An argument has already started by the time I get back to the others.

"I know he is your brother, Ragnar. I understand that. I understand how difficult this must be for you."

"I do not think you can understand."

A small silence.

"Perhaps not," Bashir concedes. "But the fact remains. Ryuth is dangerous. He’s a danger to us and to himself when he throws his fits. And he doesn't seem to be improving at all!"

I walk faster.

"There has been some progress—" Ragnar starts, his voice measured.

"Not enough!" Bashir says. "He attacked as soon as he saw me just now! I waited until I heard Mei leave his cell because I was afraid he might attack her next! You cannot deny it—this situation cannot be tolerated.”

My stomach sinks as I enter the main meeting area in one of the large caves. A group has gathered around Ragnar and Bashir as they discuss the issue of Ryuth. Or, I should say, argue about it. I scan the familiar faces watching the back-and-forth. Almost everyone is here. Astrid, Delilah, and Penelope are standing together, whispering to each other, their faces concerned. My name floats to my ear on a breath of air. Not a surprise considering the topic of discussion.

The Zmaj elders Kalessin and Falkosh stand together with Ormarr, the healer, off to the side. Arawn stands grim-faced next to Melchior and Bashir. Errol and Samil are next to them, with the enormous smith, Padraig. Nobody has interjected yet, but that probably won't last.

I move forward to stand next to Astrid.

She glances over at me, her eyebrows knit together with worry. "Are you okay? We just heard that Ryuth attacked."

"Yeah," I murmur, my eyes on the two arguing Zmaj, just like everyone else. "He calmed down right after Bashir left. There was never any danger of him hurting me."

They don't have to know that I was afraid. Especially not right now, when the tone of this whole thing isn't heading in the direction I want at all.

Oh, Ryuth.

This was so the wrong move.

Astrid nods, turning her attention back to the pair.

"He has not yet attacked Mei, even after she has spent countless hours working with him. She is in no danger," Ragnar says, though I can hear the slight hesitation in his voice.

If I can hear it so can everyone else.

"You cannot guarantee that he will not hurt someone," Bashir continues, not mollified. "And you did not see how quickly he turned from calm to ravening beast!"

Ravening beast? That's a little dramatic. With that kind of wording, this can't be going anywhere good for Ryuth. I can't just let Bashir run roughshod over Ragnar like this. He picked a time to bring this up when Ragnar was already weighed down by thoughts about Ryuth's lack of progress.

I have to bolster his confidence about his brother. I have to stand up for Ryuth.

I step forward

Everyone's attention immediately turns to me. Not the most comfortable feeling. The weight of their stares crawls over my skin and I steel myself, drawing myself up to my full height. Not as tall as Astrid, but it's the best I got.

"Ryuth has never once hurt me," I start, making sure my voice carries to everyone watching. I scan the faces around me, making eye contact. "Yes, there is an issue with safety, for Ryuth and for everyone else. There is no denying that truth. But that is why he's being kept separated, in a cell, where he won't be able to hurt anyone else. If he's locked away, the only person he's a danger to is himself."

I hear some murmurs from the crowd, acknowledging that point.

Bashir shakes his head, turning to face everyone, his arms spread wide in appeal.

"I appreciate that Mei cares for Ryuth." He glances at me. "In all honesty, I applaud it. If only we all had a female who would protect us so passionately." He turns away again. "But the truth is, Ryuth is not a functioning part of the Tribe. Even setting aside the danger that he poses to us, nobody can deny that he is a drain on our resources. Resources that are already spread thin. He takes our food and water; he contributes nothing."

There's a louder murmur of agreement from those gathered.

This isn't looking good at all. It's all about survival out here, and we depend on each other for it. If anyone else wasn't contributing . . .

"Bashir is right," Melchior says, stepping forward. "We, the hunters, work hard to bring meat back for everyone. As a physically healthy Zmaj, Ryuth eats a fair portion of it, making us work harder so we have enough food. Making us risk life and limb more often."

I don't have an argument for that. I bite my lip.

"There is no doubt that he is a drain on the Tribe," Kalessin agrees, his face grave. "That is clear."

