Ryuth runs for a long time, his body seeming untiring. I’ve fallen asleep against his chest more times than I can count, long since giving up on struggling. He controls me simply by tightening his arms, his eyes on the sand ahead of him as he flares his wings and glides across sand that I would have had to fight my way through, sinking in at every step.

I still can't believe what's happening.

I’ve been kidnapped.

Ryuth kidnapped me.

I still can't wrap my head fully around that reality. I thought I was safe with him. Safe in that cell where he always looked so calm when I was the only one there. I grew too complacent around him, started thinking of him as safer than he is.

Yes, I worried that he might try to escape. That was why we were all very careful to keep the gate locked, even when we were in the cell with him. Even when I was alone with him, I made sure to keep it locked.

I had no idea he could move that fast. Or that he was thinking clearly enough to pull off such a deceptive and obviously thought-out move. I never thought he would take me with him if he did decide to make an escape attempt! No one would have even guessed that he’d be able to actually leave the Tribe's place without the others stopping him.

I thought the ramp was the only way out. The narrow path is easily defensible, one of the reasons it’s the only way up to the caves we live in. I completely disregarded Ryuth's wings, only ever having seen them used to glide over sand as he's doing now, or for extra lift when jumping, especially during a fight or a hunt.

How stupid am I?

Even more idiotic? I’m glad that Ryuth wasn’t hurt in his escape.

Glad my kidnapper didn't get hurt!

Maybe I’m as damaged as he is.

I sigh, feeling completely at a loss. I'm thirsty, hot, and hungry. We're moving farther and farther away from the Tribe and safety. And even though I'm being carried, I'm still tired. I don't know how Ryuth's still going, his body moving smoothly, like a machine that could go on forever.

I'm starting to wonder if he's just going to run us aimlessly across the desert of Tajss for days.

The blazing suns beat down on the red earth and on us, glittering savagely off the hot sand. I am not built to be out in the desert for this long. I don't know how the Vulcans ever expected anyone to live long and prosper if this was the kind of world they came from.

Die fast and wither seems like it would be more accurate.

I am really not feeling great. My skin feels hot and my stomach is kind of queasy. At least Ryuth is cool against me, his lower temperature combating some of the heat.

He pumps his legs, running up another dune, like the countless others we've already traversed. I expect to see the same. Another expanse of rolling, striated sand.

But I'm wrong. As we crest it, something I don't expect comes into view.

Color.

Color that isn't just red or white.

I see green.

Green, dotted with reds and purples, a crisp contrast against the wavy rich red of the sand everywhere else.

An oasis!

He's been heading for an oasis this whole time! And it isn't just any oasis—I've seen a few in my time so far on Tajss. No, this one is large, maybe three or four times the size of the one close to the caves.

Oases are rare. The desert climate here means that sand and rock are the prevalent view everywhere you look, something that was true even before the Devastation, when an inter-world war set the Zmaj back to basically cave-men. An oasis this size must be almost unheard-of.

I stare, my eyes straining as I try to make out details.

As we draw nearer, I see signs of structures past the thick trunks of trees that tower above us, their short umbrella of leaves at the tops providing some shade. Thick foliage nearer the ground fills in the gaps between them.

There’s an odd rushing sound and I frown, scanning for the source of the noise. I freeze as sunlight sparkles from . . .

. . . A waterfall?

I blink, wondering if it will disappear.

Am I hallucinating?

But then I see another.

And another.

Big, beautiful streams of sparkling water falling from lush green cliffs into pools that must be below, but I can't see them—mist obscures some of the view. I’ve never seen anything like this in my whole life, and it’s so damn beautiful I can barely breathe. No wonder this oasis is so big. Look at how much water is here!

Penelope would blow a gasket if she could see this.

"What is this place?" I murmur, not expecting an answer from my erstwhile guide. And I don't get one.

He hasn't spoken the whole time, not even any growls or grunts. Or humming, which would have been nicer than silence. Or the sound of my own voice, which I used nonstop until I felt myself getting a little hoarse. None of my pleas to turn around or let me go changed anything.

He still doesn’t understand what I was saying. I might as well be speaking gibberish.

At least now I know we have a real destination and aren't going to run until Ryuth can't run anymore.

I stare in quiet awe as we reach the edge of the green patch, where sand gives way to large, waxy leaves and huge flower-like plants that could probably eat me. I've learned almost everything in this place is deadly, just biding its time to kill any unsuspecting living thing that happens to wander by. I'm still not used to even rooted life being able to attack.

Ryuth finally slows, his eyes alert as he scans the area, moving carefully now.

I keep quiet too.

