The warm jungles of Aior were home to all sorts of wild indigenous creatures and tribalistic beings that lived far beyond civilized regions. Many such wild animals were terrifyingly aggressive and primal, relentlessly hunting their prey to the depths of the jungle. Baxter Geils, a knight of respectable lineage, would make trips to the depths of the immense hostile landscape every couple weeks, all without his armor. It was three days from the city of Dour, which sat at the border of Godula territory. Why would a human put his life on the line in hostile environments all without his armor? Because field experiences are said to be the best training methods, and while the art of the blade need not be compromised, neither should his body. Thus he chose to journey without armor.
Baxter was a relatively young man with brown eyes, pushing for thirty. Some say he looked older than he actually  was. Though his full beard might have played a role in that. He made sure to keep it and his brown hair trimmed and groomed as best he could to keep them up to shape. While he certainly had appealed to many of the bachelorettes who sought after him, he was more or less married to being Godula’s knight. The hard training he put himself through in such a dangerous environment, became integral to his service in the military.
 
Shaped by the experiences of his previous visits, he hoped to stand at that point where the rigorous exercise and training regime he imposed upon himself out in the wild would allow him to maneuver even in such an environment where he would need his armor. That wasn’t to say he didn’t train in his armor either. But he had spent days doing that in the barracks. However, his movements were always restricted. Even when the days end where he had not needed his armor on, his joints were inflexible and stiff. This proved a greater alternative to not only regain that mobility but improve upon it.
Yet, Baxter always felt a sensation that he was being watched. From climbing up trees while bearing a boulder upon his back, and large rocks to his wrists and ankles, he always saw from the corner of his eye, a glint of yellow amid the thick branches of neighboring trees. When he swam for kilometers within the lake waters, the reflection of a reptilian being in the water would be standing at the shoreline from which he emerged from, and when he looked, he always found the shore empty, save for tracks in the mud caked sand. And when the hunted became hunter, the predators that Baxter slew always bore signs of its body being tampered with, as though it wanted to challenge the human.
 
But whether it was a threat or not, Baxter knew this creature was not a simple wild beast. If it wanted to, it would have killed him by now. Baxter imagined this creature was an inhabitant of the jungle, probably very territorial. Or perhaps he was something that became a curiosity to the creature. No angry orc to challenge him for hunting in their hunting ground. No wolfman to steal his kill. Not even elves to bitch and moan about his brazen disregard to the natural ecological system that permeates the region. His only guess was that a lizardman tribe had taken residence somewhere, and they didn’t seem offended by his presence to knock him off.
 
Training alone in the jungle was always a bad move for any traveling adventurer, or soldier. Baxter lived for the thrill, however. The boring solidarity of nobility had squandered his excitement that lower nobles, and even commoners would experience, despite all the dangers involved. That imposition of familiar expectations to succeed the family line as he bore a title of minor lord which was embellished by his family to make it appear as though this was a very prestigious position to be proud of. It was all a façade to him. Men of the frontier were freer than a little lord like him ever could be, and he envied them for that. He was more alone at home than he was here. Yet, the silent company that bore watch over him made him more comfortable about being in a dangerous environment by his lonesome.
 
Baxter would spend days in the forest, sometimes even a week. The chance of death coming for him grew every day he spent in Ajor. Either by luck or by the grace of his unseen companion watching over him at night, he somehow avoided being torn apart like the Moorbucks tavern when the drunken orc and dwarf from last week fought over a drinking contest. The result of that brawl was a lot uglier than one can imagine.
 
However, Baxter’s luck had eventually run out. A crawling horror of spite and venom crept from beneath a sunken rock. A centipede looking hybrid of mammal and insect sprawled from its hiding spot and hissed as it made its way toward the sleeping night. The knight had always trained himself to handle such ambushes. And when the creature closed in on him, Baxter jumped and brought his blade to a spinning slash, gashing at the carapace. Ichor gushed from the creature as it screeched in anger and pain. With a hiss, it struck at the knight with such a blinding speed that rivaled a snake’s speed.
 
Baxter was able to dodge its attacks. Such a feat wouldn’t be possible weeks ago. Yet, even with his skill, the reaction timing was always based on where he stepped in his environment. One misstep as he backed away, and the knight fell to his back. As the creature poised to strike, he lifted his arm up to block his face from the bite. Its mighty jaws latched hard around his arm, digging deep enough to make him scream. The intense burning of the poison seeping into him had already taken effect, and he slowly his body started to shut down.
 
