"C'mon people! Let's keep it together! We're not out for an afternoon spin, we're supposed to be a Wing!!"
Yisminth growled under her breath. Rena, the Wingfirst, rubbed the green the wrong way. Why doesn't she try flying in formation for a change?
Almara sighed. She knew she should reprimand her dragon, but Rena and her blue Morth, got on her nerves as well. She should try paying more attention to us and less attention to that brat of hers on the ground.
Feena, on her green Olyth, pulled up beside Almara, in tight formation. The two riders began to talk through their dragons.
Why doesn't she leave her baby with Media? Or Celeste? Or anyone who's not supposed to be in the air? Rena's bossy attitude and tendency to overlook her own faults and overemphasize everyone else's, hadn't made her very many friends, especially since Magika promoted her to Wingfirst.
Almara could see Feena smile. She manages to keep one eye on us and one eye on Istian. The other greenrider glared as their 'leader' as she barked more commands.
Then which of her eyes is watching for Thread? Almara gritted her teeth, trying to have some form of pity for a woman who was trying to raise a one turn child by herself.
Haven't you heard? Feena was cut off by Rena insisting that they land, now.
Once they were back on the ground they listened to Rena complain for ten minutes about how poorly they did. Finally, she let them go when Istian began tugging on her leg. The child had just learned to walk and had also learned that this gesture often got him the attention of his mother. Morth followed his rider towards their weyr.
Almara sighed and removed her helmet. "Heard what?"
Feena smiled and smoothed her hair down. "She's psychic."
Almara smirked. "Then why does she let us continue these unproductive conversations during training?"
"Almara!" Neither of the greenrider's had noticed Rena's return. The Wingfirst probably hadn't heard them, but still, it was a little unnerving. "I need to speak with you."
Feena smiled as she went to join M’thew, her weyrmate. "Told you so."
"You fly with a flamethrower." Rena was stating the obvious.
"Yeah..." Almara wasn't sure where this was going. "Yisminth hasn't chewed firestone. So?"
"Why hasn't she? She's more than old enough?" Rena was genuinely confused.
"Because she wants to fly." Almara answered, thinking that would be the end of the matter.
"But she’s a green." Rena leaned against the wall of the Weyr. Almara had almost forgotten how annoyingly old-fashioned the Wingfirst was. Everyone had been amazed when she’d gotten a blue, considering how she adored the rules so. Amazingly, Rena managed to be a bluerider, single-mother and still keep all her old prejudices.
"She still wants to fly sometime in the future." Almara balled her fists. "She should have all the right given to any other female dragon in the Weyr or this world!"
Rena rolled her eyes. "I’ll talk to the Wingleader about this. Green flights are pointless."
Almara had to remind herself over and over again that killing Rena was a bad idea. "Why would you think that?" She immediately regretted the question, knowing the Wingfirst’s answer would only make her angrier.
"They can only produce browns, blues and greens. Granted those dragons are as needed and as important as any other in the Weyr, but golds produce them in much more efficient numbers with the added bonus of gold and bronzes in the clutch. Green only fly because soft Weyrwoman feel sorry for them." Rena crossed her arms and glared. "I cannot force you to do anything, but I will talk to the Wingleader about this, maybe even the Weyrwoman. A green has never flown at Adanuk."
"That’s not because the Weyrwoman won’t let them! That’s just because Succeth hogged the Sands for more than a turn and no other dragon has risen yet!" Almara was yelling and it annoyed her that the Wingfirst could anger her so. What annoyed her even more was the fact that Rena hadn’t lost her temper yet. She was so damn cool about everything.
"If that’s what you think." Rena turned and walked away quickly, denying Almara the pleasure of getting the last word.
"Ugh!!" Almara quickly returned to her weyr and began throwing things. "Damn Reca! Damn the Wingleader! Damn the Weyrwoman! Damn the Weyr! And damn Thread!"
Yisminth, even though this whole fight concerned her, couldn’t help smiling. Why is Thread to blame for Rena’s attitude?
