When I leave Addison still studying the alien writs, my hearts are beating faster, my scales are more sensitive, my senses more aware. It is how I always feel when I am in her presence, or when I even think of her. It is distracting to say the least.

When I get back into the lab to work a bit more with the meteorite glass, I cannot fully focus on the task at hand. Thoughts of her keep invading, which is not an unusual occurrence at this point. When Ladon enters the lab looking for me, I welcome the distraction.

"Melchior—are you available for an extra patrol around the city? One of the others needed to tend to another matter."

"Of course," I respond, already walking towards him.

"Excellent. Thank you," he says, his face brightening. "Now I do not have to keep circling the city to find someone to do the job."

I chuckle, walking out with him. The city is quite large. The task of searching to find various people would be rather irritating.

When we part ways outside, my smile slowly fades. All has been eerily quiet since the last attack. None of us want to be caught off guard again, which is why we have been very strict about the patrolling around the city. If there is danger approaching nearby, we will see it coming.

At least the city has proper shielding, unlike the Tribe and the mining settlement. I frown as I step out into the sand outside the city limits, using my wings to give my body lift so I can skim across it rather than sink. The lackluster performance of the shields has me and everyone else on high alert.

Despite our hopes, currently they are still only makeshift half-protections. No one is sure if they will be sufficient over a long period. I hope we can solve the issue with the meteorite glass, but until then, those shields are the best we have. It is a far from ideal situation.

What if the asteroids stop raining down on Tajss? We will have only the glass we are now gathering. And if the glass needs to be continuously replaced because it cannot hold a charge, we will surely run out of the resource—too quickly for my own peace of mind at this rate. Or anybody else's.

I am staunchly opposed to becoming "sitting ducks" as the human females say. It is why we are working so diligently to find a solution. Though I have to admit, at least to myself, that the worry about the shields is not my only reason for being in the city. I have been deliberately volunteering for any job or mission that will bring me here, and I know exactly why.

Addison's pretty face flashes in my mind’s eye.

Shining, light brown hair falls straight to her shoulders, framing her delicate face, dominated by her large, dark eyes. They've always looked mysterious and intelligent, as if she knows something she is not saying. She is not particularly tall for a human female, though I suppose they all appear short to me. Nor does she attempt to stand out in the way she presents herself.

My eye is still drawn to her.

She spends much of her time by herself, working in the lab and on the technology in the city. Her knowledge and expertise have been a wonderful addition, and I have not been able to stop thinking of her since I first saw her—just as my thoughts continue to circle around the female now.

How she bites her lip when she is concentrating on a particularly difficult problem. The way her face lights up when she speaks about a subject she is passionate about. She does not love large gatherings and often prefers spending time with herself in her living quarters or the lab. And unlike some of her human female counterparts, she is not prone to wearing form-fitting clothing that shows off her curves or to fixing her hair in intricate styles. She does not emphasize her femininity, focusing on the business at hand.

There is no way to truly hide that she is feminine. It is in the way she moves, her hips swaying from side to side gracefully. The way she holds her tools, her long slender fingers working with the utmost delicacy, the grace of her wrists anything but masculine. It is in the softness of her face...her skin...

At night, when I am alone, I often wonder if her skin feels as soft as it appears, if her hair is as silky as it looks. If she is as soft and delicate everywhere.

I imagine stripping her naked, pulling off the loose clothes she favors to reveal the woman's body underneath. Cupping the curves of her breasts, which I have heard rumors are not protected and tucked away like our females' breasts were, but soft and exposed. I want to slide my hands down the length of her shapely legs, want to kiss my way from her ankles all the way to—

The ground gives way underneath me.

I gasp as I fall into an old zemlja tunnel, plummeting hard, scraping against the side of it, my hands burning as I scrabble for purchase in a vain attempt to stop my fall.

I curse at myself for being so distracted by fantasies of a woman I have no claim to that I completely missed the signs of the tunnel. My fellow Zmaj would laugh to see me now.

I grunt when I hit the ground with a good amount of force, the tunnel not wide enough for me to spread my wings and slow my descent that way. I bend my knees to absorb the impact.

I am not alone.

The rustling is the first sign, then the distinctive flapping of wings.

Oh no.

I cover my face as a cloud of sismis erupts, the entire nest boiling into the air from where they were hanging upside down above, their leathery wings making a distinct rustle that has the hair at the back of my neck standing on end.

They screech, the sound sharp and echoing as they dive at me, a swarm punctuated with fangs and razor-edged claws.