Water attracts more than just killer plants. There's a whole host of animals that could be here, lying in wait. None of them the friendly kind. I have yet to see the Tajss equivalent of a kitten or koala. I don't think cute, cuddly things can survive here.

As Ryuth continues to walk forward, through leaves and branches, we finally reach a true break in the vegetation.

I can't hold back a gasp as what was hinted at from farther away becomes clear. A massive, interconnected compound greets us. Maybe a ruin of a once-grand grouping of structures.

I suddenly feel like I should be wearing a fedora and carrying a whip, Indiana Jones style.

The cream-colored stone that makes up the place is only rubble in a couple of corners and areas, though there are a few sections that are still intact, reaching up maybe four or five stories high. The stone itself is carved with intricate designs, though they look somewhat worn away and hard to see due to time and the elements wearing them down.

Just like they do to all of us.

Ryuth picks through some of the rubble and we push into what must have once been a courtyard. We're surrounded by the structure—or remains of the structure—on all sides, with no roof above us, suggesting it was probably an outdoor area.

In the center, there's a stone piece that might have been a fountain, judging by the round shape and the mostly intact ledge, though there are multiple cracks in it, both large and hairline. The cracks are everywhere in the stone along with broken pieces.

There’s a pedestal in the middle of the fountain with the remains of a statue, with legs and perhaps a tail. The last flecks of paint are still chipping away, vibrant shades of blue from what I can see. In fact, the whole courtyard is littered with chunks of stone, some upright, some lying in pieces on the ground where grasses are growing wild through broken paving. Tilted and leaning on another rock is what must have been a sculpture of a Zmaj hunter, his arm broken off so I don't know what weapon he was originally holding. His stance just hints at a ferocious burst of power.

Ryuth finally sets me down as we reach one of the still-intact archways inset with rough mosaic tile that glitters. I wonder how much more color this place had when it was first built. It must have been even more eye-catching. I smooth my hand over the tile as I follow Ryuth into the dimmer interior.

I need to keep close. There's nowhere safer than with him.

No way can I run all the way back. Even if I wasn't exhausted and feeling ill from the time spent out in the direct heat, I have no illusions about my ability to survive alone out in the desert.

I'm starting to wonder why we don't just move everyone here, Zmaj and humans alike. There's already plenty of water from what I can see, and this structure looks like it can be salvaged with some care. Parts of it are almost fully intact.

Inside, there's more rubble, lit by streams of sunlight floating in through windows and holes in the ceiling. There are alcoves and niches, frames holding the remains of paintings, though nothing is truly discernible. The humidity here and the fact that everything has been open to the elements for who knows how long has really done a number on the interior.

There are more parts of sculptures or statues, though they’re in better shape because of the protection the walls and roof give. I still can't tell what most of them are, but the vibrant paint is more intact.

The Zmaj who built this place seemed to have favored brighter colors. Yellows, greens, blues, purples. Not a whole lot of red. Maybe they thought there was enough of that color in their lives, which I can totally understand. I'm pretty sick of the color at this point myself, even though the landscape definitely has an eerie, harsh beauty to it. Being surrounded by it all the time does make one lose sight of that.

The floor, what parts are left, is made of smooth tile. The turquoise hue of it is threaded through with bits of gleaming gold and veins of white. It's gorgeous. I really wish I could have seen this place in its heyday.

We step into an even brighter, round room with carved pillars surrounding it. Worn benches are grouped in the center, facing the curved wall beyond the pillars. I don't see anything on the walls apart from faded paint that I can't quite make out. Other than that, there isn't as much destroyed in this room. Maybe because there wasn’t much in it to begin with.

Above us is a glass dome that’s somehow still mostly intact, with sunlight streaming in.

This place . . .

It must have been something like a museum, or at least a place people came to see. I wonder what happened. I'm in awe even at just the ruins of it. There's something so sad about all this waste. About the senseless loss of it all.

"What are we doing here, Ryuth?" I ask, turning to him.

He rises up from a crouched position, something in his hand. My eyes zero in on it and I swallow. Some kind of leather-like bag, stitched with bright colors for decoration.

And a lochaber.

A long, spear-like weapon with a two-foot curving blade. This one is fancier than the ones I've seen, the handle made of something cream colored with intricate designs carved into it. Now that I see it, I realize there are more such weapons on the ground in this section of the place. Maybe they had a display of them here?

I look back at the lochaber in Ryuth's grip. He watches me as my eyes go from it to his face. I swallow, pushing past the surge of fear.

I'm smaller and more vulnerable.

And now he's armed.

Practically, it doesn't really make much of a difference if he's armed or not. He could easily overpower me with his size and bulk. Seeing a bladed weapon in his hand is still disturbing.

