The next few weeks were some of G'ny's most lighthearted as a dragonrider. She could suspend all of the negativity she had left behind in High Reaches, namely those emanating from Allika. Allika, after all, was the one responsible for tearing away L'can. Allika was the one who ordered G'ny about in such a sneering tone that even the most enjoyable tasks seemed like laborious chores. There was none of that here. In fact, she hardly thought of those negative memories. Unlike Moura's neglect before Allika's cruelty, Vowna was kind and instructive in her request for assistance with Weyrwoman duties.
G'ny fell into a routine, working alongside or at the direction of Vowna during the morning and early afternoon when the sun was at its most brutal, in the insulated cool of the Archives Room. G'ny adopted familiarity with how Weyr records were chronicled with great ease, as they bore similarities to the records she had referenced as a Holder. This made it easier to breeze through the mundane portions of the job - cataloging compliance of tithes and levels of supplies - so she could spend more of her time focusing on the more noteworthy records that she assisted in copying over into fresh vellum. There, the richness of dragonfolk, with its notations on clutch sizes and casualties of Threadfall piquing her curiosity with greater intensity than the birth of Holder sons and granary harvest trends.
Igen's history, she learned, varied greatly from the generalized pride in High Reaches that her Weyrling training taught her. Not only was its topography desert, but its status as a Weyr too had been deserted - during the Second Interval. The crew that had returned in the Third Pass seemed motley, comprised of mostly greens and blues, which was not unusual, but the ranks of more leadership-driven bronzes seemed surprisingly lacking compared to typical dragonrider hierarchy. Few notes were taken, although those that were entered reeked of insubordination. G'ny imagined this was natural, since they must have come together from different Weyrs, and the other Weyrs would have been loathe to give up their most productive bronzes. No conclusive explanation remedied her questions, although given the sudden onslaught of Thread, G'ny supposed the Weyrwoman had better things to be keeping track of than the origins of each of her riders. Now, in the Fourth Interval, many generations later, not much had changed. Igen was still one of the smallest Weyrs, with only one, aging queen and few bronzes to lead it forward, but there was an upstart, if not scattered, energy that G'ny appreciated.
In the late afternoon and evenings, after overseeing the execution of the midday meal and a quick nap, G'ny exercised with Saleneth, performing any drill or role B'don requested of the pair. As of late, G'ny had returned to a role quite familiar to her: with one of his Wingleaders, the only brown, out with a strained wing, G'ny often stepped in for whichever Wingsecond was elevated to Wingleader for the day. She harbored a not-so-secret pride when this Wingsecond was B'ran. With so few bronzes available for the upper echelons of command, she knew there was a good possibility B'ran could make it if he so applied himself, especially since he was one of the younger riders and Saneth was one of the larger browns. Still, G'ny knew her partner was balancing his time carefully, loathing to take on so much responsibility that it might interfere with the family to whom he so frequently returned.
There were, of course, aspects G'ny missed about High Reaches. Her mornings with Lawana left her particularly nostalgic, and her mouth watered for her mentor's nutcake. As her mind drifted to thoughts of her mentors, she wondered what T'mir would think about all of the choices and progress she was making at Igen, especially with regard to how he might see her and B'ran overcoming their different allegiances. She also missed her proximity to Radharc. Even though she hadn't taken as much advantage as she could have to go home, it was certainly easier to visit her family, or at least hear updates of her hometown that put her mind at ease, when it was on the Weyr's sweep ride route. It had certainly been a while since she had laughed at C'lin's shenanigans, whether they were related to a sweep ride or not. She wondered how little Midenna and Denalay were doing over in Ogren and regretted having been transferred away from her duty transporting them to Gathers after having just made such a sweet connection with them. There was also something about the crispness of the mountain air for which she longed.
One morning in the third month of her stay at Igen, G'ny started her day with a fuzziness that made her feel like she had never woken up completely. It wasn't until she had been up for about three hours and was pouring her third cup of klah in an attempt to shake the sleepy feeling that an overwhelming wave of grief washed over her. She immediately focused on her bond with Saleneth and tried to process the messages her dragon was receiving from their High Reaches kin.