Flashbacks of inconsequential moments began to flood his mind. The tedious life he lived, simple but unfulfilling. A life unfit. The times where he hung from the giant tree of the plaza district, overlooking the vast fields from beyond the city walls. The promise of adventure seemed intoxicating every day. Adventurers going out know that while they may die probably horrible deaths, they always die doing exactly what they wanted to do in life. A fool that he was, but a fool who would die free. While many see him as vain, he enjoyed every single moment of the experience he had, no matter how little it felt. While his body wracked with pain from the poisonous bite, he just stared at the creature with a defiant stare.
 
            “That’s it then… you want me? Go ahead. You’ll be choking on my bones,” he spoke.
 
And when he watched it unhinge its mighty jaws, the insect-like creature hissed menacingly to devour the human whole. Then, a whistle of air rang out from above his head, striking at the beast. His unseen companion, he had nearly forgotten about it. A terrifying shrill followed by the attack. But it did not come from the insect creature. A creature of dark green and brownish scales descended upon the beast. Its hind claws digging into its back and chest to latch on. Its left hand gripped the creature’s head while the other retrieved the spear, lifted it up, and stabbed at the creature’s face this time. Angry screeching from the bug echoed out in pain that resonated throughout the forest, no doubt deterring any foolish creature that was willing to interject on the predator’s kill.
 
Its attacks were vicious, ferocious, and without mercy. Again and again the creature stabbed at the centipede like a beast, spilling ichor all over itself and the ground below them, until finally it fell to the side, twitching for a few moments before it finally became limp.
 
It was still night, and Baxter could hardly see his companion who came to his rescue. The burning pain of the poison made it hard to focus as he began to lose consciousness. But he could see it. As it turned, he could see its golden eyes. The silhouette of its thick, flexible tail dashing about in a seemingly threatening manner, the spike like ridges on its back flaring up as it saw the human on the ground. Something inside Baxter relaxed regardless of the instinctual primal fear one such as him would experience when seeing the shadowy visage.
 
Yet as it came closer, Baxter could make out the notable characteristics of her body. The reptilian-like features he had noticed before became increasingly more prominent as his vision adjusted to the beast closing up to him. He noticed there were some rather feminine features to the creature. The reptilian like head and face was powerful looking, yet one could determine her to be female just by the depths and expression in her eyes. It bore a thick muscular frame, yes, amply defined thighs and calves, the contrast of its rough and coarse scales from her back to forelegs and the smooth and clean front scales, the thick powerful tail that was about as large as her forearm, and decently large breasts. At first it looked off seeing a reptilian creature sporting such anatomical proportions. But evolution has a funny sense of humor at times. The lizard woman was also adorned in a minimalist attire that covered her frame though there was little modesty to it.
 
            “Foolish human. Strong in spirit, dumb in head. Never face such a creature like that alone,” she spoke. There was an odd sense of rasping to her voice, yet it came out as smooth and warm, deep. Given by the vibrant tone of her darkened scales that showed her to be young, one could mistake her as being in her forties.
 
            “W-what?” Baxter could only respond as he felt himself slowly becoming delirious over the poison.
 
            “You stupid. Give me your arm.”
 
As she said that, she didn’t wait for him to react and just took his arm to peer at the wound. Opening her own maw, she latches on to the wound and begins to suck on it.
 
            “That’s… that’s not going to… be enough…” Baxter mumbled. “You’re goi-going to get… sick…”
 
            The lizard pulled back; her mouth full of poisoned blood as she turned her head aside to spit. “Immune to poison. Bodies developed to counter them. Now shush.” She reached back over to rinse and repeat the same process again.
 
One time… two times… three times. Then she reached into what looked like a pouch strapped around her waist, taking a small vial of strange, goo like substance to pop off and poured it directly on the wound. Another intense burning pain surged throughout his arm. Only it wasn’t as bad as the poison.
 
            “Fucking hell… That stings!” he hissed under his breath.
 
            “Supposed to. Wound is big. Got to clean you out effectively. This is only to hold for a while. I must take you to my village.”
 
            “I think I’ll be fine…”
 
The lizard smacked him upside the head, “No! Stupid human! That was a Glhack! Poisonous beast! Its bite, left untreated as it is now, will rot your arm off!”
 
That didn’t sound so good. Not that he was going to argue anymore given his delirious state of mind. He just felt himself exhausted from the pain. The adrenaline had already worn off by that time and he could only barely move.
 
            “Alright… will your people mind?”
 
            “No, but we are wary. You are safe so long I vouch for you.”
 
            “You speak common quite well.”
 
            “I still struggle,” the lizard then knelt to help the knight get on his feet and start making their way up north. “Many fear the Glhack. More so hunters that slay them.”
 
            “So, nothing will bother us on… our way to the tribe?”
 
            “Depends. You are wounded. They will risk it. But you are safe.”
 
