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L'cian was attaching the new firestone sacks to Tallith's leather straps and being whirled back up into the air when the brown dragon banked and steepled upwards, taking the place of a retiring green.

There is upset. The brown snorted.

The Wingleader grimaced and swung around to get a clearer view, but his googled vision was soon blurred under the smoke of charred thread.

Tallith! Tell them to concentrate! Give encouragment. We are doing well! Then as an afterthought, perhaps I will talk to them after this is done.

The squeal of a green in pain rattled both brown and rider, and Siventh completely overpassed the clump of thread he had been flying for, veering at the last moment to avoid flying straight through the patch without a flame. Snorting in irritation, both from the distraction and his own reaction, then brown sent a note to a lower flying brown to correct his mistake.

Green Trith, he passed to his rider as he returned to normal formation. And nothing serious. We are foolish to worry. The Fall goes well! he announced grumpily, rising up after a thick clump and flaming it to char as if to make up for his past mistake. He snorted in satisfaction, and craned his head back for another lump of firestone, then winged after the next patch of thread.

A near collision, Siventh relayed, keeping up his reports to his rider. The brownrider lifted his head in an attempt to pick out said dragon, but with all the action of the Fall it was close to impossible. 'Send them back into formation, we shouldn't be having collisions. Who was it?'

Blue Azuleth. Recklessness, the brown snorted derisively, swerving in his flight to avoid the flaming blue. A stray strand, half charred by flame, glanced the rider's arm as both made the narrow pass, and instantly brown and rider blinked between, only to reappear with Siventh battling for calm as he fell back into formation. Calm yourself, Azuleth! Your foolish pride only endangers those around you!

'Calm down, Siventh.' K'rel echoed his dragon's advice, flexing the injured arm to assure himself it wasn't anything serious. 'You can't expect him to listen if you don't control your own temper. I'm fine.'

Both rider and dragon swerved in the sky, curving round to take a new position. Above them a bronze flamed another clump of thread, clearing the air as they took up their new post. L'cian raised his goggles to get a better view around them, fixing them in place as a wisp of thread managed to escape the Wing above.

The beast hit his target, flaming breath hissing through the air where it faded from sight.

Good job Tallie! L'cian called, clappign one gloved hand against the dragon's neck.

I never miss. There was a slight pause before the dragon continued, Siventh's rider burns.

What? L'cian twisted around, eyes scanning the sky for his Wingsecond. They were a good and trusted pair, he couldn't have them hurt.

Minor injury. They continue to fly. Then again Tallith continued, Feronamth tells me that he flies well. There is no need to worry.

Is it wrong to worry about my Wing?

Do not let your worry cloud your eyes. There is still thread to burn. And as if on cue another clump of thread fell towards them. Perhaps a little too close as Tallith was forced to slow his flight and curve his neck upwards to catch it in his breath.

For now his luck was holding, and he was still managing to avoid more than becoming dirty from smoke, which made him and Jaereth look something like smoke blacked parodies of themselves as they took another firestone to return to the fray. Although the idea of being lectured for G'dors silly idea still needled him, he was returning his focus quiet well, and quite stubbornly, to fighting the thread and being in formation, going over things in his head from long hours of training. How long did thread fall? How long had they been up here? He'd almost lost track, everything sort of narrowed down to one single idea, which underlaid every bit of chatter. Kill the thread.

Threadfall has begun to slow. A few clumps had managed to dodge through the wings to hit the ground, but ground crews have already begun working on those.

((HEHEHE, Shorty post, but it works. The person who posts under this use Pangolin's random number))

C'tari sat back in his fighting straps starting to relax as the realization hit him that the fall was almost over and with almost no real injuries. Their entire wing would still be air worthy come morning. He shifted his thoughts to the warm furs of his weyr. He could bathe after he slept. He was so caught up in his personal revelrie, he got Feronamth thinking of swimming in the ocean. Both dragon and rider were not thinking of fall when a stray clump presented itself directly in front of Feronamth's nose! The dragon blinked into the cold of between on sheer impulse.

C'tari didn't even have time to panic when they re-emerged unscathed. A second close call for the day.

We stopped concentrating. Feronamth's tone was reproachful and mimiced C'tari's self deprivating. He could think about his furs when he was in them.

How quickly their self praise could go to their heads! He wasn't a weyrling anymore, he was a bronze rider. Feronamth spewed flame and charred the clump that had almost landed on his muzzle and the two returned to being more attentive.

((thanks for filling in mine earlier. X_X I keep not getting it in. Although before I just deleted and reposted with the numbers. Last time I didn't catch it.))

It was clearing....it was clearing what a releif! He wasn't even entirely sure how long they'd technicly been up, but it felt like forever almost. Covered in soot and sweat, he ached for it to be over entirely so he and Jareth could bathe, and he could stand on solid ground and wait until the urge to shake passed.
These will pass. This was our first test. We did verywell I think. Consentrate. Jareth half praised, half scolded,
Sorry. Sorry I'm paying attention. He promised, scanning the air for more clumps.