Author's note: I originally wrote this for a friend who had never read anything about dragonriders or Pern, so forgive me if I tend to describe things in detail. This is my first time writing in Anne McCaffrey's world, so if I make any errors, please overlook them, I usually write Harry Potter fanfics. Thanks as well to truegold-dragonstar for the helpful comments.

And for the next few months, Amrianth did just as Aurilla had predicted, eating voraciously, sleeping, and growing rapidly. Two Turns later, she was almost fully grown, large for her size and possessed of a keen intelligence, a wicked sense of humor and inclination to gossip. Amrianth loved to talk and could and would talk to just about everyone. Sometimes, when Aurilla was away treating a patient, Amrianth would even talk to Streak, who liked to curl up between the green's forelegs and nap. The little dog and the dragon got on famously, and it was not an uncommon sight to see the two of them relaxing beside the lake or hunting the flock of wherries together. Though Amrianth was fully capable of catching prey without Streak's help, she liked the dog's company and allowed the swift greyhound to herd the wherries towards her, allowing her the choice of the fattest birds.

The friendship between the dog and dragon was very amusing to most of the riders, who had never thought of a dragon wanting anything other than his or her rider.

"Whoever heard of a dragon befriending a canine before?" P'rell had remarked, frowning.

"Ah, but remember, this is Aurilla's dragon," D'vin, brown Nereth's rider, had pointed out. He was her father's good friend and almost like family to her. "It's only natural that Amrianth share her rider's tolerance and love of animals. Like rider, like dragon."

P'rell snorted. "Just as long as she doesn't expect to take that dog along when they fight Thread, I suppose I'll permit it."

Privately, D'vin wondered how in the world P'rell thought he could prevent the dragon's friendship with the dog? Granted, he could order Aurilla to send the canine away, but such a heartless act would earn him the enmity of many of the riders, especially when he had no cause to do so. Sometimes, D'vin thought scathingly, P'rell can be a pompous hidebound fool.

I agree, remarked Nereth. There is nothing wrong with Amrianth's friendship with Streak. The dog has better manners than some people I could name. And is more useful too.

You'll get no argument from me there, my friend,chuckled D'vin. P'rell's a traditionalist, that's all. Thinks anything new is an insult to his viewpoint. But he'll come round eventually. Kevath likes Streak too, doesn't he?

He does, Nereth affirmed. As I said before, the canine is useful in driving game to us, so we don't need to fly as far to catch it. He can understand us too, after a fashion.

Really? The dog can hear you speak to him?

If I speak slowly and clearly, then yes, Streak can understand what I or any dragon wishes. He is not as smart as a human or one of us, but he's not hopelessly stupid like a wherry either. I like him. I wouldn't want him to leave.

Seems to me like you're getting lazy, letting a mere dog do your hunting for you, D'vin teased.

Lazy! I am not! I'll have you know I can outfly all but the largest bronzes here. And I can outmaneuver every dragon save Amrianth, Nereth said indignantly.

All right already! I apologize, I was only teasing. Don't you know how to take a joke? D'vin sent back, grinning sheepishly.

Oh. Sorry. I thought you were serious. You don't think I'm getting out of shape, do you?

After reassuring his rather vain brown dragon that he was in wonderful shape for having fought Thread for about fifteen years, D'vin headed off to the Lower Caverns for some meatrolls, fruit, and klah.

Amrianth was different from most other dragons in other respects as well. Not only did she like to talk with people other than her rider, she was also good at assisting Aurilla with injured dragons, soothing them so that her weyrmate could treat them. Like her rider, Amrianth could project a soothing calm aura into the dragon's mind, easing the fear and pain the dragon felt so it did not struggle too much when Aurilla stitched and cleaned out lacerations or set broken bones.

Not that there were very many casualties, P'rell was too good of a wingleader for that. Still, there were injuries from a rider or a dragon being too careless or too slow ducking and sometimes numbweed was not enough to heal Threadscore. Usually, R'lan handled the more severe cases, since he was Senior dragonhealer and had more experience. But occasionally, when there were more than one severely scored dragon in a wing, Aurilla was called in to help, and she did a fine job of it. She was deft and quick, able to size up the damage done to the dragon in a glance and diagnose a course of treatment in a few minutes. She had never lost a patient since she had begun healing alongside her father, and she was a bit proud of that fact, which worried R'lan.

"You can't save them all, Aurilla, no matter how hard you try or how good you are," he had cautioned her more than once. "Someday, you're going to have to deal with one who's too badly hurt to save and I just want you to be prepared. It isn't easy watching a patient die, human or dragon. But sometimes we have no choice."

