“As you can see, trade is in both of our best interests,” I say, picking a piece of smoked meat off the clay plate and placing it in my mouth.

“I agree, of course, but there are obstacles to be overcome,” Visidion replies.

Chewing the tough piece of meat, I watch him and wait. He’s left the statement open for me to reply, but often it is better to let the other talk more. Silence can be the greatest tool in my arsenal. Visidion is patient. Almost, I think he might win this game. I pick up the glass and take a long, slow drink, never letting my eyes break from his. A smile plays at the corners of his mouth.

My core tightens with an urge to throw myself across the table and taste his lips. Firming my grip on the cup, I resist until it passes.

“My people,” he continues at last.

“Yes?” I encourage.

“We have lived on our own for too long,” he says. “They do not believe we need you.”

“What do you believe?” I probe.

Visidion sighs, leans back, spreads his arms wide, and shakes his head. His eyes close while he inhales deeply. His chest rises, expanding with the inhale pressing forward his impressive physique. Now-familiar tightness in my core winds tighter, his pectoral muscles tighten then relax as he lets the breath out. No. I’m not a schoolgirl. No matter how long it’s been…

He opens his beautiful eyes, meeting my gaze with open honesty. His eyes are deep pools, unshielded access to his soul. My mouth is so dry that swallowing hard hurts my throat. His wings rustle on his back.

“Perhaps I have lived too long without hope,” he says, his voice soft, placing a hand on the table halfway between us.

My hand is on his, unplanned, without thought. Instinct or driven by desire—I don’t know. His scales are smooth and cool under my fingertips. I trace a slow circle with my index finger, my eyes never leaving his. The texture of his scales ignites my interest. A shudder passes through me as my body responds to the feel of him.

“And?”

His tongue darts out and across his lips. I lean, involuntarily, desire pulling me closer.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he breathes, leaning.

“Embrace it.”

“Then what?”

“Then we see…”

Our lips are so close his warm breath passes across me, a hint of spice to it. His emerald green eyes, pools of warm liquid, two inches away staring into my soul. He turns his hand under mine on the table and grips me tight. Closer, my lips tremble, about to touch his…

A scream cuts through the moment jerking us both to reality.

My heart pounds. Leaping to my feet, I bound for the door, Visidion at my side. When I burst through the skins that cover the entrance, the bright suns assault my eyes. Spots dance across my vision, blurring everything to rough shapes.

Visidion’s home is on the second level of the cliff homes. He pushes past me and is running down the ramp. I’m unable to follow without risking a fall until my eyes clear.

“Rawrrr!” echoes off the stone wall behind me.

I rub furiously at my eyes as I move down the ramp. The sounds of fighting are joined by shouts and more screams. My eyes clear at last and almost I wish they hadn’t. The huge Zmaj, Drosdan I believe, is facing off against Ladon. The two of them circle each other, a crowd around them shouting and screaming. Blood is streaming down Ladon’s face from a cut over his eye but he shows no sign of slowing.

In a sudden, surprising burst Ladon leaps into the air, wings spreading wide, arm cocked back, fist dropping towards Drosdan. Drosdan, bigger and slower, looks up and starts to raise his arms in defense but too late. Ladon’s fist slams into him with a sickening crunch. Drosdan stumbles backwards, tail swinging wildly and wings batting at the air as he struggles to remain upright.

A round of gasps are accompanied by cheers.

“Kick his ass, Ladon!” someone yells, a human voice by the accent, but I can’t see past the bodies to see who it is, now that I’m off the ramp.

“Drosdan!” a chant starts.

Feet pound the ground, creating a thunderous cacophony along with the chants of the name of the larger Zmaj. Visidion is just ahead of me, rushing for the crowd. The red-tan cloak he wears flaps in the wind behind him. He’s stopped by the crowd.

“Make way!” he yells as I catch up to him.