"I don’t know!" Almara tossed her helmet at her lifemate. "But it is!!"
Taliana squealed from her hiding place behind Yisminth. The gold flit knew to stay out of Almara’s temper tantrums. Almara heard the noise and sighed, realizing how immature she was being. "I’m sorry Tali." She cradled the gold flit.
Tali! I’m the one you threw the helmet at! Yisminth was not really upset, just joking around.
"You’re right Yisminth. I’m sorry." Almara couldn’t help smiling. "Sorry I missed."
Yisminth’s tail knocked Almara over, without hurting her. Wise guy.
Almara laughed, but the memory of why she’s been angry in the first place quickly returned. She sighed and sat on the edge of her bed, wondering what she was supposed to do. As annoying as she was, Rena could make things very bad for Almara. She had the Wingleader’s ear and, if she talked to Magika before Almara could, the Wingfirst could probably get Almara in trouble. Almara hated thinking it, but she couldn’t help it. What if Yisminth didn’t really want to fly? It had been almost two turns since the green had reached full maturity and the only step she’d taken towards flying was mentioning it to Almara. What if the green was just keeping her options open for later? She was an amazingly resourceful dragon, who enjoyed having every little bit of control she could. What if this was going to turn into a big fight, all over Yisminth’s pride? She sighed again and watched Yisminth as the green preened herself.
Why don’t you talk about this with Feena, or M’thew? Since you obviously don’t want to talk about it with me. The comment was unfair and hurtful. The green was slightly offended, knowing that her rider was thinking that she was just being stubborn.
Almara sighed, more upset by the fact that Yisminth obviously knew what she’d been thinking than by her lifemate’s comment. "I think I will do just that." She left the gold flit, asleep on her bed as she went to find her friend.
"She has no right to order Yisminth to chew firestone." Feena spoke while she played a game of GO with her weyrmate.
M’thew, who was smiling and winning, was actually providing better insight into the conversation. "If she does go all the way to Magika, you know the Weyrwoman would never think of forcing a dragon to not fly. We could use all the eggs we can get around here, seeing how we’re understaffed. She’d probably jump at the thought of any dragon flying." M’thew moved a piece and smiled at Feena. "Better move quick. I’m about to win."
Feena glared at her longtime friend and longtime love. "How can you possibly! You’re too busy chatting with Almara to..." The greenrider trailed off as she saw the trap she had easily been ensnared within. "AH!" She quickly swept all the pieces off the board and into their box. "I hate you."
Almara couldn’t help smiling. If nothing else, talking with Feena and M’thew always brought a smile to her face. "You’ve never beaten him Feena. Why do you keep playing?"
"Faranth knows." The greenrider stroked both her and M’thew’s green flits before opening the window to let them out to play.
"Besides," M’thew continued his argument as if Almara and Feena’s conversation had never taken place. "Your wing isn’t slowed or otherwise compromised by your using a flamethrower is it?"
"Of course not." Feena answered for her friend. "It’s compromised by Rena’s inability to function like a normal human."
"C’mon Feena." M’thew smiled and grabbed her around the waist. "You’re being unfair. She’d been through a lot, what with Istian’s father leaving her and with a barely turn old child."
"And I wouldn’t know anything about children would I?" It was no secret that M’thew and Feena had been trying for a baby for over a turn. They’d been weyrmates for turns and friends forever. Almara wished them every happiness, but almost couldn’t stand how she always felt like the third wheel in all their conversations.
She cleared her throat before the two could continue their tangent to her problem. "The worst part is, now Yisminth’s mad at me because I dared suggest that she only said she wanted to fly to keep her options open."
Feena pulled out of M’thew’s embrace and sat on the double bed they shared. "That does sound like Yisminth."
"That sounds like any female." The bluerider was promptly swatted by both greenriders. "It does!"
"The problem isn’t just that, it’s..." Almara trailed off as a very hyper Tali appeared before her. Remembering that she’d left the golden flit asleep in her weyr, Almara wondered what could have freaked the creature such. "Taliana!" She tried to grab the flitter. "What’s the matter?"