Baxter just nodded and sighed in response. Exhaustion took over as he found himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Then, he closed his eyes. His mind colored with pain, the after effects of the poison still burning in him tormented him with nightmares. The centipede like creature hisses and opens its jaws before him, ready to attack once again. The scene played out over and over again and again every time it struck out at him. He could not wake up from this cyclical nightmare of pain and suffering.
 
 
Eventually, the world went dark. The pain was gone. Was he dead? Where was the afterlife? In the midst of nothing, he was left to his thoughts. The more he thought about the empty depths, he realized that he was not dead. He could count his breaths in the darkness. His mouth was closed, but he felt the air seep into his nostrils. Along with the scent of a rotting insectoid and mammalian carcass. He willed himself to wake once the touch of dawn’s early light cupped his face. As he slowly regained consciousness, he found that the sun wasn’t the only thing that was touching him. Not as warm as the sun, but just as inviting. A smooth texture could be felt along his body as he tilted his head to the side to see what it was. A calm, blank expression of what looked to be a half-naked blue reptilian female, can be seen staring at him. She had about a more feminine body frame than a warrior look to it. But she didn’t look like she was even remotely weak.
 
Baxter  opened his mouth to speak, letting out a soft groan. But as soon as he did, the female lifted herself from him and turned to the side. She spoke in what he can only assume was her native tongue. She looked about the same as the dark green scaled female from before. And speaking of which, where was she? Only when he adjusted his eyesights to examine the room, he found the female, sitting with one leg draped along the other while she was carving what he assumed was a carapace shell from that creature. Her attention turned to the human. Something like a smile crept along her face as she set her knife and the shell aside. She gestured for the door as she spoke in turn in her native tongue and made her way over to the human.
 
He took a look at what he was laying on, and he found himself bundled up in a small circular bed. Tanned hide from the animals that inhabit the jungle, all stacked in large quantities around him. She must have been using all of that to sweat out the poison in him with her tribe helping to tend his arm. The blue lizard pulled herself from the bed and made her way into the other room, while the green scaled knelt beside the human.
 
    “How does the human feel?” she asked him.
 
Baxter just stuttered a bit as he was trying to find the first word to come to his head. “I’m uhh… da… uhh… okay? I… t-think I’m okay. I j-just feel like my arm was on fire though…”
 
The human looked over at the doorway as another lizard came in. Only this one was more masculine, taller, and older. Donned in a robe and in assorted tribal garments, the male lizard stood on the other side of the bed to take his seat and examine the human.
 
    “Wh-what was the other lizard woman… th-the one that was in here… next to me…?”
 
    “Ais’hra. One of the shaman’s concubines, and friend of mine. We asked her to keep your body temperature normal during daylight hours.While we had to sweat the poison out of you, too much heat in this environment is not good for you humans.”
 
Guess that would explain why she was embracing him. Though she had that curious look on her face. In fact, so did his savior, and the shaman. He turned to look at the older, hardened, masculine black scaled creature as he examined his arm. The shaman reached out with his claw to trace along the pierced flesh.
 
He looks up at Baxter; “You lucky human. Get to keep arm,” the shaman said as he patted his shoulder. “You also very stupid.”
 
    “So I have been told.” Baxter said as he looked back over the female’s way.
 
    “Glhack poison would have eaten through arm if Zetarra not save you sooner.”
 
Now that was a terrifying thought. Were these creatures really that virulent in their poison?
 
    “I suppose I should thank you… Zetarra?” he said to the female lizardwoman.
 
    “Unnecessary. Would be a shame for a worthy warrior to die.”
 
 Worthy warrior huh? The way she fought was like the devil and she never let her opponent have a chance at retaliating. If anything, she seemed more worthy of praise. He looked over at his arm as he watched the shaman apply a gel like tonic on him to smear across his arm. Then, a bandage to cover up the blistering wounds.
 
    “This. Keep on. It will heal quicker,” the shaman explained.
 
    “Thank you again. You lizard folk are quite articulate in our tongue. Where did you learn our language?”
 
Zetarra shifted her body a bit to sit upright from where she knelt. A sense of pride is shown across her face as she smiles. “Travelers like you come and go. They teach us things. Still learning more though. Hard to properly grasp certain phrases. We never venture too far from home to learn more as we were content here.”
 
The unarmored knight looked around the small bedroom to get a feel of the environment. Typical wooden hut made of carved and polished wood. A window carved out to let light and air in for its occupant. The ground is held by straw and covered by rugs. Wooden furnishing dotted the corner, along with assorted trophies from what he assumed were past kills.It had a certain cabin like homey feel to it.
 
    “You are content here, even with all the dangers?” the human commented.
 
    “There are dangers everywhere you go. No matter if you live behind walls or beneath earth.”
 
