Predator's form

In that horrible moment it was clear at last that the invader had found a form. Etched against the tropical sky it was humanoid and vast, seven feet tall with ice-blue scales from head to foot, and it swung from tree to tree with the brachiating ease of a golden gorilla. It wasn’t man exactly but a vision of a man, tortured and perfected by a mind that longed to advance the species and make it triumph in the jungle habitat. Replication wasn’t good enough. In homage to the warriors it had tracked all day it sought a shape deep in itself. As if to fight them to the death it had to be itself and them all at once.

     The Predator (1987 novelization), chapter 7