The Scenario
It was just before noon; a good time for thread as it wasn't so early that everyone was tired, nor was it too late that one would dread the oncoming thread all day as they dealt with restless dragons till the time came. No, this was perfect; the winds were not too strong,the skies were clear, and thread would be over in the evening where those who were uninjured could relax over a glass of wine and enjoy the evening before they retired for the night. Thread was to fall over Thyra, a large expanse to cover that would keep them in the air a good three hours before trailing off into the mountains where the dragons would not need to flame.

Already, the dragonriders were getting ready, harnessing their dragons while already in fighting gear. The first of the firestone would be fed, while a spare sack would be tied onto the dragon's straps so they could replenish in the air. The Weyrlings would not be able to fly yet, so certain riders from each wing would have to routinely go back for sacks for everyone in their wing.



Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights.

Zaela turned quite green as Nako pulled up her shirt and peeled back her wound to show all the Weyrlings, laughing most wickedly as many of them cringed and looked away. She'd heard of the candidatemaster's wound, but she certainly didn't expect to see it! Regardless of how disgusting that display was, she was keen to pay attention as Nako spoke, for it was imperative that they all knew what to do when the dragons began needing firestone.

"We've already got a good stack going, but they'll be needing more. When I call you all to order, you'll need to get in line like I showed you, and start tossing those firestone sacks out of the shed and over to this ledge where they are to be picked up. J'deryk, T'bai.. you two will be throwing the firestone sacks up to the dragonriders when they come by, so I'll want you at the end of the line for sure."

"Now... for any candidates who couldn't find a job elsewhere... You'll be in the shed pulling the sacks from the back. I'll let you know when it's time to start moving them again but this is a good start for now. Your dragons will be agitated when things get heated; just keep them calm; we'll hardly be able to see the thread clouds over the horizon so your dragons should not end up getting too excited."

Mellanoth rumbled deeply, lifting his head to look longingly toward the direction he knew by instinct that thread would be falling. He truly wished to fly thread that day, but his rider's injury made that quite impossible. He kept his cool though, for if he became excited, the weyrling dragons would become ill at ease as well. His age kept a good handle on their young minds, but it was daunting that the bronzes and some of the browns were now as big as he was.


Alesia's Wing

They were making good time, but then again her wing was small. She had a few new arrivals into her wing, and she watched them closely as they put their straps on their dragons, issuing a casual warning to all when their dragons were chewing stone not to let them bite their tongues. Something as simple as a bitten tongue would keep them out of the Fall, for it was not healthy for a dragon to breathe flame over an open wound in their mouth. Even those who she trusted could keep in line would be scrutinized so as not to seem like she was picking exclusively on the new arrivals.

She kept her helmet in the crook of her arm as she marched up and down the line; a routine that soothed her as she occasionally reached out to test the tightness of a strap against the neck of one of he dragons before giving them a pat and the rider a nod before moving on. She took her role as seriously as if she were in fact flying on the top Wing in the sky. The reality of it would be that they flew on the lowest wing of all, searing little thread in comparison to those above. Those in the queen's wing ended up becoming complacent and lazy; she'd be sure to switch them out and put them in a higher wing when she saw that behavior happening. Till then though, she ruled over her wingriders with an iron fist, demanding nothing but perfection and perfect formation. After all, with the small amount of thread that actually got through, it was all the more reason that they should never falter.


"How are we doing, Wingsecond?" Alesia walked up to the brown's side, running a hand over the brown hide as if to inspect it before checking the straps. Recently, Alesia had been demanding a bit more space... not letting the brownrider too close again. Every now and then she'd let her hand linger on his shoulder, or their eyes lock together a touch longer than was called for... but they had both been so busy; Thyra had demanded much of her time in negotiations and conferences... it had been nothing but boring, tedious politics between all the Holds for months. Lately though... she'd pulled away, and it probably had something to do with the brightening of Iolath's hide. She'd hinted here and there that she wanted to remain impartial.. to not influence her queen. She'd avoided talk of Sevofth flying Iolath. She didn't want to put ideas in K'jin's head. The last thing she wanted again was a Weyrleader who didn't want the job.

"Looking good, Sevofth." Alesia crooned up to the brown, giving a pat to the nearly black-brown hide before stepping away. She couldn't help but glance at Iolath, who had her head raised up to the sky, nostrils flared and eyes whirling with fire. She was such an intense queen when thread was to fall, and when she wasn't looking to the sky she was surveying each of the dragons, trying to find a weakness, an injury or a problem with any of them that would impede their ability to fly. She'd even glimpse over their minds.. and that habit had caused her to cut a few greens temporarily from the team if their mind was too volatile from proddiness to fly well against thread. Judging on Iolath's color, she'd need to pull her from the next few threadfalls as a precaution. The queen seemed so slow to rise before, and her proddiness so prolonged before she finally took flight. Sometimes Alesia wondered if it was because of her intense way of living her life, and her intense desire to fight thread. Was that impeding Iolath's natural queenlike tendencies?

Weyr Bowl -- Healers

If one thought that the Weyrbowl would be a quiet place before threadfall, they would be wrong. The old and wizened Marti oversaw everything as her strapping gaggle of male apprentices hefted the great spools of cloth, and tubs of numbweed and redwort. The Weyr Bowl became an outdoor infirmary, and everything had to be set up to take care of the most severe of cases; to not be prepared could cost the life of dragon and rider.

"No no, you silly things! Over here! Yes, we need more cloth next over here as this will be where we treat the critical patients. Don't you dare drop those needlethorns on the ground! We'd have to sterilize them all over again.. yes, put them on the table, that's good!" Her cane swung out to pop an errant apprentice on the behind that was dawdling and not doing his work, sending the lad yelping and back into pace. Spare the cane, spoil the child, she always said! Honestly, if he thought that had hurt, he should have been around 20 turns ago! Nowadays, hitting an apprentice with her cane hurt her ailing joints more than it did their tail ends.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Standing near Zaela, J'deryk caught his friend's sick expression as Nako - rather sadistically, he thought with a grin - casually pulled up her tunic to show them the raw, crooked edges of the healing wound on her back. The sight, while disturbing, didn't bother him as much. No one could spend much time around ovines and not have a strong stomach. The lanky weyrling came up behind Zaela and touched her on the shoulder. He was about to whisper a joke in her ear, to take her mind off Nako's gruesome wound, when suddenly Mellanoth's rider spoke his own name. Startled, he met Nako's eyes and gave her a brisk nod, self-consciously straightening his spine even as he swallowed in a throat suddenly dry. The look he gave Zaela then was an honest mixture of pride and anxiety; J'deryk was aware of one or two of the bronze weyrlings looking over at him and T'bai. He knew what they were thinking: I'm bigger, I'm stronger, my dragon's a bronze...why them and not me?

Tough, he thought, and his grin broadened as Nako turned away. He let go of Zaela's shoulder and flexed his fingers, feeling a surge of unsullied pleasure at being chosen. Nobody could say Nako wasn't fair, and the fact that his hard work during weyrling drills wasn't being overlooked now, during crunch time.

Nako's next words penetrated his haze of pride, and J'deryk at once took better hold of himself, gold-flecked gray eyes sobering as he looked at Colieth on his right. Not that his mottled boy was an excitable blue. On the contrary, he was stolid and focused, and at last it seemed that his gawky baby stage was over and his body was growing into his personality. He wasn't huge; the Weyrleader had remarked that Colieth would never be the Weyr's biggest blue, but that he should have excellent stamina for his color. Certainly Colieth was well proportioned, with a deep well-muscled chest and clean slender limbs. A working dragon. And currently, J'deryk saw, his grin resurfacing, Colieth was throwing his shoulders back and craning his head as he regarded Neliyuth sideways. He didn't have to read his dragon's thoughts to know what he was doing: silently showing off the fact that at long last he was a bare inch taller than Zaela's big green.

He nudged Zaela in the ribs and pointed silently at their dragons' tableau, his eyes dancing beneath his mop of brown-gold curls.

Alesia's Wing

Buckled and strapped into stiff, heavy wherhide, K'jin stood beside Sevofth's shoulder and felt around to his lower back, making sure the jacket met and overlapped the waistband of his trousers. Wherhide might impede movement somewhat, but the stuff would keep live Thread from eating into his flesh just long enough for rider and dragon to realize it was there and the dragon to blink between to crack and freeze the insidious stuff dead. A small price to pay, and he wasn't about to risk leaving a kidney gap for a loose drift of Thread to find and devour. At the low altitude he flew with the Queen's wing, the risk of that happening was greater than for those meeting the descending menace first.

His mind was full of deadly calm, and he could sense the same focused waiting in his dragon's mind. Sevofth, born and bred to fight Thread, had keyed in from weyrlinghood on his rider's iron patience going in to a Fall. There was no sense, K'jin had taught him, in wasting his energy getting pepped up for a fight. Thread was there; it would always be there, regular as a fine clock mechanism, and they would meet it and destroy it in due course. Then, and only then, all the considerably energy of that dragon and rider pair focused on the simple, primitively fierce joy of utterly destroying the enemy. That this particular enemy was a mindlessly voracious alien to Pern didn't matter a whit. It could not be reasoned with, could not be captured and imprisoned. What it touched, it killed, and that made it more deadly than any sentient adversary.

Sevofth lifted his great dark head, eyes still blue, but brightening here and there with glinting facets of orange as the Fall approached. He scented the air, facing east toward Thyra Hold, and said, It comes.

It was a marvel, K'jin thought, that dragon instinct was so highly developed that Thread's arrival was marked and known by each of them - even, as in this case, if Fall was occurring sixty or seventy leagues away.

We'll make it wish it hadn't, K'jin replied with ironic high spirits, and Sevofth snorted, flattening his earknobs and glancing back at his rider.

My flame will be strong today, hot and bright.

Good, said K'jin with intense satisfaction, and showed the edges of his teeth.

"How are we doing, Wingsecond?" The voice, rich and flecked with strength that, while intensely feminine, had nothing to do with womanhood, interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he studied Alesia for a moment in silence. The Weyrwoman was bareheaded, carrying her helmet in the crook of her arm. His own shorn head was already covered, his goggles strapped atop the helmet so he could pull them down over his eyes as soon as they took off. Alesia's stride was her normal pre-Fall swinging march; but this day, rather than nodding crisply and passing on a few terse instructions as usual, she paused without looking at him and casually stroked Sevofth's dark, muscular shoulder.

It was the way she'd been allowing herself to touch him, sparingly, never in public, in the sevendays since the Gather. She'd stopped that recently, and K'jin figured it was because he hadn't touched her back. He wasn't the only one who'd noticed Iolath's increasingly golden hide, but he was one of the few who hadn't remarked on it. He had removed himself deliberately from wanting anything for so long that to have so many desires suddenly thrust upon him nearly made him dizzy. Attempts at rationalization did no good and only made him angry and more antisocial than ever, so K'jin had taken refuge in silence and waiting. Waiting for his true and most basic desires to rise above the bubbling murk of logic and emotion and fear; waiting, perhaps, for Iolath to rise. Acting on his impulses had brought frustration for him and he could only imagine what for Alesia. Anger? Pain? Conflict? Maybe all three.

Watching her, her close-cropped head focused on Sevofth as she crooned to him, K'jin realized with an intense shock that he cared very much what Alesia thought, and felt, and wanted. And how different, he thought, how very different, would it be to come in from Threadfall, not alone to a silent Weyr, but to the kisses or even rebukes - the company - of someone like her? Sevofth's company was always necessary, always satisfying. The dragon was part of his soul, and he understood K'jin as no one else ever had, or ever could. But a human counterpart was something altogether different, with all its pleasures and worries, tempests and calms.

For the first time, watching Alesia with his dragon, K'jin contemplated these things without instinctively pushing them away.

The realization was in itself disturbing. And given the time and place, unwelcome.