The crowd parts around him. I follow in his wake, taking advantage of the opening. Before we can pass through the cheering and chanting crowd, I hear another hard slam and more grunts of pain. My chest constricts as my heart beats faster. The crowd is too close, making it hard to breathe as we push our way through. My left thigh trembles, wanting to give way. No, not now. Gritting my teeth, I push past the pain, but the trembling of my hands isn’t something I can control.

The problems have been less but are not gone. Every time they return it’s a reminder of how precious time is and how little of it I have to accomplish my goals. Another loud crack and the crowd gasps. Someone screams. The chanting resumes.

Shifting bodies press in and out. How many people are there here? How can we not be through this crowd already?

Stumbling, I’m free of it. Visidion grabs my arm, steadying me.

“ENOUGH!” Visidion yells, his voice loud enough to echo off the cliff wall.

Silence drops like a blanket. No one speaks. I can’t hear anyone even breathe.

Drosdan and Ladon face each other a couple of feet apart. Blood drips off both of them, pooling on the ground. Drosdan’s left wing droops too. They’re both panting but their fists are raised and ready to continue their battle.

Walking beside Visidion we move between the two men. Strategically I shift my position so that I end up closer to Drosdan, forcing Visidion to stand closer to Ladon. A quick shift of his eyes in my direction tells me he notes it, and the hint of a smile is his approval.

“What’s going on here?” I ask, taking the lead.

“He called Illadon ugly,” Ladon hisses.

“No, I said his father was as ugly as a bivo’s droppings,” Drosdan retorts.

The crowd laughs, and Drosdan stands straighter, grinning. Ladon hisses, balling his fists as he steps forward. Visidion stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Drosdan, we are guests in your home. Is this how the Tribe treats its guests?” I ask.

“Tribe,” Ladon turns his head and spits the word. “Gathering of sismis is more accurate.”

Sismis are tiny sand snakes with a very deadly poison. Calling the Tribe that must be a high insult in Zmaj judging by the reaction of the crowd. Drosdan roars, his tail springing straight up and his undamaged wing opening, the other struggling but failing to expand.

“Ladon,” Visidion says, “is this the way you treat your hosts?”

Ladon locks eyes with Visidion as I turn to face Drosdan. Placing my hand on his massive chest I look up and stare until he glances down. Once he does our eyes lock and by my will alone I force him to keep his gaze on me. He’s huge, with arms like tree trunks, shoulders wide enough I could stretch out across them and have room left. Still, he doesn’t move from my touch or look away.

“No,” Ladon says, defeat in his voice.

“And you Drosdan? Is this in line with the Edicts?” I ask.

His eyes widen, his jaw falls open as he shakes his head. His wings and tail drop and his hands unclench.

“We have differences,” Visidion says, speaking to Ladon but pitching his voice to carry.

“But they are not so great,” I finish his thought.

“There is enough in this world trying to destroy us,” Visidion says.

“Storms, heat, zelmja, and Zzlo,” I say.

“Do we need to destroy each other as well?” Visidion asks.

“Together we are stronger,” I say, the crowd gasps and the tension lowers.

I know there is a power in the Edicts they follow. If only I could get my people to accept them. Soon, once Gershom is dealt with, it should be possible. The ideals they express are no different than my own but diametrically opposed to Gershom and his Human First movement.

“What about them? They don’t follow our Edicts,” a voice from the crowd.

“No, they do not,” Visidion says.

“But not because we don’t respect them,” I continue.

“Are our ideals meant to be enforced? Should we make them follow our ways? Beat them down until they submit?” Visidion says.

“You are better than that, we all must be.”

“Together we are stronger,” Visidion repeats.

The crowd murmurs, the tide shifting. There are too few of us, even with the size of the Tribe and the new survivors who have chosen to live here. Too few for us to be at each other. The viability of both our races hangs in the balance.

“There is hope,” I say. “Hope for a future for both our races. Open your minds and hearts and look forward.”

