Sarah coughs, holding her side and grimacing.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Fine,” she says between coughs. “It’s fine.”

She’s lying to me. I feel it deep inside. She’s hurt, badly.

“Can we take a break?” one of the other humans asks.

“No,” I say, feeling no compassion. “We need to move faster.”

“They can’t keep up this pace,” Sarah says.

“We don’t have a choice,” I say. “If we stay out here, we’re at risk. This many people traveling is going to attract a zemlja. We need to get off the loose sand. The hard-packed sand close to the village means the zemlja aren’t traveling there. Every moment we’re out here our risk increases.”

“I know,” she sighs, shaking her head.

“So no breaks, not now,” I say.

The survivors of Gershom’s camp are strung out in a long line of stragglers. The food I brought them bolstered their strength but they’re still weak. Weeks of minimum rations have taken a toll on them. It doesn’t help that none of them are taking epis. Their bodies haven’t adjusted. Of course if they had been, they’d probably be dead too, like Gershom.

“Why are you smiling?” Sarah asks.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” I say, feeling the grin on my face get wider.

“Uh-huh,” she says, staring at me.

“It’s justice,” I say, unable to resist her gaze.

“What is?” she asks, wrapping her arms around her chest, pain in her eyes.

“Gershom,” I answer. “He got what he had coming.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Well, his influence is still being felt. Alive or dead, he changed the path of humanity forever.”

The thrill disappears at her words. She’s right. If not for him, these humans would be returning to the City. If not for him, it’s doubtful they would have left in the first place.

“If we keep pushing, we’ll make it by the end of the day,” I say.

“Good,” Sarah says, coughing.

Her cough sounds wet, rattling. She glances at the hand she covered her mouth with, then drops it to her side quickly, too quickly.

“How bad is it?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she says, wheezing.

My hearts increase, pounding in my chest. She needs to go back to the City. She needs help.

“They can make it the rest of the way on their own, let me take you to the City,” I insist.

“We can’t leave them,” she says.

She’s breathing shallowly. My scales itch, and a cold ball forms in my stomach. An urge to pick her up and run with her comes, and it takes all I’ve got to resist it. Gritting my teeth, I force my tail back down.

“Fine,” I hiss, anger pounding.

“I know you’re pissed,” she says. “But we have to save them.”

She’s right. I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make this any easier. She is my treasure. The rest of them don’t matter. Only she does.

Sarah coughs and makes a painful sound. My chest constricts and my hearts stop beating. This can’t go on. I turn to her. Her eyes widen as I bend my knees.

“Drosdan… no,” she protests, but I ignore her words and sweep her off her feet. “Put me down, I can walk.”

“Of course you can, my love,” I agree without complying.

She’s stiff in my arms, resisting.

“Drosdan, I can walk. They all need help, I’m not going to be a giant weenie in front of all of them,” she argues. “You’re making me look weak.”

“I don’t agree,” I say.

“Of course you don’t,” she says, slapping a hand against my chest. “You’re big and strong, showing off all your… muscles.”

“You’re hurt. They’re not,” I say reasonably. “Besides, they could have their own Zmaj if they weren’t all a bunch of jerks,” I say.

Sarah snorts, laughs, then whimpers in pain.

“Don’t make me laugh,” she says, wiping moisture from her eyes as she relaxes in my arms at last.

“Sorry,” I smile.

She rests her head against my chest, and before we’ve gone far, she’s asleep. I listen to her breath, bringing up the rear and making sure that the stragglers don’t get left behind. Each breath she takes wheezes, and her breath catches often. She has to be okay. She will be fine. I’ll get her to the City, to a doctor, and they’ll fix her. I keep pushing. We have to get there.

“Keep moving,” I hiss at the stragglers.

They’re too slow. Sarah’s breathing seems to be shallower than it was. Every part of me wants to turn and run for the City. Leave these humans to fend for themselves. They made their choices, stupid as they were.

Drosdan, we have to save them. I hear her voice in my head.

