The commander observed the fledgling hunter with a stoic expression. The young one had showed promise in the past but hesitated once the blade was in his hand and the prey was cowering before him.
“Finish it,” he ordered, reading his staff to execute the youngling should he fail to comply.
The youth steeled himself and made a precision strike, spilling the prey’s insides over the cell floor, and the commander relaxed his shoulders. The youngsters were untested, but the bloodsport was undeniably innate. Even the most inexperienced would relish hunting live prey on that desolate mudball known as Earth.
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