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Zyamel had been throwing bags of firestone since she’d been a toddler, or so she liked to claim. Having grown up in High Reaches Weyr, the young woman had known all about the firestone toss, and had thought she’d have been more than prepared when it came time to fight Thread. While she had the muscle and arm to throw, unfortunately, tossing stone from dragonback wasn’t quite the same as tossing it on stable ground. From dealing with the strong winds and the rain of Thread around them, Zyamel had struggled with landing her throws successfully. She had failed… and in front of some men and women she respected.

Her pride had been bruised, and her ego gutted. She was Zheria’s daughter! She had high expectations for herself, and expected nothing short of perfection. Though Venandith had tried to assure her, Zyamel couldn’t help but feel like a failure. She’d failed throwing stone, but had also failed reining in Venandith’s desire to stay in the fight, and her own pride for that matter. She’d kept them out when she should have returned to the Weyr for healing, which had cost Venandith dearly. He’d been injured and utterly spent by the time they returned.

It was a mistake she vowed not to make again, pride be damned.

When word came around that Reya wanted extra practice, Zyamel jumped at the chance. She hadn’t been sure how they were going to go about practicing--on ground or on dragonback--but any extra practice would be helpful.

So it was, a shadow drifted overhead as Venandith came with his rider. He had caught sight of Raqi leaving, but had no plans to do so himself. He could find a spot and watch the stone tossing, after all. Once landed, the dragon lowered his arm, and Zyamel slide down his side to dismiss. “Reya,” she greeted. “Ven didn’t kick up too much dust, did he?” She asked, giving Venandith’s neck a thump before heading towards the other. “I wasn’t sure if we’d be on the ground or in the air or what--hope you don’t mind a little extra company.”