Baxter opened his mouth to speak but realized he didn’t have any argument to make a retort. She did bring up a fair point after all. There were dangers that extend beyond monsters. So, he just let out a ‘hm’ and nodded. As he turned to get out of the bed, Zetarra raised her hand to stop him.
 
    “No. You rest. Stay.”
 
    “I’m already feeling better.”
 
    “Poison isn’t completely gone from your body. You are stable, but you need to sweat it out,” she added.
 
    “It shouldn’t be that much of an issue then for me to move around, no?”
 
The lizardwoman showed her teeth and hissed out what he can only assume was profanity in her tongue. “Stupid human. Movement will cause pain. You’ll catch fever. Poison does more than affect limb. It attacks the body as a whole.”
 
The hell kind of poison was this anyways? This glhack creature surely couldn’t have done more damage to him than it already had. Given how annoyed the female was, he can only assume it was much more dangerous than he had imagined it to be.
 
    “So I just sweat it out?”
 
    “Yes,” the shaman beside him spoke. “The heat will counteract poison lingering in you. All you must do now is rest.” With that, the shaman picked himself up from his seat and left the bedroom for Zetarra and Baxter.
 
Baxter thought back of home and how his folks must have been worried about him. The other knights of the barracks confused as to why he hadn’t returned from his usual solo exercises from the jungle. He had been away for long periods of time in the past, but they would always send someone out to fetch for him if they felt he was in need of help. That wouldn’t look so good if they happened to stumble upon the lizard tribe and see him there. There could be… an incident lets say.
 
    “Well I best rest up soon so my people will not worry. They might get the wrong idea that me being here wasn’t exactly consensual.”
 
    “Then we will explain to them your condition. We speak their tongue.”
 
    “Yes but they’d never expect a lizard tribe out here in the jungle”
 
The lizardwoman rumbled under her throat. “This is our home. Has been that way for years.”
 
    “Technically, Ajor is within my people’s borders. They wouldn’t know you have lived here for a while. They will look at you as though you are trespassers who kidnapped a knight.”
 
Zetarra looked as though she was trying to picture the humans’ mindset based on Baxter’s testimony. Another rumble escaped from her.
 
    “Then you will get better and explain things. They will leave us alone then.”
 
    “Well, that’ll take care of one problem.” But there wasn’t much for Baxter to say at that point. It was one of those moments where he’d have to cross that bridge eventually. “When am I expected to move?”
 
    “Few days. Then we watch you. Must ensure you don’t relapse.”
 
A shame too as he wanted to see what kind of place this lizard tribe was like. Though Zeratta’s company was more than appreciated.
 
    “You’re not going to keep watch over me, are you?” he asked.
 
    “Done so before. Still going to. Shaman can’t keep looking after you every day. He must tend to the needs of our kin.”
 
Baxter nodded his head as he let out a contentful sigh. “That’s good. I prefer your company.”
 
Something like a smile stretched across the reptilian woman’s face. “I am glad that my presence puts you at ease. Perhaps we shall get to know each other during our time together.”
 
    “I’d like that,” Baxter replied with a heartfelt chuckle.
 
    “I did not think a human like you would be comfortable around my kin.”
 
    “I traveled along the continent for so long that I’ve gotten used to other beings. My name is Baxter Geils by the way. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, Zetarra.”
 
    The lizardwoman nodded her head to him with another smile. “Appreciated, Baxter. You do not need to apologize. I know you've been through a lot in the jungle.”
 
    “Define, ‘a lot’ because I’ve been in this jungle for quite some time.”
 
    “‘A lot’ as in you never faced a ghlack.”
 
    “There’s that.” Then he rumbled a bit in thought over the peculiar name. “Why do you call it a ghlack?”
 
    “That’s what we call it in our tongue. What would humans call it?”’
 
    “I wouldn’t know because I’ve never seen such a species before. Does your naming of it convey a certain theme to it?”
 
The lizardwoman rumbled as she thought for a moment how to properly translate it. “Searing Venom.”
 
    “That sounds too the point. And accurate. It was like a burning sensation when it bit me.”
 
    “Indeed. Its potency is quite deadly. Usually hunts at night. You are lucky to have never run across it during your training. Why do you train so far out here?”
 
    Baxter shifted in his bed and leaned back with a contentful sigh. “I guess it is to push myself past my limits. And I find it relieving to get away from the noise of the city.”
 
The lizard lets out a hearty chuckle as she crosses her arms over the bed to lean forward. “A human who doesn’t like the confines of the city? Very unusual. You do not like the others I’ve met.”
 
    “Like I said, I did a lot of traveling. If we’re not at the barracks honing our martial prowess, we’re off doing field exercises and engaging in skirmishes.”
 
