"You're always telling me you're not a kid," Phystte brought up suddenly and Torian looked down over at her, his expression as unreadable as usual. "So how old are you then?"

"Twenty-Nine," Torian answered matter-of-factly. "Will be thirty in a couple months. Like I said, not a kid." He added the last part with a slight grimace to accentuate his point.

Phystte made a satisfied face, thinking twenty-nine was definitely more acceptable to her than the twenty-one or twenty-two she initially thought him to be. That meant she was only two years older than he was and she decided that was good and fine with her. In all truth, she hadn't really thought of him as a kid since back on Taris, but the habit of calling him one had been hard to break though she did manage to do so within the first couple weeks he was onboard the ship. And after hunting with him, she'd found that his soft-spoken manner wasn't due to timid shyness but simply due to him being more reserved than his peers.

"Mind if I ask the same?" Torian brought up after a couple silent moments.

The Hunter glanced over and thought about that for a moment, then figured she didn't mind him knowing how old she was after all. "Thirty-one," Phystte replied, carefully gauging his reaction. Torian didn't seem disturbed by the number so she slyly grinned and added, "Do you like older women, Torian?"

"Depends," Torian supplied calmly. "If you're asking whether your age is an issue to me, it's not. Better to work for someone with more experience."

"You like that I'm experienced?" Phystte mused, the tone in her voice hinting along more mischievous lines rather than professional ones. Torian found himself smirking just slightly at that. Shaking his head, he presumed that he could get into real trouble with the Hunter if he wasn't careful, at which point he figured he should be more worried. Getting tangled with a bounty hunter was dangerous enough, getting into it with the Champion of the Great Hunt could well be disastrous if he got on her bad side. The Hunter caught a small indication of concern in the Mandalorian's changed stance and laughed lightly. "Don't worry; I won't go using my experience against you unless I really need to."

Torian wasn't sure the Hunter couldn't use anything as an excuse then if the only parameters she used was whether she needed to or not. He resisted the urge to gulp at his sudden sense of entrapment. Forget getting into trouble with Mandalore's newly adopted Hunter, he was already in trouble. Now he just needed to figure out whether that was a good thing or a bad thing and what he was going to do about it. And if worse came to worse, what he could possibly do to get out of it. Torian knew he'd find worthy challenges if he joined Phystte, he just hadn't counted on her being one of them.


	6. She's Got Aim

Chapter 5: She's Got… Aim

Phystte shot a missile at the soldier Torian had just set aflame. He'd backed away a millisecond before it hit and the female flew back without a scream, her body hitting the hard-packed red dirt with a deep thud. Following her line of sight to her next victim, the Hunter targeted and locked on another republic aiming his rifle at her. She swiftly slipped sideways to barely dodge the bolt, the heat grazing over her shoulder, sizzling near her hair and heating her skin even more than it was in the roasting hot weather. Phystte gazed down at the glowing section of her armor, noting how close a shot that was while Torian leapt over, catching the sniper's attention with a swipe to man's arm, knocking the rifle to the sky, but before he could concentrate his attack further, Phystte let loose her locked-on missile. The man turned to run little too late and yelped at the impact, falling not a half-a-dozen meters from his fellow soldier.

Torian turned to look at her, possibly to signal his exasperation, but Phystte wasn't paying attention. Instead, he shook his head and sprinted for the remaining republic soldier who had previously been trying to slice him up before Phystte had interrupted with her missile launching. Taking in the damage the ranged enemy was causing and the vantage point it had, the last man shifted his attention from the Mandalorian and instead rushed the shorter bounty hunter with his humming vibrosword. Taking advantage of that, Torian flipped his staff to clip the man in the back of the leg, forcing him to trip. The soldier caught himself though and swung around, rededicating his sword to the man with the staff again. He swung wildly in a desperate arch which Torian easily parried and replied with a counter-attack of his own to bludgeon the man's head. His helmet dented inward and just as Torian switched his stance to take a killing blow, his target exploded backward, arms and legs suddenly spread as the impact knocked him off his feet, shrapnel penetrating his flimsy armor and instantly killing him. Torian glanced over just in time to see Phystte flip her pistols with a fancy flourish before holstering them.

Satisfied with the carnage, Phystte pulled off her helmet and shook her hair free. She'd been getting used to the grueling heat of Quesh. While it wasn't nearly as hot as Tattooine, the air was definitely more humid and muggy. Plus she thought that somehow the red dirt accentuated the sweltering feeling by just being so red. Torian had already pulled his headgear off and had it clipped to his belt as he strode over in her direction. His hair spiked up this way and that, giving him that disheveled appearance she found so alluring. She flashed a small smile of victory before flicking one of her dark, sweaty strands of hair out of her face.

"Gar gotal'ni dini'la… There a reason you do that?" Torian asked mildly, walking up to her. The usual attraction for her battle-soaked appearance was replaced with a touch of frustration. He let out his irritation through his first comment in Mando'a though, allowing him to ask the second more neutrally.

Phystte had grown used to his soft spoken manner in the past weeks. His intonations were hard to read but not impossible, and she detected just a hint of annoyance in the question. "Do what?" She asked, casually brushing a few flecks of flaming ash off her armored shoulder.

"Steal the kill shot just as I reach the target to take him down," Torian pointed out to her. She really did drive him crazy.

"Well, that's what you get for running all over the battlefield," Phystte quipped lightly. "So what is it now? Me seventeen and you eleven, right?"

"Who's keeping score?" Torian asked without the usual mirth to the comment. She really just did not get it. Another Mando on the field would understand. When he started a fight with something or someone, he intended to finish it himself. Phystte had taken that from him. He knew deep down that she didn't mean to, that she didn't quite understand, but that only seemed to make the cut a little deeper. She was Mandalore's adopted, _Mandalore's_. For some reason, he felt because of that she should know better. Or more pointedly, that Mandalore should have taught her better. But Mandalore had been adopted by the bloodletting as well, so maybe he figured she'd learn it eventually on her own.

"We always keep score," she replied, a little hurt that suddenly it seemed like he didn't want to play anymore. It was one of the things she really enjoyed about taking him out on the job with her. Mako was like a sister to her, which meant half the time she worried about her getting hurt out in the field. She was a great medic to be sure, which came in handy more times than not, but Phystte had grown attached to her little tech and much of her focus in each battle went into protecting Mako from any real harm. There was Gault as well, but he was more interested in stealth and hit-and-run tactics. He preferred a good con or heist to a straight up fight. Not that the devaronian wouldn't fight when it came down to it, she'd just hear about how they could be making more credits, without being shot at if she'd just do it his way, between each and every skirmish.

Torian was different though. He understood battle like she did, probably even better than she did the way he navigated the field. The Mandalorian consistently held his own in a fight and the best part was he didn't even battle like she did, which made her feel like they were more a team and less like competitors. While she was blasting targets away with missiles and blaster fire, he was up close and personal, beating them down with his tech staff. Phystte felt it was nice to finally have someone on her crew who had a passion for a good brawl. To have someone with her that she didn't have to worry about protecting, someone who always had her back, and someone who didn't complain about get shot at every now and again.

