Cir'ide woke the next day as light poured into the wide cave chamber from the gaping mouth at the roof.

If he took note of the light's intensity and angle now, then maybe he could make a relatively accurate measurement of how long it takes for a day and night to pass here. This could help him to narrow down what planet he was on. All he would need to do is wait for these conditions to repeat.

Without his helm on, the light was interpreted to his vision as heat's radiant glow against rock overlaying the dull image of objects seen within a small measure of some other spectrum of light.

Cir'ide's kind lack the rods, cones, and areas of the brain required to see most variations of the light spectrums outside of the way their minds interpret heat signatures. Other aspects of the way they visually interpret the world around them are mainly to aid in conditions where temperatures are of such an extreme that everything blurs together.

Today he had plans to investigate his surroundings. With his wits about him instead of overwhelmed with the wet and cold, he could make out evidence of an ancient catastrophe in these caverns.

This cave chamber was once intact, the open roof was sealed in layers of rock but at some key point in its history, a violent event burst the chamber open from the top.

Cir'ide had a theory. This cave system appeared to be volcanic. Lower chambers and passages may even harbor magma flows which heat the rock and water trapped between the sheets of ancient stone. This causes the hot fluid to rise from bubbling springs. It is that which created the steaming environment he observed all around him as he peered out from his hole in the wall.

Again, this chamber was once sealed but had it simply caved in there would be evidence on the floor below. Even the oceans daily invasion could not wash away all of the rubble. The remnants of the roof would be lying there plain as the eye could see if it had fallen in. Giant slabs of rock would be easy to spot although other sediments pulled in might have been swept away by now.

He theorized that pressure built here as the hot springs below were born. A great heat compounding and melting away the less dense materials in the walls, creating the smoothed ledges and precipices he had wrongly mistaken for wind erosion when he had arrived here. Eventually, the integrity of the cave structure weakened to the point of failure. Boom. All of that pressure blew up and out.

It could have been triggered by a great disturbance in the ocean which brought on a tidal wave of awesome magnitude, an earthquake, maybe the chamber had simply reached its limit.

However it had happened, the place was still blessed by the bubbling hot springs and steam, making it a hospitable climate for him. Those springs may continue to flow for eons, or simply stop tomorrow. That is the nature of a volcano, which he was now sure existed here. He was too busy being miserable to appreciate this the night before.

At that moment he was truly grateful for the warmth and humidity. He was able to breathe comfortably without his helm and his skin was not tight and angry with cold. Luck had found him this small luxury of comfort.

Cir'ide would need a great deal of supreme luck if he was going to figure out where he was. Finding a way off of this rock would require more than just good fortune. The navigation and communications system on the bridge of his sunken ship would have made calling for aid easy.

The night before he had crammed himself into one of the pits in the walls which had melted out with that aforementioned volcanic event. Being that the widest and highest one he could find to keep his sorry skin out of the cold seawater was only four noks wide and six deep with very little headroom; he woke up feeling like he had spent the night in a storage compartment for lavatory supplies. As he looked over the edge of his hideaway and down into the chamber he could recall his climb up here.

Had it not been for the wounds carved into his legs, the climb might have been effortless. Now that the torn flesh had the time to form scabbing around the edges, he was not too fondly looking forward to the sensation of pulling and stretching those scantily healed injuries. The air had been so moist overnight that the center of each great gash was still wet and using clear fluid. They were not quite bloody anymore but not quite sealed over either.

Were he in peak condition he could have leaped from his perch and to the nearby stalactites then clambered his way up through the hole in the roof from there. Damn. He'd have to do more time-intensive work than he would like in order to find his way back out of this cave and get his bearings. Oh well, he still had two things left to do in here anyway.

The scent he'd picked up the night before still nagged at his senses. He also wanted to record the light entering the chamber and begin a counter to give him a way to better understand the passing of time.

He'd need to be able to properly measure days here, wherever here is.

He placed his helm upon his head and then surveyed the wide chamber, turning his gaze left to right. He made a point to perform the least troublesome task first, recording the light's angle and strength.

Now came the climb down.