Sevofth, heedless of his rider's mental turmoil, turned at the touch of Alesia's hand and bent his wedge-shaped great head, not so much smaller than a bronze's, to whuff hot breath gently over her. I'm doing well, K'jin heard him say, and he said it so distinctly and carefully that he knew he was speaking to Alesia. K'jin stared at him. Was it politeness to his ruling queen's rider in answering her question directly, or genuine liking for Alesia herself?

Whatever it was, Sevofth kept his own counsel, and K'jin covered up his own startled reaction by answering Alesia's question deadpan.

"Kasmith and Reyth should have a particularly good Fall. They're fighting fit and have been on top of their game during drills." Alone of Kharasi's wingseconds, K'jin often led the wing's training. Alesia's multiple duties as Weyrwoman too often kept her away. While she still managed to make practices two or three days in seven, K'jin drilled them every day in all weather, same as the main wings. The queen's wing might not see too much active battle, but their unique duties in acting as both mop-up crew and rescue squad meant they had to be able to respond instantly and in complete harmony.

He always figured that in the absence of a second queen and the necessity of bronzes to lead the fight, Alesia had picked him as wingsecond solely because Sevofth was the biggest brown in the Weyr. Dragons who had to act as ambulance for others who were too injured to fly had to be big and strong. A bronze would've been wasted; Sevofth in tandem with Iolath was more than capable of carrying even Behamath or Kasmalith, Kharasi's biggest bronzes. Not that either of them had ever been badly scored. They were too wily.

K'jin continued, lowering his voice and bending his head slightly toward Alesia. "Liranath's going to rise, did you notice? Not this sevenday, maybe not even the next. Emig hasn't even figured it out. But that green's twitchy and self-absorbed, Sevofth says, and that's a sure sign, especially for her first time. They should be fine today, but we'll watch them unless you think they should be pulled."

((I'm sorry for the second post. That one was getting a little long.))

A'breeq's Wing

Black hair immaculately tucked under her helmet, not a wisp showing, Ywain swung herself with practiced ease between Pranath's sixth and seventh neck ridge. The green dragon looked back at her, eye facets whirling with anticipation as she felt the rise to Thread imminent. Grinning at her dragon, Ywain patted the four bulging canvas sacks, strapped securely along Pranath's withers, two on each side and all full of firestone.

All there, dear one. They went through this ritual before every Fall. It had the effect of calming both rider and dragon, like an athlete repeating a favorite mantra before a big competition.

My belly is rumbling with it already. As if to emphasize her point, Pranath's sides rumbled beneath Ywain's knees. The fiery-eyed young woman squeezed back appreciatively.

You feel good today, don't you?

I always feel good before Threadfall, Pranath answered with perfect honesty. The lithe green had never been sick and only lightly injured, and while she often took a single ten-minute breather, she prided herself on being able to least nearly an entire Fall. Not many greens could. Today's wouldn't be difficult, L'gan had assured them in that morning's briefing. The air was calm and still over Thyra, cloudless, and the immaculately-kept Fall records suggested that this one should be short - no more than three hours. Unless Thread was clumping today, this Fall should be as close to routine as any life-risking enterprise was likely to get.

Ywain paused in fastening her safety straps to give the thumbs-up to L'ricor as he passed by on his last minute inspection of the wing. A little way beyond them, up the ridge, A'breeq was doing the same. Wingleader and wingsecond always worked both ends against the middle, and that familiar sight, too, was reassuring to Ywain and Pranath.

They do things even more efficiently here than we did at Tiazora, Ywain noted to her dragon, pride swelling her chest. The wing was well-drilled, and Ywain was well-matched in A'breeq's "buddy system" with Ratina and Forgoth. She knew that Ratina had had a falling out with Nako just before the Gather; Forgoth had caught a different green and Ratina, unapologetically homosexual, had switched weyrs after that, so to speak. Still, it hadn't affected Ratina's attitude toward Fall in the least, for which Ywain was grateful. She had grown up a fighter, and she needed a stolid, unexcitable presence beside her if she was to go confidently into battle. Ratina was it. Forgoth was beside them as always, and during Fall they would watch each other's backs and relay vital messages between them. Two pairs of eyes were better than one, especially where Thread was concerned.

Finishing with her fighting straps, Ywain double checked that the chin strap of her helmet was secure and pulled her goggles down over her eyes, giving Ratina a nod as the blue rider glanced her way. They were ready.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Aeryn listened, white-faced with tension, to Nako's pre-Fall lecture. Eagrith was equally focused on the green rider's words, and it was clear that his rider's thrumming nerves were getting to him. He shifted continually from foot to foot and his eyes whirled with anxiety. Part of it was excitement about something new, but part of it was her own fault, Aeryn thought guiltily. She had to work on separating her strongest emotional reactions from her dragon, and of all the training she'd done since Eagrith had hatched, that was the most difficult for her. Other weyrlings mastered it with apparent ease, but for Aeryn it was a constant struggle that left her often miserable and exhausted, and Eagrith not much better.

Her fear today was that some overreaction or other would set off her young dragon, and they'd fumble something important, and someone would get hurt.

But we practice all the time! Eagrith said. We practice every day.

All the same, Aeryn was relieved that all they'd have to do was fill sacks. She'd hate to have to do what T'bai and J'deryk had to do, and toss the heavy, awkward sacks across empty air to a moving target. She'd probably throw herself off the heights trying. Come on, Eagrith. I want to get near the front of the line, so if I mess anything up we'll have someone there to help us.

The blue dragon moved forward obediently, love shining through his anxiety. You won't mess anything up, Aeryn.

She gave him a quick kiss and muttered aloud, "I sure hope not," and wedged herself in unobtrusively behind Dr'gon and Gerosuth.

** ** **

M'dak was a little surprised at Nako's choice of weyrlings to throw firestone, but after a few seconds' consideration, he nodded to himself in approval. J'deryk was as tall as he was, and he busted his rear at least as much as anyone else during lessons, including himself. T'bai was no less driven and, being Weyrbred, probably knew what to do during Fall better than any of them.

So it was purely a case of brotherly concern that made M'dak wrangle his way to the end of the line, where he'd be the one to hand off firestone sacks to the two throwing them out to dragonriders. If one of them got caught off-balance on the edge of the Heights, it was probably better that he, rather than someone like Mishaea or Aeryn, be there to lend a hand. An anchor was only as good as its mooring, he reflected, with a grin for the seamanly metaphor. He'd spent an awful long time in Hurricane Hold.

One day, said Segrunth beside him, catching his rider's thought, We'll fly there. You'd like to visit the Weavers.

His perception was right on, even though the young bronze hesitated over the unfamiliar word "weavers." He'd picked it up from M'dak's thoughts, but had no idea what it was. "I'll tell you about them sometime, little one," he said, stroking Segrunth's muzzle. "Are you ready to move firestone now?"

Segrunth gave a high-pitched squeal of challenge that brought smiles to the tense faces around them. M'dak shaded his eyes against the midday sun and looked across the Bowl to the Star Stone heights, where the fighting dragons of Kharasi were massed and awaiting L'gan's signal to rise. He didn't want to miss that sight: all those dragons awing at once, lifting powerfully into the air, and going between in an instant. His heart began to pound in anticipation of what was to come.

Alesia's Wing

"Good, good." Her voice was unexpectedly light, responding to K'jin yet looking into the whirling eye of his dragon. She'd had a fondness for browns even before she Impressed. Sevofth, like his rider, seemed very much the pinnacle of what they represented.

"I really need to put some of my paperwork on my Headwoman. I've been missing far too many drills." Alesia remarked as she looked into the direction of the dragonriders he had mentioned. Drills.. that was the one thing she never avoided for the sake of not getting too close to K'jin. If anything, that was when she could watch him on the most professional level... and really, that was when he was at his most glorious save for threadfall.. and that wasn't really a situation where she could admire him from afar. She never willingly let it show though. In fact, one might even say she wouldn't totally admit it to herself.

She leaned in to catch his whisper, and her brows shot straight up at what he said. "Oh.. oh no I didn't... well it is about time, isn't it! The poor thing!" She couldn't help but giggle a bit before looking toward the girl. Even in the seriousness of threadfall, it wasn't hard to percieve her as an innocent, naive little thing. "Well, I'll worry about her mental fortitude on the matter another day. But why didn't Iolath say anything.."

Iolath was looking instead at Sevofth, and Alesia's grin turned into a thin line. When Iolath realized her rider was watching her, she discreetly turned her head back toward the sky. "And Iolath is good for flight?" Alesia felt as if she couldn't really trust her own judgment. Funny, it was the first she'd even hinted about Iolath's upcoming proddiness to K'jin. Then again it probably wasn't much of a secret. "I know how greenriders can get.. can't trust their own judgment. I'm proud, but not stupid."

When we face thread, only thread will be on my mind. It is in my thoughts even now. Liranath will have her mind only on thread as well. Iolath's mental tone was sharp and proud.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Zaela's own heart leapt up in her throat for J'deryk when he was called out, her grin uncharacteristically uninhibited. Firestone sack tossing was not necessarily her favorite thing to do, but months of grueling practice had made the chore much easier. She'd thought washing Neliyuth was a chore, but tossing firestone caused pains that she'd never felt before!

The nudge to her side made her jump, but she followed J'deryk's gaze towards their dragons and couldn't suppress a small laugh. It was about time Colieth got a few inches on her green, or rather just one. It was hardly a difference but with both dragons straining to stand at their highest, there was no disputing that Colieth came out the winner. Neliyuth was also giving the blue a sidelong glance, her general saucy, dominant attitude staying with her as she grew even if it became slightly refined. "I think she'll will herself to grow until she beats him again!" Zaela remarked.

"It doesn't surprise me she picked you." She added with a grin. "The bigger boys might be able to throw farther, but I think you and T'bai have the better aim of them."

-----

T'bai was all but bouncing when Nako called out his name. He'd worked so hard to improve his throw. He might not be the biggest of boys, but he was average enough in build that he could get the job done. After all, it was his aim that mattered most! As if to amuse himself, he imitated the swing of the throw with his arms with a grin. That might have elicited a few odd looks, but he paid them no mind.

Someone caught his eye though; someone who wasn't talking animatedly to one of their friends. Aeryn was always a quiet sort, and seemed to be one who always looked rightly frightful. She was sharing a personal moment with her dragon. He walked over as he needed to be close to the front when they needed to assume positions anyways. Sidling over, he spoke with enthusiasm even if some of his animation was for her benefit. "Don't be nervous. All you gotta do is keep the line going. Drop a bag? Just leave it to catch the next. Just like we've been practicing."

L'gan strode down the line of dragons, eyes intent and face as stern as it would ever get. The thick wherhide hampered his movements slightly, so his stride wasn't as grandiose as he could have otherwise wished, but he would much rather sacrifice impressions in favor of keeping his own hide safe. His wing was immaculate, he was rather proud to note. Every strap was properly tight and in place, every firestone bag within easy reach, every rider decked out from head to toe in proper gear. Of course it would be no other way- no one in his wing was new to Threadfall, and no one sought injury. Dragons shifted restlessly, their bellies rumbling with firestone and their attentions universally focused south of them where Thyra was soon to experience Threadfall.

Finishing his rounds, L'gan turned and faced his wing. "Riders, you may mount, if you wish, but we still have a few minutes left. Finish up any last preparations and be ready to fly." He turned and hesitated only a moment before walking across the expansive heights to where the Queen's wing was in position. Iolath was easy to spot but to his surprise Alesia was not at her side. Scanning the crowd, he ground his teeth when he saw her at K'jin's side. He had little doubt that she had already checked her wing quite thoroughly, but he had assumed she would report to him rather than flirt with K'jin. No, he wasn't blind. He had been around and with too many women to not notice the tell-tale signs. An absent-minded moment here, a repressed sigh there. Oh yes, it was all too clear, but there was nothing he could do about it, of course. She had every right. He just wished.... Bah, I don't even know what I wish anymore. It didn't seem to hurt as much anymore, at least. A little bruise to his pride, but at least it was no longer a stab to his heart or a wrenching of his gut.