The Mandalorian seemed to ease a little at her comment though and something like recognition flashed in his bright blue eyes. "If we're keeping score – how many of those seventeen did you take down by yourself?" Torian barely smirked at that and it was so quick that Phystte would have missed it completely had she not been looking at him right at that moment. Her icy eyes narrowed as she tallied up the past few battles.

"About half, so eight or nine," Phystte finally answered.

"Try seven, Hunter. Out of my eleven, nine of those I took down single-handedly. In all fairness, you've got seven, I've got nine. The rest belong to both of us," Torian summed up without any smugness.

Phystte glared though. She didn't like those numbers, especially since they put her at a disadvantage. But Torian would never cheat her, he was too principled for that. She could take the count and just try to make up for it in the coming skirmishes or she could admit defeat. And she was never one to admit defeat, so taking the lower seven it was. She could make up two single kills easily. And as long as she assisted with Torian's kills, he wouldn't be able to count them. Then again that sounded a little like cheating in her head. Maybe that was his point all along about her stealing the kill shots at the last second. But what was she supposed to do, just stand there and wait until he beat them down with that stick? She wasn't the type to sit around on the battlefield while others did the fighting.

"Still keeping score then?"

"Of course," Phystte replied adamantly though her brows pursed angrily.

"You do know the score isn't just a competition," Torian stated more than asked.

"Come on, Torian. It's just a game. Why are you taking it so seriously now?" She replied a bit miffed. Her anger seemed to have grown at the comment.

"Need to know the rules if you plan on playing fair," he told her.

"So you're going to start springing rules on me now!"

Torian stepped back, a little shocked. He hadn't expected her to get so riled up over this. "Udesii!" for a brief moment he was at a loss for words. "Just want to help you fight like a real Mandalorian."

"A _real_ Mandalorian? What, am I not good enough for you people now? Mandalore didn't seem to trouble himself with how I fight!"

"Nayc, not that. I'm not… saying it right in basic," Torian stumbled over his words, worried about the damage he'd just done. He certainly didn't want to make her mad at him or their people and he most definitely didn't mean for her to think that her skills were in question. "N'eparavu takisit. I'm sorry. Didn't mean it like that."

Phystte softened noticeably at the apology, "What did you mean then?"

"Score measures how well a Mando does on the field. Nothing wrong with helping each other when there's need." Torian paused, hoping to let that sink in. He wanted her to know that her way of fighting was welcome on the battlefield. Last thing he needed now was to get in a real scrape and not have any back-up. "Not all kills are scored, just the ones we take on our own. That way we know..."

"…how good you did on the mission," Phystte finished for him. Torian nodded. "You Mandos sure have to make things more complicated than they are, don't you." He gave her a slightly raised brow. "All you had to say was that you wanted to see how many we each could take on our own. No need to get all formal on me."

He was about to tell her he wasn't complicating things or being formal, then thought better of it. There wasn't any sense in bringing up another argument, especially one that offered him no benefit to win and provided no real disadvantage for losing. Torian vaguely thought about how little he understood women again, then heaved a sigh, more of relief but hinted with a bit of exasperation. At least the point was settled. When she was more open to it, he'd explain further what he meant but for now this was good enough. She understood the basics of it and really, he couldn't expect her to change the way she viewed things all at once, if at all. Besides, he knew he took the honor in a fight more seriously than most other Mandalorians. Jogo had taken plenty of opportunities to point that out to him.

"Alright," Torian stated. He turned around and surveyed the field, eager to get moving again. "We should go. I'll watch the rear."

Phystte smirked playfully now, "The rear or _my_ rear?"

"What?" Torian seemed genuinely taken back. She loved that look, exactly like the one he had when she fed him that line about just wanting to see him again when they met up on Taris. That expression of innocent surprise. It was harder to catch him off-guard now, so the few times she did, Phystte relished the moment.

"Come on, Torian. You're always taking the rear guard, yet technically you're the tank here. I really have to wonder if it's our six you're watching, or something else." The tone in her voice had turned sultry.

He shook his head. "Asking me to take point? Because I will if you want. Just assumed you liked to lead."

"I do, that's not my point."

"What's your point?" Torian asked, trying to dodge the question all together. How could she flip from being angry to flirty all of a sudden? He looked down at her cautiously, like a scout examining an intricate trap. She was such a small hunter to have such a big intimidating reputation, though he had to admit her size probably worked to her advantage by making her appear less of a threat than she really was. Phystte wasn't necessarily a tiny woman though she did only come up to his chin in height. She was built well, curvy and muscular, at least he assumed she had to be muscular toting around that heavy armor all the time. Of course, he didn't want to admit to her that he enjoyed the view of those curves while taking the rear guard. Might get shot by that impressive aim she was known for.

"My point is you didn't answer my question," Phystte reiterated.

"Umaan dala. Just making sure no one else gets a shot at you," Torian stated off-handedly.

"Really?"

"Want to keep you safe. Can't spend those credits you love so much if you get shot in the back," Torian countered, derailing the conversation. He wouldn't spring that trap just yet, not so soon after their little tiff. He couldn't be sure she'd get mad at him again or not and he preferred to be cautious. It wasn't as if he was in any rush, though he couldn't say the same for her. Torian caught the corner of her mouth turn down just slightly. Was it just him, or was she disappointed by that response? Maybe they'd talk a little bit more about it later. He'd start with something simple, like her skills on the field and see where that went. Back on the ship after, he decided.

"Is that what you think? That credits are the only thing that matter to me?"

"Nayc," Torian retorted, instantly taken aback again. Haar'chak! Every conversation with this woman seemed to be littered with landmines! He wanted to tell her that he believed she had respect enough for the hunt but most of the time her biggest concern was the payoff and lucky for both of them the biggest payoffs were also the most challenging hunts, but he left that thought unspoken. Torian suspected that would only set her off more. Instead he tried to defuse the new issue he'd stumbled over. "It's obvious how much you care about your ship and crew. Didn't think that needed to be said."

Phystte eyed him suspiciously for a moment before accepting the answer and leaving the rest of the conversation behind as she turned to walk down the path toward their goal. She vaguely thought she heard Torian sigh but when she looked over at him, he was steely and composed so perhaps she'd imagined it. The Hunter wasn't sure she believed that he didn't think all she cared about was the credits because for a long time that was true. But since the Great Hunt and Jicoln's bounty, she'd been doing well. In fact, she had quite the stash saved up. Credits would always entice her, she couldn't help herself there, but now that she was well enough off, she could concentrate on other things. Like trying to live by the Mandalorian code, whatever that was. Something about honor and victory, she thought to herself.

