Everything has gone wrong. It's Astarot's fault. Everything was fine until he showed up.

"We're at least three days out," Bashir says.

"I know," I respond.

"They're following," Melchior adds.

Stopping, I turn and look. The cloud of dust the transport raises in its passing is heading towards us. Closing my protective lids, I can see the transport itself racing ahead of the streaming cloud.

"What do you want to do?" Bashir asks.

"What I want is to go home," I say.

My chest constricts, making my hearts work harder. Do my friends see what I won't say? What I want? The way she calls to me? The distance doesn't matter, I can sense her approach.

"It'd be easier with them," Melchior says. "Long walk otherwise."

I glare at Melchior until his tail drops to the ground and he bows his head.

"Let them come," I say. "I'll handle it when they arrive."

Without further comment I turn and resume walking. It's foolish, feeling this way. I don't know how she feels but every time I'm near her desire consumes me. My body aches, my cocks become so hard it hurts. Nothing has ever made me feel the way she does.

I can't tell the others, even if I know they'd understand. I've seen them eying females, too.

The ground trembles and all of us stop. Bashir raises his fist then holds up one finger at a time reaching a count of five. Damn it, its close. The sand shifts as the trembling increases. Staring ahead, the line of shifting sand comes right at us. Moving in slow motion, each hunter takes a spear off his back, preparing.

Arawn and Errol, the craftsmen who followed, hold still too. They know, we all know. Tajss is full of dangers but nothing is more dangerous that a zemlja. The giant dragon worm that burrows beneath the surface hunts by vibrations. Depending on its age and size it could be a challenge or a death sentence, even for the five of us.

The trembling increases, the sands shifting faster. My breath catches in my throat and I grip my spear tighter. Any moment. It will either pass us by or the ground will erupt and we'll be fighting for survival.

Hot wind blows across my face as we wait, hoping. None of us wants to fight a zemlja. The shifting sand slows, the trembling fades, and it's gone past.

Letting out the breath I'd been holding, I look over at Bashir. He's looking past me then his eyes widen and his mouth opens.

I know, before I turn, I know.

"No!" I yell, whirling.

The transport flies up into the air, tumbling over itself. It slams into the ground then bounces up into the air again. My hearts stop. Air won't come into my lungs. My stomach is a tight knot of fear. Olivia!

My feet slam into the ground as I run. Each step I jump, leaping into the air and spread my wings to glide further, gaining speed.

I don't wait for my hunters. There's no time. She's on that transport. I have to reach her.

Ahead, the ground explodes and the giant dragon-worm rises into the sky. It's massive, an ancient. Quite possibly thousands of years old to be so large.

It waves back and forth then slams the ground, searching for prey. The transport tumbles over again and the loud crash draws its attention. Its maw opens and it tries to bite. A loud screech echoes across the sands as its teeth slide across the metal of the transport.

"NO!" I scream, waving my spear, trying to distract the monster from my treasure.

I'm hit from behind, tumbling to the ground and rolling over, struggling to break free.

Coming to a stop Melchior is on top of me.

"Get off!" I scream, but he puts a hand over my mouth, forcing my jaw closed.

I swing, punching him in the side of the head. Kicking with my legs and swinging my tail to one side I force him to roll with me to keep his grip. On top I stand and step back. His tail takes me in the legs, sweeping them out from under me. As I fall to the ground, Bashir lands on top, then he and Melchior pin me from either side.

"Let me go!" I scream.

"Ragnar, stop," Bashir says.

"I have to save her," I scream, fighting with all I have.

Almost, I'm almost free. She needs me.

"Wait, she's fine," Bashir says.

Rage fills me and with it comes the gray fog of the bijass. She's mine, nothing will threaten her, nothing will harm her. Not while I draw breath.

They force me to my feet, turning so I can see the transport. The zemlja tries to bite it again, the scraping screech of its teeth echos across the dunes. The transport rocks back and forth then the zemlja lowers down beneath the surface.

The ground trembles, shifting as it digs its way deeper. The hunters hold onto me until the trembling ground stops, leaving silence in its wake. Jerking my arms free, I run for the transport. My long strides and my ability to glide with my wings eats up the ground between me and my goal.

The transport lies on its side, long scrapes gouged into the metal where the zemlja tried to eat it. Leaping, I land on top of the transport in a crouch. It came to a stop with the door facing up. The metal is bent and twisted just enough that I can get a grip on the edge. Inside there are muffled cries for help.

Adrenaline rushes through my body. A euphoric feeling fills me and along with it comes the bijass, stronger than ever. Edicts, I remind myself, holding a line against my primal desire. Sliding my fingertips into the crack, I grip the metal and then pull. Straining, I put all I have into it. A scraping sound rewards my effort but the metal barely budges.

A thump sounds as Melchior lands next to me followed by Bashir. They move in and take what grip they can find. The three of us pull, the metal resists us, but I will beat it. Olivia is in there. Visions of her lying hurt and in pain fill my mind and I hiss with anger, pulling harder.

