11. Kosh

11

KOSH

I wish she would have stayed behind, but it was clear there was no changing her mind. Knowing she is carrying our child is both a blessing and a curse. My instincts are to put her someplace safe and keep her there. The dragon grumbles at having her free, but rationally I know I cannot keep her locked up.

The guster sways as we cross the desert heading for the Order outpost. When I agreed to be the one to go, I was confident. Now though, I am less so. Not because I do not think I can handle myself or anything that might happen, but because I not only have to worry about her but our unborn child. The weight of this mission has increased exponentially as if I needed more to worry about.

"Are we getting close?" Shana asks.

"Yes, my treasure," I say.

She wipes the moisture from her brow, but it forms as fast as she wipes it away. Human bodies are not designed for Tajss but even so, she is incredibly beautiful. Looking at her, my heart speeds up and my breath catches in my throat. The way the suns glisten off her hair as she throws her head back and shakes it out is incredible.

"Good," she says, looking around. "You know, it's kind of pretty out here."

"Nothing compares to you," I say.

Her head jerks towards me and she frowns as if uncertain if I mean my words, but of course I do. How could I mean anything less? She is the most perfect creature. Alien, exotic, but gorgeous. A slow smile spreads over her face as she shakes her head.

"You're impossible," she scoffs.

"I am?" I ask, genuinely surprised. "You come from space! A planet that is so far away, your ship left generations before, and you say I am impossible? No, my treasure, if anyone here is impossible it is you."

She shrugs and shakes her head.

"Do your people not say Tajss provides?"

"Yes!"

She laughs and the sounds of joy in the noise make my hearts beat faster. My chest strains as it struggles to contain the expansive sensations that I know to be love. The dragon is rumbling with satisfaction. I wish I could take her in my arms, hold her, but our mission is too important and there is no time for distractions.

I am no longer only trying to find a haven for the humans, I am trying to save the life of our unborn child. Will it be a boy or a girl? How will the little one look? Nadiya is the only baby born of a human Zmaj union and one child does not make a pattern.

I want, with all I am, to have a child with Shana. If Tajss will allow it. If that is what is meant to be, if not, it will not lessen my love for her by any means. But it would be a great joy for both of us, I believe, to have a little one. A perfect mixture of the two of us given form. A physical representation of our love for one another.

My guster stops suddenly and rears. I pull on the reins, patting along the side of its neck. It drops to the sands, while I look around. I did not think we were there yet, but I was wrong. Something is off, though I am not sure what.

I motion to Shana who has pulled her own mount up while remaining a few paces behind. I dismount, sinking into the hot sands. It feels so good. I had been in the jungle so long I had forgotten how nice it is to have warm sands embracing my body.

I pull my lochaber from my mount and hold it loosely in one hand while keeping the reins of the guster in the other. I move beside the beast's muzzled head and crouch, studying the land and sands.

There. If I was going to ambush, I would bury myself there.

I think to myself spotting a slight mound in that seems just a little out of place. Dropping the reins, but remaining in a crouch, I ease my way forward.

Shana's guster snorts as the alpha paws the ground. He sensed the threat before I did, which is bad. I allowed myself to be distracted. I cannot do that again.

The sands shift with the steady breeze that blows across Tajss, but I keep my eyes on the mound, waddling closer and closer. Almost there. I close my outer lenses to protect my eyes from any sand that might be thrown when my prey attacks.

Any moment now he will know that I have spotted him and burst from his hiding place. He has already allowed me to get closer than I would have, but perhaps he is young or has been trained differently than I was.

I move slower as I come within reach of a lochaber and still, he has not attacked. This does not make any sense. The back of my neck itches with anticipation and concern. Perhaps I am wrong? This could be some natural formation under the sand. Or maybe something died, and the sands have covered it?

I raise my lochaber over my head, horizontal to the ground. The blade glints, reflecting the sunlight. I tighten my grip and then thrust, stabbing the mound. The blade slides in. Too easily. As I pull it back the itching on the back of my neck increases.

"Look out!" Shana screams.