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Mine, Bronze Feyth and N'var have arrived. They wish to meet us in the bowl. They are quite sorry for their late arrival, Zelith dutifully gave the message to his rider, before adding to Feyth, Mine comes. We come. We will meet you in the bowl.

"Fort?" T'rel questioned, glancing at his beloved bronze. He got dressed quickly, not wanting N'var to see him in his bed clothes. He pulled on a plain looking white tunic, and some brown breeches. "He's right, they're late. T'nus and Lavi showed up a day ago." He used Zelith's offered foreleg to climb up onto the bronze's back. It was a short flight to the bowl, so thoughts of riding straps had escaped him.

On the ledge of the Weyrleader's weyr, Zelith took off into the dark. You are hurting again, Mine, the bronze said with some concern. I will tell Xenith not to let her mate's hurt you again. Why do you worry so much? Feyth's is a good rider. Rayeth's has said so.

As they landed, and T'rel climbed down from his bronze's back, he turned to gaze at N'var. "Welcome to Ista," he greeted.

"Oh, yes," T'rel said quickly. "They've been quite helpful." Lie. Lie. T'nus and Lavi didn't seem to trust him much. He knew he was a young Weyrleader--and one that had recently lost his weyrmate--but that didn't make hm inept. He'd always been good at leading his wing.

"It's alright," he assured his fellow bronzerider with a smile. "You didn't wake me." He had taken to resting, rather than sleeping. He tended to stare up at the ceiling of his weyr. "Difficult patient?" he asked curiously. Despite the conversational tone, there was something closed about him. As if he was expecting to be hurt. His eyes were distant, but not with the tell tale sign of a rider conversing with his dragon. There was something almost hollow about him. "I'm sure you'll be a wonderful addition to our wings."

"Are you alright?" T'rel asked, concerned. Had N'var gotten hurt? He'd flinched, so... "It's hard to," he said. "To start off on the wrong foot with me." He paused and put a hand to his cheek. "Oh, T'nus," he said. "I mistook Lavi for someone else last night. She reminded me of someone I used to know and care deeply about, and I'd gotten drunk--so I--" he hesitated, and muttered, almost inaudibly, "I thought she was Ky't."

He paused, frowning slightly as he looked to Feyth. "You and Feyth should get some rest," he said at last. "There's herdbeasts on the feeding grounds. He can have his pick of those." He'd mistaken Feyth's concern for his rider for hunger.

"It's just, you flinched, so--I assumed you were hurt or something," T'rel explained with a shrug. He wasn't quite convinced N'var was alright, but... "I don't drink often," he said, frowning. "Very rarely. And women trouble... Why does it matter? I've already lost the only woman I ever loved. I'm simply not interested." He shrugged. "But what does Fort know about that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"When the next gold rises, I'll be taking Zelith away. There'll be a new Weyrleader, and I'll be able to join Ky't. They haven't let me. I do my duty to the Weyr. There will be a time when Ista no longer needs me." He sighed and shook his head. "Maybe I'll transfer instead. I can't stay here. Too many memories. It's destroying me."

T'rel stared at N'var with wide eyes for a long time. He opened his mouth to say something, but it was like it had gone completely dry in an instant. "...K-k-Ky't's alive?" he rasped at last. "How? I was told... The healers said..." He scowled. "Where is she?" he demanded. "You're lying."

He had once hoped there was some way Ky't had survived. That the healers had meant she'd gone between to some other place. Somewhere safe. That she would eventually come back, and they would run the Weyr together. That they would save Pern. "Ky't died. She went between months ago. If she was alive, she would have come back. She would have. The dragons would have said something. They would have known."

So clearly, there was an imposter at Fort, pretending to be T'rel's dead weyrmate. The very thought made him furious.

So N'var was Ky't's new Weyrmate. That made sense. No wonder Ky't hadn't come back... No wonder she had pretended to die. No. He couldn't think like that. Ky't had loved him, he was sure of it. Just as he had loved her. "You left her?" he asked huffily, crossing his arms. "Why? I'll have you transferred back to Fort Weyr at dawn. You shouldn't leave your Weyrmate alone." Ever.

"Cayxia?" he asked. He knew her. She'd always been good friends with Ky't. "But Ky't was getting better. She was improving. She'd started going back to her duties and everything..." He hesitated, and then frowned. "She was making sure I wouldn't worry about her," he realized. "Alright. Take me to her," he said. "I want to see her."

"I've been there a few times for gathers," T'rel said. "I'll be fine, thank you." He nodded at N'var before moving to prepare Zelith for the trip between. It wasn't just the chance to see Ky't that caused his hands to fly when strapping Zelith up; it was the chance to be in the air again. He'd missed flying on Zelith. He climbed up onto the bronze, before looking down at N'var. He smirked.

"Well? Come on then. I want to see my wayward Ky't." Zelith's wings were spread out half way.

Will we see Rath as well? I wish to sun with her.

"We'll see Rath, too," T'rel promised with a smile. "But Ky't first. I want to talk to her."