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Canoake had been pulled from the clothing storerooms in a hurry. Angry at being treated such a way, she had blistered the ears of the guard who had yanked her along so brutally. Then all of sudden, she was on the hot sands. Now, she had heard the dragons mourning earlier and had already heard whispers of Brakiheth's death making their way through the tunnels. Blinking, she realized that she was on the side with mostly non-prisoner Candidates while the prisoners were very obvious in their bright red jumpsuits.

And there, on the Sands, sobbing her heart out was Kaelyandra. She was clinging to a green rider that Canoake didn't know and there was a disfigured green dragon cautiously guarding the eggs. And M'onk, smiling vilely as he displayed the broken woman before all to see. Now, Canoake was a firm believer in the strong survive and if you don't take care of yourself, no one else will but this was just pathetic. Even to her. The man was obviously twisted from having to be around Pern's despot for so long. There was no other explanation. She watched as the one she knew to be Leevi and another stranger went up to try to help the broken woman. Angry, she spoke up.

"What is the meaning of this Warden? Your sick games coming to play at last? Or are you hoping for a cowering crowd as you show us this... Brakiheth is dead. Kaelyandra is broken and you grin like the canine who got the best piece of meat off the spit." Her eyes flashed angrily, not caring if she got herself in trouble. She was no prisoner to be put in solitary. What would he do? Lock her in her rooms or the storerooms? She spent most of her time there already. And to be be sent away would be a blessing at this point.

Malta had just managed to go to sleep, though not in her bed. She'd been a bit afraid of going outside at night ever since her... incident... at the sands, so she had actually camped out at the cafeteria. It had started out as getting a midnight snack and some water- an errand that she wanted to get through as quickly as possible because frankly the kitchen and her dorm felt like the only safe places from protective goldriders. The midnight snack turned into a snooze on the table. She really needed to sleep more.
She had been dreaming of happy little hatchling whers when she was suddenly awakened.
At first she didn't know what the noise was that scratched her ears like claws and rent her heart with dread.
Then she realized.
They were dragons. Keening. She had never heard it before... She never wanted to hear it ever again.
She rushed to the door, errands forgotten, and hesitated, looking out. She couldn't see what was happening.
She didn't know how long she hesitated, but she was soon rounded up to join the rest of the candidates in their march to horror.
As they approached, she felt a deepening sense of dread and concern.
Then the warden came out.
She barely heard what she said. The keening from the sands... The woman's voice...
She felt her heart break just listening. She was a healer to help people. This desire was so basic.

Her attention snapped back.
Brakiheth? Gone? Dead?
What?!
Malta couldn't believe it.

And then they were led inside, and Malta's hands flew to her mouth in horror.
A green instead of a gold. A sobbing pain filled woman where the strong, spit-fire terror of Malta's nights once was.
If her heart had broken at the screams, it was shattered to powder at the sight of this... this... pathetic ness.

Shards.
SHARDS...

She stared in horror at the woman she had feared and admired... reduced... so. She stared at the empty space where the kind gold had sat she... stared. In horror.

Wildly she looked around, her eyes always catching on the scene before her.
Something.
Anything.
Oh shards she wanted to do something to help. The woman's pain hurt...
Someone she knew. A familiar face in the crowd.
She stumbled over to the other apprentice healer, giving him a wide eyed panicked look of horror, sorrow, and sheer anxious noncomprehension.
She said nothing, just reached, mentally and with her hand, for the comfort that someone older would surely have.
He'd know what to do... maybe.
She could look away no more.

Her eyes were locked on the scene once again.

Marue had woken groggily when Brakesh wrenched her out of bed. "That sound.." She clamped her hands over her ears, face wrenching like a child who'd not gotten their way. Her lips curled at the guard. "What's that blasted sound? Can't you get those stupid beasts to shut up?"

Brakesh whipped round, blue eyes turned severe and more vehemently angry than even Brask had ever seen. "The queen is dead, you unGREATful child, Show some sharding respect!" Brask stood stony beside his handler, Such a loss was so alien to him, and where his handler had turned to impassioned fire, the wher's eyes swam with a stony, cold gray. Even the little firelizard seemed subdued, clinging to Brakesh's shoulder as if she was terrified her Brakesh might disappear too.

