Samil’s words echo in my thoughts. Over and over, replaying on repeat. There’s a sense of unreality about it, even as the memory replays itself. Surely I didn’t hear what I thought I heard. He can’t love me, how can he? I’m broken, no man could love me. Afraid to be touched, afraid to even have the attention of a man.

Yet he said those words. I know he did. I’m a fool. Samil is great. No, he’s not burly like the other Zmaj. If that’s a good word to use for them. Maybe not burly, that implies hairy to me, which no Zmaj is. Hmm, they’re… too alpha? Too male? I don’t know, they’re all too much. Intimidating is probably the word.

Yes, definitely. Intimidating is it. I don’t like it when they do their macho thing. Samil isn’t like that. He’s kind and gentle where the others are all rough and tumble. There’s a beauty inside of him that shines out in his sweet nature. The other Zmaj may not respect it but I do.

“Can we pause?” I ask. “I need some water.”

“Of course,” he says, not looking directly at me.

When he looks my way he doesn’t make eye-contact, looking to the side or above me. Everything about him right now is tentative. He’s tense and it’s my fault. I should reassure him. It’s not him, it’s me. Sipping water from the canteen, I lower it and replace the stopper.

“Samil,” I say, fully intending to tell him.

His eyes meet mine and I’m blank. The sincerity on his face is too much. The words that were there a moment ago are gone. I open my mouth to say them, maybe they’ll come back on their own, but no sound comes out.

I’m lost in his eyes. Beautiful striations of gold run through their soft brown. They’re deep and warm, filled with kindness. An artistic soul is what my mom would have called Samil. She would have liked him, the kind of boy she would have approved of me bringing home.

“Yes?” he asks, even his voice thick with earnestness.

His scales are lighter in color than most of the Zmaj, a sandy-tan that’s almost a shade of white. The edges are tinted with a darker tan. There are also hints of yellow and here and there a bit of green. I know, from experience now, that they’re not rough but smooth and cool to the touch. My fingertips tingle with the memory of them.

His hair is pushed back and forth across his forehead by the hot breeze that shifts across the desert sands. He pushes a stray patch of it out of his eyes, waiting patiently for me to speak.

Say something Inga!

Swallowing, I force the lump in my throat down. I want to tell him how I feel. How amazing he is. I want to tell him he’s not less, not broken, I am.

“Thank you,” I say.

The words fall out of my mouth in a betrayal of my intention and thoughts. It’s not what I want to say but it’s all that I can. The words I want won’t come.

“You are welcome,” he says, smiling so big it crinkles his eyes. “We should keep moving, we need to find our friends.”

“Right, good idea,” I say, relief flooding my body.

That was dangerous. I was too close to something… what?

We resume walking but now the silence between us is comfortable. The unwanted tension has drained away, though I’m still left in the maelstrom of my own thoughts and feelings. That’s normal though. It’s the life I’ve been living since the ship. Since… it.

Huh, it. What a great way to avoid looking. Shaking my head, I sigh then wipe sweat away from my eyes. I’m such a coward! It’s over, why can’t I get over it? It’s done, over with, but every time anything reminds me of it I’m frozen in fear once more. Like I was then, when I did nothing. I gave up. That’s what bothers me the most, I gave up and now… now I can’t even try.

“Inga?” Samil pulls my attention.

“Yeah?”

He’s holding up a huge piece of something in his hands. It’s looks like a giant scale or perhaps an ancient shield a really big Zmaj would use, someone at least as big as Drosdan. There’s a grin on Samil’s face and his eyes dance with joy.

“Want to speed up our travel?” he asks, waving the massive thing around.

“Huh?”

We’re on top of one of the massive dunes that make up all of Tajss. There’s the same rolling dunes for as far as the eye can see in all directions.

“When I was a child, we’d use these, it’s quite fun and it will speed our travel up,” he explains.

Cocking my head to one side, I try to follow his logic. The shield thing he’s holding up is thin and obviously not overly heavy as he’s waving it around. It’s long, maybe five feet or so and about three feet wide. The top part is wide and it narrows to maybe two feet at the bottom, making an almost triangular shape.

“I don’t understand,” I admit finally.

Samil nods and motions for me to follow. He walks to the edge of the dune we’re standing on, lays the shield thing down, and then he sits on the front.

“Climb on behind me,” he says, then he pauses. “Uh, you’ll have to hold on to me, if that’s okay?”

My heart constricts a little but at the same time the kindness and sweetness of his words strikes me. apprehension wars with appreciation, paralyzing me. Pushing past it, I look at the absolute ridiculousness of what I’m doing. Mentally shaking myself I nod.

“Okay,” I say, climbing on behind him.

“Hold tight, this will be fast.”

I carefully position myself behind him, keeping a space between us while putting my legs on either side of his and gripping the sides of his chest. His scales are cool and my hands are clasped over the hard muscles of his abs. They feel amazing and my body responds to the contact.

Desire rages, almost bright enough to overcome my fears. I feel myself growing wet between my legs, my core tightens, and I want to feel the rest of his muscles, trace those hard lines with my fingertips. I want him over me—

Paralyzing fear.

Him over me. The memory is so strong it overlays the here and now and in an instant I’m there again. The smell of that monster over me, pinning me to the ground. I’d fought. I’d fought so hard but I wasn’t strong enough and then, I gave up. I only wanted to get past it, let it do what it was going to do so it could kill me and it would be over.

“Inga?” Samil asks.

It pulls me back to the now. I’m not there. I’m here, now. Samil is not that monster. I’m fine, he’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Yeah,” I answer. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he says, pausing before he speaks more. “Hold on, okay?”

“Hold on,” I say. “Got it.”

He reaches over to one side, digging his hands down into the loose sand, then pushes us forward. The front of the makeshift sled teeters over the edge of the dune then tips and we’re sliding. Gast! The wind races past us so fast my hair is whipping in my face and it almost takes my breath away.

It’s exhilarating to go so fast! We whoosh down the side of the dune, gaining speed until it feels like we’ve taken flight. When we hit the gulley between dunes our speed carries us forward and up the next side. I’m laughing hard enough tears leak from my eyes but the wind of our passing carries them away as fast as they form.

“Wheee!” I scream and Samil’s laughter joins my cries of exhilaration.

We lose speed slowly until we come to a stop but we’re almost three quarters of the way up the next dune. Samil climbs off the sled and holds out a hand to help me up.

“That was amazing!” I exclaim, breathing heavily.

“I’m glad you liked it!”

“I’ve never done anything like that,” I say, gasping to catch my breath.

“I haven’t since before.”

He picks up the sled and together we walk the rest of the way to the top of the dune.

“That made me feel…” I trail off, searching for the right word. “Alive!”

Samil laughs, a deep, rolling laugh and stops, turning to me. “I’m so glad.”

The way he says the last word, his mouth snapping shut, I know there was more he wanted to say but he stopped himself. I feel it, deep inside. He loves me.

Broken or not, capable of returning love or not, Samil loves me anyway. Sensations swell in my chest and it feels like a million fireworks are exploding inside of my skull.

He… loves… me.

A strange gravity or perhaps it’s purely animal instinct takes hold and I’m drawn to him. An intense need to touch him overwhelms all other concerns. My hand moves towards him, I watch it like it’s not mine but someone else’s. It’s like I’m disconnected from my body, letting it run on its desires without interference.

Samil watches with quiet patience. Warmth pulses in the pit of my belly. Tentatively I smile and he returns one of his own.

“We should keep moving,” he says.

Nodding agreement, we walk across the dune to the next edge before climbing onto the makeshift sled and tilting ourselves into another high speed rush down the far side.