It was Yisminth who answered the question. Thread. That single word was echoed simultaneously by every other dragon in the Weyr. M’thew, Feena and Almara looked at each other for a moment before running to get their gear. The discussion could wait.
Rena sighed and glanced around nervously as she saw that the rest of her wing was waiting for her. She was torn between leaving her child asleep in the weyr and taking him down to the Lower Caverns where the other women of the Weyr were watching the rest of the children. She bit her lip as she tried to make her decision faster, the Wing wouldn’t lift off without her. If she just shut the door, Istian would probably sleep through the whole Threadfall, one less horror imprinted on his young mind. If she carried him down to the Lower Caverns it would take up precious minutes and wake Istian, who would immediately begin crying for her not to leave him, which would make Rena feel just awful, which would delay her another few minutes. Finally, feeling Morth urging her on, Rena kissed her child, the one most important thing to her in the world, and quickly went to join her wing.
As she mounted Morth and the wing leapt into the air, she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of fear and regret. Fear for Istian, alone in the Threadfall, and regret that she’d ever loved his father so much as to keep the child instead of fostering him off to a nice safe Hold. Now that option seemed entirely impossible and barbaric to her, but when she’d first learned of her pregnancy, that had been her plan. She was a dragonrider, a Wingfirst, she didn’t have time for children. But Istian changed her entire plan the moment she first saw him. Rena’d been foolish enough to think that it would all be okay, as long as her love stayed with her, the baby could stay with his non-dragonriding father when his mother was out working. Unfortunately, Istian’s good-for-nothing father had taken off, leaving her broken-hearted.
Rena tried not to think about the man who’d been her first and only love. She tried to think about dragonflight, and bothered to notice that Almara was still using a flamethrower...I guess I couldn’t have expected her to run right off and feed that green beast firestone. It’s only been a few candlemarks since our discussion. The Wingfirst knew well enough that Almara and Feena both hated her. At one point in her lifetime, this may have bothered Rena, but now she didn’t care. She’d vowed never to get emotionally attached in any way to another human being. She had Istian and she had Morth. She didn’t need anyone else. Not now, not ever.
But she was wrong. Something happened just then that would change her life forever and prove that she was wrong. Istian, obviously having woken up and in search of his mother, walked onto Morth’s dragonledge. He looked around, confused at the dragons flying above him, and sat down. Rena cried out, knowing she had to stay with her wing formation, and needing to take care of Istian. There was no one else who could get to him, considering she’d made sure to lock her door. Why hadn’t she made sure to lock to door out to the dragonledge as well? She wished vehemently that she could be in two places at once, but that would, could never happen. She need somebody else, or she needed to go. Her wing was flying Homeguard, over the Weyr and Magika’s Forest, they were not absolutely needed. The Weyr was rock and the trees were just trees. In an instant, her decision made, Rena broke formation and had Morth fly to his dragonledge. Confused by their Wingfirst’s actions, half the wing descended with her, and the other half continued to fly in a half-hearted formation. They weren’t stopping all the Thread anymore, but if Rena could just get Istian inside she knew that everything would be alright. She knew she might get in a lot of trouble for this stunt, but if nothing else, Rena would save her son.
Magika took a great pride in her forest. There weren’t many forests on Pern, obviously because of the deadly Thread, but Adanuk Weyr was surrounded on three sides by a majestic collection of centuries-old trees. They’d been a gift from her friend Mystic, a part of her old home to keep at her new home. The Weyrwoman had named it Saiai Nagori, words that held meaning only to her. Magika’s Forest, as people tended to call it since it was a lot simpler and made more sense, was the largest forest on Pern and the only reason a small Weyr like Adanuk was noticed most of the time. To make sure her many acres of trees would never be touched by the evils of Thread, the Weyrwoman created a special position. Since she did not want to continuously give one Wing the ‘honour’ of guarding her trees, so the duty rotated. The wing whose turn it was to stay and protect Adanuk and Saiai Nagori were given the nickname Homeguard and always got preferential treatment at the after-Threadfall parties. Unlike some other Weyrs, who never bother to leave a Homeguard, since the structure was made of rock after all, Magika found it comforting to return after fighting Thread to find dragons in the sky over her forest. She always smiled as her wing returned home.
