Charel woke at dawn, and for a moment considered sleeping in as Vaeth snoozed peacefully in her mind. Then she remembered that the drovers would leave after breakfast, and hurried to get up. She wanted to see her friends off, a small gesture on her part, perhaps, but currently the only gift she could give them, in return for the kindness and loyalty they'd shown her.
Vaeth didn't even twitch as she dressed, so deeply asleep was he. Tiptoeing out of the Barracks for the benefit of the other Weyrlings, she hurried across the misty Bowl, the fine mist coming off the bathing lake. Looking up she noticed the watch dragon, a brown, catching the first rays of the rising sun. Like she would with Vaeth or the watchwhers, she mentally wished the watch dragon a good morning.
Good morning, bluerider. The mental touch was so light and the brown's voice so soft that Charel wondered if perhaps she had imagined it. But she turned and smiled up at the dragonpair anyway, then jogged to the entrance to the Lower Caverns
She'd timed her arrival just right, as the other drovers were breaking their fast. There was a smattering of good natured ribbing, mostly about trading up mounts, but the pride they had for her was genuine. Looking around, Charel noticed a telling absence.
"Where's my Pa?" She asked Old Larst softly, sitting down opposite the head drover.
"Your mother's water broke the moment she got home, or so says the bronzerider. Your father staid, since the baby's early." Old Larst explained, dishing extra sweetening into his cereal.
"Oh." Charel wrinkled her nose for a moment. "The baby's only a fortnight early, that shouldn't be a problem... right?"
"Nope." Keslo said, and pushed the bowl of shredded cheese towards her. She spooned in two heaps of cheese, then crumbled her bacon on top. "If it were your mother's first, it might be cause for alarm, but successive sibs tend to come a little earlier." He winked reassuringly at her.
"Oh, okay." She stirred her cereal then looked up perplexed. "What about Socks and Star? There's no way they'd let a dragon carry them between."
The drovers chuckled at the notion, as Old Larst nodded in somber agreement. "Kelso and I will bring them back. With no herd to drive, they should be in their home stalls by the end of the week."
"Oh. Thank you." Charel replied feeling a little embarrassed at putting them out.
"My pleasure," Keslo said with a big grin. "I've been itching to ride Socks for a while now."
Charel spent the rest of the meal in pleasant banter, then walked with them to the stables. Hugging each one, she waved after them until they disappeared down the Tunnel. The Lower Caverns were buzzing with activity at this point, and at loose ends, Charel reported to Tress for a chore.
"Well, aren't you a helpful lass," Tress remarked. "Is little Vaeth still asleep?" Charel closed her eyes for a moment then nodded.
"Your blue is going to be ravenous when he wakes, so let me show you how to make his meals." Tress led her to one of the coldcaves, facing the Bowl proper, and demonstrated how to pull down a carcass. When Charel proved adept at carving, Tress asked her to disarticulate several wherries for the noon time meal. Charel gladly did, inactivity not sitting well with her, and was carrying the wherries back to the kitchen when every dragon in the Weyr sat up and let out a piercing note, a high pitched keen that continued to rise until it passed out of human hearing.
In her mind Vaeth cried out, and Charel dropped the bag of wherry, racing back to the Barracks. The Barracks were in chaos, and Charel had to shove panicking half-dressed Weyrlings aside to reach her room. She ripped the curtain aside just as the second keening hit.
Vaeth, wings outstretched, leapt from the bed where he had been searching for her into Charel's arms, knocking her to the floor, the little blue's mind babbling with fear and heart-retching sadness.
"What happened? There's no Fall today!" Pilana demanded to no one in particular.
"Great eggs..." Koru sank into a nearby chair, her cereal spilling unheeded onto the floor. Reema, pouring herself a mug of fresh klah, spilled all over the table, and Urlyra started to choke when Jurille reached around and pounded her on the back. Urlyra coughed then nodded her thanks, wiping her watery eyes.
Benden's Hatching did not go well. Graesth informed her, her mental tone heavy with grief.
"Sweet mercy, two hatchling?" Reema whispered, sitting down next to Koru, whose face was wet with tears. Deaths of hatchlings were second only to queen deaths.
"W-what happened?" Pilana asked again, this time directing her question to her dragon.
Benden could not Search, so they did not have enough candidates to stand on the Sands.
Word of the hatchling deaths reverberated across the drumheights. Namul reached over to pluck at Fulsa's elbow as they rode back from the night's search. Telgarsk and Namusk had already winged home and were safely ensconced in their enclosures. The wherhandlers were tired, having gone from the Hatching straight to helping the watch search out the Holdless's camp in the hanging valley surprisingly close to the main Hold.
The camp was a ring of lean-tos, roofed with slate and hidden under the dense foliage of skybroom. The scattering of articles suggested that the Holdless had left in a hurry. Namul and several watch members looked through the lean-tos as Fulsa lead the remainder with the assistance of the watchwhers to find where the Holdless went.
In one of the lean-tos they found the cold body of a tall man, a nasty festering wound in his leg and his throat slit. Namul had made a face and walked out, and waited for the party to return, which after several hours they did, losing the path when they came to a swiftly running stream.
"Bad luck for Benden." Fulsa sighed, and wished mightily for her bed.
"Bad luck for Pern." Namul retorted, and belatedly Fulsa remembered that her mate had once been Searched.
"Love, I didn't mea-"
"I know, I'm sorry, I'm tired." He interrupted, immediately contrite. Fulsa reached across the gap between the two runners and squeezed his hand.
"It's been a long day for all of us, pet. And," her voice took on a teasing tone, "I noticed Namusk was looking rather green today."
Namul laughed and leaned over to hug her. "She's off cycle if she is," he said, grinning, "say, I was thinking, Charrie won't be able to go home for Turn Over with her dragonet. Do you think Telgarsk would object to flying us up to the Weyr?"
"No, I rather imagine he would relish the challenge." Fulsa said, kissing forehead, then chuckled. "Ah, won't my cousin be surprised when we go between to get home?" She added, grinning like a wild wherry with a poultry in its claws.
Short but critical. As always, please let me know if I misspell or use poor grammar.