    “Ah, other tribes?” Then Zetarra blinked and corrected herself; “Sorry, I mean nations.”
 
    “Nah you’re alright. While there’s a difference, the core structure of community is all the same. But yes, we fight with other nations.”
 
    Zetarra tilted her head to the side curiously. “Never get much soldiers. Tell us what your experiences are like. What reasons do you fight over? Territory? Hunting grounds? Vengeance?”
 
Baxter was wrong to underestimate the simplicity of tribal culture. They were not so different from civilized folks by their methods and reasoning behind conflict. Though how much was a lizardman’s reason to fight on behalf of their chieftain? Would they feel conflicted? With this ‘Searing Venom’ creature and the dangers that lurk in the jungles, they had to face conflict almost every day when they hunted. But what is conflict to them among other lizard folk? Did they have doubts or questions?
 
    “Honestly Zetarra, your kin and I aren't’ so much different than I thought.”
 
    “Course we are. We’re carnivores. We’re lizardfolk.”
 
    “I mean in how we deal with conflict among other beings.”
 
Zetarra lets out an ohh like sound as she nodded her head for him to continue.
 
“You fight for territory, we fight for territory. You fight to secure hunting grounds, we fight to secure resources. And vengeance is also similar.”
 
    “In the end, you fight for community. For your nation.”
 
    “Yes. However, not all kings are deserving to rule.”
 
The lizardwoman cooed gently as she pondered if Baxter had issues with his chieftain. Or rather… his king. “Yours?”
 
    “Oh, mine? I’d say he’s a better fit to rule than the last king we had.”
 
The lizardwoman nodded again and humms. “You also wage war when a chief cuckolds another’s wife?”
 
Baxter bursted into a roaring laugh as he heard that. It was funny because it was true as it was sad. Godulas’ previous king waged a bloody war with one of its neighbors, Kudira. The saddest part about that was the king’s wife… was actually his sister.
 
    “You have that shitspewing de jure too? Gods, such travesties are the worst reason to force your kin into war.”
 
Zetarra had this rumbling noise that sounded pretty much like a chuckle. “Such are inadequate rulers. I do not know how you deal with such rulers, but if we’re unsatisfied with our chieftain, we eat him.
 
The laughing stopped… but for a moment. Because when the lizard said that, he was not sure if she actually meant that given how stone cold her tone was that if she was actually joking, he couldn’t tell.
 
    “That was a joke.” A few minutes later, more laughter. And this time, Zetarra’s laughter joined his. Her tone, her voice, it was definitely smooth and deep. Sure there was some rasp to it still but it was barely noticeable this time than it was when they met.
 
“Baxter, you are a funny human. I would love to get to know you more.”
 
    “And I, you Zetarra. You’re actually the first lizardwoman I had the pleasure of speaking with.”
 
    “I am glad I’m making a good first impression,” she then reached over with one hand to press against his shoulder. “You made a good first impression too, warrior. Though again… stupid. Which is part of the reason why I watched over you these past few weeks.”
 
Well glad to know his stalker has been looking out for him. Though he didn’t feel as creeped out now considering she pretty much saved his life. That and the prospect of him intruding on her home tribe.
 
    “Your chieftain didn’t mind me being here?”
 
Zetarra shook her head, “No. He was fine with it so long you get better enough to leave.”
 
    “Damn shame. I wanted to learn more about you. Also, didn’t you say you get visitors time to time?”
 
    “When they want to trade, we allow them in. They rarely stay long.”
 
    “That makes sense I suppose,” he said as he shifts in his bed a bit. “What do you have to trade with them?”
 
    “Leathers and hides that they wouldn’t risk their men hunting for considering Ajor’s dangerous wildlife. We’re more proficient in it.”
 
    “What kind of properties do the hides have in comparison to the other animal hides?”
 
The lizardwoman smiled again and humed. “Where do I start?”
 
 
    Over the next few days, Baxter saw a slow and steady recovery to the point where he was allowed free movement around the shaman's hut. Then he was able to maneuver around the lizard tribe. He had expected a more emotionally distant species given the kind of reception he received from the other lizard folk, except for Zetarra of course.The more he interacted with them however, the more their outlook of him changed.
 
As for Baxter, despite coming from a more ‘civilized’ community, he found himself at ease with the lizards. More so with Zetarra, given he had spent more days in the hut with her. She gave him a good idea of what kind of community the lizard folks had. Everyone knew one another. They treated each other as not only a friend but family member even if they weren’t bonded through blood. But there were some distinct social and hierarchical differences among the lizards than there were with humans.
 