He spat, firmly pushing the image of a venomous tunnelsnake spitting poison Behemath sent him from his mind and strode forward, stopping a few paces away from where Sevoth and the two riders were gathered. Clearing his throat, he spoke and was relieved to hear his voice was as neutral as he had hoped it would be. "Sorry to interrupt. Alesia, I assume there are no problems here? I've spoken to A'breeq already and his wing is ready at a moment's notice. " He nodded in the direction of the bronzerider's wing where riders were mounted in readiness not too far off.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Z'per bounced on the tips of his toes, eyes shining with excitement. This would be the first Threadfall he had witnessed. Well, not really witnessed, since even the outskirts of Thyra lay beyond the edges of their vision, but with any luck he'd be able to see the clouds! He had always been bundled away to a safe place in the Hold when Thread fell- a dim place lit only by a few glowbaskets and filled with crying children and shushing mothers. Obluth nudged his leg insistently. What do I do, ridermine? Z'per glanced down, furrowing his brow. "Didn't you listen? You're to stay out of the way so you don't get hit with a flying sack of firestone!" Oh. Oh yes. The blue obediently moved a few paces away from the line that was forming. Like this, yes? "Exactly." Z'per smiled fondly. Obluth still had trouble focusing during Weyrling lessons, prompting Z'per to use his excellent memory to recite back verbatim all the instructions, most of the time. He was hardly dense, though. He was nearly as graceful as his bonded was clumsy, and regularly gave the other dragons the slip when they played tackle or any such games. Z'per was positive the blue would be an excellent Threadfighter, as agile as he was growing to be.

His attention was drawn back to Nako as he heard some gasps of disgust as she pulled her shirt up to reveal her wound. He leaned forward slightly, a quizzical expression on his face. It was neat work, and although from his distance he couldn't see perfectly clearly, he envisioned the line of stitches with a somewhat morbid fascination. Any knowledge or new experience was priceless, and he filed this away with the rest, to mull over later. He was somewhat chagrined to hear J'deryk and T'bai's names called, but being perfectly honest with himself, he knew he would be the last person called for the job. His strength certainly wasn't lacking.. just the coordination. He winced as he pictured tossing a bag of firestone wrong and hitting the rider, or even worse his dragon. Yes, it was better this way. Much better.


Weyrleader's Wing

Kiara lounged against Milarth's flank, legs crossed in front of her. At first glance, she seemed to be the picture of indolence, but looking closer one would see every strap in place, helmet fastened to the green's harness, firestone ready, and for what? "Second shift." She muttered. It was a necessity, of course. Few greens and blues would be expected to last an entire Fall- shifts were a necessity, but she wasn't pleased with drawing lots for the second shift. Coming into anything late bugged her as a matter of course, but the end of Threadfall was oftentimes the most dangerous times. The browns and bronzes were tiring, and more apt to make mistakes, and by that point in time Thread fell in more unpredictable patterns as the clouds emptied themselves of the last few organisms. Less than ideal conditions for safety. She glanced at Milarth's flank where a few Threadscores stood out, and then down at her hand where a glove hid some pretty nasty scars from her first Fall. Stop fretting. Milarth interjected irritably. She was no less pleased about the situation, but took it in stride as most dragons did. I will flame well and we will not be injured. You're as jumpy as a feline near water. Kiara sighed and nodded. "You're right, dearheart. I'm sorry." She should know better than to be negative before a flight- it did nothing good for matters. Forcing a thin smile on her face, she surveyed the dragons around her as she waited.

With Marti

As Cailyn approached, she could hear Marti's wizened old voice ringing across the Weyrbowl as she hassled her apprentices. Why on Pern had she agreed to help the woman out? She'd probably end up with a ringing headache and sore all over before the day was halfway through. An apprentice rushed by her carrying a bolt of bandages and nearly bowled her over. She stared after him with a baleful glare before moving into the chaos and trying to figure out what exactly she should be doing. It wasn't long before she was sent trotting this way and that to fetch this and put that there, no not there you lump, over there! She glanced wistfully up to the heights where the Weyrlings were preparing and wished fervently again she was with them. She'd much rather be hauling bags and being useful than running down here and praying she wouldn't see too many injured riders.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Elain stood there watching the going on. She had never been out during a thread fall. She could remember that even if thread fell two holds away she would still go into the hold. She never wanted to be outside during one. Though here she was now. Standing there with the rest of the candidates. Wishing that she could recall everything that had been told to her and the others. For some like Zaela, J'deryk, and Aeryn that this was something they all were used to. But this is her first one and she was a bit scared. Though she tried to quite it didn’t help with all the dragons roaring, bugling, and several other noises she couldn’t bring to mind. There was just too much noise… She had been quite contented with just seeing dragons and hearing the occasional sounds. But If she was going to be a Dragon Rider then she had to bear it and do the best that she could.

As the green rider Nako showed the scar on her back left by a Larg claw she flinched slightly. Knowing that it probably she knew how much pain Elain had endured. Though it didn’t look good at all. It looked far worse than that of her own. At least hers where uniform where Nako’s was jagged. She wouldn’t mind talking to the green rider if she ever got the chance. She would love to hear the story from that battle wound.

Though for now she was just contented with moving the sacks from the shed to the outer area where the two larger boy’s and there dragons would deliver to the fighting wings. So the dragons could fly and sear the Thread from the Skies!

((First one Sorry (^_^)))

Alesia's Wing

K'jin studied Alesia, even as his hands moved automatically to check the girth buckles of the fighting straps around Sevofth's great chest. No skin pinched, no straps torn or bulging. Good. Alesia was taking too much on herself again, he thought. But could she help it?

He was about to answer her, when he saw L'gan approaching out of the corner of his eye. Walking the long way round the narrow trail of the Rim; not flying. Making a point. "You're both fighting fit, that much is clear," he said in answer to both Alesia's questions, and glanced at Iolath, whose golden presence bespoke as much command as ever.

"Sevofth says she loves Fall. All the dragons in her wing know it. She's no different today." The last words came out in a rush that was hardly more than a whisper, and then L'gan, glaring, authoritative, refusing to so much as look at K'jin, was upon them.

Clenching his teeth, K'jin turned back to the job at hand. He wasn't asked; he wouldn't answer. He did sketch both Weyrleaders the salute their rank was due before he vaulted, with the grace and power of a panther, aboard Sevofth.

The brown dragon was more patient. He flicked out his forked tongue and touched it to Alesia's hand where it stroked his muzzle, then swung his head somberly away, first toward Iolath and then to the east, facing Fall.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

J'deryk laughed, eyes shining with gratefulness as he reached out impulsively and squeezed Zaela's hand. "You're much too kind, you know that? Don't think I don't remember our little adventure to the Hatching Sands. You might have something up your sleeve with all that flattery!"

He turned the high-wattage grin again to their young dragons. "Y'think they'll try to outdo each other once they're flying Thread?"

Before Zaela could answer that, someone new caught J'deryk's eye. A girl in Candidate's knots, fairly tall, with red-brown hair and bright green eyes, looking scared but resolute. Still, it impressed him that she was the only Candidate of the bunch who'd moved away from the group and was already busy, sorting sacks from the shed into easy-to-reach piles for his and T'bai's first all-important throws.

"Look, fresh ones already," he whispered to Zaela, resting his chin on his friend's shoulder for an instant. A quick glance back to the Rim showed him that the dragons hadn't left yet. Elain glanced around in their general direction for a split second, and J'deryk waved to get her attention. "Hey there, nice of you to come help us. I'm J'deryk, this is Zaela, and over there's T'bai."

Colieth, hearing his rider bespeak someone new, broke away from Neliyuth and craned his mottled blue head around to see what was going on. Who's that?

J'deryk chuckled and rubbed his dragon between the eyes. "And this is Colieth, who wants to know your name." He added, as an afterthought, "And don't be scared. We'll all take good care of you."

** ** **

Aeryn jumped a little at T'bai's interruption, but all the same she looked up gratefully for the warmth in the green weyrling's voice. "Thanks," she whispered, and pulled herself erect. "I suppose I'm being a ninny, aren't I, when we've practiced so much? Eagrith says so too." She blushed, but managed a shy smile.

Alesia's Wing & The Weyrleader
K'jin's manner became somewhat rushed, and that change alerted her to something going awry. Just as she was turning, Iolath was giving her the mental warning that the Weyrleader was coming toward her. In her words, he had a fire in his eye that was not directed towards thread. Then again.. what else was new? Letting Sevofth's nose slide out from under her hand, she wiped her palm casually on her wherhide pants to wipe away the drool. She had little time to contemplate what was said, or how Sevofth acted towards her. Alesia always thought herself to always be particularly kind and sincere toward other rider's dragons, but no one would ever expect such affection from a dragon that was not their own.

Though it was obvious L'gan was attempting to keep himself composed and in control, she knew just by the way he walked and the way he held his shoulders when he was not happy. Defensively, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Not at all, Weyrleader. We were finishing up our Wing check. We'll be taking a greenrider out by next sevenday, I think.I'll be sure to have the report ready for you by tomorrow's meeting."

She looked toward Iolath, Shoving her helmet onto her head and strapping it secure. "I'm afraid I was keeping everyone up. Call me overzealous in my preparations." And oddly, she actually grinned, popping her goggles into place before turning to her wing. "Alright everyone! Mount up and strap in! We need to be ready for the Weyrleader's command!" Alesia turned back to the Weyrleader, reaching out to slap him roughly a few times on the shoulder. "Come on now, don't look at me that way. We've got thread to fight and you need to lead us through it."

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Zaela's responsive grin was instant when J'deryk grabbed her hand. She squeezed back, and Neliyuth turned her gaze toward the two curiously. His other question had her giving a long sigh. She certainly hoped the two wouldn't be vying for superiority in the air. Zaela wasn't too keen on the idea of their dragons nearly killing them in threadfall with their rivalry. Her response could not come soon enough, for J'deryk spoke up once again.

"The queen hasn't even risen again. They certainly like to be well prepared in Kharasi. Perhaps to give them longer to adjust to Weyr life?" As J'deryk stepped away from her, she realized she was still holding his hand, and dropped it discreetly with a blush as they both approached the candidate. When she was introduced, she nodded her head politely toward the girl. "I don't blame her for wanting to be up here though. Being in the bowl to deal with injured dragons and riders could be considered... a bit unsavory." It wasn't like she could avoid it either. With their dragons becoming more sound of mind and less excitable, they'd be expected to help with the wounded before Weyrlinghood was out for sure.

------

"Oh nawww... You're not the only one who's nervous, I'm sure. It's good to hear that things will be alright from someone other than our dragons. They seem to think we're unable to do any sort of wrong." T'bai grinned broadly. Aeryn was such a fragile thing that he wanted nothing more than to make her feel better. The smile was a good sign, and her blush was adorable.

Someone called his name, and he looked up a bit dumbly before seeing that J'deryk was gesturing towards him. With a grin, he waved toward the group and looked back to Aeryn. He figured it was probably J'deryk pointing him out since he was the other thrower. "If anything, I think I should be the one nervous. I'm throwing the bags into the air!" He did an imitation of throwing a bag, grinning. It was obvious he wasn't -too- concerned.


The Bowl/ Marti

Marti's cane obviously knew mercy, for it merely prodded at Cailyn's back to get her attention. The rough laugh of the old Marti followed. "Looking to the heights won't get any work done down here, youngin! If you're so intent on hauling soot and stone then maybe you'll be able to sign up for that next time around. Can your leg take it? I'd assume so." She sidled up next to the girl, looking up at her with wizened old eyes that burned with a mischievous fire. The chaos of the bowl was obviously coming to a bit of a lull as people found there was little else they could do until a dragon came in. "I don't see why they even let candidates take part in things up there. They have plenty of weyrlings that have been practicing that darned sack throwing."

