I watch Olivia for as long as I can see her. Only when she turns a corner and I lose sight of her, do I return my attention to the newcomers.

"The city is mine," Ladon is saying, yet again.

It's like he's on repeat, holding to that single train of thought. He doesn't seem to be in the claws of his bijass, though I can feel its pull.

"We are not challenging that," Visidion says.

"Good, then leave," Ladon says.

"Ladon," the one called Sverre says.

"Ladon, the Tribe is friendly. There's no call to be this way," Astarot says. "They took Lana and I in and welcomed us. How can we do any less?"

"We?" Ladon hisses, turning his attention to Astarot. "I brought you others in but it's still my city. This many Zmaj? No. It's mine. My territory, my city. I will not cede control."

"This is an enormous city, a big territory," the Commander says. "Perhaps we could share?"

"Why would I share what is mine?" Ladon says, stubbornly digging his heels in to his single-minded argument.

"Together we are stronger," Visidion insists.

"So you say," Ladon answers. "Yet I have the City."

"Once, thousands of Zmaj lived here. Worked here. Raised families and died here. What does it gain you to be alone?" our Commander asks.

"Mine. What else matters," Ladon hisses, leaning in aggressively.

Drosdan steps forward, inserting himself between the Commander and Ladon. Our Second in command towers over Ladon and is at least as twice as wide across the chest and shoulders.

Ladon looks up, craning his neck back. His wings unfold and flutter, his tail stands out straight. As fast as lightning striking, his fist shoots out, slamming into Drosdan's face with enough force it reverberates in my bones. Drosdan barely turns his face. One massive hand goes to his jaw, rubs, then he leans back and it's all happening in slow motion. Drosdan brings both his hands down on Ladon's shoulders with crushing force. Ladon bows under the weight, his knees buckling part way but he holds himself upright. An impressive feat of strength. Drosdan hisses, his wings spread wide, his tail standing up. Ladon punches, rapid fire hits into Drosdan's stomach. It's enough to break Drosdan's grip as he stumbles backwards.

Ladon doesn't let up, pushing his advantage as Drosdan falls back.

Drosdan's wings spread as he roars with rage. The people circled around the fight take a step back. Drosdan's bijass is strong, a siren call to all of us to give in to our own primal nature.

Ladon hisses but doesn't slow his advance. Crouching low, he weaves back and forth, closing with Drosdan who stands ready with his arms spread wide. The two circle each other. The smaller Zmaj feints in and out, probing for an opening, but Drosdan moves to block each assault.

Despite his size, Drosdan is quick.

"Ragnar!" the Commander calls. He motions towards the fight and I know what he wants.

A deep, primal part of me says to stay out of it. Let the two of them fight it out. See who wins then establish myself as that one's better.

Closing my eyes I take a deep breath.

No.

The Edicts.

I am myself.

I am not the primal monster inside.

The bijass is a darkness reaching, gripping, trying to pull me down.

I struggle to control it, to remain myself.

Hands tighten into fists, tail shifting, I hiss as the urges rise and fall.

Slipping. I'm slipping.

Olivia.

Her beautiful, perfect face fills my mind's eye. Her smile. Her soft touch.

The rage recedes.

I am myself.

Opening my eyes once more. I look anew. Together we are stronger. The Commander is right, this has to stop.

Ladon and Drosdan circle. Ladon tenses, he's about to attack.

Leaping into the air I spread my wings and glide to land between the two males. "Enough!" I yell, standing with a hand facing each.

Both of them hiss and for an instant I'm the focus of their primal rage.

The moment stretches, walking a razor's edge, will they attack me or control themselves?

No matter, I draw strength from Olivia.

"Think of your child," I say, looking at Ladon.

His hands drop as my words cut through the bijass and reach to the male beyond the primal urges.

Drosdan steps forward, hissing, and I turn.

"Move," Drosdan insists.

"No," I say, standing my ground as I stare into the larger male's eyes.

"Kill him," Drosdan says, his primal rage limiting his vocabulary.

"No," I say. "Together we are stronger."

Drosdan frowns, something flickers in his eyes. Placing a hand on his chest, I wait for him to calm. He looks down, staring at my hand, then back up to meet my eyes. One massive fist rises, cocking back, and I'm sure he's about to hit me. If he does, I don't know that I can maintain myself. Everything rides on Drosdan gaining control of his bijass.

"I am myself," Drosdan says, dropping his arm to his side.

"Survival of the group matters," Drosdan and I say as one.

Drosdan nods, taking my forearm and I grasp his, then the Second returns to stand behind the Commander.

Turning back to Ladon I hold my arm out.

Ladon stares at it then at me. No one speaks, the crowd around us waiting with bated breath.

Ladon takes my offer, we clasp forearm to forearm. The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief.

Sverre moves up to stand beside Ladon.

"As I was saying," the Commander says, taking up his conversation as if nothing happened. "Once thousands of Zmaj lived here. Can we not work out an agreement to share some of your space?"

Ladon's jaw tightens. Sverre watches closely as do I. The claim to the city is his, he'll have final say in any negotiation unless we want to take it from him. That is not a path the Commander will walk.

"I will consider this," Ladon says.

"That is all we can ask," the Commander says. "Would you join us for water?"

My stomach tenses waiting for his answer. The tension in the air rises because what he says next will decide the future and everyone close knows it.

"Yes," Ladon says, after a quick glance over his shoulder at Sverre.

The Commander smiles then motions with his staff. Someone offers two skins. Visidion and Ladon each take one.

"Water," the Commander says, holding his towards Ladon.

"Water," Ladon agrees.

They each take a drink then hand the skins back.

"There is much to discuss," the Commander says. "Perhaps we can sit with the Council of Elders?"

"You have a Council of Elders?" Sverre asks.

"We do," the Commander says. "Led by my father, Kalessin."

Sverre does a double-take. "Kalessin?"

"Yes," Visidion says.

I'm losing interest in the conversation. My thoughts are turning to my brother, Ryuth. I haven't looked in on him. Did they get him through the storm okay?

Ryuth, I thought he was dead for years. When the pirates attacked the Tribe in our valley, they used him as a berserker to lead their assault. We subdued him but he has given himself over to his bijass. I need time to work with him, to coax him back to sanity.

"I see," Sverre says, obviously saying less than he means.

"I will sit with them," Ladon says. "The humans have a Council too, but the final decision about the City remains mine."

"Of course," the Commander agrees. "We must decide how we can best work together. Together we are stronger."

"I've heard your people say that often," Ladon says. "What does this mean?"

"The Edicts, as laid down by my Father," the Commander says. "It was his vision of what would come that led him into the wilds. The Edicts keep us strong, bring us together, allow us to work together."

"That is how there are so many of you?" Ladon asks, motioning towards the tents.

"Yes," the Commander answers. "It is how we work together."

Ladon shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak when something happens.

There is a loud crash then a harsh, buzzing noise.

Turning towards the sound, sparks are flying behind the dome. A human male is dancing and screaming, his clothes smoking as he bounds from foot to foot.

A small group of males, those who lined the inside of the dome with their sticks, rush towards him. One of them tackles the man and rolls across the ground with him.

Another group comes rushing from somewhere deeper in the city.

"No," Sverre yells.

Sverre and Ladon run towards the dome. I run with them. I'm not sure what just happened but the sick pit that forms in my stomach tells me it's not good.

The human males inside stand in a group. The two that were rolling on the ground stand up. The one whose clothing was smoking pats at burnt holes that still have drifts of smoke curling off them. One of them steps forward and points at us Zmaj gathered by the airlock door. He has a malicious grin on his face.