A group of at least a dozen riders, maybe two, all older, leaping from the Bowl heights as one, going between. G'ny counted the three heartbeat period it took to travel between until she, through Saleneth, should have felt them reemerge. It never came, and her wail of agony joined her dragon's. They were gone. Most were Oldies, but one pair struck her through the images she interpreted: T'mir and Tolluth. The immense sadness seemed to jolt her awake, making her long for the muted feelings of the morning. The Igen dragons keened in solidarity, but none felt the loss so terribly as Saleneth and G'ny. T'mir had been there for every major moment in the Weyr. He found her on Search. He trained her with the Weyrlings. He counseled her on and sheltered her through her mating flight fears. It was through him that she learned how to lead a life in the Weyr. He still seemed so vibrant to her. Less than four years had passed since he had Searched her out in Radharc. It was not enough time to spend together. How could he just leave her like that? It must have been a mistake. What could have possessed them all to do such a thing?
At Vowna's suggestion, G'ny blindly prepared herself for a trip back to her home Weyr. Vowna passed up a small, hand-picked sack of some of the heartier Igen staples that would fare well on the journey between. B'ran gave her one last hug before she blinked between to share in the grief of her friends and adopted family back at High Reaches.
She knew she could not stay long before incurring the wrath of the Weyrwoman for her unannounced arrival. Fortunately, the woman was nowhere to be seen when she entered the common areas of the Weyr. Those riders on the lower level riders stumbled around, hardly acknowledging her unexpected presence, so wrapped up was each in his grief. Many had retreated to their weyrs to find solace just in the comfort of their dragons. A hand-wringing Tasla paused as she passed by her, thanked her for coming, and gratefully accepted the sack of provisions. With a hasty gesture towards the kitchens, she quickly turned away, presumably to help make sure everyone remained mildly nourished throughout this difficult period. G'ny wondered how Lawana was faring and what she might know, but realized that first and foremost she needed the company of a fellow dragonrider. The first mildly comforting face she saw was that of T'tor, dazed in the corner with a bottle of quickal in his hand.
"What a strange thought, to likely be the oldest one in the Weyr. This day has come far too quickly." He muttered, half acknowledging G'ny's presence.
"Why...?" G'ny pleaded with him.
"New eggs on the Sands? A new era? No Thread to fight. A feeling of obsolescence? The inability to bear the current state of the Weyr?... Actually, here, T'mir said to give this to you when you returned to the Weyr. Said it might bring some solace." T'tor trailed off. G'ny pulled up a chair and sat beside him in silence, taking a swig of the quickal when it was offered to numb herself as well. She accepted the small, rolled hide from T'tor, although she could not bear to investigate it at first. She merely looked at it dumbly in her hand. Eventually, T'tor dozed off, snoring lightly, the now empty bottle clattering to the floor. At last, G'ny pushed her fingers, clumsy with sorrow to unroll the small scrap. Through tear-blurred eyes, she found a few words that only made the loss more painful.
Dearest G'ny, Though you may not understand my passing now, in time you may. Know that I am proud of all that you have and all that you will accomplish. Who needs goodbyes when a memory will live on as strongly as I know mine lives in you? From here to between, T'mir & Tolluth.
G'ny could not bear the oppressive sadness. As if the withered, faded scrap were a symbol of her own vitality, she had only more anguish than when she arrived. No answers of clarity were to be found here. This was too much. With eggs already on the Sands, she would be back soon enough. For now, she longed for the comfort of B'ran and her less-afflicted friends in Igen. She could still envision her destination clearly, and had had Saleneth take her back to Igen, directing Saleneth straight to B'ran's weyr upon their arrival.
"Back already? I thought you'd stay at least a day," He started. Then he turned serious. "You're drunk! Do you know how dangerous that could have been? What, were you trying to join your Oldies? I could have lost you!" He demanded of her. G'ny could do nothing but sob into his shoulder. He held her tight. He relaxed a little as he reminded himself of one thought: they were here together now. "Shhh, just promise me you'll never do that again." B'ran could feel G'ny nod against him through her shaking.