The metal moves but I lose my grip, stumbling backwards. Spreading my wings I come to a stop on the edge of the transport. Bashir and Melchior reach out, grabbing for me, but I'm able to keep myself from going over the edge. Rage roars in my blood. Nothing will stand between her and I, nothing! Stomping back into place I grab the metal and pull with renewed vigor.

My hunters redouble their efforts. The cold steel bends, slow, an inch at a time. A black hole forms as the steel peels back, creating an opening into the transport.

"OLIVIA!" I yell, the hard sounds strange on my tongue. I've never said her name aloud before.

People cry out, some in pain, some in relief. We pull until there's an opening large enough for a Zmaj to pass through. Looking down into the pale, dirty faces staring into the light, I search for her. When I don't see Olivia the rage rises but no, reason. The edicts, I cannot give in to my primal side.

"Get them out of there," I order, my voice tight as I struggle to contain it.

Bashir drops to the ground, Melchior moves to one side, and I lay flat, reaching in to the dark hole and grabbing the first hand I can. Pulling, another female's dirty face rises into the light. There is a cut on her head and blood is running down her face. She blinks rapidly, saying strange words that make no sense. She is not Olivia so I pass her to Melchior who lowers her to Bashir.

We work as quickly as we can but it takes too long. Each hand I grab, I expect to see Olivia rising from the dark but each time it's someone else. Cursing, I pull them out faster. The males inside are pushing the females out from below, helping them up first, speeding up the process.

"Olivia!" I cry out in overwhelming frustration.

"Ragnar!"

Her voice is sweet water after a long hunt.

She is alive.

A hand grasps mine and I grip, then pull and Olivia's head rises from the dark hole. A joy such as I've never felt fills me. There are cuts on her cheeks and one of her eyes is swelling and turning a dark purple, but she is alive. I pull her straight up, rising with her and taking her in my arms.

She wraps hers around my waist and lays her head against my chest. She talks but words make no difference. She is alive. Nothing else matters. Resting my chin on her head I hold her tight to my body. My cock is raging hard and part of me wants to take her here and now, let all see my claim of this female.

That is the bijass and I know it, so I push back. Letting her go, our fingers trail across each other as Melchior takes her then lowers her to Bashir. I pull the other Zmaj out of the transport until Drosdan is the only one left. He is bigger than any of us, so large he can climb out without my help. He is standing in the light looking up then shakes his head, holding up a hand.

"A moment," he says, then disappears into the dark.

While waiting for him to return, metal scrapes on metal, a clinking noise that moves closer to the sounds of a struggle. A wordless cry filled with anger comes out of the hole then Drosdan appears in the light. My brother is slung over his shoulder, struggling against the chains we bound him with.

When the Zzlo attacked the Valley, my brother was with them, at least his body was. He has regressed into the bijass so deeply that he's little more than a primal animal. I can only imagine what they've done to make him this way. Wild, running on instinct. He fought with the fury of a cornered animal. We captured him when we beat the Zzlo and sent them into retreat but I've not had time to help him.

I'm certain, given time, I can bring him back from the dark fog that covers his mind. He, the brother I love, is still in there behind the rage of the bijass. I will reach him.

Drosdan lifts Ryuth with difficulty. Drosdan is big and muscular, but lifting a full grown, bound and struggling Zmaj over your head is no easy task.

I get a grip on the chains that bind Ryuth and pull. He hisses when he sees me, his eyes are red as are the edges of his scales. Rage has its claws deep. An empty ache pulses in my chest as I lower my brother down to Bashir. By the time I do, Drosdan has pulled himself out of the transport. Our gazes meet and he nods. We don't need to speak, he knows I appreciate his act.

Leaping off the transport, I glide to a landing next to Visidion, the Elders, and Astarot. They're debating our next move. Of course they are, too much talk. That's the problem with all of them. They talk when there is no choice but to act. Shaking my head as I listen, a cold certainty forms in my gut.

I rarely speak at Council, but now I must. "Enough," I say, making a slicing motion with my hand.

"You have something to add?" Visidion asks.

"Yes," I say, looking into the eyes of each male standing close. "This talking is accomplishing nothing. The wounded need tending. We have no transport and no shelter. It's time to gather supplies, tend the wounded, and move."

"Agreed," Astarot says.

Lana walks up beside him, placing her arm around his waist and he puts an arm over her shoulders. Cold, hard jealousy stabs into my heart like a knife. A quick glance and I spot Olivia sitting in the shade of the transport, another female tending to her wounds.

"Ragnar, can you and the hunters form something to carry our supplies?" Visidion asks.

"Yes," I say.

The females have grouped together in the shade of the transport. There is moisture dripping off of them, inefficient and wasteful. None of them look well. They're not adjusted to the heat of Tajss and it's obvious they won't hold up for long.

My choice becomes clear.

"There is epis in your City?" I ask Astarot.

"Yes," he says.