((*cracks knuckles* alright, time to see how rusty I've gotten =p))

Alesia's Wing

R'ne, a relatively new transfer to Kharasi, was a bit perturbed. He had flown Thread for many turns, now, but even so, to be assigned to the Weyrwoman's wing immediately on transfer smacked of distrust. He glanced at his twin brother, N're, and knew he felt the same. They were being tested. He shrugged his shoulders, a physical sign to his brother to ignore it and move on. After all, regardless of who distrusted them, they had been doing this long enough to be confident in their own abilities and in each other. And the Queen herself was of Tiazora, like them, and as such they knew her training to be good. So the two blueriders put the matter out of their mind, their line of reasoning communicated to each other in that sign language only close siblings have, without a word between them.

R'ne turned back to his preparations. Noticing that the straps were getting old, he made a mental note to himself to replace them at soonest opportunity. They weren't in so bad a condition as to be hazardous, he judged, but better to be safe than sorry. He could fly in them today, and then he would have to retire them. He checked the sack of firestone was full and ready, secured to his straps in the proper location. When he was finished, he waited a few short minutes, and then was up and mounted on the Weyrwoman's command. He strapped himself in securely, and then dropped his goggles securely into place. He felt good about this - anticipated, relished it even. The rush of sky and the smell of fire, the sensation of the combat, it was something that brought him closer to his dragon, and justified their very existence. To him, it was everything that he lived for.

L'gan shook his head slowly in disbelief. The woman never failed to shake him up like he was riding a bucking herdbeast. When he expected her ire, he received respect, but when he expected fondness, he got the coldest shoulder known to Pern. He grunted in assent, scanning the ranks quickly to try to pick out the green that was mentioned while he tried to incorporate what had just happened into his stunned brain. Realizing there was nothing that needed to be said, he nodded again more firmly this time. He straightened and inclined his head to K'jin, acknowledging the gruding respect the man gave. "Fly well, WingSecond." It was more of a command than a wish for his well-being, but L'gan tried to put some hearty kindness into his words. It was hardly fair to hold a grudge against the man, given his past. It wasn't his fault he was such a sharding hardass. ((;)))

Turning back to Alesia, he saluted her. "Have Iolath inform Behemath if your wing is experiencing heavier than normal Threadfall- I reconfigured the wings a bit and more than normal might get through until the riders get used to their new positions. I'll try to ensure that doesn't happen though." He looked at her for a moment before turning away back to his wing. "Good luck. You'll do fine, of course." His long strides quickly brought him back to Behemath, and he swung up easily. Strapping his helmet on, he looked around. Every eye was on him- the riders were more than ready. Patting his bronze's side, he grinned. Ready? He gave the signal to rise into the air, his neck snapping back as Behemath thrust off the ground eagerly. Scanning the sky, he nodded in satisfaction. The wings were in perfect formation. Waiting only a moment more, he save the signal to go between which was echoed immediately by Behemath passing the message on.


The Bowl

Cailyn jumped nearly a foot off the ground as she felt a cane poking into her back. She spun around instantly, flushing and willing her heart to stop pounding. There was no need to let the woman turn her into a jabbering firelizard. She wanted to be up with the Weyrlings so she could be near their dragons, of course, but she chose not to share that with Marti. Grinning ruefully, she nodded. "My leg is doing much better now. It only hurts if I walk around on it for most of the day. Or when it rains." Her mouth twisted at that- she felt like a grandmother experiencing weather pains when that happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dragons rise into the air en masse, and she watched, captivated, until they vanished between in the blink of an eye. Turning back to Marti, she shrugged. "Nothing much to do now but wait for the first injury, hmm?" She hoped it was so- everything seemed to her to be laid out perfectly. Surely there couldn't be even more preparations!

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Elain haddn't noticed that no one else was moving bags as she was... She felt totaly embaressed.. Though she didn't want to stop what she had started so she continued on with what she was doing. She thought she heard someone call out her name, surpiresed her a bit because she hadn't formaly intoroduced herself to anyone. When she looked up she saw some of the other boys waveing at her. So she decided to move the bag that she currently had and place it near the others she had already moved... only 4... she would have to be faster.

She thought she heard there name but all the noise that filled the bowl and heights made it a bit difficult to hear. She moved closer to the the weyrlings and there riders. She only catched the lass part of what the boy was saying. "O hi there, ummm.... Colieth, I'm Elain" she waved just a bit at the dragon though a bit shy. "And who where you all again? I didn't quite catch your names as you called them out from here..." She stood there feeling abit out of place as she was near the riders to be.

Queen's Wing

((Sevofth does NOT drool! Well maybe a little.))

Aboard Sevofth and feeling the heady, powerful combination of dragon brain and muscle, finely tuned and focused on flaming Thread, as an extension of himself, K'jin had no time to even wonder whether he'd be jealous of the conversation between Weyrwoman and Weyrleader. He couldn't hear what they said in any case, between the helmet pressing tightly against his ears and the rumble of eager dragons and the last-minute calls of their riders.

But he did hear L'gan's farewell to him. Instructions. Command. No well-wishing in the Weyrleader's voice. Well, thought K'jin, and who could blame him? Silent, he regarded L'gan from his perch on Sevofth's shoulders, nodded to him, then pulled his goggles over his eyes.

A few breathless, waiting moments while the Weyrleader walked back along the ridge and mounted. Like a flicker of light, K'jin heard Sevofth's mind pick up the coordinates from Iolath and pass them along the wing. Dragons could think faster than humans at times like this; faster than reflex, and thank Faranth for that or they'd all be scored.

Sevofth's great muscles bunched, and K'jin crouched over his dragon's neck, braced for the body-snapping upward surge. It came, and he was aloft on his brown, first surging away from the snarl of gravity, then weightless as Sevofth hovered, making sure his wing was in formation for the split second before they all dived into the frozen nothingness of between.

** ** **

Emig whooped in delight as Liranath rose with the rest, and the green dragon echoed her rider's sentiments in a fine high temper, trumpeting to the thin air above. Emig loved Threadfall; she loved the danger and the quick thinking, the bursting pride of working with a well-tuned wing. Liranath beneath her felt almost playful, her thoughts fierce and dancing, like fire.

Second Wing

Pranath leaped into the air on the Weyrleader's command. Ywain had been watching for his dropped fist, but Pranath anticipated it even faster and was in the air before Ywain could finish sending her the message to rise.

You're fast today.

Pranath rumbled in satisfaction. It will be a good Fall. Dragons know.

They did at that, Ywain reflected. A pity, almost, that Pranath was so fit. She almost wouldn't mind if a bit of stray Thread happened to elude all the wings and drop accidentally upon someone's head - Lord Holder Shigan, for example. Pity it couldn't happen.

Not even to him, Pranath thought fiercely. Ywain caught the edge of a glittering orange eye as Pranath glanced back at her, still surging upward. Pranath sometimes got it into her head that her rider was too warlike for her own good, and took it upon herself to teach Ywain the famously pacifistic dragon wisdom.

It never had a lasting effect, but it did serve to jerk Ywain out of a black mood. The young woman patted her dragon's green shoulder. I know you'd never let me get away with it, dear one. Don't fret; it's just me blowing off steam. I'll take it all out on Thread, okay?

Yes! Pranath's reply was triumphant, an instant before they jumped between to emerge in the air high over Thyra for the start of Threadfall.

Alesia's Wing

Her salute back was prompt, and she watched the man go. It had been so... pig headed of him to expect affection from her after the Flight's effects had worn off. Now, she had hoped it, and even in her haste had offered him a place in her Weyr. It just... didn't take long for the man to get on her sharding nerves. She didn't know if it was her fault, or his... but even in her own way she'd been trying to make amends, but the man continued to sulk, and only the fact that deep in her mind she felt it was her fault that kept him from having a broken face... but enough of that.

Iolath offered her foreleg and Alesia sprang up onto it, getting into place behind the neckridges was not as difficult as it would be for some women with a queen this size; she was quite the tall one herself, after all. Sometimes, she might even think she would have looked odd on a gold that was smaller. Tell your riders to be wary of thread, for it may fall heavier than normal for our wing. Iolath relayed Alesia's mental message. We take off soon. Be ready.

The signal was thrown into the sky, and as soon as the Weyrleader's wing was high enough in the sky, A'breeq gave his signal. Even as they rose into the sky, every dragon tightened and perfected their position. Alesia watched them rise higher into the air, and a half breath lather than A'breeq had waited to tell his wing to rise into the air, her fist pumped into the air. Iolath wasted no time vaulting into the air, and no doubt every dragon behind them had risen with a uniformity typical of a well trained Wing. A mental image surged through all the wings, a collective sharing of one thought that allowed them to come out of /between/ still in formation. Alesia's mind locked onto the image out of habit that was put into her mind, but once all the dragons knew where they were going, there was little that could distract them from coming out where they wanted to be.

The darkness enveloped them, but no one truly feared it any more.. no more than the caution of it's inherent danger necessitated. It was probably while the riders were suspended in this blackness before a fall did they wonder if the dreaded between would save their hides from thread that day. They reappeared into existence, and Iolath reported that all was well, and that thread would soon be upon them. The ominous clouds just slightly ahead of them told that the menage was near, and Iolath's eyes burned red.

The Heights

This time, Zaela spoke up, taking a half step up next to J'deryk so she wasn't just in the background. "I am Zaela. This is J'deryk. You already know Colieth, that's.. Neliyuth.." Her tone became distracted before she turned fully to look up at the sky. Her green, and many others had turned to look up at the glistening dragons rising into the air, falling into formation with a grace she found nearly impossible. How could the dragons be able to maintain such uniformity in the skies? Suddenly the rest of her Weyrlinghood felt much more daunting. They rose in strins of jeweled bronze, brown, blue and green, until the last Wing rose with a golden amulet glistening at the end of the V-shaped dragon chain. Then, startlingly, they were no longer there.

"Oh wow... " Zaela gasped, grabbing J'deryk by the arm and giving it a tug. "You saw that right? How amazing.."


"Quite a sight, isn't it?" Nako called out with a grin. She was casual, yet she looked as if she were constantly alert, always seeming to have one mental ear open to her blue dragon which continued to look distractedly to the skies. "Don't get too excited just yet! I will -tell- you all when to start passing these along. Ah, you afraid you won't be able to keep up when it starts?" Nako was obviously heckling the candidate Elain, who had seemed to start early. "Don't worry. I'll be sure to have someone there to help you out if you start falling behind. Hm..... Zaela, you wouldn't mind would you? Not a problem to alter the chain.. we'll just tighten it up where you were and put you on the end is all."

Zaela's face fell a bit; she had wanted to be closer to the front so she could better see the dragons swooping in. Like a feline that was recovering from a stomped tail, she seemed to mentally smooth her fur, and even made a motion with her hands to straighten her tunic. "Yes m'am, not a problem."

The Bowl

"Eh.. young wounds.... I'd bet a mark any day my old seasoned bones would be more accurate than your leg. Two hours before it happens too!" Marti seemed to play the hurt pride card quite well, but one couldn't deny the grin that pulled at her withered, lined lips. She tapped her cane on the ground, staring up at where the dragons once were. "Yes, that's pretty much what we do. Mellanoth up there is playing watch dragon so we'll likely hear something from him when the time comes."

"They say Iolath will be rising again soon. That means a clutch, of course.... Very exciting stuff." Marti started conversationally, though she always seemed to have one eye watching what was going on around her, and one ear tuned to the sounds. One might expect this woman to drop her cane and spring into action as if she were 20 turns again at the first sight or sound of trouble.