She was not smiling now. Not as she watched the Homeguard, disorganized, descending, failing. Half the wing was on the ground, seeking shelter from the Thread while the other half was barely keeping themselves alive. What made her even more angry was what she noticed next. Her forest, her Saiai Nagori, was being eaten alive by Thread. Trees older than her, older than Adanuk, older than the rock around them were being consumed at a horrific rate. Over one third of the forest was already gone. Magika, fuming mad, ordered half her wing to join the Homeguard and, barely holding back tears, the other half to raze Saiai Nagori. The dragons would burn more of her forest, and the Thread that was eating it, to save what was left of her forest from being consumed. The Weyrwoman, in a horrible mood, began her own descent into the Weyrbowl. Someone’s head is going to roll for this!! Who would call half a bloody wing down part way through Threadfall?!? I’m gonna maim, massacre, destroy... Magika searched for more synonyms.
Maybe there’s a good reason. Hyth knew the entire story behind the forest and knew that it was very important to her rider. The gold Sr. Queen also knew that Adanuk’s Wings were well trained and well lead. They wouldn’t just descend into chaos for no good reason.
What good reason? What possible good reason? Magika was still fuming as she landed. Hundreds of years of history....gone. Just gone. In a matter of minutes. Some of those trees were half a millennia old!! Dead in moments! They’ve lived all sorts of places, seen more people than I could possibly know! They come all the way from Meteal! Meteal!! I grew up with them! And now they’re gone. Magika balled her fists. Someone is going to pay for this.
Almara and Yisminth were one of the pairs who followed Rena and Morth in their unexpected descent. The greenrider had no idea what was going on, but if she’d learned nothing else here she’d learned to follow the leader, and her leader was nosediving for her dragonledge.
Something’s very wrong! Yisminth was visibly shaken. Almara knew this wasn’t good.
What? Almara noticed the wing falling apart and suddenly wished she’d stayed in the skies. She knew that this was not supposed to be happening.
Save Rena! Save Morth! Save Istian! The green didn’t land, but swooped close enough to the ledge for Almara to jump. She landed roughly, nervously watching the skies for patches of Thread that were easily getting through the chaotic Homeguard. She’d dropped her flamethower when she leapt. She noticed that Morth and Rena had landed on the ledge only moments after herself. Obviously Yisminth was a lot faster than Morth, plus the fact that the green didn’t slow down to land like Morth had. Almara and Rena reached Istian at the same time. The child was screaming his lungs out.
"What are you doing here?" Rena glared at Almara as she picked up her son.
"I came to help you, but I guess you didn’t need it." Almara couldn’t help being snippy as she was out here risking her life while Yisminth was off doing Faranth knows what.
"I don’t!" Rena hurried to the door that led back into her weyr. Technically, it was a door inside a door. The door that closed over the main entrance, the one that Morth could fit through, was shut tight. A smaller, human sized door had been installed within the larger dragon door and this was the door the Wingfirst had forgotten to lock. Or had she? As Rena yanked on the door it didn’t budge. Almara quickly moved to join her and discovered the same thing. The both pulled on the door for a few minutes, while Morth watched the skies. So far they’d been amazingly lucky.
"You locked us out?" Almara couldn’t believe the stupidity of her leader.
"No..." Rena muttered, realizing that she hadn’t forgotten to lock the door, she would never forget to lock the door. She had, however, upon using it to exit the weyr, not shut it properly. Istian could have easily pushed it open, since the latch hadn’t clicked, and then let it close behind him. They were stuck on the ledge.
YISMINTH!! Almara called her lifemate’s name as both women raced to mount Morth, Rena still cursing herself and carrying her child.
I’m coming! The dragon promised, but she was no where to be seen.
