Disclaimer: You know the drill. Yes, I own NADA. Except my characters and plot...

ANs: Yes, I have added to this story. There were sufficient requests to motivate me to do so. I'm sorry it took so long, even though I have the whole thing written out. Ya see, there's this character in later who's a blatant HAD Mary-sue. Gotta fix that. But here you are, and I'd like to thank my reviewers for this story - so far: astrokath, CrossoverQueen, Afanen, lilybee (special thanks!), and me (I used to use that name for anonymous reviews, too!)


Sattil

Sattil stared at the fire. That was what he had changed his name to, now that… that Pinceath…

Beside him sat Lari, a greenrider whom he had always been friendly with. She looked at him, afraid, but she pitied him. She would not leave him alone now.

"S'ti– uh, Sattil?" she asked hesitantly. He looked up at her, face blank. He felt as though he were made of stone, his heart frozen.

Lari shrank away from the look on his face. "S-Sattil, I'm… I'm sorry."

He snapped his gaze back onto the crackling flames. He didn't want to talk about Pinceath… His Pinceath! She was gone… Sattil would never again be S'til. Would never again have the wonderful presence in his head of another, who would always love him, would always be his. His dragon.

He felt the hole in his heart expand again, squeezing him tight. He didn't cry. He had no tears left. But the agony was no less sharp than it had been the instant he had felt his Pinceath go between for the last time.

He vaguely remembered screaming in blind terror. He heard, as though through thick cloth, the keening of brown Charloth as the other dragon mourned for Pinceath.

Sattil had been brought back to the Weyr – on dragonback! It had only sharpened his pain. He had then staggered away from the wailing brown, able to think of nothing but getting as far as possible from the thing that was causing him his heartbreak.

Pinceath! He had never thought that her name was the best dragon's name ever – it didn't have the beautiful ringing roll of some, like Lilianth or Champioth. But it had been his dragon's name. She had brightened every day, made everything happy, even when he was practically driven between with boredom or hard work.

He had been brought into his weyr. But, as soon as the kind hands guided him there, he had cried out and backed up, refusing. It smelled of Pinceath. It was Pinceath, as far as he was concerned. So, they had put him in a bed somewhere in the Lower Caverns. Blind and gasping, he had fallen into a pain-racked sleep.

He had woken and come to sit before the fire, slumped in an armchair. He had refused all food offers. Then Lari had come.

"S-Sattil, are you… all right?"

Sattil felt like screaming at her. All right! Why would I be all right! PINCEATH…!

"Am… am I bothering you?"

Didn't she know that, even if she was, he wasn't going to tell her? He couldn't talk, the pain clamping his lips together over his teeth.

"Should I talk about something else?" Lari asked softly.

Sattil still made no reply. So, the woman sat next to him, until he couldn't stand it. He just couldn't be here.

He stood up abruptly. Surprised, Lari looked up at him.

"I'm leaving," Sattil said, his words clipped, sharp, and not betraying his inner anguish. Nothing could. Nothing could express this feeling.

"What do you mean?" Lari asked blankly, not comprehending what he was saying right away.

"I can't stay here," Sattil said.

"Stay… in the Weyr?" Lari said, shocked. "But… where will you go?"

Sattil paused slightly. He had been an apprentice Harper before… but, no. He was too old now, and had never completed his training. Besides, how could he make music now?

"Lemos Hold." That was where he had lived before he had even been an apprentice Harper.

"Oeonth and I'll take you," Lari said, standing too.

Sattil cringed at the thought of riding another dragon – and a green, at that!

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sattil! But… you have to leave the Weyr somehow. There's no other way…"

"I can do it," Sattil whispered.

He couldn't stay in the Weyr. Not with dragons all around, constant reminders of what he had lost.

Sattil climbed, numb, onto green Oeonth's great neck. Lari swung up in front of him, slapping her dragon's neck.

"Lemos Hold, girl," she said, causing Sattil another stab at the heart. Her voice was so full of affection, warmth. Affection and warmth that S'til had felt for…

Sattil abruptly cut off that thought.

Flying on a dragon was almost unbearable. Between was a harsh slap in the face.

But he couldn't be in the Weyr without Pinceath.


Sorry it took so long and it's so short. But I'll prolly get more up soon, soon as I fix the Mary-Sue. If anything is confusing, just ask. Thanks for reading, and REVIEW!