I make my decision. "Bashir, Melchior, get with Arawn and make a travois to carry the supplies. Padraig will pull the most weight without it slowing him. We need to move, go."

They jump to work at my command. Walking after them, a touch slows me. I look down at the small, red tinged hand, then follow it up to meet Lana's eyes.

"The City?" she asks.

I nod and pull away. The wreck of the transport made my choice. I have to get Olivia to shelter and epis. There is no other choice.

Glancing over my shoulder, my hearts skip a beat as she pushes herself off the transport to her feet. She looks over at me and smiles, tentative, unsure, before joining the line that is forming to haul what supplies we can carry.

The suns are hanging low on the horizon by the time we finish. Depending on Lana to translate orders to the females isn't helping speed things up. Lana asks too many questions. My men listen, they do what they're ordered without all the need for asking why.

At last we're ready to move out. Two long sticks with leathers woven between them form a traveling travois. Arawn rigged straps that loop over Padraig's shoulders. Even with dividing the supplies amongst the Zmaj, we're leaving behind a lot but there isn't any other option. Survival will be hard but with luck we'll make it.

"I'm not an animal," Padraig grouses as I walk by.

"I know," I say, stopping to face him.

He glowers. He's tall enough it cranes my neck to look at him. He rolls his shoulders, shakes his head, then huffs.

"Fine," he agrees.

"Move out!" I call.

Bashir takes the lead as instructed. Melchior wanders far off to the left, just keeping our line in sight. They're my eyes and ears, skilled hunters who know the signs of danger giving us the best chance of being prepared for what might come.

The Zmaj men form a loose, protective circle around the females but it doesn't last long. The humans can't move well on the sand. Lana has her strange looking shoes that allow her to move easier, but the rest sink in with every step, struggling for each forward motion. We're traveling at less than a third of the speed I estimated.

I don't have to say a word. The males move in and help the females which speeds things up but is still slower than I want. We can't carry them and the supplies. The best we can do is offer them some help, pulling them out when they sink in too deep to move on their own.

Olivia is having the hardest time. Her luscious curves and full chest cause her to sink deep. Every step is torture on her face. Staying by her side, the line of the others draws further and further ahead. She talks, often, and I wish I knew what she was saying.

I will not leave her side. Olivia's determination is stunning. She's panting, moisture drips off her bright red face, her equally bright red hair is plastered to her head. Yet she still pushes forward.

Stopping, she drinks water from her container, then offers it. Holding up my hand I decline. Water will be our most precious resource on this journey and she needs it far more than I do.

The suns are low on the horizon and dropping fast. Shadows encroach, making it difficult to see the line of the others ahead. They'll be setting up camp soon, we'll catch up then. Olivia looks ahead, shields her eyes, takes several deep breaths then leans in and resumes walking.

As we climb a dune, circumventing a large rock formation, twinkling fire lights dot the landscape ahead. Her arms tremble and she's moving slower, but she's still pushing forward. We're close enough now, I can help more. Shifting the pack on my back I put an arm around her. She looks up at me with wide-eyes and an open mouth, pushing me away but I don't let her stop me.

Swinging my other arm under her waist I sweep her off her feet and into my arms. Spreading my wings I bound across the desert to camp. I wish I could have carried her like this entire way but even my strength has its limits. She wraps her arms around my neck, holding herself close. A soft, tingling sensation crawls across my scales. It's almost enough to make me shiver.

As we enter the camp, the smell of cooking bivo reaches my nostrils and brings a smile. We didn't bring shelters, but I made sure there are blankets for the females. They've set them up in concentric circles around small fires. Olivia pushes against my chest, speaking fast, making me wish yet again that I could understand what she's saying. She struggles so I put her down.

She straightens her clothes while making quick glances around. Her skin is flushed pink even though the suns have dropped below the horizon. I don't understand why she would still be this color. Reaching to touch her face she pulls back.

Anger flashes white hot. I don't understand why she's acting this way.

Edicts, the edicts bring us together.

Closing my eyes, I recite them. I'd never hurt her, no matter how much of me the bijass might claim, but it still reacts to the stabbing pain in my hearts when she withdraws.

She frowns, touches my face, then shakes her head. If only we could speak.

Pointing, I lead the way through the fires towards the one Bashir and Melchior have set up, knowing they will have made a space for me. Bashir grabs one rod holding meat over the fire and pulls several chunks off it, lying them on a piece of oiled cloth. He holds it out as I take my seat.

Olivia sits down next to me and I offer her some. She takes a piece, handling it delicately as she blows on it to cool it. While we eat, Bashir updates me on our progress. We made more headway than I expected after seeing the speed the females could manage, which is good. Olivia chats with the other two women sitting at our circle. She seems happy and they do too. I hope, with some luck, that our journey will remain good for them.

"Did you hear that?" Melchior asks, cocking his head to one side and reaching for the spear at his side.

It's the only warning we have before loud screeches cut through the night. The females scream as one rising, warbling voice that echoes through the night.