Almara, not burdened down by guilt or a child, beat Rena to Morth. To her surprise the dragon wouldn’t let her mount. He can’t really expect me to die up here waiting for Yisminth can he? Almara’s question was soon answered when she saw him open his mouth and shoot his flame straight above them. Their luck had run out.
Rena, thinking surprisingly quickly, grabbed Almara’s arm and pulled her under the protection of Morth’s blue wings. But the dragon couldn’t protect them all, not with such a limited fight space, not while keeping his wings extended, not after having already fought Thread over the Weyr. His flame, and strength were giving out. In a final decision, Morth grabbed Almara in one claw, his rider and her child in the other and leapt from the ledge, making sure to keep both women and the child beneath him.
Almara had never heard a dragon scream before and she never wished to again.
About twenty feet off the ground, Morth’s threadscarred wings could no longer support the blue dragon. He dropped his three passengers and managed to move over so his body did not land on them. Almara shook her head as she made sure she had no broken bones or other serious damage. She looked to make sure Rena and Istian were okay, and was presented with a sight that would haunt her nightmares for a long time to come.
Rena sat, eyes wide, mouth open, watching her lifemate die. The dragon was severely threadscarred, and amazingly still alive. Istian was screaming, partly because the child was terrified and partly because he’d banged his head. A small cut leaked a trinkle of blood down his face. Rena on the other hand, was covered with blood. She hadn’t let go of Istian when she’d fallen, even though Morth’s pain and last thoughts were filling her with more emotion than she’d ever felt. She’d protected her son, but she hadn’t landed very well. Her one leg was obviously broken, with the bone sticking right out of the skin and her riding leathers. Her head was badly cut and bruised and she was losing altogether too much blood. Istian was being covered in it as she couldn’t let him go. Almara blinked back sudden, unexpected tears and rushed over to help a woman she would have named her worst enemy not a candlemark ago.
Rena’s eyes were devoid of any emotion as Almara knelt beside her. They were glossed over as she searched with what was left of her sanity for her dragon’s voice. But Almara knew she would never find it. Morth’s heart may have still been beating, but only because his heart didn’t know that his mind was dead. The blue was motionless. Almara tried to take Istian from the woman, but Rena wouldn’t let go. "Please." Almara muttered, putting both arms around Rena. "Please don’t stay here. You have to save your son. Please. Let me help you."
"Morth..." Rena whispered her lifemate’s name as the blue betweeneed. "Morth?"
"He’s gone Rena. You have to let me carry Istian. Then I can help you. We can get to shelter." Almara tried again to get the wailing child out of his broken mother’s grasp. Rena’s hands went limp as she surrendered the blood-soaked child. Although she tried to pretend she didn’t notice, her hands were sticky with the Wingfirst’s blood. She knew that Rena needed help now if the Wingfirst was to live. She’d already lost too much blood. She held Istian in one arm and tried to get Rena to stand. The dragons overhead were trying to cover them, but they were shorthanded. They seemed to be situated more over the forest than the Weyr. After all, the Weyr was made of stone, it shouldn’t have a problem with a little Threadfall.
"C’mon Rena. I can help you. We’ll get you to the Healer’s and I’m sure you’ll be fine." Almara noticed she was crying. She hated how her voice cracked as she sobbed. "It’ll be okay."
"Morth..." The Wingfirst looked from the place where the blue dragon had been to Almara, or more precisely, to Istian. "My son..." She closed her eyes slowly and reached for him. "I thought I’d lost everyone..." Almara watched as Rena fell backwards, hitting her head on the ground again with a sickening thunk. Almara didn’t have to check, she knew by the peaceful, indifferent look on Rena’s face that the woman was dead.
"YISMINTH!!" Almara called the dragon’s name again, this time outloud. "Where are you?" Almara slipped in the blood and fell, cutting her cheek open and breaking her wrist. She was barely holding back her hysteria. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life. Istian was still wailing, loud enough to drown out Almara’s sobs. "Yisminth..." Almara stood up again, carrying Istian in her good arm. She couldn’t stop crying, but she could still save the child. She began to walk as quickly as her bruised body would take her towards the nearest door. She tried to keep an eye out for Thread, but the tears blurred her vision. In less than ten minutes Almara had seen and experienced more pain than she had in the rest of her life. That knowledge was making it hard to function.