Aurilla had said nothing, not wanting to contradict her father. All the same, she thought it had been more skill than luck that had enabled her to fix every dragon and animal she'd ever treated. Not that her father was not a good healer, he was excellent, and she respected his skills immensely. Few of the dragons who were under his care had died, and none in this last Fall. But sometimes he seemed almost arbitrary about his work and not half as passionate as she was. He tended to distance himself a bit from those he tended, which was perhaps why some of the dragons under his care had died. Those with the worst injuries he healed, true enough, but he did not throw himself into the procedure heart and soul the way he did with some of the others. The way she did with every patient she'd ever had.

The young healer did not realize that her father distanced himself to prevent his gentle soul from being ripped to pieces each time a critically injured dragon or rider (for sometimes he treated them too) died. R'lan had tried to warn her about becoming too emotionally involved with the worst cases, such as the dog, but he sensed that mere words would mean nothing to his stubborn daughter. She was as passionate about healing as she was about her dragon and could be obsessive about it. The way he had been once. Like father, like daughter, he'd thought wryly. And like him she would simply have to learn the hard way. He did not have the heart to force this lesson on her, only to hope that when she lost a patient she would not be too devastated.

"Death is a part of life. You can't shield her from that forever, love," his ever practical mate had remarked on one occasion after Aurilla had rescued Streak from death's jaws.

"I know. I know. But the first time is so brutal. . . ." he shook his head sadly. "I was a wreck for weeks afterwards, scared to death to pick up a needle, afraid that it had been my fault that Serenth went between forever. If it hadn't been for you and Draketh reassuring me, I might not have ever healed another dragon."

"Ah, but you've never lacked for courage, my sweet R'lan," Audra had reminded him, stroking his thick dark hair playfully. "And neither does your daughter, I'd wager. If she's anything like you were, she'll cry for about a day or so, then she'll pull herself together and be healing again within a week. It's in her blood, you know."

R'lan put an arm about his wife and hugged her to him, amazed all over again that such a self-confident woman as Audra had chosen him for her mate. But then, she'd always known what she wanted and she'd obviously wanted him, since they'd been together for sixteen Turns now! He kissed her gently. "You're right, as always, my Audra. All I can do is be there to pick up the pieces afterwards. I've been there before, so that'll help. And I won't leave until I'm sure she's got her confidence back."

"When have you ever not been there when someone needs you?" Audra asked tenderly. "You're a wonderful father, R'lan. Your children adore you."

"Yeah, well, what's not to adore?" he said with a smirk. Then he ducked his wife's cuff, his eyes sparkling mischievously like his son's. "One thing's sure, I'm ten times better than my father was, and the less said about that the better," the dragonhealer remarked tightly, his expressive eyes darkening. He rarely spoke of his childhood because it was so painful for him. Audra was one the few he'd trusted with the truth besides Draketh, that is. An instant later the dark mood was gone and he was smiling down at her, the provocative c'mere-and-kiss-me grin she loved so well.

So she did, because she'd never been able to resist him, her gentle dragonhealer with the clever hands and sweet smile, who loved her best of all next to his great dragon. She gazed up at him, her blue eyes glowing with barely restrained passion, and whispered in his ear, "It's a beautiful day. Let's go and take a walk down to the cove near the sea. You know which one I mean."

"All right, my little queen," he agreed. "I could use some exercise," his tone leaving no doubt as to the exercise he was referring to. They left the weyr arm-in-arm, and above them on the ledge, a brown dragon watched them with affectionate amusement.

Have fun, you two! Draketh sent with a wicked mental note to his rider.

R'lan glanced up and met his dragon's eyes. Oh, we will, you nosy beast. Now get outta my head, if you don't mind. Go take a nap or something.

Why? Draketh teased

Draketh! sputtered R'lan, blushing red. Please!

I'm not tired.

R'lan chose to ignore that last comment, his ears were already red enough from this discussion. Though he knew his dragon well enough to know Draketh would do as he asked and be absent from his head for awhile. There were some things a rider did not need to share with his dragon and vice versa.

"Draketh's been teasing you again," Audra observed with a smirk.

"How'd you know?"

"Your ears, dragonrider. They're a dead giveaway," she said, and traced one lovingly.

"Oh. Yeah. Never mind him. He won't disturb us for anything short of Threadfall and that's not for another four days yet. So let's enjoy the sun and the sand, shall we?"

"Among other things," Audra purred, and had the satisfaction of seeing her husband glow with love.

The day it happened was the same morning Aurilla woke up freezing after kicking off her blankets. It started out as a perfectly ordinary morning, Aurilla rose just as the sun did, flooding her sleeping chamber with fresh morning light. Unlike many of the weyrfolk, she actually enjoyed mornings and was always eager to begin the day.

She stretched luxuriously, brushed out her hair and dressed in her customary wherhide tunic and pants and soft boots. It was almost never really cold down here on the Southern Continent, so she did not bother with a jacket or a cape. Since her weyr was down at ground level, she did not have to go far to find the kitchens.

