Wampas

The wind blew over the glacial ice harder now, biting at Maligaant's skin even through  his winter coat and heavy armor.  The recent upgrades he'd made to his helmet were proving invaluable though.  His helmet's new tactical display chip was accurately depicting the layout of the icy glacier paths around him while the new thermal software was perfectly rendering the location of every member of the squad.

"Sir. I've located the cave." Kraspen's voice crackled into his helmet. "The tracks lead straight into the cave and are pretty fresh. I'd say we are 10 minutes behind them at this point."

"Affirmative. Wait there. We're maybe 20 minutes from your position." He responded back as he double checked their positions on his heads-up display. They'd been tracking this pair of wampas for several kilometers. As he looked back over his squad not one of them was showing any signs of fatigue, a refreshing sight.  He smiled, very pleased at the endurance of his Togorian brothers.

Maligaant turned into the hard winds and began leading the squad over the deep ravine, hardly visible in the snow filled winds blowing over the pass.

------------------------------------

Kraspen held his stance, leaning into the wall of the cave entrance.  He'd placed several perimeter sensors around his position as a precaution. He'd never hunted a wampa before but had read up on them prior to this hunt. Known for their stealth and of course for their penchant for dismemberment. Physically speaking, wampas were slightly smaller than a male togorian, averaging 2.5 meters in height and 150 kilograms in weight. These glacial wastes gave the wampas home turf advantage however, which he knew from experience was NOT to be underestimated.

He slapped his left paw against his helmet.  These helmets definitely had their advantages but he still wasn't used it.  He felt like it limited his vision and smell. His senses weren't the same. He slapped his paw against it again as he shook his head.  Then he stopped. His paw still against the side of the helmet. His sense were screaming to him. The hairs on his neck suddenly stood erect. Behind him!
He turned, claws extended and roaring as the wampas attacked.

------------------------------------

Maligaant's heart raced as he approached Kraspen's locator beacon (each member of the squad had a locator beacon inside their helmets). The roar of his squad's scout was all he'd heard before losing contact.  The cave was now visible and he motioned with his right paw for the squad to spread out.  He could see something up ahead half buried in the snow, just in front of the cave entrance.  He held up his paw again, signaling the squad to hold position.  His eyes examined the entire scene around the entrance as he approached.  The blood stained snow had been disturbed here in a frantic struggle. Looking down he starred at the object that had caught his attention: Kraspen's helmet, deep claw marks etched across it's side and the visor shattered.  He reached down and picked up the helmet as he motioned the squad to join him.

------------------------------------

The squad moved through the ice cave with determination, their rifles readied as they moved in silence.  Up ahead they could hear it ... the sounds of a wampa tearing flesh and snapping bones.  Moving forward the darkness of the cave peeled back revealing a pair of wampas feasting on their recent kill.

With a roar that filled the cave Maligaant kneeled and opened fire, the squad following his lead, filling the cave with the hellish light of their combined rifle fire.

The squad's concentrated fire made quick work of the two wampas.  Maligaant stood up and starred at the scene for a moment as the roar from the squad rang in his ears. 

"What kept you miserable furballs!!!"

Maligaant blinked in surprise, "Kraspen?!!"

"They nearly had me for dinner!" Kraspen yelled from just around the corner of the now dead wampas, "Now would one of you kindly get me down from here!"