She didn’t notice the Thread above her until a silvery strand fell not two feet above her. She shrieked, louder than Istian. She couldn’t react sensibly anymore. This was too much. Now Istian was going to die as well, she was going to die. She saw the pieces of her flamethrower, broken from the long fall and wished desperately that she hadn’t let it slip. She might have been able to save herself now...have saved Morth, Rena. It almost wasn’t worth the effort to try to get away. Death was coming to claim her. She screamed again, this time in anger. A saying she’d heard once floated into her mind. Her thoughts cleared and she realized that she had to make it to another door. She quickly stopped crying and managed to find a hidden reserve of strength, inspired by the thoughts that the saying had placed in her mind. Her sore limbs the strength they needed to race for the door across the Weyrbowl, where Thread wasn’t falling, yet. The silvery cloud was slowly sinking across the entire open area. "YISMINTH!!!" Almara shrieked her lifemate’s name, her voice cracking so that the single word covered many octaves.
I am here. Almara could have wept in relief as she saw her green dragon land beside her, if she hadn’t just managed to stop crying moments before.
"Took you long enough!" She snapped angrily. She couldn’t help blaming Yisminth a little for this whole situation. Where had the damned green been anyways?
For once in her life, Yisminth let an insult slide. Forgive me. The green dragon opened her mouth and flame spewed from it. The fire consumed the Thread, covered their retreat, saved all of their lives. The fire meant that Yisminth had chewed firestone. The fire explained where the green dragon had disappeared to when Almara had needed her. The fire showed what Yisminth had sacrificed to save her rider.
"Almara!!" Media ran to collect both the greenrider and the newly orphaned Istian in her arms.
Almara looked blankly at the Headwoman for a moment, not comprehending that she was finally inside the Weyr, finally safe. The knowledge wasn’t long in coming though, and when it hit Almara collapsed into the older woman’s arms, her tears quickly returning. She cried for Morth, who had sacrificed himself to save his rider and her child. She cried for Rena, who had watched her lifemate die because of her carelessness. She cried for Istian whose mother had died, leaving him alone. Lastly, she cried for Yisminth, because as she’d watched a mother die saving her child, as her own motherly instincts had commanded her to save the boy, as she held Istian, she realized how much Yisminth really had wanted to be a mother.
"What the hell happened?" Magika’s voice was several decibels louder than usual as she stormed through the Weyrbowl. "Why did the Homeguard leave the skies?"
"Magika." Celeste, the Master Healer, spoke the Weyrwoman’s name in a barely audible whisper.
"The entire wing fell apart! I’ve never seen such a poorly organized wing! It looked like I’d left the weyrlings to defend Adanuk and my forest! What could make sensible riders act like idiots?" Magika continued her rant.
"Magika." Celeste tried again to halt the speech that would probably be the best speech Magika would ever regret.
"Almost half the forest is gone! We lost half the wild animals around here! That’s half the food source! We lost two-thirds of the runner stables to Thread! And the entire dock! We’re just lucky no one was on it when the whole thing, ships and all, sank!"
"MAGIKA!" Celeste screamed, her own voice cracking. The healer never screamed. "Shut up." She couldn’t say any more, just pointed across the Weyrbowl. Magika turned to see the charred body of Rena being tended to by Celeste’s underlings. Farther in the distance, she could see Almara sobbing and holding the former Wingfirst’s son in her arms. They were both covered in blood. Even though she couldn’t see Morth’s body, Magika could guess what had happened to him. Also, she realized the only way Almara and Istian could have survived the Thread covered Weyrbowl would have been with a flamethrower, or a dragon capable of flame...but Almara’s flamethrower was in various pieces many metres from the body of Rena. Seeing the sullen Yisminth next to her rider, Magika jumped to the correct conclusion. This was the first death of a dragon/rider team at Adanuk due to Threadfall.