Screw this. I need to say something!

"But there is still hope!" I interject, feeling desperation rising. "He is calm when I am with him or when Ragnar is with him. And he reached a level of clarity today when I sang to him that I haven't seen before! We can't just give up on him!"

Bashir snorts. "I saw no clarity when he was attacking me like a raving lunatic," he argues. "He has been here long enough already. If he was not irrevocably lost to the bijass, he wouldn't still be behaving like this."

There is no denying that Ryuth is suffering from the bijass, what the Zmaj call the state of regression they've been experiencing. After their civilization was devastated by the Epis Wars with invading alien races, the few remaining survivors descended into their hindbrain selves in order to survive. The neurological changes that occurred pushed the Zmaj closer to their primal instincts, covering their memories in a haze, sparking their territorial tendencies, and igniting their drive for what they call treasures.

"Ryuth's case is one of the worst I've seen," Padraig agrees. "He cannot communicate at all."

"Yes," Ragnar chimes in, his voice ragged. Everyone quiets, paying respect to the anguish in his tone. "The bijass has hit my poor brother especially hard. I do not know what manner of torture the Zzlo inflicted upon him . . . but it has left him marked."

"That doesn't mean we should give up," I insist, touching Ragnar's arm. "He needs us more than ever." He looks over at me, his eyes sad. "Are we going to abandon Ryuth when he is in need?" I look around at the others. "Isn't the Tribe supposed to care for all of us? Do we want to be the kind of people that would abandon one of our own because it’s difficult?"

"The Tribe is strong when we can all work together to create a whole. If there is a weakness, a rotten piece, it makes the rest of us weaker. And that endangers us all." Bashir shakes his head. "We cannot continue to shelter someone so lost," he continues, his eyes not lacking compassion as they meet mine. "It is not fair to Ryuth either, to be kept locked in a cage, like a criminal who does not deserve his freedom. Not when he can survive out there on his own. It is not right. It is cruel."

He's greeted with another round of agreement for that.

I don’t like that we must keep Ryuth in a cell either. It does feel wrong.

"What would you have me do?" Ragnar asks, his jaw tight as he looks at Bashir. "And keep in mind that we are speaking of my brother, blood of my blood," he adds in a warning tone. "Do not overstep."

Bashir nods. "I understand." Again he turns to address everyone. "I think Ryuth should be set free to live out his days as he so desires. Free of his cage." He turns to look at me and Ragnar at this point before looking away again. "And away from where we are, for our safety." He looks at Ragnar again. "Think of Olivia, Ragnar," he pleads. "Think of your child that shall soon be in your arms, out of your female's belly. Do you think it fair and good to take from your baby to give to your lost brother?"

He pauses to let that sink in. What a fine bit of emotional manipulation!

Bashir continues. "And what if Ryuth finds his way free? Are you certain the children will be safe? Or could they be part of a senseless and avoidable tragedy?"

A heavy silence reigns now over the crowd.

This is clearly not a decision anyone wants to make, but I can also see that this idea has been floating around. Yes, Bashir brought it up this time. But surprise isn't the prevalent emotion here. Some of the others have been talking about this already.

I glance at the grim faces.

Nobody will meet my eyes.

I look back at Ragnar, a knot in my throat. Will he do this? Will he exile his brother? Give in to the pressure from the Tribe?

Bashir makes some excellent points, even though I don’t agree with him.

No others here have any kind of relationship with Ryuth, only Ragnar and me. They have no emotional ties to one they see only as a crazed Zmaj. That makes this kind of decision easier—for them.

Ragnar makes a sharp, cutting motion with his arm, his face hard. "Enough, Bashir," he says in a grim tone. "I will agree to consider it. That is the end of this topic for now."

I let out a relieved breath, but my stomach drops. It feels only like a temporary reprieve. This problem isn't going anywhere. If Ryuth doesn't make clear improvements soon, the Tribe will push to have him released.

To fend for himself out in that harsh desert.

Alone. He doesn't do well alone, no matter what Bashir may think.

I turn away from the crowd, my throat tight. I have to help him. Faster. He can't be kicked out.

I don't know if his mind will survive.