Marue could only stare at the familiar guard, eyes wide and jaw dropped in a mixture of shock and horror. The gold... The gold was dead? But.. She had seen the beast not a few days before. She'd been hovering over head as they'd touched the eggs. Remembering some semblance of decorum, she clasped her hand over her mouth, and followed obediently to the sands. Brakesh refused to look up, refused to look at anyone in fact. The guard quietly took stand at the edge of the sands, as her wher moved to stand watch over the eggs. He gave the green a wide berth, but the drive was strong, and Brask was a rather passioned creature to begin with. He would watch over the bigwing's eggs. They might have been BigWings, but they'd been good bigwings. Well. Still bigwings, but good ones he supposed, and he was a good one to. He would stand for the gold bigwing. He would make sure her kin came to no harm before they hatched. His mind reached out to the Descanth who watched the clutch. It's tone had turned as somber and stony as his eyes. Brask help CrippleBigwing watch clutch. His head rose as he looked up at the green. The emotion that followed in thought was one he could not put into his primitive words. It was not quite an apology, not quite sadness. It was duty and respect swelling with remorse, tinged with loss. Without another word, the wher seated himself in front of Kaelandrea, looking past the candidates, to something far in the distance as he blocked her from view as best he could. His mind touched Brakesh's, and the handler gave a small nod. Good boy.

The sight of the gold rider shook Marue to the core. Her heart burned at M'onk, but she bit down hard on her lip--remembering V'tyai's words at the hatching. This was not something to be put on display, to be made an example of. Her stomach twisted, and she wanted to run. She didn't want to be here, not here. Not now. The blond, airy girl shook her head, mouth puckered in distaste. "This is shameful... We should not be here." She listened and watched intently as one girl, Canoake? took a stand, and gave M'onk the tongue lashing that he deserved. Marue admired that, that bravery. And then the wher, that stupid dopey wher, getting in the way as always, only he wasn't stupid and dopey anymore. Stupid creature. Marue gave a drawn out sigh, couldn't they go back to bed now? They'd gotten the point. This wasn't even something they should be watching anyway.

In as low a voice as possible, M’ska addressed Joscelin. “I’m more concerned with getting her away from M’onk, and keeping it that way. Everything else can come after.” He was grateful for the angry voice he could hear – one of the Candidates scolding the Warden. He didn’t imagine it would do any good, but it might at least distract M’onk temporarily.

Berath would work. Descanth dimly remembered the other green as a comforting presence. Her rider had good associations with the Masterhealer and his dragon. I’ll let you know if we need to call her.

The crippled green crooned softly to Brask, reaching down to briefly touch her muzzle to the wher’s. I’m glad you’re on our side. You’ll help me, if anyone comes to hurt the eggs? As much as M’ska and Descanth wanted to allay Kaelyandra’s fears, it was the next logical step: without their golden mother as protection, it would be easy to come up with an excuse to cull the whole clutch.

If it took open rebellion to prevent that from happening, well, then M’ska intended to have as many people on his side as possible. The only positive side of M’onk’s current demeanor was that he was guaranteed to have at least a few.

“Descanth will stay. And Brask, too – the eggs have guardians now, they’ll have more.” M’ska was trying to get her to her feet now, gently but firmly lifting her. “I give you my word, Weyrwoman, we will protect your clutch." He had never liked Kaelyandra before this. When had everything changed? When the world had done her such an injustice, he supposed. M'ska had never dealt well with injustice.

+++++

Someone was reaching out to him. Malta, the younger apprentice healer. He needed to not fall apart. Not here, not like this. Ralvyn, with some effort, pulled himself together, scrubbing the last of the damp from his face with a sleeve and then giving her a look of sorrow that mirrored her own.

Then he reached out and took Malta’s hand, and held it tight. There were no words.

