Ragnar gestures slightly to the left, keeping the movement slow and small so it doesn't attract attention.

Nodding, I stay low, sliding over and sinking into the sand at the top of the dune.

We have been coming out to the small oasis and staking out the watering hole, waiting for prey to come to us. Our stores are starting to dwindle.

With the closest water being more than a day's travel away, we knew it was only a matter of time before our wait would bear fruit. The bivo herd that just arrived is that fruit. It is not the largest herd I have seen, but the oasis isn't the largest I've seen either. However, it is sizeable enough that we can work on the edges of it.

A small movement flickers on the other side of the herd before it goes still again. Bashir and Melchior are already in position.

Now we wait.

Much of hunting is waiting.

That I knew beforehand.

But working with a group is different from working alone. I have to wait for orders, we have to talk about a plan before anything happens . . . . There is much more preparation.

Fortunately, the time to wait is coming to an end. It does not take long now before Bashir and Melchior move.

A ripple of alarm passes through the herd.

The other two are running though the brush on the other side, deliberately making as much noise as they can, spooking the animals. But they still do not run, only shift restlessly in place.

Something more is obviously needed.

As if on cue, there’s a loud, echoing crack. One of them must have hacked at a tree hard enough for the sharp sound to carry.

That galvanizes the herd. Almost as one, they turn and run from the loud noise, their long fur shifting and swaying as they go from a standstill to a surprisingly fast sprint for such a large animal. The creatures are so large and heavy, I can feel the tremble of their movement through the ground underneath me.

The stampede moves swiftly. We watch as the river of fur streams past us leaving a few bivos behind, marking the ones we will target. They are slower than the rest, not quite able to keep up. Good prey.

I glance over at Ragnar, waiting for his signal . . . 

He makes the gesture.

Bursting up from the alongside him, we slide down the dune, shoving our lochabers into the sand to steer. We flare out our wings and run to intercept the last two bivos, holding our arms out wide and making ourselves look bigger. They rear back, turning to run the other way.

But Bashir and Melchior block the other direction.

They are cornered.

Their urge to run switches over to a decision to fight.

One turns back in our direction, but the other keeps running towards Bashir and Melchior. That is good. If they had attacked in one direction together, it would have made the kill much more difficult.

"Split!" Ragnar orders as the bivo bears down on us, its great shaggy head lowered, sharp tusks pointed menacingly in our direction.

I leap to the right as Ragnar leaps to the left.

I have been learning to hunt with the group, to take orders from the others, because they are more experienced with working together to bring down large prey.

"Neck!"

I pull my lochaber back with both hands, and slice directly at the bivo's neck with the sharp blade, trying to strike a balance between cutting deeply and quickly. I do not want to cut too deep and have the lochaber ripped out of my hands when it keeps running. Ragnar does the same on the other side, his grunt of effort loud as he pulls his lochaber out with a wet ripping sound.

We keep an eye on the bivo as it continues running, blood gushing out of the wounds in its neck on both sides, the scarlet liquid sparkling in the bright sun. Both of our hits were good, deep slices. It cannot run for long. It is losing blood too quickly.

Sure enough, it turns to confront us again rather than continuing to run, its legs already shaky. It take a few steps towards us, bobbing its head. Then it slowly drops to its knees, letting out a low moaning sound, deep and mournful.

Ragnar looks over at me.

I nod.

We move forward towards it of mutual accord. But we are careful as we near, not letting down our guard. A wounded animal is often the most dangerous kind. In pain and angry, they can often surprise you.

I adjust my grip as I step closer, eyeing its large body.

Sure enough, it rushes to its feet as we near, swiping its head to the side as it attempts to gut Ragnar. My brother leaps back, the tusks just barely missing his belly. I move quickly while the bivo's head is still turned away. Bringing my lochaber down in a hard and fast motion, I stab it in the back of its head, cracking straight through the skull with a loud crunch.

It dies instantly.

We step back as it falls over on its side, going limp with a last huff of breath.

I am breathing hard, my heartbeat fast.

Ragnar steps close and claps me on the back.

"Good hunt, Brother."

Brother.

He has not called me brother since I first confessed everything.