"Good morning, Aurilla," greeted Rani, who was Head Cook and something of a foster mother to her and Darren. "Up with the sun as usual, I see." Rani was a buxom woman with skin the color of toasted bread and black hair.

"Morning, Rani," she answered, kissing the older woman's cheek. "Mmmm. What are you baking today? Smells like redberry pies." Redberries were plentiful here in Southern, and while a bit tart, they made an excellent pie or pastry with some extra sweetener.

"Right on the nose, Dragonhealer," Rani smiled, returning the kiss with a hug. "There's a pot of klah over there and some porridge warming. Fruit's on the table and if you give me a minute I'll have some sausage and maybe one of those pies you've been smelling."

"A redberry pie for me?" Aurilla's face lit up. She had a notorious craving for sweets. "Thanks, Rani." She went and poured herself a cup of klah, adding extra sweetener, then dished up some oatmeal with more of the same.

"No need to thank me, child. Like they used to say the early wherry catches the grub! Or in this case, the pie. You deserve a reward for getting up at this hour and not being grumpy." The woman said, giving the stew she was making a swift turn. Rani was full of odd sayings like that, which she had learned from her grandmother, she came from a long line of Record-Keepers. "Hungry I can deal with, but grumpy I don't put up with!" she told the young woman, shaking her spoon.

"If you're gonna be grumpy, you can just—" began another young kitchen helper.

"—GET OUTTA MY KITCHEN!" all three of them finished.

Rani slid a freshly baked redberry pie in front of her. "There you go, Rilla. Mind your tongue, it's still hot." She frowned at the young woman. "Huh. You're thin as a rail, girl. I'm gonna have words with your daddy, he's been working you to a shadow again." She slid another pie down next to the first.

Aurilla opened her mouth to defend her father, for in truth she worked herself to a shadow without any prompting from R'lan. Then she closed her mouth. Two of Rani's redberry pies were worth a little misunderstanding between friends. She began to eat her porridge first, knowing that when she was done the pies would be cool enough to eat without scorching her tongue. And they were.

"Here," the cook said just as she was leaving, having devoured every crumb. She shoved a sack into Aurilla's hands. "There's a few meatrolls and fruit and some pasties in there for midmorning, I know you get so wrapped up in your work you forget to eat half the time. And extra for that begging canine Streak too."

After giving the woman a last hug of thanks, Aurilla departed the kitchens and headed back to her weyr. Amrianth was just rousing, and Aurilla smiled at the rainbowed message her dragon sent her just before she took off from the ground to go hunt her own breakfast of wherries and herdbeasts, Streak trotting along beneath her.

Aurilla left the dragon to her hunt and walked down the short passage to her father's office, which she shared with him. She stowed the lunch sack up on a shelf out of the way of the medicines, then relit all the glows in the room. Once the room was brightly lit, she turned to examine the small cages on the back ledge, which held a bronze fire lizard with a broken wing, a cat with a slashed forepaw, and one of the spit canines with a burned ear.

She refilled each occupant's water dish, gave them food, and cleaned out their cages one by one. Then she checked them, speaking softly and reapplying numbweed and bandages where necessary. The little fire hissed a protest when she examined his wing, he was wild and not used to being handled, but he did not attempt to claw her. She called him Flick, for the way he flicked his small tail. "You're mending just fine, Master Flick," she told him, placing him back in the cage. "Another sevenday and you'll be all ready to fly out of here."

She said this with regret, for she had grown fond of the little fellow. But she knew he was too old to Impress and the best she could hope for was that he remembered her kindness and chose to return to her once she released him.

Taffy the kitchen cat's paw was mending well also, and she purred when Aurilla fed her. Aurilla liked cats too and often wondered how one would get along with Amrianth. Then again, she did not need a menagerie in her weyr, she reminded herself firmly. One dog and one dragon were more than enough for a Junior Dragonhealer.

The large canine, Ocras, licked her hand after she doctored him and she stroked his rough coat before putting him back in his cage. That was why she liked working with animals and dragons instead of people. They rarely complained and were always grateful when you tended them, unlike some riders, who complained until she wanted to scream and hit them over the head.

"Pain does funny things to a man," R'lan had told her once. "So you've got to be patient and understanding."

Yeah, Dad. It turns them into big babies, she had wanted to say, but did not dare. Her father would lecture her into the next Turn if she did, for one of the things he was adamant about with his apprentices was that they be compassionate and gentle with patients, no matter how ornery they were. His motto was "Kind words heal as much as skillful hands."

It was not that Aurilla did not feel sorry for those riders who got scored or hurt, but some of them whined about everything, up to and including their rooms being too hot and cold! And they were so demanding! Wanting you to wait on them hand and foot all day. More than once she'd had to bite her tongue from telling the whining man to shove off between and stay there, which would have gotten her banished from healing for a month. But honestly, you didn't hear the women complain half as much when they were sick! Perhaps it was a good thing women bore children, because if a man had to do it, the human race would have died out by now. Which was why she was grateful to be a dragonhealer, by the First Egg!