Victory she had down. The honor part probably needed some work though, that was becoming increasingly more obvious. Phystte nearly sighed at that while wondering how much she was expected to change by taking up Mandalore and his offer to become a Mandalorian. It was starting to feel like there were a lot more things involved with being a Mando than she first realized. Phystte glanced back at Torian, who'd stepped back a dozen paces behind her. His attention was flipping around behind them, up in the crests of the hillsides and the path they were leaving behind. After a moment though, he caught her cool-blue eyes with his own brighter ones and gave her the hints of a smile. The Hunter instantly requited a smile back at him – her very own Mandalorian. Looking him up and down, Phystte couldn't help but think about how she'd set her aim on quite a striking target. And the thoughts that followed were anything but honorable.


	7. Taking a Shot

Chapter 6: Taking a Shot

Phystte blasted the harvap's wings to shreds, its piercing screeches thankfully dulled by the vibration mufflers in her helmet. The creature flailed its bloody wings as it fell to the ground, hissing loudly and striking out viciously toward the Mandalorian cautiously circling it. Torian danced away from the sudden strikes, found the opening he was looking for and whacked it solidly on the head once then twice for good measure, the mangled animal finally stilled and lifeless. Its neck twisted eerily on the ground, blood pooling around it. One of the torn wings propped up awkwardly, flapping in the slight breeze like some decrepit war flag. The hunter flicked her blasters quickly before holstering them and walked over to the creature, kicking at the heap.

"Well, that was exciting," she huffed, glancing a couple yards over at the first one they killed, its body still scorching from the rockets she'd rained down on it not even a minute ago. Torian attached his tech staff to the back of his armor and pulled off his helmet then tried to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead with the inside of his glove. It only seemed to spread around the grime though and he didn't feel any less damp from the action.

"Glad you figured out to clip the wings on the second one," he added. "Went down much faster than the first." He motioned his helmet toward her arm before clipping it to his belt. "Copaani gaan?"

Phystte glanced over at her arm then followed his gaze down at the blood dripping from her bracer. That first harvap had gotten a hold of her shoulder and managed to maul her before she'd figured out where to shoot it. Her medpac had taken the edge off most of the pain, but it hadn't been enough to heal up her wound much. Mako would have done a better job of it even in the midst of a battle and had been training the Hunter more on the medic side of things, but she still didn't have the finesse for it that her tech did. Phystte cursed under her breath before unlatching her armguard to try and get a better look at it. Torian had reached her side before she had removed it though and he pulled off his gloves, setting them into his empty helmet before reaching over to her arm.

"Let me," he started. Phystte complied without complaint since it hurt a bit to try and take it off with one hand anyway. He helped her pull off her headgear first so she could take in some fresh air. The burning harvap didn't smell any worse than a burnt fowl, and even so the eastern breeze took the scent further away from them with each small gust. He slipped off her gauntlet, then her bracer and armguard, frowning slightly at the way her under-shirt stuck to her arm awkwardly with all the red liquid and the blood seeping in further beneath the main part of her armor. Torian cleared his throat. "Looks like we need to take off your chestpiece."

"Now who's trying to take whose shirt off?" Phystte quipped, trying to grin despite the pain but it came out more like a crooked grimace.

"Figured it was about time to even our playing field," he said with a slight smirk. At her permissive motion, Torian unlatched her armor for her and pulled it free, setting it on the ground. Phystte got a look at the mangled flesh peeking out from her torn up undershirt. She gently tried to lift some of it up to see how much the harvap got to her. Torian looked at the wound with her then rubbed the back of his neck. "Haar'chak. Going to have to get your shirt off as well."

"Don't act so disappointed," Phystte commented at his Mando'a curse. "You'll make a girl feel unwanted."

"Nu'ni besom," he replied, sounding a little like he'd been offended somehow. She raised one of her brows in a quizzical look but he didn't clarify. Carefully, Torian untied the front of her undershirt, which folded over much like a robe, then opened it up the left side while Phystte kept a wary eye on their perimeter. Nothing but the red dirt and cliffs of Quesh surrounded them along with some patches of sad looking shrubberies and a couple sparse trees. They were pretty far out and had killed any hostiles on their way through, so they were relatively safe for the moment. Slowly, he lifted the shoulder part of her robe up and she winced slightly as he pulled the blood-sticky fabric off the wound. Finally taking a good look at the gashes she sighed, glad to see the damage wasn't as awful as it first appeared.

"Jate. Doesn't look too bad," Torian noted, trying to keep his focus on her injury. Despite his previous comment, his eyes wandered over the exposed skin of her left side while Phystte fished through her belt for a couple kolto packets. Thinly-lined tattoos decorated her arm, shoulder, waist, and even over the ripe plumpness of her breast. When he caught himself staring at that particular part of her body, the delicate lines of swirling ink curling over her skin and disappearing beneath her brassiere, he forced himself to snap his gaze back to the wound on her shoulder before she turned to hand him the kolto. The harvap had only been able to really maul her at the weak point in her armor. With the padding and durasteel in the way, it had looked far worse than it was. He ripped open the first packet and gently smoothed the gel over her shoulder. She hissed in a pained breath and Torian grinned just barely at that.

"What's so funny?" Phystte demanded, feeling a little on edge from the pain. Cool relief suddenly flooded throughout her shoulder and her wired muscles released a touch of their tight tension, though her brows still pursed slightly from the discomfort.

"Never thought I'd be patching up the Champion," Torian mentioned lightly. "Or hunting with her."

Phystte smiled at that. "Well, in all fairness, I never thought I'd be adopted by the Mandalorians, or have one on my crew either."

Torian glanced down at her form, feeling a deep-heated flush spread over him as he admired the Hunter's body while her attention was focused on her injury. Phystte's tawny skin reminded him of uj'ayl, a rich syrup used in Mandalorian cooking and he vaguely wondered if she tasted like it. Her toned muscles shimmered with sweat and her shorter height made her curves even more prominent out of her armor. After taking a second look at her tattoos, he realized most of the scrolling designs entwined various scars. They were pretty and thin, much like the ones covering the scars around her eyes. He wondered what they meant, if anything at all, and he guessed she must have gotten her tattoos after collecting many of those injuries.

Clearing his throat, Torian blinked back to his task and opened another packet of kolto, smoothing it over the nearly healed skin before he caught Phystte's cool-blue eyes glinting at him knowingly. He turned his focus back to her shoulder, waiting until the fizzling stopped then wiped away the gel to reveal the fresh mottled pink skin. Torian noted a little sadly that the lines that had graced her shoulder were now completely gone in those spots, interrupting the design that had been there before. He was curious to know whether she'd get them redone to disguise this new scar as well. Secretly, he hoped she would.

Phystte glanced down at her shoulder, shrugged it forward and back as if to check to see that everything was still working properly, then pulled her bloodied shirt back over her skin and tied it closed. Torian immediately turned away, looking up the cliffs and around their surroundings like he was checking their perimeter. She heard him mutter something under his breath, caught that besom word again then grinned at the act he was trying to put on as he scoped the area. Wondering if she should let him get away with thinking she hadn't noticed him looking her over or not, she put her armor back on. He'd turned slightly to glance over his shoulder at her once she started latching up and the Hunter took that opportunity to tease him.