"Why did you bring me?" I shake my head, spreading my arms out. "Is everyone right? Are you lost to the bijass? Was I an idiot to think otherwise?"

He doesn't say anything, watching me with steady eyes.

I sigh. "You have to try, Ryuth," I say, dropping my arms in defeat. "Try to remember the man you used to be. The things you used to care about." He frowns at me slightly. "Would the real you have kidnapped a woman? Hurt your own brother?"

He doesn't answer. I'm not really expecting him to. Instead, he simply starts walking to a doorway. It's opposite the one that goes to the courtyard, so it must lead outside the compound.

I don't know if I'm getting through to him at all. Frustration gnaws at me. And fear that everyone else may have been right seeps in as I follow. Am I trapped here with an animal, someone who's completely given into his base urges?

Were they right?

Was Bashir right?

Is Ryuth too dangerous to be around?

Does it even matter at this point? Being with him is still safer than being out there alone. The thoughts skitter across the surface of my mind as I follow his strong back. We walk through the lush plants and grasses, through the trees. Ryuth seems to know where he's going. At least the general direction anyway.

We don't walk far before he holds up an open-palmed hand, urging me to stop. I stop, and then I realize—he’s just given me a meaningful communication with that hand gesture! A gesture that’s almost as good as a word. I wonder why he wants us to stop. But when I look past him, there’s an open area. He's led us to the edge of the tree line.

We're still a few yards away from the clearing ahead, hidden in the shadows. Just yards into that open space, there's a large pool of water. My eyes snag on it.

I'm so thirsty.

Then I see movement and my eyes move to track it. It's a large herd of bivo. My stomach growls a complaint. I'm running on empty on all fronts.

I freeze, not wanting to spook them. They're dangerous, to say the least, though their meat is good to eat. Large, hairy, buffalo-like creatures, so massive they look like cars from the old movies I used to watch on the ship. They have large tusks they use to fight. Not creatures that should be approached lightly.

Ryuth looks back at me and makes another insistent staying motion with his hands, his eyes intense as he tries to communicate.

Realization dawns.

This was why he picked up the weapon. He's trying to hunt! And how lost can he really be if he's thinking this clearly? I count all the indications that he's thinking beyond a primal state. He aimed for an oasis because he knows we need water and it's a good place to find animals. And now he's trying to hunt food for us. He has a plan for our survival. My anxiety softens at the realization so I nod.

"I'll stay here," I whisper, knowing he can't understand. But I keep hoping one of these times he will.

I point down at the ground to ensure he understands me. And maybe he does.

He doesn't acknowledge my gesture, but he turns back around and crouches to make himself less conspicuous.

Slowly, stealthily, he makes his way over to the edge of the herd.

I can see the prey he's locked on from here. A bivo that is somewhat smaller than the rest, set a little apart. When it walks a bit farther away from the herd, it limps slightly. There's something wrong with its back leg. That doesn't mean it isn't dangerous, but an advantage like that is still good.

I swallow, my heart beating faster as I take in the very real danger Ryuth is in.

This area near the water isn't hilly with dunes. There's nowhere for him to bury himself, to hide and wait for the bivo to come to him like I've seen other Zmaj hunters do.

Rather, he has to go to the bivo.

It's nerve-wracking, watching him inch his way over to the large animal, his weapon held horizontally by his side, low so it doesn't attract more attention.

Forty yards.

Twenty.

He's almost there.

The bivo swings its massive head to the side, huffing out a harsh breath. Alerted by something. Maybe a shift of the breeze carried Ryuth's scent, maybe he heard a sound. It doesn't matter what it is.

Shit.

The bivo lets out a howling, growling sound as it lowers its head. Aiming its tusks so they point forward, two thick and sturdy impaling weapons.

It goes from zero to a full sprint between one breath and the next, its heavy body making the ground itself vibrate underneath me. I'm out of the way, but the quiver in my belly from that vibration still makes my breath catch.

Ryuth doesn't move.

He just stands there, right in its path.

What is he doing?

I take a step forward, but then force myself to stop. Distracting him now could mean his death. I can't do anything to help. I clench my fists as I watch, holding my breath.

It's almost on him.

I can see the sharp tusks swaying up and down with the creature's gait, ready to gore him.

Come on, Ryuth.

Move.

At the last possible instant, when I think it's too late, Ryuth whirls to the side and uses his wings to jump and lift himself onto the thing's back.

Oh my God.

He's clutching its fur with one hand as he raises his weapon with the other, moving his grip down the shaft. And then he stabs right at the base of the skull, his muscles bunching with the effort it takes to puncture the thick coat, the skin, maybe even the bone.