Cir'ide fell once, caught himself on an overhang, then cursed with such words that would have seen him whipped for his vulgarity had he been on board the clan vessel from which he hailed. His mother would have beat him stupid for that mouth of his, but stone dug deep into your gut as you fall with the full force of your weight does not feel pleasant all.

He was stiff, his legs did not want to do as he wanted them to, and now it felt like things were crawling all over him. Wherever he was he was starting to hate it with ever-growing intensity.

He quickly realized that little creatures were indeed crawling all upon him. As soon as he reached the bottom and his feet touched the stony floor of the cave he began to slap himself at any place the creatures had managed to scurry onto… or into.

Cir'ide eventually lost his battle against them. In the end, he had to pull every article of clothing from his body to get the things off him. His awu'asa became a pile by his feet. Even then as he became naked it wasn't enough, he had to practically roll in one of the deeply carved streams to rinse off those that survived his initial attack.

Cir'ide was not typically one to lose his mind at the sensation of being crawled over by creatures which make up the bottom of the food chain, but he was getting this distinct feeling that he was not just some obstacle which happened to get in their way or disturb them at some point on his journey down.

He was beginning to think as he examined one extracted from the underside of a pauldron. He may have woken with these little beasts already upon him and chewing.

It was like a claw long larvae, tiny chewing pincers at what he can only presume was its front end. The rest of it was like a length of bowel with two rows of barbles for movement of some sort. One of the little shits twisted between his fingers, trying to burrow its head under the cuticle of a claw as he held it. The creature was promptly dropped and stamped flat underfoot.

His movement as he clambered down may have been what gave these things a terrible fit as they feasted. The ones still hiding away within his coverings and armor were beaten out and each piece rinsed very thoroughly to avoid having carnivorous little worms dig into his skin for a meal.

So, he was soaked again but at least not shivering. The sunlight pouring into the caverns was warming. Soon he was ready and sufficiently over the highly negative experience of being gnawed on by vermin to explore the hunch he'd had the night before based on a scent.

Cir'ide was sure that something he was familiar with could be living here. It could be another clue to indicate where he might be.

Know your prey. Know the world in which they live. Observe first and save yourself the trouble of being denied the information you need. It was too late really to enact that advice as he was already ass-deep in the environment, possibly camping in an old – he hoped not currently in occupied – den of a creature that he felt on the memory of scent could be rather nasty when encroached upon.

That moment was the time to investigate and decide on his next actions here. Will he vacate, or will he occupy? There is also the option to wait for what may still live here to return. It could very well have the makings of a handsome trophy.

He looked up from his position as he began to replace his awu'asa, Observing his surroundings. The chamber was vast, as wide as the clan vessel's dining hall, which accommodates three hundred or so.

He could not yet tell how long the chamber was or even make an estimation of that. he could only assume that it is indeed many times as long and deep as it is wide. The problem was this; seeing and navigating within cave systems is not a straightforward business. There are rock formations, stalactites and stalagmites which limit long-range vision as well as other navigational distractions.

In this case, cool pools of ocean water trickling down rocky waterfalls from outside and hot spring pools which faithfully bubble out water with great consistency were a noisy distraction. There were also stone columns that stretched from floor to roof, so many in fact that seeing any straight distance was very difficult.

Finding the prey he'd scented or its den could prove to be tricky. Ah, his sense of smell was still acute. The rest of him may have been sore, torn open, chewed on, or stink with shame, but his nose was still strong. It could lead him around as he picked up that familiar odor.

The scent was hard to focus onto, a little bit like metal, slightly offensive to his senses but a bit like the soured skins of the fruiting body of a particular fungus he was familiar with. A fruit of the homeworld, the skins are bitter but the spongy inner body is used in some intoxicatingly sweet foodstuffs meant to be presented to a female or… He snorted scratched at his gut as he banished the memory, it was only a stray hungry thought.

Whatever the beast was it stunk. Atop that, there was an almost sweet, nutty odor but he could differentiate that from the scent of the creature he pursued. They were completely separate smells.

Hmm, he had found the source of the second strange odor. The discarded shells of crustaceous, zabin like creatures were pinned up high on the walls of the cave with twigs impaling them in place. The sticks were jammed with their ends wedged deep into a narrow crack to hold the carcasses horizontal along the walls here between two columns. These two columns were the largest he'd seen so far. They are a most impressive product of eons, made when the stalagmite and stalactite met long ago.