Fire Heights: Weyrlings and Candidates

Aeryn's shy smile turned to laughter at T'bai's antics. In spite of herself, she felt the cold knot of fear begin to dissolve from her middle. He was so carefree and relaxed; how could he not have an affect on her? He truly seemed to mean it when he said it didn't matter if she dropped a sack. There was plenty more where it came from. With her fear diminished, Aeryn's reason reasserted itself to remind her that they'd have breaks in between lining up firestone sacks. The Threadfighters would need to replenish their dragons in groups, not continually. They'd been trained that this was the case, and she'd forgotten it in her nervousness.

"Thanks, T'bai," she said sincerely. Even to her ears, her voice sounded stronger and more sure. Eagrith leaned lovingly against her, reminding her in his way that he was always there for her as a solid support. Aeryn slung one thin arm around her blue's neck and hugged him, eyes shining. She wanted to say more, explain how grateful she was that T'bai seemed to understand how nervous she'd been, and hadn't judged her for it. But just as she opened her mouth, the Bowl and the air around it was filled with the sound of dragonwings opening, dragonmouths bellowing. Turning quickly, Aeryn was able to see the three wings lift from the Rim, one after the other. The rush of all those big bodies and the powerful downdraft that swept over the watchers on the Fire Heights made speech impossible.

Aeryn's heart filled her chest, and she watched the wings wink out of sight with a feeling of pride that surprised her in its strength. Then she realized that Eagrith was watching the dragons go, too, with his eyes whirling orange and his lips drawn back from his sharp teeth, tongue flicking in and out. He wanted to fight Thread! Astonished, she stared at her dragon, realizing that the strength of his emotion was feeding her own.

She had to say something or she'd burst. Turning back to T'bai, she whispered, "One day, that'll be us, won't it?"

** ** **

"I saw it." J'deryk, for the moment, was hushed to awe. Thread had fallen since Colieth had hatched, of course. But not until this Fall had the weyrling dragons been considered large and independent enough to be trusted on the Heights, while their riders had both hands full filling and tossing sacks of firestone to keep the dragons flaming. One day soon, they'd start flying...and not long after that, they'd be allowed to go between themselves to Fall, from there to toss firestone midair from young dragon to fighting one, and see firsthand what the flight patterns of Threadfall looked like.

He swallowed. "I saw."

The next second, Nako had relegated Zaela to helping the candidates. Seething with the indignity of this demotion, he glared at the blue rider's back and rolled his eyes at Zaela. "I'm sorry," he told her, shaking his head. "It's a bad combination, my friendliness and you looking so grown-up and responsible all the time."

Realizing that the candidate girl could hear them, J'deryk smiled more kindly at her. "Don't worry, Elain," he said, half-amused that she'd introduced herself to his dragon. "Zaela won't kick you too hard if you mess up."

** ** **

Near the edge, with a fair pile of sacks already to each side of him, M'dak tilted his head back at the same angle as Segrunth's to watch the Wings rise, separate, and disappear between. Their wingbeats sounded in unison even after they had gone, like the drums of a marching band. At that moment, there crystallized in M'dak the desire to one day lead his own Wing. He resolved to study every attack formation, every weather pattern, every form of falling Thread could take, as far back as the legible Records went. He'd be the best wingleader ever, and Segrunth would be the biggest, strongest bronze on Pern. And one day, as he'd promised his dragon when he was still in the egg, they would fly all the way around the planet.

His castle in the air crumbled as another weyrling trod heavily on M'dak's toes in his hurry to get back to his place in line. M'dak was aware that his senses, especially sight and hearing, had sharpened since the wings rose. Glancing at Segrunth, he saw that the little bronze was in a heightened state of alert and knew he was experiencing what the seasoned dragonriders talked about - the increased tempo of adrenaline and dragon instinct that everybody went through going into a Fall. Reflexes would be sharper, reactions would be crisp, timing would be improved, for as long as Fall lasted and he and his dragon remained unhurt.

And tonight, he thought with a grin, they'd all be headachey and irritable when they came down off that high. Well, that would be a first test of his new resolve. Segrunth and he both tended to look after those weaker than themselves, and tonight, maybe, he'd have to see if he could keep a positive air in the barracks before they all dropped off in exhaustion.

He hoped, as he bent his brown head to the task of checking the mouths of bags to be sure the clever knots were both tight and would loosen at once when tugged the right way, that today would be a good Fall.

Alesia's Wing
Arrive just before the wings where formed when Alesia had examined all the riders in her wing did he slightly hate his former weyrleader. He knew thread was falling here! Meh o’ well. More thread for me! And me too, Ridermine. Don't you ever forget that!

When the wing was formed up he made sure that he wasn't selected for wingsecond or even wingthird. He hated to have to be in a leadership position. He received a sack of Fire stone which he fastened to the side of the harness. He regretted having to ride low altitude, there was never much action here... But he was new and had to do something. He wasn't going to sit with the older dragons on the heights!

D'von riding brown Woeith went between when the weyr woman gave the signal. The cold of between chilled him to the bones. He couldn't feel a thing. He always counted three heart beats. It made it go by a whole lot easier for him. He came back out from between over Thyra. He could see the mass grey clouds out beyond. His dragon’s eyes whirling with excitement. He could feel his excitement.

Are you ready, Woeith!

I was born ready! He bugled a challenge to the thread.



Fire Heights: Weyrlings and Candidates


She was in state of awe as she saw the dragons lift from the heights in uniformed fighting wings. Nothing in all of Pern could be more spectacular then this. Her heart was racing as she saw the wings in unison go into between. She sighed. The sight was magnificent... But these sacks had to be lined up.

She only heard "kick you hard if you mess up." She quickly turned to J'deryk, He was smiling! He must be joking... I hope...

"Who is going to kick me?" She placed her hands on her thighs staring directly at J'deryk.

((Alrighty guys, I'll have it so that they have now met thread. So, if wolfie doesn't get L'gan responding to it soon everyone else can have their dragonriders go ahead and start posting their flaming posts.))


Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights.

Zaela was normally a very patient individual, but her smile melted into a most somber expression as she was outright ignored by the girl. Her gaze flicked to J'deryk uncertainly. "You'll need to be paying more attention than that if you intend to help us up here." My, was Zaela actually a bit testy?

Neliyuth crowded in behind Zaela, resting her head on her rider's shoulder to soothe her irritated woman. Out of reflex, she reached up to stroke the large wedge shaped head. "I'll be making sure you don't mess up while you are up here. You will take the bags out of the shed, hand them to me, and I'll pass them along. Did you get all that, or will I have to repeat myself?"

Alesia's Wing

They are all anxious to meet thread. Iolath reported as they came over the main hold. There could be no green other than the crops of trees stretching across the horizon, and this was pleasing to see. With their tenacity, it seemed the hold was beginning to bow to the will of the Weyr. Sure enough, the siren was probably sounding off now to warn all within the Hold to seek shelter.Hopefully those down the territory on the runner's roads would also hear the shrill metallic wail.

We are too, aren't we? Alesia asked good-naturedly, unhooking her flamethrower hose and turning all the appropriate knobs to activate it. Lifting it, she had Iolath warn the surrounding dragons before shooting a test burst into the sky. Everything was in working order.

I will always fight thread with all of my strength! Iolath growled in response. Thread is coming! The Top Wing is flaming!

L'gan tensed as he stared intently at the sky. Thread was coming, and it was coming fast. This would be an intense Fall, but with all the extra drills he had had the riders participate in, he was confident there would be few casualties, and no deaths. He felt the rippling muscles beneath him as Behemath prepared to flame- first flame, as was customary. As the wriggling menace drew closer, L'gan let out a wordless roar that was punctuated by a mighty burst of flame. Thread, unable to survive the barrage of heat, was immediately incinerated and fell to the ground slowly in a cloud of harmless char. The riders in the lower wings would no doubt be covered by the stuff by the time Fall ended, but it was nothing a quick bath wouldn't fix. The important thing was that they were hit only by char, not by Thread.

The wing flies well today. Behemath observed between short bursts of flame. Sparing a glance around, L'gan saw that this was indeed the case. His wing was in tip top shape, and no one had needed to even go between yet. He nodded curtly, proud of this work. We haven't won yet. Flame on. He twisted down to the bag of firestone, readying another chunk to feed the bronze before he had nothing left but fumes. A moment later, Behemath twisted his head around, his mouth open wide. Tossing the chunk in, L'gan wrinkled his nose. The Fall had barely begun and already his bronze reeked of firestone. It was an all-too-familiar odor, something that one grew accustomed to, but never really enjoyed. The bronze turned back, grinding the stone carefully with his back teeth. A moment later, flame erupted that burned a large swath of Thread before it passed them. A few strands near the edges of the mass got away, but L'gan was confident the lower wings would easily intercept it.


The Weyrbowl

Cailyn smiled suddenly, excitement evident in her eyes. "I had heard rumors, but I wasn't sure if they were true. That's quite thrilling. I was afraid for a while I wouldn't want to stand for a second Hatching, but I know this is where I want to be." She nodded to the skies. "I'll just have to keep an eye out this time for any clumsy dragonets headed my way." She chuckled. It had taken a while for her to be able to laugh at the accident, but after a few encounters with the blue and his new rider, she knew that of course it wasn't a malicious attack- just chance and a little bit of disorientation. "I can't wait!" She peered into the distance, almost expecting to see a glimmer of gold that announced Iolath's presence. "Is it safe for her to fight Thread if she's close to rising?" Cailyn asked suddenly. It would be a huge morale killer if she was injured and her cycle skewed.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Like Neliyuth, J'deryk placed a restraining limb on Zaela's shoulder - his hand, on the free shoulder that the green dragon wasn't leaning her chin on. "Zaela, it's okay. I'm sure she's just nervous." But he stared at the Candidate with a directness in his gray eyes that were missing their usual dancing humor. To Elain he said quietly, "I sure hope you reacted that way out of nerves. We might only be weyrlings, but we're still dragonriders and we know what we're doing." He squeezed Zaela's shoulder and continued, still calm, "If your temper's so quick that you take offense at a joke, then you're a danger up here. So tell me now if that's true, and I'll have Nako take you somewhere less...hazardous." He gave a quick shake of his head as Colieth now warbled in distress at the checked anger he felt radiating from J'deryk. "I don't need some candidate with a grudge tossing me firestone when I'm gonna be balancing sixty dragonlengths above thin air to throw it on to the riders." He stopped and continued to watch Elain carefully for her reaction.

Second Wing

((Wintersonata, if you're reading, I'm sorry to be taking such liberties within A'breeq's wing. I'm not sure if you're around, and I want to keep things moving. I'll try to keep any supposed orders of his to a minimum.))

Thread was there ahead of them as they burst out above Thyra Hold, still in formation, not a dragon missing. Ywain leaned forward over Pranath's neck, aware of the muffled shriek of wind in their ears as her green shot forward with two other greens and two blues - their squadron of five within A'breeq's wing. The open sky was above them, blue-green and clear in the sunlight that warmed even as the air, at this altitude, chilled. Thread was a menace of gray fog filling the horizon, getting nearer and nearer of its own momentum and Pranath's tremendous forward speed. Far below them, hazy with distance, spread a patchwork quilt of greens and golds, splashed with the misty gray of rock and the geometric outline of the Hold's buildings and courtyards.

Ywain knew it was all there; noticed it with her peripheral vision and dismissed it: nothing out of place. Her attention sharpened on the dreadful, mindless enemy that approached them and then they were among it, strands and sheets of the silvery stuff falling like silent, deadly rain. Now! she shouted silently, and even before she could finish the thought Pranath had loosed a stream of brilliant flame, turning her head evenly from side to side to burn them a path in the slanting Thread. Taking a quick, deep breath, she did it again, and again, flying a level wedge pattern with the other members of their squadron. Turned her head automatically; Ywain already had the firestone ready and tossed three head-sized chunks of black rock into the dragon's mouth. She could feel the vibrations through her legs as Pranath's mighty jaws crushed the rock to fragments and then paste, swallowing it to stoke the internal flame.