After she'd dealt with the animals she made notations on each of their charts—date, time, and treatment. R'lan had drummed the necessary evil of keeping accurate records into her from the time she could read and write legibly. A dragonhealer, or any healer for that matter, could not keep track of all procedures and doses reliably in his or her head. "That's why we keep charts of each patient, so that if something like this happens again and you need to treat it, you can just look it up and not have to worry about giving incorrect dosages and such. This way you're always accurate."

Aurilla therefore kept detailed notes on each and every patient she treated, even though keeping such records made her cross-eyed and her fingers ache. Her father was even more meticulous than she was, and had a filing system second to none. When she'd been younger, he'd made her copy over charts so she'd learn exactly how to document. It had been boring, dusty work, and she hadn't enjoyed it but she'd made damned sure she'd learned it, for someday another dragonhealer might need her diagnosis to save a life and she meant to make sure no dragon died of incompetence if she could help it. He also kept detailed drawings of dragon anatomy, made with help from Draketh. he'd even made a small model for study, complete with jointed wings and legs. She'd practiced on that first before she was allowed to work on real dragons.

She had just finished eating her lunch, even though it was early, when she heard her mother's voice scolding her brother from the next room, which was Audra's workroom. It adjoined the office, but was kept separate by a length of heavy red drapery. Sprinkling sand on her latest notations, she cocked her head.

"Will you quit squirming, Darren!" she heard her mother say crossly. "If you make me have to re-do this hem . . ."

"But it's taking forever, Mom!" came her brother's whine. "I've been standing here so long my foot's fallen asleep."

"Twenty minutes, that's all," Audra said exasperatedly. "Now be still."

"Ow!" Darren yelped. "You stuck me."

"I'll do worse if you keep wriggling, scamp," she heard her mother growl.

"I can't help it," Darren muttered, then yelped again when his mother jabbed him with another pin.

"If you hold still for two seconds, she won't be pricking you, son." R'lan said calmly, coming into the piecework room and putting his hands on his son's shoulders to keep him from moving.

Aurilla darted a look around the partially drawn curtain, and saw her father standing behind her little brother, his big hands keeping him caged while his wife finished hemming the pair of breeches. "You know, if you didn't keep growing like a beanpole, you wouldn't have to go through this torture every month," the rider drawled easily, grinning down at his son, who heaved a sigh and relaxed into his father's chest, resigned to the fitting.

"You'll have your father's height, scamp, if your legs are any indication," his mother said, giving her husband a grateful look over her pincushion.

Darren preened at that and stopped shifting on the wooden platform long enough for Audra to pin the cloth securely in place.

Pest! Aurilla thought affectionately, wishing she was taller, as it would make riding Amrianth easier when the time came to fight Thread. Not that she was looking forward to it, she'd tended too many scores not to know how dangerous it was, but such was a dragonrider's duty and she was the rider of a fighting dragon after all.

Speaking of Thread . . .the girl darted another look at her father, who was not wearing an ordinary tunic and pants today, but his wherhide riding gear. R'lan only wore that when Threadfall was imminent.

Her mother nodded, and R'lan removed his hands from Darren's shoulders. "You're done for now, son," he told the boy, giving him a gentle swat on the bottom as the boy sprang off the platform.

"Good, 'cause I'm starving," her brother said, moving over behind the curtain to take off the pinned pants. "Mom wouldn't let me eat breakfast till she fixed all my clothes," he told his father.

"That's because she knows you too well, Darren. Soon as you eat you scamper off somewhere and hide till dinnertime." R'lan said.

"Unless he's caught in some mischief first," Aurilla called from behind the drape.

"Stuff it, Rilla!" Darren yelled back. Then she heard his feet running down the back passage to the kitchens.

Aurilla rose and entered the sewing room, fixing her gaze on her father's wherhide uniform. "Is there Threadfall today, Dad?"

R'lan nodded. "Over the southern rain forest at noon, according to our timetables. I'll fly the first half, then Draketh and I will be back here to help you deal with any casualties."

"I'll make sure we've got plenty of numbweed and fellis on hand," Aurilla promised.

R'lan nodded, he trusted her to know how much supplies were needed without checking on her. "How are your other patients doing?"

"They're okay. I think Flick might be able to fly soon."

"Good, because you won't have much time to worry about him once this Fall's over," her father predicted.

"I know. I'll be too busy tending dragons," she said, standing up on tiptoe to kiss him good morning. "Be careful up there, okay? I don't want you or Draketh to be my first patient this Fall," she told him, the same way she always did when he went off to fight.

