Dragon's Isolation - Miranda Martin Page 0,60

that has to be experienced to be believed. It’s the most dangerous time on the planet because you really can’t see anything. Even the Zmaj have a hard time seeing, it’s so dark.

Problem is that a lot of the predators that want to make a tasty meal out of us, don’t have the same problem. There are some that have adapted to make this their best hunting time. They don’t hunt by sight but by sound. Sound, like the shuffling of our feet as we fight our way through the sand.

The sand on Tajss is constantly blowing, so it’s loose. Every step you sink in, and it’s a guess—will it be to your ankle? Mid-calf? Up to your knee? The Zmaj use their wings and tails to move their heavier bodies across the sand as if it’s nothing. Us humans aren’t designed for this. All of which means, we’re noisy.

Really noisy.

Which, of course, is bad. I know of three major predators on the planet. The sismis that fly in groups. They’re big, each one the size of a Zmaj at least, so around seven feet across with leathery wings. They only come out at night, which is why conventional wisdom is not to travel in the dark.

Then there are the guster, which are massive predatorial lizards. They move around on hind legs and have enough razor-sharp teeth to tear apart anything that moves. Worse, they hunt in packs, making them incredibly dangerous.

Neither of them compare to the zemlja. Zemlja give me nightmares. Huge worm-like creatures that burrow through the ground, hunting. They leave massive tunnels in their wake and hunt completely by sound. The slightest noise can attract one. I’ve seen them too many times, and even the best Zmaj fighters fear tangling with one of them. They can be as big as a building and I’ve heard talk of them getting even bigger.

Calista and Jolie, botanists by trade, have talked about how without the zemlja there wouldn’t be epis. Epis grows in the caverns they leave behind in their passage. The zemlja excrete their waste as they travel, and in that waste the epis grows.

Epis extends life, and god knows what else. It’s addictive, but absolutely vital for humans to survive on this planet. It changes your DNA, adjusting it so we can stand the heat and not die. Unless we quit taking it, of course. Then you go into withdrawals and die.

So, noise on Tajss is bad, and humans struggling to travel across the desert are noisy. Traveling at night adds in even more layers of danger. And yet, here we go. Calista and Jolie didn’t hesitate to help me. They both have every reason in the world not to do this. Kids at home, their mates are back there, but they’re with me.

Tears swell in my eyes as I think about it while forcing one foot in front of the other. I don’t deserve friends like this. I’ve never been nice and I know it. Most everyone thinks I’m a bitch, probably because I am. I’ve got all my excuses: rough life, being the only female pilot, and outcast. But that’s it, isn’t it? They’re excuses. Reasons that sound good, and I can use them like I do, as armor.

Armor that protects me. The truth is, I’ve been scared my entire life. Scared of being rejected. Scared of being alone. In this stupid, terrible moment, it hits me. I’m not alone. Despite the fact that I’ve been an insufferable jerk to both of these women, they’re here with me. Without question, they threw in with me, and they’re putting their very lives on the line.

“Guys,” I huff.

I can barely tell that Calista and Jolie both look, but they don’t stop or speak. I swallow, trying to force moisture back into my mouth. The dark is helping. They’re dim outlines, barely real people, it’s almost as if I’m on my own, talking to myself.

“I want to… thank you,” I say. “I know I’m not, I’ve never been, uh, I’m not a nice person. I never have been.”

Calista snorts.

“Amara, it’s fine,” Jolie says consolingly.

“No, it’s not,” I say. “It’s really not. I don’t deserve friends like you. I’m not sure I deserve a man like Shidan, and Malcolm…”

I trail off, my throat clenching tight as I think about my son. One of them pats my arm. I’m more grateful than ever for the darkness hiding the tears streaming down my face.

“You’d do the same for us,” Calista says.

“I would,”