The male I hissed at looks over his shoulder, eyes wide, face pale, and he straightens, moving faster. He’s scared and that’s good enough for me, if that’s what it takes to keep him moving.

Fear teaches nothing, her voice whispers. It’s real enough. I look down to see if she’s awake. A whimper slips past her lips, and my hearts skip as cold fear washes through my limbs.

She has to be okay. Has to be. I can’t face a world without her in it. While she consumes most of my attention, I can’t help but notice the humans surreptitiously glancing at me. They’re scared, sick, and no matter what, I think they are struggling. Struggling to survive, to understand, to come to terms with the world around them. Their fear is palpable, washing over me, amplifying the cold chills, pulsing through me. Of course they’re scared. They followed a madman into the desert out of fear. Now they’re being herded by one of the aliens they were trying to escape.

They’re starving, exhausted, and without hope. Sarah stirs in my arms, whimpering as she moves, her breath hitching then evening out. Her face is pale and her lips have a blue tinge to them. My only hope is to get her back to the City. One hope, same as these humans I’m pushing towards the village Sarah and I found. One hope, hanging on by a thread. No matter if I hate it, I have to admit I’m scared.

A full grown zemlja, a rampaging herd of bivo, toe to toe with a guster, a threat I can face. Something I can hit. Anything but this. It feels like I’m spinning inside my own head as blackness swirls out of the gray fog of the bijass. Hopeless, no chance. I can’t help her. Like them. A thin female with red-blond hair glances back, her lips a tight-hard line, eyes on Sarah. When she sees me looking at her she looks quickly away. Another tall male walks next to her, putting an arm around her when she stumbles, aiding her to stay upright.

“All of you!” I yell to be heard.

The humans stop in place turning toward me. A loose, rag-tag group of survivors that I haven’t bothered to get a count of. It didn’t matter as I was only doing this for Sarah. They gather together in a huddle, the males positioning the females behind them as if trying to protect them. From me. This is what they see. Fear.

Can I blame them? What cause have I given them to feel anything else? To expect anything but violence from me. Sarah stirs in my arms and her eyes flutter open. She meets my eyes, and a smile plays across her lips. She sighs, wincing as she inhales. She touches my face weakly, then her arm drops, and her eyes drift closed again. My stomach lurches and bile rises in my throat. The humans stare, silent, I can barely hear their breathing. The males shift from foot to foot, some of them holding makeshift weapons, trying to be ready for anything.

Looking at them, I don’t have words. Words are Visidion’s or Ragnar’s, even. I’ve never been good with them. Sarah is good with them. None of them are here. I’m on my own. I have to make them understand. I have to get past their fear.

“We’re not fast enough,” I say.

“What?” the tall male who was helping the red-blond female exclaims, his voice rising and cracking. “We’re doing all we can.”

“No, we have to—”

“What in the hell do you expect of us?” he cuts me off, stepping ahead of the group.

He has a metal staff in his hand. It’s thin and anything but dangerous, but judging by the way he grips it and holds it in front of himself, it must make him feel better.

“I understand but we have to—”

“Have to what?” he cuts me off again. My anger flashes, white-hot. “We’re doing all we can. We’re following your lead, towards what? How do we know you aren’t leading us to our deaths?”

“I’m trying to save you,” I hiss, struggling to contain my rage.

“Did you hurt Sarah? What’s wrong with her?” he spits the words.

“Jackson—” the red-blond says, but not before I move.

Grabbing him by his shirt, I lift him one-handed into the air, holding Sarah in my other arm. The staff drops from his hand and clatters on the hard-packed sand. When I lower him to where his face is inches from mine, I can smell his sweat and fear. His mouth moves, but no sound comes out. The other humans gasp, accented by screams.

“Shut. Up,” I hiss. “Listen.”

After pushing him up into the air in a display of strength, I set him on his feet. I shift Sarah back into both of my arms before continuing.

“I know you’re scared,” I say to the group. “Sarah is hurt, but she won’t let me take her to the City until you’re safe. We have to work together, move faster. Males, each one of you, pair with a female. We’re past the dunes and loose sand. We can reach our destination before the suns set.”