"I've got the perfect plan!" B'ran announced. A fortnight had passed, and the initial grief was fading enough that G'ny could smile again with some frequency. "My family used to go out to the Keroon Gathers, where they would face runnerbeasts. The next Gather is not for another three sevendays, but the runnerbeasts will be out in fine form, and I am friendly with many of the local breeders. Let's go check them out! Get an early scoop on some of the contenders to at least have a chance against the Bitrans who will for sure be represented."
With an amused smile, G'ny nodded and went about fastening her riding gear on Saleneth. All set, the pair alighted into the air. Saleneth received the visuals of the destination from Saneth, and they made the quick blink between. The pair of dragon and rider pairs had emerged over a flat, but welcoming landscape. Fields of cut, dried grasses and pens of heardbeasts stretched around decent sized Hold that was dominated by a sheltered corral and network of stables. This was the famed Beastmaster Hold. G'ny and B'ran sent their dragons off downwind, where the runnerbeasts and heardbeasts they would be visiting would not be scared off. As they approached the large corral they passed a network of heardbeast pens. A few came up to investigate the newcomers, sniffing and occasionally licking their open palms when offered. G'ny giggled when their tongues tickled. In the large corral, four trainers had divided the larger area into smaller squares, where they each practiced various riding techniques. G'ny and B'ran watched the individual sessions, pointing out actions of interest, such as when the runnerbeast to their far left tried to buck off its rider.
"Would you like to take a pair out?" An older beasthearder asked of the curious onlookers.
"Wyhall, why yes, we would love to," B'ran answered, shaking the man's hand. The man led them through the stables to two adjoining stalls.
"Here, take these two out, they could use the exercise and I think you'll find them quite well behaved. I would suggest riding out southeast a bit, you can get a view of the coast."
"Thanks, Wyhall."
"Thank you, dragonrider, for all of your assistance throughout the Turns." Wyhall replied.
The two steeds, both tall, and built for speed fulfilled Wyhall's praise of them. G'ny had almost forgotten the feel of riding so tethered to the ground, so accustomed she had become to dragonflight. Instead of tensing for steep dives or quick turns, G'ny had to engage her thighs to compensate or the constant jostling. She urged her runnerbeast to the smoother, faster canter to match the speed B'ran had urged his up to. At last, a climb up a small hill afforded them a view of the Nerat Bay over high bluffs. They guided their runners to a conveniently located pond for a drink, then tethered them around a few trees in a small stand nearby to rest. They spread one of the saddle blankets down on the ground where they could have a view of the bay to rest as well. They then proceeded to take out some dried snacks they had brought along. B'ran draped his arm around her shoulders and they watched a flock of wherries hunt fish in the ocean. They laughed and pointed at the creatures' clumsy acrobatics.
After a few moments of a lull in the action, B'ran spoke. "You could always stay here. I mean, do they even appreciate you there at High Reaches? That nasty Weyrwoman stole away your happiness and will lord over you every chance she gets. I will love you. I am here. Stay with me."
"I'll definitely consider it, but I need to see how things will all turn out. Wouldn't you ever consider transferring over to High Reaches?" G'ny could feel the autumn chill sink in a little, the exertion of riding worn off, but found comfort in B'ran's warmth next to her.
"I couldn't bear to see you mistreated there. I would surely get kicked out before I even settled into my weyr if that woman said so much as a word against you. Besides, I am needed here. With so few dragons here, we can't afford to lose anyone. The impact I make here, serving Keroon, this is what a dragonrider lives for. It must not be much longer that I know I have you for, so please, think it over." B'ran proposed.
G'ny smiled at his pride and snuggled her face into his shoulder, just happy to be in the moment. After a while, both a little stiff from sitting, they mounted back up and returned the runnerbeasts to the Beastcrafthall just before sunset. They invited their dragons, who they learned had spent the day sunning themselves and scaring the occasional herdbeast that strayed far enough from the others in its pen for sport, back to their sides. As she mounted up, G'ny cast her eyes nostalgically towards the direction they had traveled earlier that day. She noticed that, with the dusk setting in, it was no longer as brightly illuminated, although she thought she could just barely see the bay as they reached the height at which it was safe to leap between.