"Guess there isn't as much to see when I've got my armor on, eh?" She started in. Torian turned around to face her now, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Always a good view with you around," he quickly replied. The comment shouldn't have made her blush, he'd already mentioned he enjoyed the 'view' back on the ship, but for some reason she still did. Phystte's smile widened and she even laughed a little. In response, the corners of Torian's mouth tipped up in a half-smile and he scratched the back of his head, seeming uncertain of what to do next. He finally settled on something and his expression went slightly grave. "N'eparavu takisit. Shouldn't have been looking at you like that though. Not without your consent."

The Hunter recognized the apologetic phrase in Mando'a, her smile not diminishing. Instead she strolled toward the Mandalorian, closing the distance between them until she was close enough to have to look up in order to watch his eyes. "What if I told you that you already had my consent? Would you still be a besom?"

Torian actually chuckled at that, the sound making Phystte bite her lip slightly as she wondered whether she guessed the term right or not. She'd thought it meant something derogatory, but she couldn't be quite certain. For all she knew, she could have asked him if he was a woman. He composed himself quickly and looked down at her, the smirk still there marking the longest amount of time she'd seen Torian hold a smile. "Nayc. N'taylir ner ijaat, nu'ni besom. Like you say, with your consent, I'm not a besom."

Phystte raised a suspicious brow. "You know it's really unfair when you go saying things when I don't know what they mean."

He went straight-faced again which disappointed her, but looked like he would give her a better explanation about what he said so she'd forgive the sudden disappearance of his smile. "Besom is someone without any manners, a lout."

She thought about that for a moment then gave him a devilish look. "You know, I'm not entirely sure you aren't a besom then." Torian managed to look hurt for a few seconds, to which she immediately requited him with an apologetic expression. "I'm just teasing, Torian. I don't really think you're an ill-mannered lout," Phystte assured him. "You're probably the most polite man I've ever met."

Somehow Torian managed to stand up straighter at the comment, though she wondered how since he had impeccable posture to begin with. His clearly proud reaction widened the grin on her lips and she shook her head at the man, thinking how much like a boy he was despite all his protests of not being a kid. Looking back the way they came and figuring they should probably back track and return to the road, this path was seemingly far more hazardous than dealing with the occasional republic patrols, Phystte motioned to the Mandalorian that they were moving out. As she started forward, she snagged a quick glance over at him. Though Torian wasn't exactly smiling, she could see the happy glint in his eyes.

They reached the shoulder of the road after about twenty minutes of brisk hiking, no soldiers or menacing wildlife interrupting their trek back. Torian kept his guard up though, especially now that they were back near the road where the republic kept a closer watch over the territory. He studied Phystte marching up ahead of him for a few moments, thinking back to an earlier conversation they'd had on the ship. _So,_ w_hat do I win?_ The comment coupled with her sassy expectant smirk had shot unexpected tingles up his arms, still did even now when he remembered her response and that clear glimmer in her eyes. Phystte didn't seem to care that he was the son of a traitor or that by Mandalorian standards he wasn't exactly a catch. Granted he took every opportunity to prove his honor and skill, but he didn't even have his own full set of beskar, let alone any accolades from Mandalore that would prove him worthy to pursue the adopted leader's daughter.

Did Phystte even know that's what her adoption ceremony meant? Did she know she was clan Mandalore now? The woman seemed completely oblivious to her standing in Mandalorian society and even more so to their culture. Torian belatedly wondered if Commander Fett's ease at giving him leave from his command was only because he wished to join Mandalore's new daughter. What irony, he thought – the traitor's son teaching the Mandalore's daughter what it was to be Mandalorian. Jogo would be rolling in his boots if he knew the affection the Hunter showed him. And Corridan would have more than a few words to say to him about all this. Torian shook his head. He couldn't move forward with Phystte without confiding to Corridan about this first and make sure he wasn't doing something incredibly foolish. Not that he needed his friend's approval, but he felt he certainly could use the man's advice on the matter.

Besides, like he'd told her, he wasn't much of a prize yet. Torian knew he needed to work on that if he was going to feel worthy of her. She seemed willing enough to learn the ways, to learn the language even. Maybe he should offer to teach her Mando'a. It wasn't as if there were any other Mandalorians around to instruct her. Phystte seemed like a quick learner too, she'd probably pick it up in no time. As for the rest of Mandalorian culture, she'd already gotten a better grasp of the scoring game and to his surprise started training more with med-tech so that she could offer support instead of just artillery in a battle. Torian had just starting thinking about what he could do to make himself a better man for her when Phystte spoke up.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Me'ven?"

Phystte shook her head while pausing to let him catch up to her before going on. "I swear you've got this look on your face like you're thinking real hard about something, Torian. And that's saying something. What's on your mind?"

"Thinking about what I can do to impress you," he admitted truthfully, striding past her. She laughed lightly at that, jogging up to join him at his side and before he his ego was knocked down a few notches from her chuckle, the Hunter clarified.

"You don't need to do anything to impress me, Torian. I already like you as it is."

It was his turn to shake his head. "Shouldn't make it easy on me. Mando needs a challenge to find himself."

Her mouth opened in a silent _aha_ and she smiled before replying with an, "I see." Phystte held out her arm in front of him and stopped, forcing him to halt in his tracks. Torian turned to look down at her, his brow slightly raised in question of what was happening. She gladly noted that it was getting easier for her to read his subdued expressions. "So what exactly are you planning to do to impress me?"

Torian shrugged, "Hadn't figured that out yet. You'll be the first to know though."

"I'd better be," Phystte retorted then after a few brief seconds her head tilted suspiciously. "Wait, is this some kind of Mandalorian thing I'm missing here? Are you required to do something special before you're allowed to take a shot at me?"

"Depends," the Mandalorian hinted at a sly smirk.

"On what?" Phystte questioned with he didn't explain further.

"On what I'm shooting for."


	8. Hunts

Chapter 7: Hunts

Corridan laughed, his eyes crinkling up in genuine entertainment and he shoved Torian over again, the younger man taking the good natured blow without complaint while Jagger joined in with a few snickers of his own. Rocking back into his seat which was really no more than a patch of mossy ground, Torian shook his head as he friend finally spoke. "Dini'la or'dinii. You certainly know how to pick them, Torian… she's clan Mandalore."

"Ni kar'tayl," Torian sighed, tossing the stick he'd been toying with into the flames of their campfire. Out here in the jungles of Dxun, he couldn't see a single star with the dense canopy above them. He vaguely recalled some Mandos complaining about the dark sky on Dromund Kaas. Next to Dxun, Dromund Kaas was sunny. Jagger shifted a bit in his spot, whether trying to get more comfortable or also thinking Torian was a crazy fool, he couldn't tell. Even if he did like Phystte, he came from a traitor's lineage and she had been adopted into the most honorable clan the Mandalorians had. In a perfect galaxy, Mandos didn't care about bloodlines. But they hardly lived in a perfect galaxy. "Need to prove my clan's honor."

"Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la," Corridan replied at that.

Jagger snorted, "An ideal that doesn't live up to reality."

Corridan gave Jagger a curt look then turned back to Torian with a shrug. "Ret. But no Mando can claim you to be unworthy, ner vod. Mandokarla. You executed the traitor, your skills on the field are exceptional, and you've always answered the call to battle. Can't see how any Mandalorian in their right mind could deny you your honor."

"Except Jogo," Jagger sneered, his brow creasing in anger. "Ori'buyce, kih'kovid." Torian just shook his head. He'd spent more than enough time with Jogo to know the man had an inflated sense of worth. Jogo's arrogance nearly drove Phystte herself to beating him down. He would have even liked to see it, if it weren't for the fact that Jogo led their hunting party. Besides, he owed it to Commander Fett to keep Jogo in line. It wasn't really his duty, but Torian took some satisfaction in knowing that all that stood between Mandalore's adopted daughter and Jogo the Carver getting his teeth kicked in was his intervention.

"Cui ogir'olar," Torian finally said. "Either way, need to find a way to be worthy of her. Don't think she even knows what being a Mando means."

"You'll just have to explain it to her," Corridan countered. "Woman needs to learn what it is to be part of the Mando'ade. Seems like you've already got a good start."

"Need to teach her some Mando'a when I get back," Torian thought out loud. He chuckled a little. "Think she gets real confused when I say things in Mando'a. Takes it well though."

Corridan laughed. "Then you'll really have to watch your mouth." Jagger snickered to himself at that and Torian simply shook his head, a slight grin playing at his lips showing that he didn't completely disagree with Corridan's comment. After all, Corridan was right. Once Phystte knew Mando'a, he wouldn't get away with any more frustrating remarks about her.

"Gives me some downtime to spend with her too," Torian added, thinking of the upside. He stirred the flames with a new longer branch, sending crackling little ashes up into the air with soft orange sparks. For a moment he thought Phystte would look lovely in campfire light. At that he wondered if she even liked camping out. Usually city folk couldn't stand all the nature, let alone sleeping on the ground. He missed this – the isolation and freedom of the hunt. Would the Hunter be willing to do anything like this with him?

"I thought you said she already takes you out on jobs all the time," Corridan nearly asked, interrupting Torian's thoughts. "Doesn't sound like you need any more time with her. Not unless your planning on doing something about her. Which if I know you, you won't."

"Doing something now," Torian assured him, setting his jaw, the tone of his voice growing serious.

"Mar'e! So, when are you going to introduce me to this mesh'la beroya of yours anyway?" Corridan teased, taking a swig of his kri'gee. He shook his head at the bitter bite of the ale then made a satisfied gasp.

"When there's no chance for you to try to steal her away," Torian quipped while watching his friends, content to be spending time with them again. Corridan had aged a bit since he last saw him, the smile lines around his eyes and mouth more pronounced now, even a hint of silver starting to touch his dark side-burns. But the man was also four years older than he was, so Torian suspected he wasn't far behind in his looks. Jagger somehow looked exactly the same as he remembered, but then the man always had that sense of youth about him.

"Come on, you know me," his buddy smiled at him, just missing the mark of the charming smirk that drove so many Mando women into his bed. Torian shook his head wondering how Corridan got it away with it so often and questioning if it even worked anymore. The man could be insufferable – named after a planet and with a head as big as one. His friend's charisma wouldn't work on him though. Torian knew the man enough to keep any woman with sense as far away from him as possible. Besides, he wasn't sure Corridan's suave moves would work on Phystte the way his friend would expect them to. He figured she might be far more trouble than Corridan would know what to do with.

"Gar serim. I do know you," Torian smirked menacingly. "Exactly why you aren't meeting her yet."

"Come on, Torian," Corridan tried to convince him. "Have a little faith in your beroya."

"Not worried about her. Worried about you," the blond shook his head. "She's got great aim and an even bigger temper to go with it. Ke nu'jurkadir sha kaysh."

"Sounds perfect," Corridan grinned auspiciously. "Now you'll have to introduce us."

"Ne'nuhun. Kaysh ven'brok gar shebs."

Jagger howled in delight at that. "Kandosii! Here that, Corridan? Torian's nehutyc beroya will kick your ass!"

Corridan shook his head in defeat and Torian smiled at that while Jagger downed his entire pint of kri'gee. He belatedly thought it was a good thing they hadn't found any vakkegs around just yet. As much as Jagger had tonight, he'd be sure to have a bad hang-over come morning. The men watched the flames, all a little quieter for the moment now that the issue of Torian's woman was somewhat settled. He smiled a little to himself reasoning that Phystte would actually enjoy Corridan and Jagger's company. Taking in a few proud glances at his friends, he thought there weren't any better Mandalorians to induct her into their culture.

* * *

Phystte caught a glimpse of her Mandalorian shopping the galactic network kiosks and smiled as she walked over to join him. Their bi-monthly visit to the fleet took place a few days earlier than usual, both due to some damage the Mantis took in a fire fight nearly a week before as well as being a change of pace once Torian got back from his hunt with his Mando buddies. He spotted her before she reached him, his eyes glinting something like promise and Phystte nearly felt a skip in her heartbeat as she closed the last few meters between them.

"What've you got?" She asked curiously.

"Take a look," Torian replied. Phystte realized in the week that he was gone that she felt… incomplete, she decided. Like a part of her she didn't know she had was missing. She found herself hanging on every rationed word he gave her since he arrived back yesterday, soaking up each detail on his face until she was sure she had every fleck of blue-silver in his eyes memorized. The curve of the scars on his cheeks, the slight knob on his nose, the arc of his lip, even the texture of his carefully trimmed facial hair, she committed all of him to her memory. Phystte scolded herself in private for being so silly. So ridiculous. So much like some love-struck ninny. But damn if she couldn't help herself.

Breaking her gaze from him and looking over at the kiosk for a moment, she spotted what Torian had found – some new heavy leg guards that were marked at a surprisingly good steal. Phystte waved her hand over the holo-sample, turning it this way and that, inspecting the piece carefully for defects though afterwards she thought Torian probably already did all that. The guards were sound, but she didn't know why he needed them. He'd just gotten a great pair before leaving for his hunt. And Torian wasn't the type to window shop. If he didn't need something, he didn't buy it, didn't even look. In fact, more often than not, he wouldn't bother her about armor and modifications even if he did need them. Phystte raised a questioning brow at him.

"Nice piece," she stated, complimenting the find. "But didn't we just get you guards a week or so ago?"

"Nu'par ni. Not for me," Torian shook his head as he said it and then motioned toward the console with a brief nod. "Thought they'd be good for you actually."

Phystte looked again and realized she should have known. "I thought they looked a little small for you," she joked lightly.