They look at each other, silent, as if my words make no sense. I’ve worked hard to learn their language, did I use it wrong? The one who threatened me turns and faces them.

“He’s right,” he says. “We’ve come this far, so let’s finish this.”

He looks over his shoulder and I nod my head, encouraging him. The humans mutter, a swell of sound, then they begin nodding. The males pair off with females, and for the first time they move in something resembling a coordinated group. Sarah stirs, and looking down, she smiles.

“Good job,” she says, her voice a soft whisper. She touches my cheek then her hand falls back. “Save them, please.”

Pain stabs into my chest as her eyes close and a heavy sigh slips past her lips. The male who stood up to me watches the red-blond female next to him from a few feet away.

“Move,” I hiss, voice hoarse as the sound travels out of my tight throat.

The male nods and turns to go, but the female moves towards me and he stops, watching her. She puts her hand on Sarah’s face, wiping away beads of moisture.

“She has a fever,” the female says, looking up at me.

“A… fever?” I ask, uncertain of the word or what it means.

She nods, frowning deeply.

“Jackson, she needs a doctor. A real one. He should take her to the City, now.”

The male walks over.

“Tell me how we reach our goal,” he says. “Can I get us there without your help?”

He meets my gaze with his jaw set and cold, hard determination in his eyes. Tajss is dangerous, always, but more so for these soft humans. I shouldn’t leave them. Sarah wouldn’t want me to. What if they run into guster? We’re deep into the hard-packed sand, so a zemlja isn’t likely. If zemlja traveled through here, the sand would be soft and rolling as it is across most of Tajss. I don’t remember why this is, but I know there are areas, such as this, that they don’t travel. There’s something to that I feel like I should remember, but it’s lost in the fog of the bijass.

“I doubt it,” I say.

The female looks up from Sarah staring into my eyes then looking at Jackson.

“We have to,” she says.

“Right,” he says, his shoulders slumping he drops his head to stare at the ground. He inhales a long, deep breath then straightens himself and meets my gaze.

“Sarah is a good girl,” he says. “And apparently she sees something in you. What, I don’t know, but that’s not my problem. We owe her this. Tell me how to get to our destination without you.”

Staring into Jackson’s eyes I see determination and a resolve of steel. Beyond him, the rest of the humans huddle watching. My commitment to Sarah’s desire wars with my need to save her. She is my treasure, making the war decidedly one-sided. I put a hand on his shoulder, and he flinches but doesn’t pull back.

“Keep Estejan above your shoulder, like this,” I say, turning him until he’s positioned facing where I know he would intercept the village.

“Estejan?” he asks, confusion on his face.

“The primary sun, that one,” I explain, pointing it out for him. “Keep it just over your shoulder. Like this, here.”

“What about when it goes down?” he asks.

“You’re in trouble,” I say.

Biting his lip, he nods. “Okay, don’t let that happen then.”

“Right, you have to reach the village first. If you hold a steady pace, you’ll make it fine.”

“If we don’t get eaten by some random-ass monster,” he says.

“There is always that,” I agree.

He looks at the female who is watching him with what I can only define as admiration. Their eyes meet, and I feel the spark between them. He’s doing this for her. He wants her to be his treasure. I squeeze his shoulder once and pat his back.

“Right,” he says. “We should go and so should you.”

“You can do this,” I tell him, something in the way I see him changing.

He’s not weak or stupid as I had assumed. In him, there is a leader waiting to be born. He goes and stands next to the female. When he turns around, a half-smile plays across his face.

“Hey,” he says. “Anything happens to her, I’ll kick your ass.”

My tail straightens at his threat, but then I realize he’s not serious. I’ve seen the other humans doing this, putting up a front of bravery when scared or uncertain. Letting my tail back down to the sand, I nod in respect to him and spin on my heel, shifting Sarah in my arms as I do.

“Run,” the female says. “Run, Forrest, run!”

I have no idea what her words mean as a whole, but the command to run is exactly what I do.