The males were larger than an average human male. Even for Baxter, who was six foot in height, barely matched one who stood about a foot larger than he. Many of them were hunters or warriors. Although they weren’t as stoic as they appeared, they very rarely expressed their emotions in the company of strangers. They were comfortable enough to do so with Baxter seeing him as one of them now.
 
The females, while slender and not as bulky than their male counterparts, still had distinct muscle definitions, height similarities, bodily flexibility, and martial prowess to make them an effectively dangerous adversary to match the males. Enough so that they were warriors and hunters themselves. They were truly fascinating, though there were those who seemed more than glad to fill other roles than ones Zetarra did. Such as the witch doctor, who was mated with the shaman, which would explain the shaman’s own knowledge of traditional medicine practices despite his affinity for spiritual magic. The witch doctor knew all of the ailments commonplace in Ajor and she knew what plants and herbs to use for her alchemical concoctions.
 
Then there were the concubines. Out in the far east, Baxter encountered in his travels, other human civilizations that had very odd and seemingly backward practices of interpersonal relationships. Now normally, he’d keep an open mind about these things. Godula might have had its fair share of issues in the past but many of the nation try to keep to its core principles of having a more open-minded attitude when it comes to interacting with other civilized folks. Even Baxter has his prejudices though, and while the Ikani kingdom were civilized in their own right, their treatment of their women had made him unbearably uncomfortable. Especially to those in concubinage that the Ikanan husbands see as beneath their wives.
 
Baxter had expected the same kind of treatment when Zetarra explained, and showed him about lizard relations. Even in subservience, even when they were shared by other lizard folk, their measure of individuality was still equal to that of their males. They argued with their patriarch, they argued with each other, they argued with their patriarch’s mate, even the friends of whom they were shared with. They had their own voices and their own mind, so why put themselves beneath the wives? They were very sexually active but they weren’t liberal about it. According to Zetarra, it was a communal thing as with just about every other role they employed. Especially in a dangerous environment like Ajor. They help keep the family lines of the tribe going by bringing in the next generation. They nurse theirs and others’ eggs while their respective relatives take up their duties to the tribe.
 
The knight couldn’t help but find the prospect sad. He watched the lizards, saw how intimate they could be with one other, how very protective and affectionate they were their young. Considering how there was a very strong possibility that many of them would grow up without a mother or father if they were to fall prey to rival tribes or predators of the jungle. No matter the pragmatic outlook of things, they were compassionate. They didn’t treat their losses as statistics. Even the most emotionally hardened of lizards who have suffered losses of their friends, lovers, even children to the natural elements of the jungle, still grieved in solemn silence.
 
Every loss was given a proper rite and burial. Hunters and warriors were given special treatment for the sacrifices they make, as they always endured the most difficult tasks out in the wilds. With great roaring fires from the pit of the tribe plaza, drums that echoed throughout the night, the lizards would say their goodbyes to the departed in the form of dance and song that was conducted in their native tongue. The battle like howls and cries carried out for the spirits to hear, letting them know their sacrifice would not be forgotten.
 
It was hard for him to imagine how many times they did that, with how many they stand to lose in the face of an adversary. Baxter respected them, but he also felt bad for their losses all the same. And here he sat, contemplating on how useless he felt while recovering from the poison. It took Zetarra’s headstrong attitude to talk the human down from doing anything stupid. Even so, she could see what the human felt for them, and she made it clear his sentiments were appreciated.
 
It was the way of things, she explained. It was simply how life is for everyone and everything that was born into this world. They gave thanks for what was given, and respect for what was lost. Their people found solace in knowing that their ancestors would welcome them in open arms in the spirit world, the next life.
 
As Baxter became more involved, he learned more of the lizardfolk. The hatchlings and their playful demeanor, reminiscent of how the children played out in the streets of Dour. How adorable they looked whenever they gawked at something so utterly alien to them, a once in a lifetime opportunity for those who dared not venture beyond their home. There was a sense of bashfulness and pride in the human as he understood how it felt whenever non-humans are met by children.
 
The chieftain, Aijurk, was a beast of a lizardman. He had arms that looked like he could pop a troll’s head right off in a chokehold. His scales were dark red, full of scars, both from hunting and fighting. He greeted Baxter with respect and as an equal despite being an outsider. The human’s fascination and empathy towards the lizards had interested even him. More so when Baxter asked about the customs and culture of the lizardfolk. The answer he got was unexpected but something Baxter should have realized sooner; ‘our way of life is different from others. But we all share the same beliefs as other tribes.’ The way he worded made it easy to see they were not so different from civilized folk after all.
 
The talks he had with the other hunters and warriors about his encounters in the jungle. Sure it was hard to speak to them with how broken their speech in common was, but Baxter had a better sense of what they were trying to say and how they said it. Of course the centipede like monstrosity didn’t change the sentiment that the human was brave, and stupid, for challenging that beast alone.
 
