<<Won a flight at Dark Moon Weyr. His Jyvadoth flew green Wenaveth, and he’s stuck on the Sands with her until the eggs hatch,>> Inyxith replied cheerfully, testing her right wing out of habit.
Anyghari had a distinct desire to pace and throw things. Since there was nothing she really hurl inside her sparse little weyr, she merely paced. “So the wherrybrain skipped out to another Weyr, popped out of the air into the beginnings of a flight, by some Red-Star-influenced luck won, and is now bound to sit there on the Sands while I graduate /alone/?”
<<That would be correct,>> said Inyxith, unconcerned. <<What do you care? You always said G’yr and Jyvadoth were stealing our glory. I don’t believe a word of it, but you /are/ my rider.>>
“Because I can’t be /better/ than him if he isn’t /here/!” Anyghari wailed, and plopped down on her cot, arms crossed beneath her head. Almost as soon as she had stilled, she bounced up again, restlessly crossing the room. “Inyxith, are you getting to me?”
<<Getting to you?>> the green snorted, insulted. <<More like you’re getting to me. Fuss, fuss, fuss. And hey, where do you want to fly?>>
“Fly?” Anyghari queried, eyeing her lifemate as if she’d gone mad. “Where we usually do, you silly wherry.”
<<I wanna go somewhere else to fly,>> Inyxith muttered sulkily. <<I wanna go look at the other Weyrs.>>
Anyghari caught on, but the frown didn’t slip a bit. “Stop whining. Where do you want to fly? Isn’t Talor Cliff Weyr good enough?”
Inyxith fanned her wings. <<They know me too well. I want adventure, and /new/ dense males, and…somewhere else, Ghari. They can’t catch me, you know. Jyvadoth can’t catch me, and he’s faster’n any of ‘em. Name the first Weyr you think of.>>
“Ryslen,” said Anyghari thoughtfully.
<<That’s where I’ll fly, then. They should be delighted to have such a lovely dragon as me there. It will be an enlightening experience for those males.>>