"A little?" he teased, the corner of his mouth tipping up slightly. But it wasn't like Phystte to glaze over a big detail though, especially when it came to equipment and his brow raised a touch giving him a barely perplexed look after a couple seconds. "Me'bana? Not like you to miss something like that."

"No, I guess it's not," she admitted. Something must have pleased her though, because her lips curled into a sly grin. "I guess I've just been so glad you're back from your hunting trip that I can't think about anything else."

"Wayii! Maybe you shouldn't pilot the ship for a few days then."

"You questioning my skills, Torian?" Phystte shot him a look that said she most certainly could pilot on any day no matter what was going on in her head and he believed it. He shook his head.

"Nayc. Figured if you missed me that much, I owe you some down time."

She laughed lightly at that and thought she could definitely use some extra R&R with the man. But he'd made offers before and hadn't exactly followed through with them yet. They were plenty busy, she knew that. Working for the Empire wasn't exactly a walk in the park. But Phystte also knew if you wanted something, you go for it. Busy shouldn't be an excuse. Of course she had to admit that it wasn't as if she'd tackled the man and had her way with him despite her wanting to. Besides, there was a kind of tense anticipation for him that she hadn't felt in her other relationships. Maybe it was because things were going at a slower pace than she was used to or maybe it was just Torian himself. Phystte didn't think it really mattered which one it was, because regardless it was working like a charm. At that, she wagered she should make her intentions clear again. "Don't offer anything you're not willing to give. I play for keeps."

Torian let his mouth tip up into a slight grin at that. "I'm counting on it."

Phystte returned the smile before turning back to the console and looking over the piece he'd found of her again. It really was a good set and she could use an upgrade. Besides, Torian had found them and she felt like on some level it might even be an insult if she didn't get them now. Not that she thought for a moment about not picking them up. She tapped in her information and purchased the heavy leg guards, satisfied that the delivery would arrive at her ship in the next hour. Not that they had anywhere else to go for the moment. A fleet trip usually took the better part of the day. Two days sometimes even, when the crew needed a bit more respite. Not that it made a very good tourist destination, but the cantina there was quite nice and there were always shuttles going down to Dromund Kaas. The city boasted a bit more in the entertainment sector.

Shopping done, Phystte had spent the better part of the day working through their resupply orders for food, toiletries, and med-tech as well as overseeing the beginning of the repairs to the Mantis, both her and Torian made their way through the dense evening crowd. A sudden strong grip around her palm nearly made her jump until she realized it was Torian who had claimed her hand. She wasn't used to anyone grabbing at her and the fact that he even moved to hold her hand was a bit of a surprise. After her initial shock, she let her fingers curve around his as comfortably as she could manage wearing her gloves. Phystte looked up at Torian to see a glint of satisfaction in his eyes then glanced down to their clasped gauntlets. She only felt a little disappointed that they weren't skin to skin. Deep warmth spread through her as she thought that if he touched her with his bare hands right now while she was in this state, she might not be able to contain herself. Up here on the busy fleet, she noted it was probably for the best that they were wearing armor then.

Torian held her gloved hand tightly, leading her back toward the cantina seeing as it was nearly supper time and he knew how cranky the Hunter could get without her food. As annoying that Toovee could be, he had to admit that it was a nice convenience for the entire crew that the droid kept a regular schedule of meals. So much so that he noticed when he went dirt-side with Phystte, if she didn't eat a good snack on time, she'd start getting testy with him. Torian couldn't decide if that meant the Hunter was spoiled or if it meant she just had a good appetite. He decided it was safer for him to assume the appetite bit. But Toovee had been sent to maintenance, which to Torian sounded more like a spa retreat by the way the droid was going on about it, so there would be no dinner on the ship tonight.

Besides, Torian had claimed Phystte was _his_ beroya to both Corridan and Jagger. It was about time to start acting it. The noisy hum of the Vaiken Space Dock filled the corridors and passages that took them to the cantina and Phystte seemed quieter than usual. Out on the hunt, he expected as much since chatter could attract the attention of republics, gangsters, or even wild animals while they were out working. Plus he spent a good portion of the time trailing behind her, watching their backs. It left little time for idle chit-chat and though Phystte didn't talk nearly as much a Mako or even Gault on occasion, she did usually converse more with him than this when they were docked or onboard the ship.

"Tion'gar jate? You're quiet today."

Phystte blinked a bit and looked up at him, "Huh? I'm fine. Why?"

"Seem distracted. Something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him, squeezing his hand to add emphasis to her point. "Just wondering when you're going to take me out hunting like you did with Corridan."

"Be a while before we can take off like that, but I'll figure something out."

"Jate," Phystte replied in Mando'a with a playful grin and at that Torian smiled that half-smile of his, his eyes glinting with that promise of something to come again. This time, her heart really did skip a beat. The Hunter caught her breath, realizing she'd fallen for him. "I can't wait," she finished. For him or the hunt, she silently added in her mind.


	9. Tiingilar

Chapter 8: Tiingilar

With Mako and Gault still taking care of their own personal business while they were docked at the fleet, Phystte lazed about the ship in her cabin. The repairs had gone quickly and she even had the credits to spring for some of the maintenance work she'd been putting off. The door gonged loudly with the sound of a fist knocking on metal. Phystte set the blaster she'd been toying with back on the built in shelf next to her bunk and rolled out of bed. Opening the heavy hatched door just slightly, she saw Torian standing in the bay. She smiled and opened the door wider. He wore a thick pale blue shirt with a short collar that brought out the blue in his eyes and simple brown trousers. Phystte admired the get up, quite the change from him running around in full battle armor.

"Hey, what's up?" Phystte asked as she finished looking him over.

"Just wanted to know if you're doing anything tonight," Torian brought up in that soft unassuming voice of his. She had to repress herself from jumping up and down like some giddy fool girl and leaned nonchalantly against the entrance instead. Really, why would such a simple question make her feel all bubbly inside?

"Nothing that I wouldn't be willing to reschedule," Phystte replied, trying to keep her voice casual to match his cool collectiveness.

"Jate. Finally got what I needed to make you dinner, if you're still interested."

"Real Mandalorian food cooked up by my favorite Mandalorian… how could I pass that up?" She smirked, while inwardly suppressing her desire to toss her arms around his neck and plant him with kisses right there as well as scold him for taking so long to finally ask her out to a night all their own. "So when do I meet you for the meal?"

"As soon as you're ready," Torian stated. "We should leave to go planet side. Got a spot on Dromund Kaas waiting for us."

"What's on Dromund Kaas?" Phystte asked curiously, immediately grabbing her pistols off the table and holstering them beneath her vest. She usually dressed down on the ship and right now wore a simple beige wrap-shirt with a worn dark leather vest and navy trousers. Her dark leather boots were supple compared to her heavy armored ones and much more comfortable for walking around the city in. Spending the day with him would be even better than just dinner and if Torian was really planning on taking her as soon as she was ready, then she'd be ready in a damn hurry.