As for Zetarra, he developed a liking for her. A bond had been formed since the day the first met, one that strengthened over time. When he was well enough to properly move beyond the confines of the tribe, she took him out hunting with her pack. She taught him the land, she taught him the plants. What substance of flora he could eat and which ones he should avoid. The patterns and behavior of the fauna like the Ghlack, or the Tschriit, mollusc like land beings that keeps itself afloat using its bulbous thin body to hold air.
 
    “There’s hardly any sustenance to these jellyfish looking creatures. They appear so thin and veily that I can’t imagine myself being full on any of them,” he commented once as he unsheathed his bow to aim at one of those creatures.
 
“The nutrients they take in are stored in the skin. Do not be fooled by their appearance; they are rich and are as common as the herbivores in these jungles,” Zetarra replied.
 
“But…. how do they eat?”
 
“Their tentacles. They do more than propel themselves in the sky. They will reach out and strike at anything that gets in their path. The chemicals in their appendages are used to break them down so they can be absorbed. It is a bit like stomach acid.”
 
    “So, they’re carnivores but they’re preyed upon by other monsters.”
 
    “Omnivores. They eat plants too. Not as much though because of some of the toxins found in plants around here. They avoid fauna like the Ghlack as well. And in Ajor, the hunters never discriminate with their targets. No matter if their prey are predators themselves.”
 
    “Ghastly… and fascinating.” Baxter couldn’t help but smile at that. He had been through these jungles for so long he barely even grasped the true ecological systems that nested in Ajor. “How do we take one down?”
 
    “I’ll give you a hint; never aim for the body itself. They do not go down that easy despite how ‘vulnerable’ they appear. It is a facade it employs to ensnare its predators trying to gash at their gelatinous hide.” The lizardwoman patted at her scaled form. “They’re bodies are twice as hard as ours. You have to aim beneath them, where the inner cavity is exposed.”
 
Baxter was fascinated by how much she knew. More so of all kinds of alien looking creatures he’s come across during his time in the jungle. He had seen a great deal of monsters but nothing that stood out as much as the tschriit. Or the ghlack. He had to admit though, there needed to be better names for these creatures than what the lizards called them in their language.
 
She had taught him the language of her kin; the meaning behind words, the body languages, behaviors and attitudes. He learned of lizardfolk honorifics and gestures of respect. She taught him the way of the bow and spear, how to move, how to be one with Ajor. And surprisingly, how to court a female. Baxter hadn’t figured it out at first. But the realization dawned on him that the attraction he felt for her wasn’t one sided.
 
There were nights where he found Zetarra wandering the plaza at night. The gentle embers of the pit crackling away, dimly illuminating her greenish scales. After having spent so much time with the lizards, Baxter could read their expressions. There was something troubling the poor lizardwoman though. She had a solemn look on her face, as though she was lost in thought. He made his way toward her and took a seat from where she sat.
 
    “Are you alright?” he spoke.
 
His voice made her ear frills twitch, prompting her to turn and face him. She gave him a warm smile. “I am fine, Baxter.”
 
    “Are you sure? You looked kinda lost there.”
 
She hesitated to answer for a moment. Her eyes darting down as she dips her head slowly, as if contemplating on giving him an answer. A part of her was uncomfortable about wanting to speak her mind. The hiss she made wasn’t really much of a threat as it is frustration with herself.
 
    “I guess I am…” she said quietly as she clasped her hands together. “There were days where I find myself contemplating on the future.”
 
    “Your kin don’t seem like they would be bothered by stuff like that.”
 
She digs her clawed toes into the dirt beneath them and quietly hummed to herself. She then turned aside to look at him, gently smiling. “We do… when we try to figure out how we should express ourselves to those we care about.”
 
That was a little bit on the nose. Still, it sent a satisfying shiver up his spine. A part of him thought it was crazy and it couldn’t be done. He was a human… shouldn’t he be with another human? He shouldn’t find someone like Zetarra as attractive. Sure humans had sexual attractions for people of other races… or even of other species. Elves, dwarves, even orcs despite their own beast like appearances to them. Though considering he had started a liking for her beforehand, just thinking about it just made him more confused, and that much more excited.
 
    “Honestly… you are not the only one thinking about that.”
 
She looked at him in turn and made this gentle, bellowing like sound. “Do you now?” There was a hit of excitement when she said that. It was subtle but it was there.
 
    “Yes. I… did not expect to find myself appreciating people outside my species… but that is to be expected. I have travelled a lot, met those less human looking than others that have desensitized me to the sense of otherworldliness of cultures and creatures that exist beyond my home.
 