"Ah, but we'll be in good hands, won't we, Audra? Draketh agrees with me. Says there's no better healer at Sun's Edge save me," R'lan said proudly, giving his daughter a hug. Then he released her. "Well, I'd better get some food in me, I can't fly well on an empty stomach. Oh, and the Weyrlingmaster asked me to tell you he'll need you to help gather firestone when you're done with your healer duties."

"Yes, Dad."

"One other thing. If there's a real emergency, just remember to keep calm and handle it the way you do any other wound. I trained you well enough not to panic, cause if you're calm then so is the dragon. Remember, a cool head and quick hands save lives. If I'm not there, you have my notes to refer to, so don't be too proud to look up information, you hear?"

"Yes, sir. I can handle it, Dad, so don't worry. Just go out there and char Thread."

R'lan laughed at her insolent tone, then he gave her a gentle slap on the shoulder. "Spoken like a true dragonhealer. See you later, Aurilla."

Together, the healer and her mother watched him stride off down the passageway, worried half-smiles on their faces.

Aurilla put an arm about her mother. "He'll be all right, Mom. You know him, he never takes chances."

"I know, snippet. But I still worry every time he goes out." Then Audra brushed her hands on the sides of her skirts briskly. "Well, there's no sense in brooding over him now when there's cloth to be sewn. I knew what I'd have to deal with long before I married the man. Dragonmen must fly when Thread's in the sky," she quoted softly.

Aurilla nodded solemnly, though she couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt for her mother, for sooner than she would wish Audra would have two family members to worry about during Threadfall.

Tell your mother she need not worry, Amrianth sent. Draketh will bring R'lan home safely. And I will do the same for you. No harm will befall you when you fly with me.

Aurilla smiled at the definitive tone in Amrianth's voice. Plainly her dragon was confident enough for both of them and had no fear of flying Thread. Aurilla kept her reservations to herself, as there was no point in agitating Amrianth with something that hadn't even happened yet. The green dragon was still too young for a fighting wing, though she had proved unusually adept at the weyrling exercises. Still, it was up to the Weyrleader when and if Aurilla joined a fighting wing, though she knew P'rell would not hesitate to fly her when he had need.

But that was still a Turn or two away and right now she had better things to do than worry about flying in a wing. She had to check on the quantities of numbweed in the barrels and fellis juice, a powerful soporific, as well as bandages and cloths, needle and gut for stitching, hot water, and assistants who wouldn't faint at the first sight of blood.

I will help you.

I know you will, love, she sent gratefully back to her partner, then hurried off on her errands with a lighter heart. Knowing Amrianth was there to support her always made her feel better. Together they could deal with anything.

She had already arrayed her medicines and her assistants in ranks like a general before the first Threadscored dragons emerged from the icy nothingness of between to land on the ground before the lake. The first three dragons, green Midrith, blue Galanarth, and bronze Kellith, suffered only wingtip lacerations, minor scores that could be dealt with numbweed cloths and no stitching.

With Amrianth crooning reassurance to them and their riders holding their heads, Aurilla slathered on numbweed and gave them a bit of fellis-laced water to drink. Half-an-hour later three more dragons came in, these bearing hurt riders.

These she helped from their dragons and turned over to the WeyrHealer and his assistants. They were not her priority, their dragons were. Together she and Amrianth soothed and reassured the agitated dragons, telling them over and over that their riders would be all right, they were not dying, only hurt a little. She had discovered soon after bonding to Amrianth that dragons had super sensitive pain receptors, which was why a dragon often thought he was more injured than he absolutely was. The same was true of their riders' pain, which was why a dragon with a badly injured rider required constant reassurance. And since their riders were drugged into oblivion with fellis, it fell to her and Amrianth to provide the rock-solid certainty that their riders would live.

She coaxed the two blue dragons and the one brown back to their weyrs, then she sat with them, holding their heads in her lap and singing soft ballads to them, sending them wordless reassurances that there was nothing to fear, their rider was resting and would be well soon. "Sleep, Remarith, sleep," she hummed, stroking the blue head until the dragon closed his eyes. She could sense Amrianth doing the same to the worried green Esmereldath, telling the other dragon that she would know if her rider was near death and all Brianna was doing was sleeping. Giving the blue dragon a last comforting scratch, she moved on to tend brown Cyganth.

She glanced at the sky as she sat with the troubled brown, noting that it had been nearly two hours since the Fall had begun. Her father should be back soon, he was always dismissed from Fall early to help tend casualties.

Are you sure M'ril will be all right? Cyganth was asking for the fifth time, his eyes whirling red. He always says it's just a scratch, but I know this time it wasn't.

The brown dragon was right, Aurilla thought grimly. This time M'ril had a bad score along his upper back, not a mere scratch. But nothing life threatening, only very painful. "You're right, it isn't a scratch, but it's not half bad as you're imagining, Cyganth. M'ril's a strong fellow, he can handle it. It won't kill him, only keep him weyrbound for a few weeks. Trust me on that. He won't die."