Pranath had hung back to refuel, but now Ywain heard her voice, fleeting thought-quick, warning Yunith about an unnoticed patch above her head: Yunith bank right, I come up! Ywain's head snapped on her neck as Pranath executed the incredibly quick maneuver against momentum that made greens so highly prized as Threadfighters. Yunith veered aside and in the next instant Pranath was in her place, standing vertically in air on her tail, wings curved to cup the air and sustain their altitude while she burned the patch of Thread of harmless black ash.

They would do it again, and again, for the next two hours at least.

Queen's Wing

Emig, in Alesia's wing, was having a trying time. No Thread had reached them yet; none would reach them, if the main wings did their jobs, for many minutes yet. But Liranath was squirrely. She wanted distance today, for some reason, and didn't like it when Emig forced her to fly in their usual close formation with the blue dragons of their wing. Stop it, will you? she hissed at her green when Liranath once again disobediently folded her wings and dropped a couple of dragonlengths to escape the proximity of the other dragons. What's the matter with you today, Liranath?

Liranath hissed and chewed angrily at a bit of firestone still in her mouth. They don't smell right today. I don't like it. Her eyes burned like coals as she turned her head upward, the facets reflecting the noon sun. I'd rather fly up there and char Thread up high. My wings are strong today! Her tone was at once wistful and rebellious, and it wasn't until Emig threatened to ground her for the entire fight that she finally submitted to her rider's will.

Still, it wasn't like her, and Emig began to be afraid that something really was wrong with Liranath. Should she tell Alesia or K'jin? No, she was Wingthird, and recently promoted. Besides, Liranath seemed to be fine physically. Better than fine. Her dragon's body seemed even more buoyant and agile than usual. Liranath was a big green, but she was flying today as if she were light as a fire lizard. A test, that's what it was, Emig decided. She straightened her shoulders as she pulled the flamethrower out of its holster and fiddled with the knobs to make sure the flow of agenothree would be just right. As long as she kept her own mind strong, she could control Liranath's sudden fickleness. Still, it promised to be a long and wearying Fall if her dragon continued to test her resolve.

Weyrlings and Candidates on the Heights

Elain was taken aback by what he had said. She didn't catch what he had said. She didn't know it was a joke. It was all falling apart and fast! You could tell that she was deeply troubled. "I didn't know it was a joke... I only heard that last part. Please don't take offence." she said apologetic. "I truly am sorry."

She looked to Zaela, hearing what she said... she was a dragon rider of course... and She did volunteer for this job... Didn't need to converse while doing something important.

Without waiting for him to reply she quickly went back to the shed to retrieve another sack. She wouldn't be seen as a tempered person. She hoped that he hadn't taken too much offence. She started to drag another bag to the stack that was getting larger as others where stacking.


Queen's Wing

D'von quickly gotten board. Though as he looked upwards he could tell that the wing wouldn't get the amount of thread that he was used to. This feels like we where weyrlings again... riding in the queens wing... Though it is good that your atleast the second largest here he smiled at the thought of the larger gold in front of the V-shaped wing.

I know! I want to be in the higher wings, where we belong. We should have gotten here earlier so we could get assigned. he said with a mental shrug. Don't be mad, mine. At least the view is good The dragon noticed the large green acting a bit out of wing. and the gold that was before him.

D'von took a glance around noticing the green rider. She was pretty, and so was the queen rider. He shrugged turning his attention back to the thread above. The higher wings where doing their jobs well. Practically no thread fell past them. He sighed... Keep your mind to the thread Woe... we don't need to get scared like the old ones.

His dragon turned his head to receive fire stone, which D'von gave. Don't worry, just looking for your future Weyrmate he rumbled with amusement as he started to chew the black stones.

A'breeq's Wing
(Wintersonata hasn't been on in a while, so take what liberties you want. In the future I might have to open up this wing to a new Wingleader with a more active player.)

Forgoth banked to the right to catch a clump on the far side, but came back in quickly to cover for when Pranath moved up to deftly flame a clump of thread. Pranath was voracious today, and Forgoth appreciated her enthusiasm. To your right, Pranath. The blue held the middle, allowing for Pranath to reach out for thread. With them being paired up, they were both in charge of a particular space. If they both veered out in opposite directions, that would leave a gap that would fall down onto the queen's wing. Now, that could not always be helped; sometimes it had to be done to get the maximum amount of thread, but if it could be helped, they would stay within the specified fighting pattern.

Alesia's Wing

Though there was always an eye turned to the sky, Iolath regularly checked on the riders in her Wing. During slow times was the perfect moment to check on everyone and how they are holding up. Iolath rumbled deep in her throat, seemingly displeased. Curious, Alesia looked over her shoulder to see what was the matter. Liranath was fidgeting, but then again so was the younger brown in their group. It was Liranath that her queen was thinking of; though the Weyrwoman assumed that it was because Iolath was feeling aggressive as her own proddiness grew.

There was an alert from above, but Iolath had already seen the clump. Liranath. Go to it! It was a sharp mental command from the queen sent not only to Liranath, but sent to the other dragons to let them know not to rise to it. The green was impatient; maybe searing some thread would soothe her battle hunger. If another clump came through, maybe she'd send the young brown up to meet it. In the more intense of threadfalls it would not be wise to send a dragon up to meet thread for the sake of giving them the chance, but so far the thread was light, and might very well be that way until the greens tired in the higher tiers. Both Iolath and the Weyrwoman wanted to break in the younger rider before sending him into another Wing in the future.

We will send Woeith after the next thread that is falling straight and true. Iolath relayed to Sevofth.

The Heights

When the girl's back was turned, Zaela looked to J'deryk and pointed to her temple and crossed her eyes... one of the many gestures to indicate someone who might be a bit... daft. Neliyuth snorted at that, then brought her head in to nudge the bluerider's hand off of her rider's shoulder. She was still so very protective, but she didn't dislike J'deryk and let him know this by nudging the lad on the shoulder with her nose. He could look.. but no touching! Teehee.

"Neliyuth..." Zaela murmured in a half-scolding manner, putting a hand on the green's shoulder. She was inclined to just let the girl keep moving the firestone. There really was little the girl could do to get in the way once things started moving so she felt no need to converse with her further. Instead, she struck up conversation with J'deryk "Just think... in a few sevendays we'll be vaulting to the sky for the first time. I've heard from some of the dragonriders that this is when things start getting pretty intense... as if it's been easy this whole time!" Zaela laughed, if not a bit lamely. If what they'd went through the past five or so months was supposedly the easy part, she didn't know if she had the strength to do everything else that was expected of her. Especially threadfall. She'd probably mess everything up and get both herself and Neliyuth scored.

The Weyrbowl

"Oh yes, she should be fine. The bronzes would know if she is too close to her time to fly thread. She's grand in color today, but she couldn't be so close to rising as to hinder her performance. I doubt she'll be in the air against thread again until she rises, though." Marti grinned, tapping he temple knowingly. "A sevenday.. that's usually how much forewarning you usually get with queens. Sometimes more, but nobody ever really asks for more than a sevenday."

Her old bones tiring, Mari pulled up a wicker chair to sit down in as she looked to the sky. No dragons had appeared so far, and Mellanoth's bugle had not punctuated the air with news of any sort. Marti could not hear all dragons, but a bugle was typically the first warning the bowl got that dragons were coming in. "Dragons fly when thread is in the sky... even queens. The golds rarely get injured though... though not to say it doesn't happen." She was quick to keep from jinxing herself on the matter.

"That's the spirit though.. keep your thoughts good and pleasant for those young dragons.." Marti smiled, but her eyes seemed as if hey were staring off into /between/. "Yes... I should get me one of those fire lizards, I think. I think I need a vigorous companion to lift my spirits in my old age."

Second Wing

Pranath growled her appreciation to Forgoth as her quick-thinking blue partner signaled the clump of Thread that had fallen out of formation. Quick as a tunnel-snake, she banked right and let go another belch of flame, kiling the threatening mass.

They were fighting the lower edges that came slanting in below the high-altitude wing. Up there, Ywain could see bursts of dragonfire through the Thread-induced haze. She loved fighting in the middle like this; she and Pranath took particular pleasure whenever they were able to both clean up the Thread the upper wing missed and prevent any from falling on the mop-up crew of the Queen's wing, below. It was only after Fall that she hated being in the middle, for they were the ones who got most thoroughly covered in char and ash from the flamed Thread. A'breeq's wing went through more expensive wherhide gear than any other; the char didn't always wash out, and something of Thread's corrosive properties seemed to remain in it, because the leather never lasted as long once it was covered in ash.

Pranath wheeled and dived, closing the gap between her and Forgoth again to the proper distance. Ywain impulsively patted her dragon's neck; Pranath was so well drilled that she never had to remind her to get back in formation after they had broken it to catch the odd clump or fragment.

Queen's Wing

Emig heard, and responded, to Iolath's command with relief. Liranath needed no urging; the green sprang up from thin air with as much power as if she'd vaulted off solid rock. Breathing deeply, she met the fast-falling mass of churning gray with a ball of fire, dead on. The brindled green shook her head in pleasure and strained to keep rising toward A'breeq's wing, where more of the action was.

No, Liranath, go back down! There will be more Thread for us.

Promise? the green's voice was plaintive, her mind huge and demanding. Had Emig not been made of such stern stuff, it might have frightened her.

Promise. Now get down there before Iolath comes after us!

The threat was sufficient - for now. Liranath closed her wings and fell back among the ranks in an unorthodox but perfect maneuver. Showing off. Gritting her teeth, Emig kept her mind on the job at hand. She was sure to be given a talking-to for letting Liranath fall like that instead of the conventional dive.

The Fire Heights

J'deryk's kind and sympathetic nature rose at once when he saw Elain's stricken face. She only showed it for a moment, though, before she turned in a hurry to go back to the job at hand. He sighed inwardly. He'd done it again, however in the right he may have been. Seen a challenge and risen to it. When would he learn to just let some things go?

What's wrong with challenge? Colieth playfully butted Neliyuth as she butted J'deryk, but he looked sideways at his rider. The little blue was no help in that department - he was every bit as competitive as J'deryk was.

Before he could explain, he caught Zaela's gesture, and grinned in spite of himself. "You could just about apply that to me, though," he whispered with a touch of chagrin. "Do me a favor and don't let me temper get away from me like that again, willya?"

Recovering, he bowed to Neliyuth. "And you, dear one, please accept my humble apologies for being so daring as to touch your rider."

Away down the line, M'dak felt the imploding concussion of air before he saw the rider returning. Segrunth raised his head and trumpeted, smelling the firestone reek of the dragon. M'dak turned to see the rider angling toward them, signaling that he needed a refill. With a wordless yell, he tossed the sack he was holding toward the next weyrling, who turned and tossed it, hot-potato style, down the line.

J'deryk managed to recover himself, grabbed the last sack he'd checked, braced his legs apart, and with a grunt of effort lobbed the heavy bag out into space. The incoming blue dragon had to veer just a little to allow his rider to catch it - J'deryk had better improve his aim. Still, the rider caught the sack and before J'deryk could even tell who it was, the blue flashed between again, leaving the smell of burned rock and the air to collapse in the space he'd been with a bang.

((Maybe once L'gan isn't Weyrleader anymore, he can take A'breeq's place? Just a thought :P ))

The Fire Heights

Zaela gave a somewhat impish grin and a shrug. She didn't see any problem with giving the girl a talking to; after all, she was a woman first, and a nice person second... And women by a rule don't get along.

Before she could say anything else though, a dragon was swooping down upon them. J'deryk acted with a startling swiftness, beating even T'bai to the throw. Sheepish, the other lad kicked at the dust on the ground and gave a shrug. There was a moment of silence that stretched out oddly before a few people in the back gave out a loud 'whoop!' Many of the Weyrlings put their hands together for a quick applaud and congratulations for the lad who had made the first throw.