"Old Mando camp a few clicks from the city. Usually a base for hunts, but with war brewing it'll be sparse," Torian told her.

"Sounds perfect," Phystte smiled, loading up her pockets with a few extra creds just in case. "I'm ready whenever you are."

"Jate. Let's head out then," he said.

Once they got planet-side, Torian insisted on carrying everything himself, his pack swollen with whatever it was he needed. Phystte couldn't help but think he had half a boma in there and wondered what the hell tiingilar could be if it needed a whole pack to carry it. He didn't strain under the weight though and she'd realized that compared to lugging, not to mention fighting, in over 16 kilos of heavy armor that carrying a simple pack would be next to nothing for the man. So she took to enjoying lush jungle of Dromand Kaas as they hiked. The vines swirling down out of canopy trees like long lazy snakes, the various brown and green fuzzy mosses that covered everything from the thick gnarly tree trunks to the large boulders and their brood of smaller rocks spread haphazardly around them like little stone children.

The dull-grayed sky did nothing to dampen her feeling of excitement. And though it appeared to look overcast and rainy, she knew that today's cloud cover wasn't the kind to threaten rain here so much as to continue to block the intense rays of the system's sun. It kept the trail from growing too hot and even if it did get too peaked all the leaf cover would shade them near completely. A swift breeze trickled down from the mountain, chilling her every now and then and keeping her from getting too sweaty on their trip, for which she was thankful for. They'd been hiking the better part of an hour when she finally couldn't take the curiosity of his large pack much longer. She fell back a few steps and tiptoed up while she walked, trying to lift up the flap to peek inside. Torian whirled around quickly and gave her a scolding glare while walking backwards.

"You need something?" She could have swore she saw a flash of a smile before he regained his composure, but it was there and gone again so quickly Phystte wondered if she had only wanted him to smile and perhaps he really hadn't.

"Just wondering what kind of dinner could possibly fill up an entire pack," Phystte joked, tipping up again to show her interest.

"It's a surprise," Torian replied without any embellishment and turned back around. Phystte jogged a little to catch up with his long strides, something she was quite used to doing, especially on missions. The Mandalorian was definitely a goal oriented man, always on the move toward something ahead of him. She briefly wondered if that's how he felt about her, a goal to achieve, then thought better of it because had that been the case he wouldn't have taken so long to get around to making her dinner like he'd offered nearly a month ago.

"Really?" Phystte cooed curiously now. "A good surprise I hope."

"That's the plan," Torian added. They came up one last rise and he stopped, looking over the old campsite. "We're here."

The site was clean, a few sturdy semi-permanent tents scattered across the grounds placed purposefully beneath large sturdy shade trees. The grounds appeared to be somewhat maintained and cleared, far less leaf litter and stray plant life grew inside the camping area, though bits of weeds that Phystte always felt looked more like wildflowers were growing happily against many of the tent's sides and turned over logs used for seating. A slick little stream passed through on the northwest side that she guessed might only come up to her knees and a place in the center of the camp was clearly set up for a bonfire, the large pit lined with stones and blackened from many previous uses. Many smaller fire pits dotted in front or slightly off to the side of the tents, marking this as an active hunting retreat. She wondered at who the Mandalorians left responsible to make sure their site wasn't overrun by the jungle or its dangerous wildlife then figured that if all Mandos were even half like Torian, anyone who came here would pitch in to keep it in good working order.

As if proving her point, Phystte spotted a pair of Mandos on the far side of the camp, leaning against a rock stationed next to a smaller tent, or perhaps the tent had been placed near the large boulder. They sat casually eating what looked to be plain old military rations. From the shadows of a few days hair growth on their faces, she guessed they'd been out here hunting for a little while, for what she couldn't imagine, but then Mandalorian culture still confused her at times. Torian held up a hand to them and they did the same in a passing sort of wordless greeting. Phystte wondered vaguely if she should have hailed them in the same way as well. Instead she just followed Torian across to a decent looking tent, the most complete and comfortable looking of the bunch.

"Hunted here with Jogo a while back, before Mandalore sent us to track the Beast. Good spot. Upwind, clean. Thought you might like it," he said while pulling off his pack. Phystte looked around for a clear spot to sit, the grounds were mostly composed of dirt and smaller pebbles and she was on her way to take a seat on what she hoped was a softer patch of soil when Torian stopped her. He smiled just barely and pulled a tarp colored cloth from his pack, shook it out, and set it neatly across the ground. Phystte grinned and put a hand on her hip.

"Well, aren't you getting all fancy on me. Didn't know we were having a romantic picnic," she flirted before sitting down on the blanket. While it didn't soften the ground much, it did keep her pants from getting dusty and she consciously turned to keep her boots off as to not dirty their sitting place.

"Wouldn't be much of a dinner if I didn't try to impress you," Torian stated simply, without his usual shrug this time though which she took as a good sign.

"Consider me impressed so far," Phystte smiled.

"Jate," he replied as he emptied the pack. A couple pots, some plates, utensils, provisions for the fire, spices, and sealed bags of food were all arranged neatly as he pulled each out and set it down. He started the fire in a pit seemingly used quite often just for that particular use, the heat waves taking pleasant passes at her between the slight whooshes of a breeze. Phystte watched him intently as he set up his work station. Torian rolled up his sleeves revealing his muscular forearms. Most of the prep work looked done for the meal, everything was sealed air-tight in various bags. Some of the vegetables she recognized even chopped, other bags she wasn't so sure. The meat looked fresh, bright pinkish red and appetizing. Phystte felt her mouth water and not just at the food.

"What's that?" Phystte asked, curious about the ingredients.

One side of his mouth quirked up as he responded, "It's a surprise."

"You're full of those today, aren't you? Got any more for me?"

"Wouldn't be surprises if I told you," Torian grinned fully now, his face lighting up like a boy getting his first blaster. Phystte felt her pulse race. She'd never seen him smile so openly before. It made something in her stomach flutter excitedly and she desperately wanted him to do it again. Instead, he turned his attention to the fire and his pot, opening the bags and tossing in the contents in calculated form. First the meat and a lot of spices. Phystte leaned back onto her elbows and studied him while inhaling the delectable scent. The smell wafted up through the air, piquant and exotic to her nose. Only a couple of the herbs could she make out, the rest or maybe their combination, remained a mystery. She noted after a few minutes the other two Mandolorians on the other side of the camp were giving Torian envious glances. For the food or for her, she wondered. Either way, Phystte took that as a good sign.

"So, you going to teach me how to make this tiingilar?" She asked.

"Depends…" Torian answered, glancing over at her just briefly before turning back to the food and adding a few more bags of ingredients. New tangy scents from the vegetables tickled her nose and she wondered why Torian had said that it would be a challenge to survive eating a plate of this stuff. So far, it smelled magnificent.

"On what?" Phystte added when he didn't elaborate.