The animal rears up, bucking hard, and Ryuth goes tumbling off. He hits the ground with a thud that carries all the way back to my position.

Ryuth is so still.

Is he...?

The bivo lists to the right, shaking its head like it’s dizzy.

Then it turns around and charges Ryuth, its hooves ready to trample the Zmaj’s prone body.

I cover my mouth with my hand.

But Ryuth rolls neatly, avoiding the attack. I let out my breath. This is going to kill me. The rest of the herd scattered when Ryuth leapt to the back of his prey, and now they’re all thundering away across the sand. Even so, the lone injured bivo could still be dangerous.

It starts to slow more as it trots past, the lochaber still spearing it.

It's fading. I can see the red gush of blood matting its fur.

Ryuth dances away from another lackluster attack, the animal's reflexes blunted. It sways on its feet.

And then it finally falls over.

I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself.

Beam me up, Scotty.

I am so done. And I didn't even do anything.

It's easy enough after that. Ryuth makes quick work of field dressing the thing and comes back with a bag full of meat.

There's definitely a swagger in his step. Someone looks like he might be feeling more like himself.

"That was really scary," I comment as he reaches me. He doesn't respond, though he does glance down.

Am I consigned to a life consisting of only one-sided conversations from now on? I sigh as I follow him back to the courtyard. I'm going to go batty talking to myself like this. Maybe I should start replying to myself. That's a good way to look completely insane.

Back in the courtyard, I watch as he gathers some dry grass and twigs and piles it all together, near the fountain. Then he crouches down on all fours, his elbows bent so he can lower his head.

He takes in a deep breath.

And blows out fire in a whoosh, a bright stream that lights the tinder he just gathered. I jump at that, not expecting it, though I know the Zmaj can breathe fire. They have a gland at the back of their throats that secretes a caustic substance. When they breathe oxygen over it, it creates fire. I know the rough science behind it, my best friends are super nerds, but I don't know if I'll ever get used to it.

The Zmaj really are dragon men.

Ryuth gives me a curious look at my reaction.

"Just surprised," I explain, a little embarrassed. "Sorry."

He looks away again as he takes out a few pieces of meat from his bag and spears them on some sticks he has lying by his side. Then he braces the makeshift kebabs on the fountain, hanging over the fire. My mouth drops. Seems like I'm slow on the uptake a lot recently.

"You're cooking!" I exclaim.

He just looks at me blankly, but I don't care. He found an oasis, he hunted, and now he's cooking the food for me!

No way is he irrevocably stuck in the bijass!

"I don't care if you give me the silent treatment forever," I say sincerely. "I know you're in there—you can't fool me."

Silence. Just the crackling of the new fire. He adds some bigger sticks that he must have gotten on our way back here. I sigh. I guess I care about talking with him after all.

"Though it would be nice to hear more than just the sound of my own voice," I add wryly. "And it would be even nicer if we were in the safety of the Tribe's home base."

I groan as I shuffle over to sit down on the edge of the fountain, watching the fire cook our dinner. Now that we're sitting and not actively doing anything, the enormity of our situation settles in.

Of my situation.

Kidnapped by someone not completely on firm mental ground.

To say the least.

Taken far away, to an isolated place where there's no help to be found apart from my kidnapper. I have no idea what he'll do next, though progress so far is promising.

I brace my hands on the cool stone and lean back. I think the stupidest part about all of this might be that I'm still not raging mad at Ryuth. Angry, yes. Worried, ditto.

But . . . I still care about him. And he hasn't hurt me.

Apart from the kidnapping me against my will bit, he's trying to take care of me.

I shake my head at my own thoughts. Okay, I really need to get a grip. I just . . . don't know what to feel. I know what I should be feeling. But there's a gap between what is and what should be, and I can’t make sense of it.

Ryuth pulls the meat off the fire and hands it to me with an expectant expression.

"Thank you," I sigh, taking one of the sticks that pierce the sizzling morsels. "It smells amazing."

My stomach rumbles on cue. Or I think it does. But then the sound grows louder. I look up.

That definitely isn't my stomach.

Ryuth's body tenses—he must hear the approaching sound too.

What is that? I feel a shift in the ground.

Oh no.

I slap a hand down on the ledge and hold on as the ground literally bucks under us.

"Oh!" I cry out, falling off the ledge and onto my knees at a particularly hard roll, banging them pretty hard.

Ryuth moves closer, his body half shielding mine for a terrifying moment that stretches into eternity before the earthquake finally subsides.

"I am not built for adventure," I grouse, blood rushing in my ears, adrenaline flowing fast. I'm just going to ignore that my voice is shaking.

I'm allowed.

Damn it.