Nako was a bit more... frazzled than the weyrlings. With a huff, she raised her arms to the empty sky. "A little more warning next time?" Of course, there was no one there. She turned back to the Weyrlings. "Don't worry, there will be more forewarning in the future; it's a new system and all."

Then Mellanoth rumbled and looked to his rider. Nako's eyes widened just a touch before shouting out an order. "Okay kids.. start tossing!" A green dipped in this time; flitting agilely down to hover on the updraft sweeping up the ledge. It was still early in the Fall, and even the greens still felt fresh. T'bai was quick at the throw this time, sounding out his intent before swinging it out in a perfect arc. A single flick of a wing finger altered the green's position just enough in the sky for the rider to catch it flawlessly. The woman gave a quick salute that sent the weyrlings in a cheer once more before flitting away from the ledge just far enough to disappear /between./

Queen's Wing

Another clump of thread fell through, and Alesia sent the order via Iolath to Woeith to meet it. Another long, twisting strand was able to fall through on her side. Aggressively, Iolath snarled before altering her position so Alesia could flame the stuff. Two quick bursts was all it took to incinerate it from one end to the other, the harmless char falling to fertilize the lush trees below. With a growl, Iolath dipped back into position, snaking her head to look leerily toward her green wingthird.

Iolath. Alesia only mentally said her dragon's name... her disapproval of her attitude didn't have to be said.

She shows off too much. Iolath growled. I will ground her myself.

Afraid she'll attract the attentions of your males before you rise, dearheart? Don't worry; with all the pestering you are doing she'll likely end up unable to till your imposing self takes to the air.

It will be a good flight. Good for both of us. Iolath said enigmatically before looking once again to the sky. She projected her orders to all dragons in her Wing. More comes through. Hold strict formation and be ready to flame.

Second Wing

The Wingleader's changes to his own fighting wing had indeed cause some repercussions. More was coming in than they could char... but it didn't seem like more than the Queen's wing could handle. Ratina was forced to let some fall through in order to char another clump. Forgoth growled at having to do this, but Ratina assured the blue. The top wing is letting more through; Ratina says to try to get the off clumps and leave the easy ones for the queen's wing. I could char them all but Ratina says we must hold formation. Forgoth relayed the message accurately enough, his own rebellion evident.

Queen's Wing

D'von heard woeith tell him that there was a patch falling twoards the wing. Both he and the dragon was exited. They would show there worth and fly to meet the deadly parasites that plauge Pern. His dragon already had digested the firestone and was ready to belch the cleansing fire to turn the thread into harmless black soot.

He gave the command to Woeith to rise to meet the menance. With sure strokes of his wing he went strait and true to the thread. It wasn't a thick sheet because it was half chared. It was up a handfull of dragon lenghts into the air and a bit to the left.

Woeith opend up his jaw and balched the fire, that hit the thread true. Searing the thread into harmless black soot. Woeith was over pleased with himself and released a Trumpet of roar, D'vons clearly behind his rang.

They glided back down twoards the queens wing returning to there formation. Woeith quickly sending a comfermation to the Queen. I have seared the Thread! clearly happy of his succese.... this was his second thread fall he had attented.

The Fire Heights

There was a pause after the first blue appeared for a refill. Later, Aeryn felt like it had been the calm before the storm. All at once, it seemed the air above the Heights was full of dipping, wheeling dragons. Their riders called to each other and to the weyrlings through the windwhipped air, their arms extended to catch the heavy sacks. Aeryn had just enough time to be grateful she'd pinned back her fall of silver-blond hair, and then she was kept too busy to think again for a long time. She was conscious of Eagrith always beside her, keeping out of the way when she didn't need him, seizing the cords of a sack to help her drag it along if she fell behind.

She was grateful to his constant support, and to the kindness of T'bai, which had calmed her down at the beginning. She had just enough rest between hauling the heavy sacks to shake the fatigue out of her trembling arms and take a cool sip from her waterskin. Then it would begin again, with Nako cheerfully bullying them all but helping wherever she was needed. Aeryn didn't resent it. Shards, she was too busy to even look up, most of the time.

Queen's Wing

Liranath felt the brush of Iolath's displeasure and her green body drew taut and trembled, partly with defiance, partly with fear of reprisal. She snorted out ashy breath and kept her head resolutely skyward, scanning for errant Thread while Emig fretted on her neck. She felt good today, and everyone, even her senior queen, seemed bent on keeping her flying a sedate, quiet pattern a few dragonlengths above the ground. Liranath was even impatient with Emig, whose adventuresome soul she normally found a little trying. Not today. Today, Liranath wanted to soar to the limits of her wings, and it was so frustrating that she wasn't allowed to!

K'jin, too, had his eye on the rebellious young green. Other than relaying messages and helping Alesia in case her sharp eyes happened to miss a stray Thread, he and Sevofth had little to do except save their strength to act as ambulance in the event of disaster higher up. The wing was too well-drilled to make a mistake. K'jin had to admit that he was proud of the way Emig was controlling her dragon; the impetuous youngster had grown up a lot since her relocation to Kharasi. He made a mental note to tell her so, and wondered just how, or if, he should tell Emig that her dragon was going into heat. Maybe he shouldn't say it at all; a green rider normally knew her dragon's cycle. But Liranath, as Alesia had observed, was late - and Emig was still more child than woman in behavior at least. How many Turns had she? Seventeen by now, he thought. Old enough.

He put the question to Alesia via Sevofth when there was a lull in the action. Sevofth, please ask Iolath and the Weyrwoman how Liranath's rising should be addressed with her rider.

The big brown turned his head to eye his rider and snorted, clearly disgusted that K'jin's mind was on such mundane things during battle time. But he did as he was told, asking Iolath as politely as he could. K'jin wants to know how to tell Liranath's rider she's proddy. He paused. You'd think the rider would know already, the way greens broadcast. I am sorry to ask at such a time, but my rider insists. The contriteness in his dark tone was as genuine as the respect.

Queen's Wing

Iolath gave mental sigh if a dragon ever could, but relayed the message. Alesia's exhasperation would nearly match her dragon's and she actually turned around in her straps to stare at K'jin as if she could convey her thoughs just with that look. Tell him I'll grab her up and shake her, screaming 'Your dragon's a being a proddy ninny! She's going to MATE, you virgin girl!'

Iolath was amused, and sent the message verbatim. Alesia chuckled, then pat the gold neck. Tell him I'll talk to the girl... and ask if this is a personal interest of his and if he'd rather do it? Iolath... was not as amused by this.

Before the brown could get too terribly flustered with her aloofness, Iolath added, Alesia will speak with her... unless K'jin would prefer to speak with her? Are you considering chasing, Sevofth? The queen gave a pointed glance in his direction.

There was no missing Alesia's twist in the fighting straps, insofar as she was able, and a broad grin split K'jin's dark face as he realized she was probably furious to be interrupted at such a time. Sevofth's meek repetition of Iolath's words only made him grin more broadly; he didn't realize that Sevofth was having his own problems.

I don't want to talk to the child about proddy greens. If she hasn't figured it out by now, her Weyrlingmaster did a poor job. Gesturing broadly, he pointed at Alesia, then found Liranath in the wedge formation behind them, pointed at her, then facing Alesia again, drew his finger across his throat. He was almost laughing aloud and knew he had to get control of himself before he missed something important. It was a rare thing to be lighthearted during Fall, especially for him. He was surprised to find himself enjoying it.

I think K'jin wants to see what happens if the Weyrwoman skins her alive, Sevofth said with dark humor to Iolath. The brown's eyes glinted as he turned his head toward the queen, cocking side to side. I would not chase her. Her rider holds no interest for mine, and besides, I caught a green not too long ago. Dragons were no good at deceit, and Sevofth did not trouble to keep disdain out of his tone. He was as aware as any bronze that Iolath was coming into heat herself, and more than the bronzes, he had his rider's subconscious but strong desires weighing on him. There was no room for thoughts of green riders in K'jin's head.

I see. Iolath seemed content enough with that answer. Alesia says she is naive. She probably won't know what's happening until she has a gaggle of men in her weyr unannounced.

Alesia caught K'jin's gesture, and she put her arms up in a helpless gesture. Alesia says her reputation has become far too tyrannous. But there was a humor lacing Iolath's tone that suggested she may think the title had been well earned.

Iolath's head swiveled up to the sky, warning her rider once again of a clump. It was falling too far back to warrant chasing, and someone further back in formation charred it with no incident.

Then another thing came into Alesia's mind. Probably K'jin might have heard something as little remains secret about the personal lives of dragonriders within the Weyr. Alesia wishes to know if Liranath's rider is still untouched. She finds it most unwise if she still is. This has been a trend of Holdborn females, Alesia has heard.

Iolath was being positively chatty with him. Sevofth swelled visibly with pride and swung his tail in a snaky dance through the air. It's strange, isn't it? he mused to the queen. Dragons don't make a fuss the first time they rise or catch. Why must it be so for humans? He snorted. I'll ask K'jin.

K'jin's response to that was a snort nearly as loud as his dragon's. For Faranth's sake, Sevofth! Now it was his turn to glare at Alesia. What will quell her - does she want me to seduce the kid? That's all Emig is - a kid. But she's a tough kid. She'll be all right.

Sevofth was too smart to repeat the sarcastically-laced comments directly to Iolath. But he was also not a meek brown, and not above returning any teasing that came his way. K'jin asks if Alesia wishes him to - unburden - the girl before Liranath rises, he told Iolath blandly, and was careful also to keep this thought hidden from his rider.

Innocently, he broke formation for a split second to check that the dragon who'd charred the errant clump had done the job properly and was returning to the wing in a timely fashion. Above them, the wink of dragonfire went on more heavily as the Fall swung toward its thickest. Stay alert, he relayed to the rest of the wing. He himself was alert, but also enjoying this Fall more than any other. The chatter was a pleasant respite from the waiting and watching that was so often the duties of those in the Queen's Wing. And he was enjoying this verbal sparring with Iolath nearly as much as he suspected K'jin was with Alesia.

The Runner Trace - four leagues west of Thyra

Ciaran slowed as the wind picked up from the northeast. The gusts that blew up from the cliffs this close to the coast were strong enough to knock a runner off balance, and in full stride that could mean a twisted ankle and a long, slow limp to the next station. She anticipated this one and lifted her face to it even as her stride quieted to a swinging walk, letting it cool her sweaty skin under the fierce noon sun. It carried a slight tang of salt, and blew the taste of her own fear back into her throat. She didn't dare pause for long, but she was panting as it was from carrying a pace well above her normal long distance stride.

A glance up at the sky both relieved and unnerved her. The gray mass was larger now, but she could clearly see the flashes of dragon fire. Could they contain all the Thread? Ciaran was made of sterner stuff than Holders, being a Runner, it was true; and like any Pernese she'd been raised to inherently trust and revere dragonkind.

But it was very different, Ciaran reflected as she flicked out legs heavy with fatigue, when one was actually exposed in the open during a Fall. The only thing, right now, that she could absolutely rely on was whatever strength was left in her legs. The mix-up that had delayed her so long at Tregad had made it hopeless for her to reach Thyra; and even if she did, she'd find its doors locked and barred against her for the duration of Fall. She was making now for the Thread halt that was by rumor three leagues west of the infamous Hold, and she was doing it at top speed. She knew from the pillarlike scraping of rock she'd just passed that she was only a league away from the halt. A league. She could manage that in half an hour in her present state. Half an hour was a long time for something to happen.

A shiver that had nothing to do with the strong breeze ran through Ciaran's long, lean frame. She picked up her knees again, reflexively checked the full mail pouch at her belt, and took to running in a long, fluid stride, desperate to reach the Thread halt before Thread reached her.