“And I found myself becoming more and more attracted to you. I mean… you specifically. You saved me, let me into your home tribe, tended to my wound and kept watch over me as I was fighting for my life… and my arm to add to that. You’re intelligent, you taught me so many things about the tribe, the lizard folk. And honestly, I find you… beautiful,” but what was it he found her beautiful? He knew her to be beautiful but what would best describe what makes him attracted to a non-human? What set her apart from humans? Or any other humanoid species?
 
His compliment prompted her to prod him for details. The soft smile grew brighter and warmer. “What do you find in me that’s beautiful?” she asked, when he was just trying to figure out that answer himself. But as he looked at her, he found that the standard methods of compliments regarding her appearance wouldn’t exactly be applied here as… she wasn’t human.
 
So he got creative, and honest; “The fact that you are so different, exotic, and colorful in that idea alone makes me afraid how I describe you as an individual would seem like I am fetishizing the idea of you. Most of the humans of Godula would look at you and see you as… monstrous because of misconceived ideas of how non-humans look, act and behave.”
 
There was a purr in her voice. She looked as though she was smiling and full of pride. Then she threw off his entire train of thought out and asked again but more directly; “Yes, yes but tell me the specifics.”
 
Baxter was caught off-guard from that. And as he started to gather his thoughts, he felt Zetarra lean up against him from the side, and wrapped her thick tail around his waist.
 
    “Uhhh… there’s… your scales. They’re… well kept and clean… even with the battle scars. Though… t-the scars do bring out a certain attractive quality to you. But the dim warm color matches perfectly with the jungle.”
 
    “Ohh… so not only am I beautiful but dangerous?” she whispers, letting the ‘s’ at the end drag out in a hiss like sound.
 
    “Well… y-yes. I mean… no. I mean… This is hard.”
 
    “Well what else do you like about me?”
 
Baxter licked the sweat from his lips. Who knew trying to be honest with yourself was difficult. For sure, what he said about her was true but he had to force himself to say them as he felt it embarrassing to hear it come from his own mouth like that.
 
    “Describe me how you would with a human girl.”
 
    “That’s the thing… I… can’t. But what I can describe you… is what I like… but I… find it hard to say aloud.”
 
    “I know. Which is why I want you to pick out the kind of qualities you’d tell to your kin.”
 
One idea did come to him. Those eyes… those golden glowing eyes of hers. As he reached his hand down to caress her arm, the powerful scales that covered her body were so smooth, luscious, though they were hard. At least, the scales on her back were pretty hard. Her front was softer, smoother, though they had just about half the durability of her back scales.
 
    “You have such beautiful golden eyes, your scales are so soft, but you always carry yourself with such fervor when you’re on the hunt. And it is amazing to see just how intune you are to the jungles. How you rush into the fray, how you perceive the world around you, how you tend to not just your hunting pack but your kin.”
 
Zetarra purred deeper and louder at that. Her eyes drooped a bit as she snuggled up against him. Baxter felt he was comfortable with himself enough to actively express his attraction. He reaches his arm up to wrap around her shoulders.
 
    “Ah, so it is not  just my appearance that you find captivating, you xenophile?” she replied.
 
    “You don’t seem put off by that.”
 
    “Not too many races are bothered by the concept of interspecies relations. Mines are one of them. There is no cultural or social taboo about it. We like someone… we take them.” As she said this with a very intense albeit affectionate purr, her thick tail tightened a bit around his waist, causing him to wince a bit and laugh.
 
Then she looked up and smiled at him. “That was a joke. Except for the part about there being no taboo.” Her tail loosened up a bit… but only slightly.
 
But gods did he not want her to let go of him. He didn’t want to leave this place in general. He just wanted to be here, with her. The realization dawned on him as he neared full recovery. He was going to have to leave. He just wanted one moment with her. Just one moment to tell her and show her his affection for her.
 
That moment was now. So why couldn’t he just say it?
 
    “You’re going to miss this… aren’t you?” she asked. “Being here… with the tribe… with us… with me. You want to tell me how much you love me…”
 
Baxter turned his head aside to look at her as those drooping golden eyes peer sadly into his.
 
“I don’t want you to go either,” she added.
 
Both their free hands reached up to cup each other’s faces. Baxter tilted his head to the side, ever so slowly to get a better angle as the two drew closer to each other. Zetarra tilted her head to the opposite angle, letting his lips press against her mouth for a kiss before locking her mouth around his face. She couldn’t well purse her lips, so it was her attempt to make the kiss more proper and passionate. He did not mind the teeth at all. What mattered was this moment… here… expressing himself to her in the only way he knew how to communicate what he felt for her.
 
Although they knew very well it was going to make his departure more painful than it already is, it was better they have experienced it now.