They are mostly scavengers, but the large groups they hunt in are dangerous to any living creature. And this is a large nest. They are a necessary part of Tajss, their dung fertilizing the ground in these zemlja tunnels so that epis, the plant that helps sustain our lives and the lives of the humans, can grow and flourish. Their claws are also quite useful, a key ingredient of the healing paste we use on wounds.

Their helpfulness is not quite at the forefront of my mind in this moment.

I crouch, using my lochaber to block the attacks and slice through the air around me, thick with the creatures.

I grunt as one sinks its teeth into my shoulder. I yank it off in a spray of my blood, snapping its neck and dropping it to the ground as I continue to defend myself against the rest. I remain low, knowing that I will encounter a lower density of the creatures here, though that does not mean I fully escape their bites and scratches.

I clench my jaw as I feel a particularly vicious raking along my back, twirling my lochaber to create a shield of sorts.

I cannot kill them all.

I must simply wait the creatures out. They were merely startled at my abrupt appearance and are attacking more because the opportunity presented itself than anything. If I kill enough of them, they will move on so I continue to stay low and attack the ones that venture too close.

As predicted, the crowd of the creatures around me gradually lessens as the group flies deeper into the tunnel. Soon enough, the air around me is completely clear.

I stay crouched low, taking deep breaths as I recover from the shock of falling and the fight itself.

This is a lesson for me.

When I finally straighten cautiously—how good it feels! —I can see the bodies littered around me, the light from above illuminating the carnage.

I look to my right, where the tunnel continues, the light shining only part of the way before it continues into a deeper black my eyes cannot penetrate. But I can hear the sound of the sismis flying farther and farther away. Good.

I turn back to the winged carcasses. Perhaps I can pull something positive out of this idiotic mistake. I pull off the empty pouch I keep tied to my waist just in case, then reach for the first body. It is still warm in my hands as I use my knife to cut off its claws, working quickly. The last thing I need is to linger here in this tunnel in case the sismis circle back. Or, even worse, if I am wrong about the age of the tunnel and there are still zemlja here.

The massive tunneling creatures are also necessary for the epis we require, but they are a far greater threat than the sismis.

I work quickly, declawing each of the creatures and slipping the harvest into my pouch to use for a healing paste when I return home. I finish fast, clean the blood from my hands and tools the best I can, and turn to the opening. I scan the way I fell and see the tunnel does not come straight down, which is good, because it will be easier to climb out.

Crouching down low, I push up hard with my legs, leaping as far as I can before I have to dig my hands and feet into the rock and sand, sliding part-way down as I do. The climb is not easy, but I make progress, sliding back occasionally but continuing to move forward despite the small setbacks.

When I finally reach the opening at the top, I haul myself out and inhale deeply, sitting down to catch my breath. I look down at the deep hole beside me. I will not allow myself to be so distracted again. It has proven to be quite dangerous. I check myself. All the wounds I sustained are minor.

Sighing, I stand, flicking the sand off myself before I continue on the rest of the patrol. Luckily, I do not encounter any more danger for the rest of it.

On my sweep back around the city, my mind is clear and focused. Then I look over at the city and my gaze stops on a familiar figure.

Addison.

My forward momentum falters, and I slow despite myself. She is speaking with Rosalind, the human female in charge of the city. Tall, with long hair and a powerful feminine frame, the Lady General is quite a contrast to Addison, who is smaller, her clothing more inconspicuous, her frame not as large. I know many would look at Rosalind first. But she does not draw my attention as Addison does.

Her quiet beauty, her fascinating mind...all of her tugs at me in a place that has long been dormant, asleep. There is so much of the past I do not remember, an issue I know many of my brethren face as well, our minds attempting to protect us from the trauma of the Devastation, the cataclysmic war that destroyed our civilization. But something about Addison tugs at those buried secrets in a way I have not experienced before.

I linger even though I know I should leave, my eyes hungrily tracing the delicate lines of her face, watching as she gestures with those slender, clever hands. I could watch her for hours, though the opportunity to do so unnoticed does not often present itself. Even now, I see her shoulders tense somewhat and her head start to turn towards me.

She senses me.

I feel a warm glow at that fact. I have realized that she often knows I am in the vicinity, as if she might be as aware of me as I am of her. Though I do not know if she feels quite the same way. I do not know if her skin also feels too sensitive, her body overheated, at my proximity.

My own passion is distracting in its strength, awakening with a rush after a long slumber. I look away and continue forward before she turns fully towards me.

I do not want to scare her away with the intensity of my desire for her.