The sky was dark, and this was to his enemy's advantage. DeathWraith felt unconfortably human, walking helplessly through the the twilight, knowing he was being watched, but not knowing from where. His eyes pierced through the waves of smoke that came with the wind - reminders of the past battles that had turned this planet into the dead rock he was now treading on. But they were human eyes. Unnaturally drained of pigment as they were, they couldn't see through miles of walls and darkness as those of a xenomorph. The dry clouds above him blocked the vital light that could reveal the shape of something transparent moving in the distance...
DeathWraith stopped. This was not going anywhere. His eyes were not his best ally at that moment, so he closed them. With four fingers still on his knife, he used his remaining five to carefully move the black hood back and off of his white hair, leaving his ears free to acknowledge the vibrations in the air around him. He stood still and listened. For the first few seconds there was only silence, as if the wind itself had stopped blowing in response to the hybrid's motionlessness. And then, just as expected, there it was. Much closer than he had anticipated, the involuntary clicking sound of an excited predator stalking a possible next victim. DeathWraith turned around quicly, ready to block or dodge, but nothing. No blades in his abdomen, no kick in his chest, no blast through the air, no shape in the thin smoke. "So," he said in the best Yautja accent that a human mouth permitted, "are we going to fight, or can i go home?"