I meet his eyes, searching. His are direct. Not warm quite yet. But not cool anymore. There is acceptance in them. Our relationship is improving. The tightness in my chest loosens somewhat. As I work to contribute to the Tribe, as Ragnar helps me learn how to hunt with the group, I can feel him thawing towards me. That, as much as the slow acceptance from the rest of the Tribe, gives me even greater hope for the future.

"Let us see if the others need help," Ragnar says, stepping back from the moment.

But when we look over at Melchior and Bashir, it is to find they too have killed their bivo.

"We will have a good amount of meat for the tribe," I comment as I crouch down to help dress the kill.

That is a relief.

"Yes," Ragnar agrees. "We will preserve what we cannot eat to help us through the times where the hunt is not successful." He looks up at me. "We are careful not to waste anything, including meat."

I nod. It is a smart decision. A smart way to live on Tajss where all resources are precious.

We take our time with the carcasses. When we trek back to the Tribe across the desert, we are well laden with the meat.

I take a deep breath as I see the wall looming in front of us.

As always, my first thought is Mei. Smiling, I continue on slightly faster now that we are within sight. Past the wall, the Tribe greets us with a warm welcome.

"Good hunting!" a few cry out as they see our full bags and know we are successful.

"Tonight we feast!"

I receive a few more slaps on the back from other Zmaj, but the entire time I am searching for one particularly bright head of hair amongst the crowd.

Unmistakable and beautiful.

But I do not see it.

Frowning, I wonder if she is—

"Good job, Ryuth."

The voice is not particularly loud, but it cuts through the crowd, as clear as a bell to my ears, attuned as they are for it.

I turn towards it, smiling as Mei walks up to me.

"I cannot take full credit," I say as I take her in my arms. My treasure. "The strategy they use is good. And it is much swifter and safer to hunt as a group."

"Hmm," she agrees, winding her arms around my neck. "I am certain the others would agree it is even swifter and safer now that you are here to contribute."

"This is true," Ragnar says over his shoulder in passing. "Good hunt, brother."

"Good hunt, brother," I repeat, feeling a warmth of emotion rising up in me at the clear and public acceptance.

"I'm proud of you," Mei murmurs, smiling at me with that look that always manages to make me feel like I belong. Like I have a home. I know even if the Tribe had not accepted me, I would not be cut adrift. I would always have Mei.

"I hope I continue to make you proud of me," I return, my expression turning serious. "My treasure."

Her face softens. "I know you will," she says. "You are a good person, Ryuth."

I shake my head, leaning my forehead against hers. I do not know why she has so much faith in me. But I know I will do everything in my power to ensure I do not jeopardize that faith.

I know the others watch us discreetly, but they give us some space. They know that Mei is mine. And that I am hers.

"You make me better," I say, kissing her lightly. "It is one of the many reasons why I love you."

She grins, the smile quick and bright. I sigh. I love that smile too.

I love everything about her.

"I love you too." She slides her hands down my chest, her eyes turning mischievous. "Perhaps you would like to go back to our cave. So you can tell me all the other reasons why you love me," she says in a low voice.

I feel a stab of heat.

Of course, my desire for her is never far below the surface.

"Are you propositioning me, my treasure?" I tease.

She raises her brows. "Of course."

I love that she does not hide her desire. "Well, then," I murmur, stepping back as I take her hand in mine. "By all means. Let us retire to our cave."

I push through the crowd, tugging Mei along with me.

She giggles. "We don't have to rush!"

I look back at her over my shoulder. "I do not wish to dawdle."

She laughs again, trotting to keep up with my longer stride. Turning, I swing her up in my arms so I can go even faster.

"Ryuth!" she cries out, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"We will go faster if I carry you," I explain. Very reasonable.

She shakes her head, smiling as she tucks her face against my neck. "All right. Sounds good to me."

I move even faster as I marvel at what life has become for me. Free. Accepted by the Tribe. With Mei by my side. My beautiful treasure.

I have more than I ever hoped for, ever could have dreamed of. And it is all because of Mei. Because of her, I fought back from the depths of the bijass. Because of her, I stepped back from my duty, the duty I did not realize was misguided. Because of her, my brother is in now back in my life.

I lower my head to her soft hair and breathe in her familiar scent.

My treasure.

I am a lucky male indeed.

For the first time in decades, I look forward to the future.

I cannot wait to spend the rest of my days with my love by my side.