Kestket wearily fed the fire in the Threadshelter just an hour outside of Ruatha. His plans to stop and trade his runners were set aside when Farkin and escort rode by him on the path. He was so convinced that the armed Guard was sent to drag him back to Telgar in chains he had froze until long after they had disappeared around the bend in the trail. Gurdy had left to go hunting after that. The little brown returned, whistling softly to his human who looked up slowly, only to have a river fish dropped in his lap. Tears pricked at the offering, and the lordling gently caressed his lizard as he wiped tears from his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Gurdy." He apologized to his lizard. "I do better next time." Gurdy crooned reassuringly, landing on his shoulder and burrowing into his hood.

"Halloo, camp!" Kestket scrambled to his feet at the call from the darkness.

"Hallo." He called back, one hand closing over the pommel of his concealed short sword. Just because they had warned him of their presence didn't mean the owner of the voice intended goodwill. Shortly two faces emerged from the darkness, a man and a boy, possibly his son, both cloaked in the green patterned cloak of wherry hunters. The man smiled amicably.

"Might we share your fire, friend?"

Kestket nodded, and leaned down to pick up the fish.

"I was just about to start my dinner. Would you like to join me?" His words might be a hair too refined for the average traveler, but the hunter smiled and nodded.

"More the merrier, friend. We have bread to share." He lowered the bag he was carrying to ground as he nodded at the boy. "I'm Slarjent. This is Jentka. He don't say much, he's deaf." He made a hand sign to the boy, who flashed Kestket a shy smile and opened the smaller satchel he carried, bringing out a large loaf of bread, and an allium bulb.

"I'm Serrin." Kestket used the name he had adopted with the Messangers. "I'll make a soup." Kestket suggested, and retrieved his camp pot. The boy's hands fluttered and Slarjent nodded. "Do you mind showin' my son how you clean the fish? He wishes to learn."

"Certainly." Kestket surprised himself in agreeing. Was he really that desperate for human company? He wondered, waving the boy over so he could watch.

"Ah, I don't know handspeech, I fear."

"No worries, friend. Jentka is fairly good at readin' lips. Jus' face him when you speak." Slarjent explained, taking the allium and chopping it up.

They made a cheerful meal of it, Kestket adding an orange root and little of the cattle salt to the stew. The bread was a welcome addition, and soon talk turned to occupation.

"A woodworker, eh? Lookin' to join the Craft?" Slarjent had been properly appreciative of the small carvings, and Jentka happily played with them on the sandy floor.

"I don't know, I'm a bit old for an apprenticeship." He admitted. "But I was thinking perhaps I could sell carvings for trade."

"There's always a market for carved trinkets." Slarjent nodded. "Children love them, and courtin' swains like them for their sweethearts. But you'll want to go south for the best hardwoods."

"You carve?" Kestket asked. Slarjent shook his head.

"I make my Marks by finding things for folks. If you need a special wood, I find someone with the wood to sell. The Smiths really like the southern hardwoods for carving, and the northern soft woods for their ash in metal working." Slarjent explained. "Usually Traders are good for large quantities, but smaller lot requests go through the me. Or information."

"Information?" Kestket's sudden wariness woke Gurdy and he poked his head out of the hood.

"Aye, information, like who has a daughter lookin' for a husband, or whom might have a pedigreed stallion to stud." Slarjent grinned then nudged his son, who looked up, and laughed delightedly at the fire lizard.

"Speakin' of information, mayhap we could trade. Do you know anyone with lizard eggs for trade?"

"I'm sorry, I don't." Kestket shook his head apologetically. "But I would like to hire you. I was hoping to trade my runners for a faster one. Do you know anyone who wants two sturdy mountain runners? They're Telgar stock, but no pedigrees."

"There's always call for mountain runners around here. Let me get a look at your runners in the mornin'."

Char flopped down on her bed. Vaeth, much too large to fit in the barracks any longer rolled around in the sand outside, until he had a comfortable wallow.

We did well today. He told her. V'kka was very pleased.

"I know, I know. " Char groaned into her pillow. Outside the Weyr was in a frenzy of activity, as the eggs would hatch either late that night or early in the morning. "I'm so tired of being weak."

You are not weak. Everyone is impressed with how much you can do. Vaeth disagreed with a burst of affection. Even Zandur is impressed. Clearly, that the Weyrhealer was impressed was something of note among the dragons.

"So impressed they sent me like a baby to take a nap?" Char grumbled, although if she was being honest she really needed it. For all the therapy Zandur gave her, all the help her friends offered, she was still pushing herself in each lesson. Now that the dragonets were flying well enough to hunt their own kills their riders had many new exercises added to their lessons. None of her group had their First Flight yet, but it would be sooner than later now. Char was determined to be cleared to fly. She wasn't going to cheat Vaeth of that because of her own slow recovery.

"At least you get one. You could be joining us in the laundry." Lybae told her flatly, dropping Char's folded laundry on top of her. Char sat up and pouted at her friend.

"You know I would rather be doing just that." She told her waspishly.

"You are too good, bluerider." Lybae told her friend, poking her forehead. She only ever called Char that when she got annoyed with her. "Sleep before Zandur sends C'bay with a brew that knocks you out for the entire hatching."

"'Bae..." Char huffed, and stuffed her clothes in her trunk. Then, she paused, sensing some change in her friend. "Are you okay?"

Lybae placed the last blanket away and turned to face her, looking worried.
"I'm scared, Char. What if I don't Impress? Or worst, what if I Impress, and fail my dragonet?" She asked quietly, twisting her hands.

"Lybae..." Char stood and hobbled over to her friend, taking her hands in her own. "Nothing is going to change how wonderful you are. If, by some strange chance you don't Impress, they'll let you try again. And when you do, well, I don't know anyone better prepared to be a rider than you. I couldn't have done it without your help all this time, especially oiling Vaeth." Lybae laughed softly at that - she usually ended up oiling all the hard to reach places on the blue while Char was restrained by her cast. "But no matter what happens, we'll still be friends, and Vaeth'll fly you anywhere you need to go until you have your own set of wings." Lybae hugged her, and let out a relieved sigh.

"Thank you." She took another breath. "Okay, okay, you better get some sleep before Vaeth tells on you to Zandur."

I would never. The blue informed both of them faintly offended.

"You might not, Vaeth of Char, but if he asks, the answer needs to be, 'she's sleeping'." Lybae squeezed Char, then pointed to her bed. "Sorry."

"Mother hen." Char teased, going back to her bed. "Vaeth and I will watch from the Bowl entrance."

"Don't you dare forget." Lybae laughed, and nipped out.

"You will wake me up?" Char asked Vaeth.

Of course. Sleep, rider of mine.

allium - onion

orange root - carrot

cattle salt - large chunks of rock salt, usually left out for cattle in salt deficient areas

Many thanks to the folks offering to beta read my fanfiction, currently my schedule doesn't allow for it.

And thank you again for reading.