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(5 +1 = 4; HP: 32 )

Thread laced his wing. Kameth hadn't been keeping his eyes on the target. He went between to freeze the burning mass to nothing.

Z'fer // Calanoth Burn Post

Hp: 53/64
Lives: 3
DmgRed: +3
T. Burned: 21 + 2 = 23

-Mine. Kameth asks if we will lead? -

-Of course we will!- Z'fer's heart soared at the chance to finally lead a wing himself! He took a deep breath, all business. Here was his chance to prove himself as a capable leader! 7 turns now he'd been denied the position for various reasons. Well now he'd show them!

-Yes, we will lead!- Calanoth angled towards the Blue and Brown, taking the point position. He accepted more firestone and began to make the sweeping passes they'd all been taught to use. Z'fer signaled for the two to follow them. He'd have to adjust for the smaller wing size, plus the addition of a blue but he was confident they'd succeed.

As he took position a chunk of thread escaped his flame. - Nachith! Below!- Calanoth called to the Brown as Kameth flickered between.

((Brown Nachith: Agility +1; HP 41/47
Thread Burned: 4 (27 total)
Dodged!))

Then we are with you! At last reassured by the presence of a metallic, Nachith swooped after Calanoth to follow his lead. Together, they would clear the sky of the enemy they'd been born to defend against! He dove when directed, burning away the Thread the bronze had missed.

And Silence Falls...

The Thread dissipated almost as quickly as it arrived and its wake, the injured were left to count the dead. Those who survived could count themselves lucky… a handful of bodies littered the ground, dead before they hit and unable to send themselves into the oblivion of Between.

It was decided without much opposition to land, to count heads. The Holdless had scattered to the four winds, lost for now. Despite the tension between the Weyrs, the very real suffering of injury permeated the collective attention – dragons needed to be tended to, riders checked over and assisted home… What had started out as a roiling mass of anger had quickly frozen into the numb disbelief of a war field.

Dragons of all colours and sizes had been maimed, some so badly they would never fly again, their wings degraded and twisted from the burning of the Thread. Others simply could not be found, thought to have vanished Between. A head count revealed the horrible tallies:

Malvren had lost 2 Wingleaders, 2 Wingseconds, and 9 Riders.

• Wingleader R’tur of Bronze Darianth
  
• Wingleader D’som of Silver Sikath
  
• Wingsecond G’ulad of Silver Boaerth
  
• Wingsecond W’ora of Brown Vitrieth
  
• Wingsecond V’atre of Bronze Oonith
  

Trine had lost 2 Wingleaders, 2 Wingseconds, and 11 Riders.

• Wingleader H’den of Bronze Banith
  
• Wingleader L’ton of Bronze Jeth
  
• Wingsecond R’mon of Brown Arananth
  
• Wingsecond B’dac of Browen Fiyeth
  
• Wingsecond S’ron of Brown Secuth
  

Benden too had suffered a heavy loss with the death of 2 Wingleaders, 3 Wingseconds, and 8 Riders.

• Wingleader F’vrel of Bronze Guinth
  
• Wingleader Ca’on of Bronze Daerith
  
• Wingsecond T’yl of Brown Xanith
  
• Wingsecond A’ot of Brown Punirth
  
• Wingsecond S’avr of Brown Qith
  

It seemed even fate had conspired against the Weyrs. Mostly left leaderless, the group descended to tend to the living and dead. The reality of thread was neither as glamorous nor as simple as the stories painted it – it was bloody, deadly, and riddled with panic… and the years of Fall had only just begun.

He'd heard the calls and cries of the other fighters but hadn't had the time or energy to worry about them as Thread fell. Now though, as he circled to the ground, signaling for Kameth and Nachith to follow, he felt the shock settling in.

Calanoth settled heavily on the ground, his once glamorous hide gray and thread burned. His eyes whirled slowly as Z'fer dismounted, scanning the bodies that littered the ground. "Calanoth...who?"

- Darianth..., Sikath..., Boaerth..., Vitireth..., and Oonith...- The dragon relayed them slowly, his inner voice heavy with sorrow.

Z'fer stood there frozen, his grief overwhelming him. He shuddered and felt a wave of anger. This needn't have happened! If Benden and Trine hadn't interfered with their questioning Malvren would have noticed the Thread coming! They could have formed ranks and met it properly! This was a horrible catastrophe and it was ALL THEIR FAULT! Z'fer grabbed a rock from the ground and with an angry snarl launched it randomly.

Calanoth's head swivled to the injured Crimson. - Mine and I are here. We can make it on our own. -

So much suffering, so much needless death. Crystal never thought it possible to see a dragon's corpse-- they always vanished Between. But some could not, dead before they even hit the ground. It was cruel and unusual, but she almost had to wonder if their was a kinder fate then those dragons who had survived but could never fly again. She and Hers were one of the very fortunate who who had escaped uninjured, though they knew well the pain of Thread from past experience. Their scars showed as much. Still, there was work to be done, and they were part of the very few who could manage.

We are present, Argenth replied to Moraith's call, angling himself to touch down near the crimson. And we will help with the injured. His eyes whirled nearly the color of his own hide, and the inner turmoil only worsened at the sight of Sikath on the ground.

Crystal herself was not fairing much better. Many of the fallen she had not know, but there were quite a few she did. Yet, despite the loss, there was no time to mourn. Not now, not here. If they didn't act quickly then more would be lost from their injuries. They had to get everyone home to their respective Weyrs and treated. Only once they living were tended to could the dead fully be mourned. "Tend to what you can, Love," the silverrider said to Hers, patting him gently on the neck before beginning to unfasten herself so that she could get down. "I will work on the ground." They might have to make a few trips back and forth between their Weyr, but Argenth had more than enough room on his back to carry any from Malvren who couldn't return on their own dragons. How many that number could possibly be remained to be seen.

How can it have ended like this? S'ren wondered to himself, eyes brimming with tears as he surveyed the damage. It was only natural for their to be a few losses, but this... this was not just a few. All three Weyrs had lost so, so many riders. And to what end?

Because we fight, Tereth rumbled, just as sorrowful but also with a sting of bitterness. We quarrel amongst ourselves over an unknown enemy, and in the process leave ourselves vulnerable against our greatest foe. A foe that devours all life that it touches. The brown let out another rumble, deeper and more frustrated this time. This was too much, too much loss, too much death, too many riders hurt. it shouldn't have ended like this.

And this was only the beginning.

And so it is, S'ren said with a sigh, wiping the tears from his eyes. They needed to gather together and help who they could. Call out to our comrades. See if there is anyone that we can help.

Tereth nodded before doing as asked, broadcasting to the dragons in the area. Trine riders, let us regroup and return home. Is there anyone who needs assistance?

---------

We are uninjured, Green Laith called back, raising her head to look over in the direction of the brown pair despite her broadcast being an open one. But we can and will help anyone who needs it. Non-Trine riders included. Tensions were high between the Weyrs, but she and Hers were of agreement that now was not the time for division. All had suffered today, and all needed to come together if there was any hope of recovery.