“Yes,” Visidion agrees. “Hope, that long-lost glimmer we have all but forsaken has come. In a new form, the form of the Humans and an alliance between our races. That is the future we see. Will you not follow me into it?”

“I will,” Padraig says, stepping forward.

Padraig is as unmistakable as Drosdan, being second in size only to him. Big, burly—if Zmaj grew facial hair, I’d imagine him with a big, black thick beard to go with his bulging arms and chest. Even his voice is deep and booming. Other Zmaj follow suit, and then the humans among them are also agreeing. In moments, the near-riot passes as people return to their work, leaving Visidion and me standing between Ladon and Drosdan.

Both of the Zmaj are wounded from their fighting. They’re breathing heavily, and neither of them will meet the gaze of the other. Drosdan rubs his jaw, moving it back and forth until it cracks loudly. My stomach clenches at the sound in sympathy.

“You hit good,” Drosdan says.

“You don’t,” Ladon says, wiping blood away from his eyes.

“Ladon, be nice!” Calista storms up.

She was probably blocked out by the crowd, but she’s here now, and Ladon shrinks before his wife. Calista rises on her toes to look at the wound over his eye. Tsking as she inspects it, she pinches around the area. Ladon yelps, and Drosdan giggles in response. Ladon glares over his wife’s head at the bigger Zmaj.

“You hit like a female,” Ladon snaps.

“Go ahead, tiny man,” Drosdan says.

Visidion and I exchange a glance, then leave the two men to work out the rest of their differences, the danger in the situation gone.

“We work well together,” Visidion says.

He walks towards the wall. A short way off, two Zmaj and a woman are working. She lays a mud mixture down on the wall then the two Zmaj lift large stones up and place them, taking the wall higher.

“Yes,” I agree.

“Perhaps we should do it more often?” he asks, staring out at the empty desert.

“Perhaps we should,” I agree.

A slow smile spreads as he nods. We stand in comfortable silence, side by side, staring out into the great emptiness that is our home.

“You should leave soon,” he says, but is that regret in his voice?

It couldn’t be, could it? Focus, Rosalind.

“Yes,” I agree, carefully controlling my voice so that my own regrets don’t come out.

“We did not finalize the terms of our trade agreements,” he says.

“Unfortunately no, we did not,” I agree.

“Epis is vital to life, so there will be no restrictions but the supply is limited. We will have to control that,” he offers.

“That is very generous of you,” I say, though in fairness it’s only right. They did claim our epis source without asking.

“I’ve instructed my hunters to range south of here. That will leave north of the City for your hunters,” he says. “That should help with the food supply though it will take some time to let the balance return.”

“Also very agreeable,” I say.

“There has been a suggestion on that front,” Visidion says.

“Oh?” I ask.

“It would be very dangerous but with a joint effort, it might be possible,” he continues.

“You’ve got my interest,” I say.

“A zemlja,” he says.

“What about them?”

“They have enough meat to feed all our people for a long time,” he says. “If we could survive killing one.”

“Well, I know it’s been done,” I say.

“Yes, it’s been done,” he agrees. “Small ones.”

“How big do they get?” I ask.

“They have no predators,” he answers, as if that says it all.

“Sure, but I mean how big can they be?”

“Once, before the devastation, there was one that destroyed a city when it came up from its tunnel underneath the buildings.”

“You’re kidding me!”

He smiles and shrugs.

“Perhaps,” he says. “It is a tale. Though all tales have some truth in them.”

“Let’s talk about this further,” I say. “I’d also like to work out equitable trade for your craft goods. Plates, cups, the pottery, and baskets your people produce.”

“Of course. No matter what my people believe, the City has things to offer us. Metal, glass, materials to ease our life.”

“Good,” I say, holding out my hand.

He clasps my wrist and we shake. I’m staring up into those stunning green eyes and wishing, for all the world, that I could kiss him. Regret causes bile in my stomach as I turn away from his gaze. As I suspected, we’re being watched, albeit with some semblance of covertness.

“Round it up,” I call out. “We need to return home.”