Brask lifted his head to Descanth with a nod, Brask not allow anyone hurt eggs. He thought to himself a moment, shifting almost shyly. Brask not let anyone hurt BigGreen either. He looked to the weyrwoman, to his own handler, and the weyrwoman again. He wished he could tell her that it was alright, that she had done well, that she could rest now, but somehow it hardly seemed their place. They had barely known the weyrwoman, and now she needed the care of friends, and those who could offer comfort. Brakesh would stay at the sands with her wher, and offer her the only comfort she could--that her clutch would be protected. She looked up, only briefly, as another guard, Rokana stepped foreward toward M'onk

The young man crossed his arms over his chest, his expression mild. As vemenently as some objected, it was indeed a reality. Should they impress, this was what they faced. "He has a point. And some of you.." His eyes scanned over some of those who were already bawling at the sight, nose wrinkling,"...Obviously aren't prepared for that truth." He didn't particularly approve of the methods, but no one could deny that this was a lesson that no one would forget any time soon. His eyes drifted off toward the eggs, now left to greet the world with no father, no mother. Only some ruddy bronze wher and a crippled green dragon. Some seemed to worry that someone would cull the entire clutch, but Rokana hardly thought that likely. M'onk needed those eggs. Without them, he'd never be able to sustain this joke of a Weyr, not to mention he needed a gold to keep control--and Rokana hardly thought they'd get another 'donation.' M'onk might not have liked the clutch, but Rokana knew well enough that the Warden needed them, at least enough to keep them around.

"And this is how you mourn? By showing us what happens when we Impress? Or maybe, this is what you hope will be the end result if any one of us should become paired with a dragon from this clutch?" Canoake had a surface temper and it was definitely pricked. Hands planted on her hips, her face was prideful and defiant. "Then point made, Warden. A dragon is a weakness, meaning all dragons including yours, should be remembered to be weakness." Turning her head away, she looked over the clutch and back at Kaelyandra. "I hope you realized that some will do nothing more than gather strength from this. Learn and gather strength."

"This is wrong, M'onk!"

The voice rang out, sharp and vicious from a third wherhandler as she strode out onto the Sands. Linfon had heard of the gold's death from Linfonsk, and the green tracked at her side as she moved in a beeline toward the man responsible for this travesty. At first, she had expected there to be nothing but a small group of individuals working out who would watch the eggs. Maybe a few healers for Kaelyandra. She had not expected Candidates - what looked to be all the Candidates in the Weyr - present as a captive audience to a personal tragedy. Linfon knew what the loss of a dragon was - had seen it first-hand - and to bring Candidates to this...

This was sick. Linfonsk at her side snarled as Lin stopped in front of M'onk, quivering with barely-contained fury.

She knew M'onk - had known him since the Dragon-Watch was founded. She had seen him as a girl, him and M'ska both. They had worked with her mother for decades, and Linfon wasn't afraid of any of them. She passed Canaoke with a brief, rough grip to the girl's shoulder, hissing, "Please go," in a voice that was surprisingly gentle. "This is no time for you to be here. Find somewhere else to be." The enormous green wher in her wake rumbled somewhat more softly, gently bumping Canaoke with her muzzle and casting a sympathetic look. There was a croon under her keen, an expression of sympathy.

Linfon's own grief blinded her. She turned to M'onk again, drawstring-tight and shaking with anger. "What do you think you're doing?" she growled in a voice that wavered despite her efforts to control it. "What the shards do you think you're doing, M'onk? Get these people off the Sands."

Linfonsk at her side rumbled, teeth showing white at the corner of her mouth as she cocked her head and eyed the dark-eyed overseer. "Do you think you're being clever? Think this makes you powerful?" Beside her, the green tensed. Linfon grabbed her collar by the thick silver ring set into it. "You're disgusting, M'onk."

"Des." Her voice was rough with grief as she turned to the bluehandler. "Let's get these people off the Sands."

Hiemal's ability to deal with the charged emotions ran out about when Canoake started shouting for the first time. The change in him was incredibly subtle and the shift was not towards break down, no, under stress he went in the opposite direction. His spine straightened enough to make a ramrod jealous, his shoulders came back a little more and his hands composed themselves neatly behind him. Clearly general opinion was that M'onk was in the wrong. Was this so?... Yes it probably was, morally speaking.

Hiemal was glad he had seen it.

He did not like to go into any situation unaware, he liked to gather evidence. The former gold rider's reaction was a stone on the side of the scales that weighed against Standing for the clutch... and yet he remembered how some of the eggs had taken an interest in him. He did crave that connection. He craved a creature he could understand every time implicitly, and one that.... Yes, he did crave love as well. Not from everyone, or even most - most people were brainless cretins he would rather avoid - but from a dragon who was by definition your perfect partner? Yes. He wanted that for himself.

The crying woman was a stone on the scales but she did not tip the balance.