[Disclaimer. I own only characters. Pern and all associated characters and places remain the property of Anne McCaffrey.

Sorry to take so long between updates. Life does tend to get in the way. I hope to continue writing this story, although I'll admit that the original direction I had in mind for this story may have veered a little. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.]

An injured rider was an injured rider. Luru had seen the weyrlings approached their seniors without any apparent regard for dragon colour or rider rank. She had been quite happy to join them. She had even started to. All H'nas had asked her to do was a specification of his earlier instruction to the rest of them: for her to attend to a rider's serious battle injuries in the infirmary, where no doubt she could learn as much as any of the others. All he had done was relegate her back to the level of the rest of the class.

The infirmary was easily found. H'nas's vague indication of the direction probably wouldn't have benefited from further clarification. The tunnel was short and served only the one chamber, well lit with glows. Luru probably couldn't have got lost.

It was very quiet in the infirmary, with plenty of unoccupied beds. Two occupied beds were obvious by the translucent, white, mesh curtains draped over and around them. There was a third which Luru could presume was occupied by Yalith's rider, as it was the hub of activity, surrounded by three healers and well-lit. They seemed to be getting on with things.

Luru approached them anyway. Before she was Searched, it had been an ambition of hers to join the Healers' Hall as an apprentice. Torish, the healer at her hold, had always encouraged Luru to observe and assist her at work. Luru knew quite a lot about fractures, head injuries and the other typical afflictions that brought beast holders to a healer's abode. Threadscore was uncommon however. Even if she was only observing this time, seeing the kinds of injuries that riders sustained in Fall would be beneficial to her; to all the weyrlings in fact. The opportunity was about to cease to be rarity altogether.

Luru drew alongside the healers at work. They had removed his flight gear and were applying numbweed salve liberally to his bruised chest and abdomen. Luru wondered if his ribs might be broken. One of his arms hung at a slight angle from its socket, possibly dislocated, Luru thought. There were a few light lacerations on the areas of his face not covered by a mask or a helmet.

Overall, he didn't seem too badly maimed. Luru looked at the rider's flight gear, which lay in a heap away from the bed. There was a web of scars across that where Thread had obviously attached itself, but the Threads had not penetrated below the surface, if the rider's skin on his otherwise blemish-free chest was any indicator. Wherhide was good, tough protection in the air, much more durable than the hides of the dragons in any case.

Luru had seen worse cases than this at her Hold. Her uncle had been trampled two Turns previously whilst attempting to brand a herd beast. Three broken limbs, one nearly amputated and a blow to the head that would have killed him had Jonir not had such a thick skull, her family had joked. He had survived as well.

Torish had not used half the amount of numbweed in the entire three months she had worked to keep Jonir alive and intact as these healers seemed to be using now. Luru watched the three healers empty the contents of two whole pots of salve on the bruised purple skin of the rider's chest. How many degrees of numb were there, really?

Luru wondered first at the waste and then worried about the possible negative impact it might have on the rider's recovery. Pain was necessary to aid recovery. That's what Torish had always told her, and it was not unlike the lessons she had imbibed from her parents about life: what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and all that.

Luru had to ask. "Does he really need that much numbweed?"

The structure of the question only allowed the healers either an affirmative or a negative answer. All three paused briefly in their work to look at Luru, whom they had not given much thought or attention to until she spoke. One of them looked at her and must have recognised her shoulder knots, for he paused with whatever reply he was about give. The others either didn't notice or they did. For whichever reason, the one word answer they gave in unison to her query dripped with disdain.

"Yes." They both returned to work, one of them wielding hia spatula with renewed vigour.

Luru was taken aback by their coldness. She had indeed missed something, she knew that much. Thinking about it, she had also probably appeared as if she had been calling their competence into question. She hadn't meant to do that. Well, not exactly.

You are not malicious and I don't think you did anything wrong.

Luru took comfort in the reassurance from Daruwinth, but she smiled ruefully at the same time. A rider could never do anything wrong as far as her dragon was concerned. No wonder people often thought of dragonriders as an arrogant bunch, ensconced away in their Weyrs. You would never really have to account for anything as long as you had that constant advocate backing up everything you did with assurances of support and love.

An apology was possibly due. Actually, it was possibly overdue. The healers had all returned to their task and dismissed the hovering, glassy-eyed weyrling from their thoughts. They were now getting into position to put back the dislocated arm. It probably only really required two of them, but they had all joined in and had somehow all manoeuvred themselves to have their backs to Luru.