He chuckled a little. "On whether you survive your first plate."

Her brows pursed in suspicion. "Wait… there's not something poisonous in this tiingilar, is there?"

"Nayc. Nothing like that. You'll see," Torian answered.

The meal didn't take too long to cook and the dish seemed fairly simple to make aside from knowing what to put into it. He pulled out a bag of some fluffy yellow grain and spread a little on their plates then added a few heaping scoops of the steaming hot tiingilar on top. The dish, red and speckled with the purples, whites, and greens of the vegetables, looked delicious. Phystte inhaled the scent, tangy with a bit of sweetness. After a good hike and smelling the food while it cooked, she was famished. Torian's previous warnings seemed completely unfounded. And the eager looks on the other Mandos' faces only proved to her that this was going to be one hell of a scrumptious meal.

"Is there anything special we need to do before we eat this?" Phystte asked as he handed her the plate.

"Not really," Torian admitted. He handed her a fork and grinned miscieviously. "Haili cetare!"

Phystte smiled recognizing the cheer common in Mando celebrations, "Haili cetare!"

She put a little bit on her fork, noting that Torian watched her intently. Phystte wondered if there really wasn't some sort of ceremonious way she was supposed to eat this between Torian's and the other two Mandalorian's intense stares. Tentatively, she put it in her mouth. It exploded with flavor, pungent and tangy with just a hint of sweetness. If surviving this was a challenge, she wondered what the rest of Mandalorian food tasted like.

"Torian! This is amazing!" For some reason he looked worried instead of happy as she shoveled another bite and then another, her hunger winning out on her.

"Wayii! You should probably slow down!" Torian said alarmingly.

Phystte took another bite, "What are you talking about? This is…"

Suddenly she stopped, her body nearly lurching back from the impact. Phystte doubled over, feeling like she'd just taken a blaster to the chest point blank. Immediately she was wracked with a coughing fit, her eyes tearing up and the back of her throat burning up through her nose like she'd swallowed molten lava and was breathing and snorting fire. She barely set the plate down before her hands were too alarmed to do more than drop it and fanned her face. "Water…. Water!"

Torian was trying hard not to laugh but the other two Mandalorians didn't have the same reservations and were laughing whole heartedly as Phystte leapt up to her feet and frantically whipped around, looking for the canteens they'd brought with them while coughing, crying, and waving at her face as if the mere breeze could help curb the intense burning her entire face and that was now starting to extend throughout her body. She gave up trying to withhold her reaction or even tone it down for the sake of appearances and let herself hack, cry, and panic all at the same time.

"Torian! Where's the water?!" Phystte managed to get out between her coughing, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them absently with her shirt sleeve while searching hysterically for the bottle of precious liquid.

"Nayc, nayc! That'll only make it worse!" Torian chuckled, pulling out a piece of something from a bag. Phystte ignored him and found the canteen. She pounced it like it were a living thing about to escape her grasp. Just as she put the precious bottle to her mouth, he snatched it away and gave her a little piece of some kind of bread. Smiling, he pushed it into her hand and Phystte shoved it in her mouth between the coughs. The other two Mandos were rolling over themselves with laughter now and Phystte shot them a glare while Torian let off another chuckle. "Shouldn't have eaten so much like that."

She pointed at them angrily and started to say something but was overcome with another coughing fit. One of them held a hand to his ear playfully then shrugged when she couldn't answer, his grin plastered widely over his face. Torian's hands went to her waist to help support her as she choked and coughed. He brushed a rebellious strand of hair from her face and Phystte held onto his shoulders as she tried to chew between hacking her lungs out. The tiingilar laid siege to her sinuses all the way down to her stomach. Everything felt like it had burst into flames, her lungs, her heart, her face. For a good ten minutes she hacked and chewed the bread, swallowed and took deep breaths, then coughed again and repeated the cycle. Finally, when her cheeks had returned to a more normal color instead of the bright red it had been and the inferno in her body died down to smoking coals she looked accusingly at Torian.

"You knew this would happen!" She scolded.

"Told you to think of it as a challenge," he smiled.

"You also told me I had to eat the whole plate," Phystte argued. Torian gave her a look that said the challenge wasn't over and that she did. "Wait. You can't be serious. I have to eat the whole plate?"

"You get used to it," he tried to reassure her.

"How the hell do you get used to eating food that burns your insides out?!" Phystte couldn't believe he actually intended her to finish the dish. The other two Mandos had been reduced to just slight chuckles now and again. With her voice back, though a bit hoarse and raspy from her coughing, she called out to them. "I'd like to see you two eat this stuff without dying!"

They waved at her as if to say no thanks and Phystte put her hand on her hip. "Oh I see how you Mandos are! You can dish it out but you can't take it!"

"That a challenge?" Torian asked with a smirk.

"Yeah," Phystte said assertively and instantly regretted it.

Torian sat down and took a casual bite of tiingilar. Then another, then another. His face didn't flush. He didn't cough. He didn't even take a bite of that heat dimming bread. He'd be long done before she'd even get half way through if she didn't sit down and start eating now. Taking a seat again, she put the plate in her lap and looked up into his eyes. Torian grinned and pointed at her plate with his fork and made eating motions. Phystte laughed lightly, shaking her head and wondering what she'd just gotten herself into and scooped up a bit. Bracing herself, she took the bite.

He must have taken it easy on her because it took them the better part of an hour for her to finish and he only took a bite of his food when Phystte looked capable of taken one herself. She'd eaten nearly the whole bag of that life-saving bread to help her combat the heat, so she was certain she had to be far more stuffed than Torian was. Her body burned so constantly now that the last bites hardly made a difference, though she longed for when she'd feel normal again. Scooping up the last bite on her fork, she held it up high enough not just for Torian to see, but also the other two Mandos on the other side of the camp and promptly gobbled it up. Torian grinned that wonderful smile that made her tummy turn summersaults and she held up her plate victoriously. He cheered, shouting out Kandosii! and Oya! and was shortly joined by the other two Mandos shouting out the same phrases among others. They yipped and howled and for the first time in what seemed like forever, Phystte felt herself blush and hoped that they simply thought it was the heat from the food touching color to her cheeks again.

She heaved a heavy sigh of content after their congratulations and laid down on the blanket while Torian cleaned up their plates. After he finished, he scooted up next to her, sitting up and looking down at her with a grin. "Guess this makes you a keeper."

Phystte laughed. "What do I win?"

He leaned down uncertain at first, then shut his eyes and gently brushed his lips over hers. Phystte kissed him back fervently, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck so that he'd stay. His tongue dared to tease her lightly and she unconsciously arched up into him, wanting more. A couple whoops and catcalls brought Torian out of his reverie and he started to break their kiss when Phystte pulled him back down. A soft chuckle escaped and he grinned on her mouth before acquiescing to her demand. Curving over her body, the Mandalorian thoroughly kissed the Hunter until the only burning left was the one of desire she felt settling deep between her legs.


End file.