Ciaran's clothing would be even less protection against voracious Thread than the wherhide that dragonriders wore - and theirs was perhaps more a buffer against wind and cold than against Thread, which would eat through anything not metal or rock as quick as maybe. Her runner's singlet was lighter than the lightest sleeveless summer tunic: a semi-fitted tank shirt that fell past her hips, slit a few inches up each side to allow for full range of motion. The weave was peculiar to tailors catering to runners and difficult to create - a blend of cloth made from soft fibrous plant stalks that grew in marshes, and the fine, soft wool of certain species of goat. The plant-based cloth was light and strong, and an open-weave technique allowed it to dry quickly when wet. The wool was in itself water resistant, and both fabrics had integral elastic properties that kept them from losing their shape through repeated hard wearing. Instead of pants or trousers, Ciaran wore short leggings made of the same material, semi-fitted at the hips and loose at the leg openings to prevent them pulling against the movement of her leg and chafing.

Chafing, blisters, and cramp were among the occupational hazards a runner faced every day, and Ciaran had learned early on in her apprenticeship the best way to prevent and avoid those things. Still, one had to be prepared for the worst, and know how to treat such issues quickly and properly so that one could stay on the trace and make the best time possible. She carried in her flat, ingeniously-pocketed runner's belt a poultice for sprains, a salve for blisters and chafed skin, and pressed tablets that warded off cramp.

She'd thought she was prepared. She usually was. She'd not accounted for Thread, and the mistake could be a ghastly one. Certainly it would cost her time, at least, though time was not the issue now so much as saving her hide. They wouldn't even find the wherhide pouch or the hide-and-paper letters it contained, if Thread got her.

Repressing a shudder, and also the urge to kick herself for her stupid oversight, Ciaran ran on. Negative thoughts now would do nothing but slow her down and make her doubt, and she needed to run as if she was winning the most prestigious race in all Pern. There - that was what she'd focus on, to take her mind off the dread and fear that came from forcing herself to run at high speed directly into the throat of a Threadfall. Less than a league and she should find the narrow stone shelter that would keep her safe from the deadly spores. Less than a league, less than a league.

She chanted it to herself as she ran, a tall, lean girl with auburn hair darkened with sweat and tied with the brilliant splash of a Runner-orange long-tailed headband. Her feet stepped lightly on the trace moss, the heel barely imprinting before she pushed off again on the balls of her feet, hands held high, fingers loose, calf and thigh muscles lifting and contracting and pushing and lifting again. Under normal circumstances, Ciaran ran because it was far and away what she was best at; her mind and body in tune to the terrain and the weather, running more for the sheer joy of speed and fluid motion than a sense of duty - even though she'd made journeyman in record time.

Now, though, she ran out of necessity, as a wild thing runs before the forest fire.

Weyrleader's Wing

Behemath kept in near-continuous contact with the rest of his wing, and with his Wingleaders and reported back to L'gan in between bursts of flame. The lower wings are experiencing heavier than normal Fall, but are handling it well. There have been no casualties. He broke off as he rolled to the right to flame a large chunk, snorting with satisfaction as he watched it float harmlessly to the ground as ash. L'gan nodded and risked a glance down, pride swelling in him as he saw his wings arrayed around him perfectly, with gouts of flame piercing the air at irregular but effective intervals. Hauling another chunk of firestone out of his bag, he fed it carefully to his bronze. It's nearly time for the second wing to join in. Alert the Wingleaders and have them inform their wing please, Behemath. The bronze relayed the message, adding in a warning of his own. Stagger your exits, we can't afford to have many of you go between all at once and leave gaps.


In the Weyrbowl

A small thrill raced through Cailyn as Marti spoke. A sevenday- which meant that in no more than a fortnight Iolath would be rising, and then a few months after that... a clutch. Her heart seemed to clench in her chest, though from anticipation or nerves she wasn't quite sure. Maybe a bit of both. Glancing back to the old woman, Cailyn studied her thoughtfully for a moment. The faraway look in Marti's eyes had a certain emotion to it she couldn't quite put her finger on. She wondered if maybe, many Turns ago, the woman had once stood on the Sands in the hopes of Impressing. It would be insensitive to ask, of course, so Cailyn instead commented, "I Impressed a bronze one not too long ago. Some days I would almost wish I could give him to you!" She grinned. "He's a bit of a handful sometimes..but somehow I get the feeling you won't have many troubles with yours." She added wryly.

Alesia's Wing


Alesia's gaze once more shot behind her to give K'jin quite the glare. The effect wasn't what she'd want it to be with her goggles and face covered in soot. A finger of warning pointed in his direction before going to her own throat to slice across it with a finger in a gesture of warning, her mouth moving as she screamed over the wind, though the words were lost to the whipping wind.

He'd better know that is not what she meant. She.. threatens something to the effect of taking K'jin and breaking him over her knee... I hardly see that being possible, but she is not pleased. Iolath though, couldn't contain the laugh in her mindvoice.

I should not have relayed so literally. I have made her jealous. Iolath said to Sevofth only, giving the brown a glance that meant those words were to stay between dragons.

I think he may not have been serious with that comment. Iolath mentioned to appease her rider, who turned back around quite flustered. A stray gust of wind sent a roiling piece of thread flying off out of range, and Iolath warned the rest of the Wing she was breaking formation to go after it. Dipping ahead and to the side, she angled sharply and Alesia flamed the thread dragonlengths from the ground. It was then that Iolath's entire frame seemed to tense and pause, flying low as she looked at something ahead of thread's path. There is someone on the runner's path. Iolath sent the image of the running girl to her rider.

"We'll pick her up. Tell Sevofth." Iolath's body reacted instantly, her superior wingspan and strength sending her flying low and fast over the forests. Soon, Iolath's own body shadowed the running figure. Female or male.. it was hard to tell from that height. All runners seemed built in the same way and unless you saw them up close they could seem quite ambiguous. Iolath flew slightly ahead of the runner before landing right onto the runner's mossy path. The great talons of the beast would no doubt do horrible damage to the mossy path, but that hardly mattered. Right now, the runner was in the path of thread, and Alesia needed to get her out of there.

((Hehe, sorry if this wasn't exactly what you had in mind, Fury XD I can change if you want. Saving someone stranded out in thread was a good distraction. If I left her in formation she may have unbuckled herself and jumped from one dragon to another to throttle K'jin XD ))

2nd Wing

Faranth only knows why Forgoth wasn't able to make his turn as sharp as he used to. He was a good strong blue but it was halfway through the fall and he was tiring; normally they fought thread with a supplement wing that made things a little slower paced but with more dragons to fill in the blanks Kharasi was running the shorter threadfalls with only two main wings and the ever helpful low flying Queen's wing. They'd just came back into the fight with a new bag of firestone when the thread just seemed to fall a bit too heavy at the wrongest of moments. Forgoth was flaming a patch when another flew through. Forgoth was to /between/ but he did so just a second too late. Dragon and rider felt searing pain before they disappeared into nothingness, the blue giving out a squeal of pain.

It was turns of training that made both of them react, focusing back on where they had been in the Wing.. and they were there again. The thread that struck them was gone, seared into nothingness, but Ratina's thigh had a broad bare spot and the skin was seared. A Similar much longer wound went down Forgoth's neck, bright and raw with ichor cauterized from the burn of thread. In times of strife they may have continued fighting, but Forgoth's fighting red eyes were laced with grays of pain. The order went out that they were to change soon, and Forgoth's voice quickly cut into Ratina's mind. I can last till they arrive. As if to prove this, he let out a roar and lunged for a clump of thread, exacting his revenge with ruthlessness as he belched out flame to destroy it.


The Weyrbowl

"Eheh! Is that so? Most people say I'll end up scaring the thing off if I managed to Impress one." Marti said with a cackle. The flash of dragon hues showing up for firestone caught her eye. Her hands pat at her old knees in a happy little rhythm.

"You came from Hurricane Hold, yes? You are really willing to leave the sea for the Weyr? Not trying to convince you not to Stand dear girl, but I must say I'm curious. I've known many people from Seaholds and many of them are quite... attached to their home to say the least. Sometimes they say that the boats men are Impressed to the sea."

Weyrleader's Wing

The report quickly came in that Forgoth and Ratina had been injured by Threadfall. A moment later, a second report was delivered that said the blue refused to return to the Weyr. Behemath delivered that last grimly as he flamed another large patch of Thread. A flash of fury rose in L'gan, but he quickly suppressed it. Emotion needed to be left behind when fighting Thread. Emotion clouded judgement. He longed to reprimand the rider who had hurt Nako so keenly, but a glance below quickly showed that although the blue was in pain, his injuries were not severe and his ability to flame and fly was not compromised. Grinding his teeth, he decided to allow the pair to keep flying- it would only be another few minutes until the reserve wing took over anyways. Let Iolath know that Forgoth is injured but will continue to fly until the reservists arrive, please. He asked Behemath. The bronze passed the message on tacitly, most of his attention remaining on the Fall.

In the Weyrbowl

Cailyn was quiet for a minute, debating on how much to reveal to Marti. "I felt like I was drowning there... no pun intended." She added in amusement as her words hit her. "My father took on an apprentice, and he was the one to do most of the work on the boats. I didn't get to do much, so I decided to come to the Weyr. I can be useful here, I hope." There, enough information, yet sufficiently vague enough to hide the pain Vesper's adoption had caused. She knew logically she couldn't begrudge her orphan friend a loving family, but she couldn't help feeling replaced by his presence in the household. It was something she would get over, she knew. It would just take some healing time away from home.

Runner Trace

Her heart, already beating at near maximum, felt like it might explode out of Ciaran's chest in fright when the great golden beast landed a few paces in front of her on the narrow, mossy path of the trace.

"Great shells," she whispered, and staggered to a gasping halt, feeling her shoes slide for a moment before the quarter-inch spikes set themselves firmly into the moss and gave her some stability. Thin shoulders heaving, chest soaked through with sweat, Ciaran could only stare up at Iolath for a few incredible seconds. She hadn't realized just how vast dragons really were up close.

Struggling for breath and composure both, she addressed the queen's leatherclad rider, shouting to be heard. "I'm so sorry - I was ... making for the Thread ... Halt. I'd nowhere else ... to go. Oh, I'm so glad you saw me." Her voice was shaking, and not entirely from exhaustion.

Second Wing

Pranath gave an anxious little whimper as Forgoth went between with a squeal. Her blue fighting partner had only just returned with fresh firestone, and now he'd been scored. His rider too, she told Ywain quickly. But then both dragon and rider reappeared, a little ahead of and below them. Ywain breathed out in relief, but Pranath said, He is hurt. They cannot last the fight, even though they want to. Reinforcements are coming.

Ywain raised her hands to feel the positioning of helmet and goggles. Well then, she said grimly, We'll have to work hard enough for them until the reinforcements arrive. She patted Pranath's neck, feeling her dragon's mind for any signs of masked fatigue. Are you strong enough, Pranath?

Of course. I have been fighting smart. The indignation nearly radiated from her green's hide; any other situation and Ywain might have been tempted to laugh. Instead, she asked Pranath to take them wing-to-wing with Forgoth and Ratina, where she caught the other woman's eye and gave her the hand signal to ask if she needed medical aid; she'd spotted the gash on Ratina's thigh.

Queen's Wing

Sevofth judiciously relayed Iolath's request, then said nothing more. K'jin, too, had spotted the lone figure on the trace, and he let Alesia go without question. It seemed a little hasty a departure; she could as easily have sent one of the blues or greens. But Sevofth's chattiness had dampened so suddenly that he was sure his brown had received a direct order from Iolath - nothing else would quell him when he was in a garrulous mood.

With dragons being injured up above and the changeover to fresh blues and greens about to happen, he had his hands full just then anyway. Still, it was not without a smi