From H'nas's words as the weyrlings had watched him being carried away, Luru had imagined that the rider was in critical condition. Even though he was being treated as such, Luru had a feeling he would live. H'nas had probably been referring to Yalith's condition when he'd said it would be the rider's last fall. Those injuries had been terrible.

The rider groaned as his arm was popped back into place. Luru saw an opportunity to repair her blunder. She slipped around the healers and picked up the jar of numbweed salve. She began to paste it liberally along the afflicted joint. The healer who had refrained from making a tart reply earlier left his colleagues to come to stand slightly behind her, appraising her work.

"They tend to feel it along the bicep as well," he said encouragingly. Luru paused; she hadn't heard that. Maybe that wasn't the case and he was just giving her something to do that wouldn't actually kill the rider. Perhaps.

"Why is that?" she asked him, moving her brush down the limb. The healer smiled and came around to show her.

"Muscles sometimes tense when they've suffered trauma," he said, indicating along the muscle. "Movement and function return faster if they're encouraged to relax in this state."

Luru hesitated before following the instruction.

"Surely it's better to let them feel some pain though," she asked, a little sceptical. She had been taught that people who used numbweed to dull pain that was their body's way of telling them to rest, often ended up doing themselves further damage."

She saw the other healers bristle again. She hastened to include her reasoning.

"I've been taught that pain can sometimes be a useful thing when people are recovering. It helps them to know their limits."

The friendlier of the three healers knelt beside her now. He took the brush from her and began to tend to the afflicted limb.

"Dragons feel pain more than we do," he murmured. "You'll find that out for yourself, perhaps. It's better for both dragon and rider if we keep the rider sedated and numb. This way, Yalith can't feel his rider's pain and can concentrate on just his own. He can't retreat from his link with his rider here. Would you have Yalith feel the pain of a limb that isn't even his?"

It was very well put. Luru understood. The healer gave her back the brush, and then took a bowl of fresh water from a drudge and moved up towards T'mar's head to cleanse the sweat and grime from the rider's face with a cloth.

"You riding pairs lose all good sense when you're injured. The dragon cares only for keeping his rider safe. The rider is terrified for his dragon and resists all attempts by healers to treat him first. You're your own worst enemies in this situation."

Luru laughed a little, in spite of the graveness of it all. She had seen T'mar do precisely that outside in the bowl.

"My name is Lemba, by the way." The healer introduced himself and then indicated his colleagues who had both moved on to tend other casualties being brought into the infirmary. "That's Cathor and that's Merrin."

Luru thought that the names sounded vaguely like dragonrider names. She wondered if they had been raised in the Weyr. Had they ever stood as candidates? Perhaps their latent jealousy was manifesting as hostility toward her. Or perhaps she was just being superior. Luru checked herself and tried to banish the thoughts. It was all very well thinking that privately. But she was a Weyrwoman. She knew now that her private thoughts could affect the Weyr, to some extent. It wouldn't do.

She realised there had been a slightly overlong gap in the conversation. She blurted hastily,

"I'm Luru."

"Lexir's sister?"

Luru didn't freeze but she did look Lemba squarely in the eye. That wasn't a casual comment to just drop into the conversation. He met her eyes.

"Where is she?"

Lemba didn't look down at his work or act as if he had made a mistake in mentioning it. Turning to face her directly, he spoke to her quite calmly.

"Her dragon is dying."

Luru went numb. Then her hands really went numb. The pot of numbweed had spilled from her hands and dropped onto the sand covered floor, coating her fingers with the cooling salve.

"Oh." Luru bent to pick it up. The healer stopped her, lightly catching her arm and making eye contact with her again .

"Luru, I was told not to involve you, but I think it's important. Your sister is rejecting her dragon. Irith is very ill. It's believed that she ought to have died in her shell before Hatching. Now she risks dying not just of whatever ails her body, but of a broken heart as well."

Luru didn't quite understand.

Irith is in pain.

Luru jolted as Daruwinth joined the conversation. The healer, the infirmary and the injured rider on the bed in front of her all faded from her consciousness as her dragon's mind joined with her own.

What do you know Daruwinth?

She asks where Lexir is. The green has a pain in her head. It will not abate, not for a moment.

Lemba's face came into focus again, not far from hers. He had been around enough dragonriders that Luru's glassy-eyed expression was not enough to disturb or alarm him.

"What did your dragon say?"

Luru didn't answer. She asked her own question again.

"Where is she?"