How can you be sure?

"I'm a healer, Cy. I know. He might hurt like blazes, but he won't die. Why, tomorrow morning he'll be bellowing for klah and bread same as he always does."

Do you promise?

"I promise. Now c'mere, you big bag of bones and let me massage all the worry from your silly head," she urged, and the dragon put his head trustingly in her lap and sighed as she scratched and massaged him along his head ridges. He had just drifted off to sleep when a dragon's shriek exploded in the air, jerking her to her feet instantly.

That scream was one a dragon only made if he was in mortal agony, he and his rider both. Before she could race down the stairs, she heard Darren's shrill voice calling, "Aurilla! Come quick, it's bad. Real bad!"

Then Amrianth said, Hurry, weyrmate! Nereth and D'vin need you NOW!

Nereth and D'vin? She thought dazedly as she raced out of Cyganth's weyr. They couldn't be hurt, they were one of the best Wing-Seconds in Sun's Edge. Not to mention that D'vin was almost like an uncle to her and Darren. And Nereth, he'd given her rides when she was a little girl, and played catch with her when she was five, like a big brother. I'm coming! She sent frantically to Amrianth. Tell Nereth to hang on, I'm almost there.

She jumped the last few feet down the stairs, nearly falling onto the hard packed earth, Nereth's cries ringing in her ears. Her heart came up in her throat at the sight that greeted her eyes.

Nereth was bleeding badly from a huge gash in his side and his wings were scored so badly they were in shreds. He was writhing in pain, his tail lashing wildly, and throwing his head about, making it impossible for the women to get to him and help D'vin off his back. His cries and terror pierced her to her soul, but she gritted her teeth.

Cool heads and quick hands save lives, she reminded herself grimly.

"Amrianth!" she bellowed. "HOLD him, for shard's sake!"

She glanced up towards D'vin, who was slumped in the saddle, half-unconscious. She'd need to get him off before she could tend Nereth, before he injured the man further with his insane thrashing.

She heard Amrianth lift her voice in a wordless croon, humming for all she was worth. The green dragon came out and was touching noses with the brown, her eyes whirling green and blue colors, projecting calm and serenity for all she was worth.

Be easy, little brother, be calm. Hush, hatchling, hush. Aurilla comes and all will be well.. Just relax and let her see to you, Amrianth purred into the stricken brown's mind, blanketing his agony with her own indomitable will, forcing the brown into immobility. She curled a talon about the other's head, holding the great dragon still.

There, Rilla. I've tranced him. Get D'vin off.

If the situation had not been so dire, Aurilla would have grinned at her dragon's tone and her presumptuous words to Nereth. The big brown was more than three times the age of her green and twice her size too! But nothing daunted Amrianth when it came to helping her fellow dragons, she had as much presence as a queen when she chose to use it. She was the stubbornest dragon in Sun's Edge, Aurilla thought proudly, then jumped up to unfasten D'vin's fighting straps and drag him down.

The semi-conscious man's weight hit her like a rockslide and she fell back, her arms holding him as best she could. Then other hands and arms were about her, steadying her and taking the rider from her.

"Leave go now, lass," she heard WeyrHealer Asvar order. "I've got him. You go and tend his beast over there and let me worry about this one."

"Will he be all right, sir?" she asked, staring in horror at the mess of blood and grit that covered the rider's face.

"He's scored bad along the arm and side and he's got a busted nose, I think, from his dragon's knocking into him, but I've seen worse, lass," Asvar told her matter-of-factly, shifting the man to one shoulder easily. "His dragon's the one you've got to worry about, girl."

At that D'vin's eyes fluttered open and he met her gaze. He coughed sharply, moaned, and then gasped, "Save Nereth . . .Rilla, promise me! Whatever it takes . . .save him!" he grabbed her hand, squeezing it hard. "Promise!"

"I promise, D'vin. Rest now."

His hand slipped from her as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Tears prickled her eyes as she watched the healer take him away. Please live, D'vin. Please. I couldn't stand it if we lost you. Or Nereth either.

She swiped a hand across her eyes and forced herself to look at the critically injured dragon. This was the emergency her father had warned her of. This was what she'd been training her whole life to deal with. She clenched her hands into fists. She would not fail. She was her father's daughter. She had never lost a patient yet and she would not begin with this one.

"Fellis juice and numbweed! On the double!" she snapped, and was rewarded with people scurrying to do her bidding. I'll save you, Nereth. I promised.

She bent to examine the shredded wing joints while her assistants slathered the oozing wounds with numbweed and someone else coaxed a fellis mixture down the dragon's throat. The damage was bad . . .very bad. She did not know how the dragon had managed to fly his rider home with his wings in such a condition. The sails were scorched almost to nothing and the delicate wing bones cracked. She did not know if she could repair them. It was possible that even if she could keep the dragon alive, he'd never fly again.