This matter of slaughtered little creatures decorating the space was key, indication that whatever lived here was intelligent. This could be some form of warning to intruders.

Keep away , he supposed it meant.

High above there was another corridor. At first, this opening almost appeared to be merely a depression in the cave wall much like the one where he'd slept. But as he peered up to observe, the slow trickle of water told him plainly that the precipice went much deeper. Whether it was simply a channel forged in the rock by erosion for waters to flow or lead-way to another set of chambers remained to be discovered.

More climbing. He had his reservations about it. The last thing he wanted was to clamber halfway up and then find his wounded legs locking up and fall, breaking his neck. This result was very plausible. He also didn't want to crawl up into this hole to find himself being attacked by something that was living there. Most creatures do not appreciate having their space invaded in such a way.

He'd have been moron to let his curiosity get the better of him and climb up there to have a look, but he was young, perhaps too confident. Up he went, thinking he was invincible with youth, to peer into that cavity. Ah, the passage was wide enough to move through although he could already tell that he would need to crouch or belly crawl through some areas along the way.

Cir'ide could smell the evidence of habitation. The scent of bones discarded after the flesh and been consumed, the odor of charred wood which doubly pointed toward a creature capable of wielding fire, therefore reasonably intelligent.

Deeper still he trekked, moving over obstacles and up the gradually sloping passage. It was wet of course, like everything else, but he wondered if the waters trickling slowly past him came from yet another hot spring.

As he emerged from the first squeeze down this passage, he found himself in a small chamber only as wide in any direction as two warriors lying head to feet. There were a few unnerving qualities about this small chamber. Easy as ever to spot there were wide cracks in the wall which were completely natural but stones, each no bigger than his foot, were piled in front of each and every crack as if to block them off. He did not feel like tediously moving the stones one by one to find out why.

Not only was there intelligent prey here but now their behavior was beginning to seem a little unsettling. The stone piles, the number of which kept growing as he ventured further, then there were the impaled creatures at the entrance. It all pointed toward crazy in his opinion.

His venture into the prey's den finally took him to the epicenter of the creature's activity and domain.

It was another large chamber, not so expansive as the one where the big blowout had taken place. It was maybe only a third that size but here there were four large columns, another hot spring too but this one was untainted by seawater.

It was warm and fresh, so he dunked his face into it stupidly for a drink. Thirst had suddenly overwhelmed caution.

When finally he came up for breath on his hands and knees by the edge he saw something incredible. Truly incredible. There were scratchings on the walls which depicted faces, human faces. An ooman lived here!

He could hardly believe it, an ooman! Worthy prey! An honorable trophy with which he may reclaim his self-respect and more! Cutting one's tusks on the ultimate soft meat would no doubt renew his honor and vanquish the shame of stranding himself here.

Unfortunately, this discovery does not much tell him about where he had haplessly crash-landed. Ooman kind had been amid the stars for some time by then, spreading their civilizations, each ever hungry and all lost in the senseless greed-driven hierarchy of their culture.

There are three variants of the ooman race and the difference seems to be a thing of their social order. There are those with power and wealth and often their status is unearned. While this first breed appears quite sedentary, one should not be fooled into disregarding them. Often these power lusting oomans are at the root of troubles, responsible for ticklish situations that may even cause a seasoned warrior to cringe out concerns other, not so bright, hunters may chastise him for voicing openly. Often the old warrior judges correctly. The now legendary Bakuub and the less fortunate Lar'nix'va certainly had when confronted with that familiar ooman greed.

The second type of ooman aren't so interesting. They are the common variant. More likely to toil away his or her life in manual labor than to prove worthy as prey. Under the right conditions, though, this type may evolve sufficiently from the subservient life dedicated to menial labor and become something more, something cunning and dangerous. They may become the third and final breed.

Even among these oomans, the rare and intelligent fighters, only a handful of them may equal a fine and mature Yautja warrior. It was an individual of this final and highest prized breed that Cir'ide hoped for. He gave a quiet prayer to Paya for a warrior to serve a challenge to him, to enrich his path and save its honor.