The Weyrwoman, overcome by sadness, tried to remember what she’d been angry about. Saiai Nagori... The words meant ‘beloved memory’.
Hundreds of years of history...
Magika sighed and put an arm around Celeste. And somehow it doesn’t matter anymore.
"You shouldn’t feel obligated to do this." The Headwoman had been keeping a close eye on Almara for the last few seven-days since the disaster. She hadn’t been altogether surprised by her request.
"I want to." Almara was sitting on her bed, Istian in her arms, Taliana on her shoulder. The boy was trying to catch Tali’s golden tail and the flitter was purposefully keeping it out of reach. "I feel like I owe him something."
"You don’t Almara, believe me. There’s nothing you could have done any better." Media wanted to go and put her arms around the greenrider, but she didn’t. Almara had been hugged too much in the last few days. It didn’t seem to matter anymore.
"I want to. I’d really like to. Please Media?" Almara looked up at her with the kind of look in her eyes that no one can say no to.
"I’ll ask Magika. She’ll say yes. After she’s asked all the same questions I have, of course." Media sighed.
Almara smiled fainly. "Of course." Tali squeaked when Istian finally got her tail, but surprisingly didn’t lash out. She seemed to realize she was dealing with somebody her owner now held dear.
Media, realizing that Almara wasn’t going to say anything else, left to attend to her duties and talk with the Weyrwoman about Almara’s request. Of course Magika was going to say yes, she had too. It seemed somehow fitting for Almara to adopt Istian as her own.
"Do you think he’ll remember his real mother?" Almara asked her lifemate, though she did not look up from the child. "Do you think I should tell him?"
He might have some faint, half-remembered picture of her in his mind, but I don’t think it will be anything prominent enough for him to place her face. The green dragon’s tail appeared dangling in the air for Istian to grab. And I think you should explain it to him...someday...when he’s ready.
She’s so good with children... Almara couldn’t help thinking as Yisminth made Istian laugh. "I’m sorry." Almara said the words for the zillionth time since Yisminth had thrown away all her chances at ever having had children of her own.
We’ve been over this. Yisminth was right. A long heartfelt talk the night of that day had settled everything between rider and dragon. Neither of them would have been able to sleep anyways.
"I know. But I’m still sorry." Almara carried the child to his cradle that had been placed in his room.
Don’t be. Bad things happened. We couldn’t have changed them. I made a decision. I don’t regret it. The dragon curled up on her dragoncouch, after checking to make sure that all doors out of the weyr were closed and locked.
"You don’t?" Almara quickly changed into her pajamas.
Not in the least. I had an epiphany, like you did when you finally stopped sobbing and began racing across the Weyrbowl. I realized I’d rather have you than some silly flight or children or anything. I realized I loved you most.
Almara smiled and quickly ran to her lifemate. She kissed the green dragon on the nose, feeling happy for the first time since the disaster. "Thanks."
No problem. Yisminth seemed rather pleased with herself. She could always make Almara happy. The dragon yawned. Night was rapidly approaching. So, I bared my soul, now it’s your turn. What was your epiphany all about?
Almara laughed. "It was just a saying I heard somewhere...it seemed to make a lot of sense at the time." She walked over to where Istian had already fallen asleep in his crib.
What saying? Yisminth lifted her head so she could see her rider’s face.
Almara reached down to stroke Istian’s head when she noticed a long, deep cut running most of the way up her arm. In all the pain of everything that had happened to her, emotionally and physically, Almara hadn’t noticed that she’d been threadscarred. It wasn’t until that moment did Almara realize how close they’d both came to dying, but oddly it didn’t unsettle her. She’d had an epiphany, as Yisminth put it.
"You can’t outrun death forever," She saw that the wound was healing nicely. It would only leave a faint scar, one more tiny brush with death to add to her growing list. She clenched her fist. "But you can make the bastard work for it."
Read Almara's Candidate Story.
Read Almara's Hatchling Story.
Read Almara's Weyrling Story.
Almara impressed Yisminth at Cincanta Weyr.
Almara impressed Taliana from Gallimim Weyr.