Oh, Nereth! Damn! She thought, angrily swiping at her eyes, which kept filling with stupid tears. I wish Dad was here. He would know how to help better than me. She took a deep breath. But he's not and there's only you, so quit crying and heal, Dragonhealer! She ordered herself scathingly. Then she remembered something. R'lan wasn't here, but his notes were.

She spun around. The first person she caught sight of was her brother, staring up at the bleeding dragon in fascinated horror. "Darren! Run to Dad's office and get me the files on wing repair and critical Threadscore. Move!" she barked, sounding like P'rell in a temper, had she only known it.

Darren blinked, then shook his head. "I'm on it, Aurilla!" he said and bolted away as quickly as his skinny legs could carry him.

"Get me hot water and antiseptic and needle and gut," she ordered another woman, who immediately hurried off to do her bidding. Minutes later she was back, and Aurilla was scrubbing her hands and arms tot he elbow with water and antiseptic. "Clean hands prevent infections," she explained when the woman raised an eyebrow. It was only later that she realized the woman she'd been ordering about like a drudge was Simona.

Darren returned with the files and she had him read her the notes while she attempted to sew the sail like wing membrane back onto the damaged tendons. Nereth was still now as she worked, the combination of fellis, exhaustion, and Amriath's iron will sending him to sleep.

Halfway into her task she knew it was hopeless. There wasn't enough membrane left for her to work with, not by half. And the tendons and muscles of the wings themselves were scored so bad it was a miracle Nereth could even flex them. I can't do this! It's not enough. He'll never fly again, and what use is a dragon that can't fly? She wondered bitterly, staring down at her ichor covered hands. But I can't give up. I won't. I promised D'vin. Save him, whatever the cost. And I will. I will.

She spent two back-breaking hours stitching and wrapping, coating broken bones with numbweed, working with a feverish desperation. Nothing mattered, not her aching back, not her sore hands, all that mattered was the dragon beneath her hands that she had sworn she would mend. She was aware of Amrianth in her head, asking worriedly if she was tired, that she should rest. She ignored her. She realized with some distant part of her mind that Darren was no longer reading instructions to her, but she was too busy sewing to demand he repeat another paragraph. She was blurry eyed from fatigue, but she refused to stop until she had done all she could.

"Don't worry, Nereth. You'll make it. I promise," she murmured over and over, her voice dry and harsh. Thirsty. She was so thirsty.

"She won't quit, R'lan," she heard someone saying behind her. "She's been with him nearly three hours without a break or anything. I tried to get her to rest, but she just looks right through me as if I wasn't there and goes right back to sewing the shreds of the poor beast's wings. Doesn't she know she can't save him?"

You're wrong. This one will not die! She though fiercely and continued to cut and sew.

"As long as he still breathes, she'll treat him," came her father's weary voice. "But you're right, Rani. Enough is enough. She's going to make herself sick if she keeps on like this."

The next thing she knew hands were taking her needle and gut away. "Stop it now, Aurilla," a familiar voice was ordering her. "You've done everything humanly possible, now let it go."

She fought the hands, fingers grasping, snarling in fury. "Give them back! I need them! Got to save Nereth . . ."

"He's alive, Rilla." R'lan said softly. "Now come away, you're exhausted and you're half-asleep on your feet. Come on now." He wrapped one lean arm about her waist, drawing her to her feet.

She muttered a protest, took two steps, and felt her legs give way beneath her. "Blast! I was afraid of that," she heard her father swear, then he picked her up, cradling her like a baby. She blinked up at him, trying to tell him about Nereth's condition, but her mouth was not working. "Shut up and go to sleep, girl," he ordered gruffly, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I know about Nereth, I've been monitoring him. Now rest, before you end up just like him."

She closed her eyes, sensing that now was not the time to argue with him. Amrianth? Will you watch Nereth for me? I'm so tired.

I know. Listen to R'lan and sleep. I will watch my friend for you. This I promise.

Thus reassured, Aurilla allowed herself to sleep, falling into a deep black hole.

Despite all her care and stubbornness, Nereth lived only two more days before he died. Not even Amrianth could persuade him to live once he realized he would never fly again.

I am a dragon. The sky is my home. Of what use am I to fight Thread if I cannot fly?He had demanded. I belong up there, not cringing along the ground.

"Don't say that!" Aurilla had cried fiercely. "Not every dragon fights Thread. D'vin needs you. So does Amrianth. You don't need to fly to be useful, Nereth. You can teach the weyrlings and dragonets. You've got so much experience, please, Nereth. You can't give up!"

He had sighed softly. Little healer, I owe you my life. For that I thank you. But perhaps it would have been better had I died when I first landed.

"No! How can you say that? Better for whom? Not D'vin, not me, not anyone. We love you, Nereth. With or without wings. D'vin won't care if you can't fly, I know he won't."

He might not, but I do. And I am the one who has to live like this. Child, I do not know if I can.

"You can. I'll help you," she whispered desperately, feeling him slip from her even as she watched.

You don't understand. How can you? You are human, you've never had wings. Flying is not just something I do, it is what I AM. And without it, I am nothing. Amrianth understands.

He is right, weyrmate. Much as I hate admit it. A dragon without wings is a crippled thing. It would be cruel to force him to stay like this.

She stared at her dragon, betrayal curling in her gut. "What are you saying, Amrianth? That I should just let him die? I can't do that. I'm a healer. I promised D'vin."

Nereth swiveled his head about to gaze directly at her. Even healers fail sometimes, young one. You did your best, there is no blame. It is my time. Now let me go, please.

"Nereth . . ." she choked, her hands closing pleadingly on his neck.

I don't want D'vin to see me like this. Let him remember me as I was, proud and free, as a dragon should be. Not like this, a crippled shadow.

"Don't go . . ." she whimpered, tears falling on the brown hide.

There is a time for all things, little healer. A time to be born and a time to die. All dragons know this. I am not in pain now. Save when I think of what my life will be like from now on. Your will alone holds me here. Free me, Aurilla. Some promises are made to be broken. Like now.

"Nereth . . .are you sure?"

Yes.

"But . . .what will I tell D'vin?"

Tell him it was my time. He will understand.

He nuzzled her gently.

Do not grieve for me, little sister. For I will be at peace. And I shall fly again.

She could not reply, for grief held her mute. So she simply nodded.

Then she told Amrianth to let go her will and free him.

You're free now, Nereth. Go and do what you must. Amrianth crooned gently.

He threw up his magnificent head and spread the tattered remnants of his wings. My thanks, little Amrianth. Remember me. I love all of you. Then he launched himself skyward in one mighty leap, his wings fluttering in a vain attempt to keep him aloft. Look after D'vin for me, Aurilla. Don't let him follow me if you can help it, was his last thought before he went between forever.

Almost instantly, the dragons began a shrill keening howl, mourning their loss.

Aurilla dropped to her knees, sobbing inconsolably.

R'lan found her curled up on Amrianth's couch an hour later, crying soundlessly into her dragon's wing. She's very upset, Amrianth told him quietly. I tried to talk to her, to tell her she did the right thing, but she refuses to hear me. She blames herself for Nereth's death.

"Yeah, that's what I figured." R'lan sighed, climbing up on the stone couch. "The first one you lose is always the hardest. No one knows that better than me. We healers hate to lose." He knelt and took his daughter's shoulder in his hands, turning her to face him. "Aw, snippet, don't do this to yourself. You did all you could, you know. Even I couldn't save him, I knew it soon as I saw him. So don't beat yourself up for something you can't help."

"You don't understand!" she sobbed raggedly, clinging to him. "I made a promise and then I broke it. I let him die! I tried, Dad, I really did, but his wings . . .they were shredded . . .I couldn't fix them. . .But he was alive, until I . . ." she began to cry again, huddled in the dragonhealer's arms, overwhelmed with guilt.

"Until you let him rest," R'lan finished, his own eyes wet. "You made the right choice. I know it may not seem like that now, but you did what Nereth wanted. You can't force a dragon to live, Rilla. They have to want to and Nereth . . .didn't. To have kept him here would have been cruel and you've never been that." he shifted, holding her more firmly against his shoulder. "That's the hardest lesson you'll ever have to learn, snippet. Better you learn it now than later, when I'm not around to hold you."

She looked at him then and asked, "Was it like this for you too, the first time you lost one?"

"Exactly like this," he nodded. "Lucky for me I had your mother and Draketh to help me. You'll get over this, trust me. The pain will fade in time, but you'll never forget. Which is as it should be." He stroked her hair. "Go ahead and cry, that's what you need right now. You and Devin both," he said, using the non-contracted form of his friend's name now that he was no longer a dragonrider.

She followed his advice, weeping herself into exhaustion. R'lan held her until she was quiet, then scooped her up and put her to bed. "She'll be all right now," he told the green dragon. "She'll get better a little more each day. Though I'll have to repeat my little speech again later, I don't think she was paying attention."

I can repeat it for you, if you like, Amrianth offered graciously. And Devin?

"He's a damn wreck right now, as can be expected. But I don't think he'll follow Nereth. He's got a family, and Rani will never let him go without a fight. Nor will I."

Good. Nereth said he was not to follow. You are very like your daughter, you know.

"Now there's a big surprise," R'lan said with a soft laugh. "Take care of her, Amrianth."

Always, Dragonhealer.

Then the Senior Dragonhealer left his daughter sleeping, knowing her dragon would watch over her as tenderly as if she was one of her children.

Well, how was that part? Please review, constructive criticism is welcome!