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A woman moved past him as he was still struggling to catch his breath – was that Shylla? – Oh, shells, if other goldriders were showing up that meant Trouble.

Suck it up and push through it, Bakarn. It wasn’t the most graceful run he ever made, but it was only a couple dragonlengths to the clutch, and Bakarn managed it at least at a shambling jog, arriving only shortly after the young goldrider. “Is he okay? Did he – did he –“

There was no need to clarify who the he was in this scenario. And the rainbow eyes told Bakarn everything that he needed to know. The brown was Impressed. He was safe. He had… mauled the masterhealer, shards, to judge from the way that Bereck was curled up in a ball of misery on the sand. But the brown wasn’t going to die. “Congratulations,” Bakarn announced vaguely to the air, not knowing which of the assembled was the brown’s new companion. He set the meat bucket down next to Venk and Shylla; whoever needed it, they would just have to come pick it up.

After a solid six turns of looking after someone, you kinda got into the habit of keeping half an ear and half an eye out.

Sure, Seytev wasn’t scrawny and fragile and sickly anymore – well he was still scrawny, even though he was now taller than Bakarn, which was some kind of sick unfair joke – but he still needed a lot of looking after. And sure enough, he’d gotten himself in some kind of mess again.

Bakarn’s head swung around as soon as he heard his name in Seytev’s familiar voice. A few strides closed the distance between them, leaning his shoulder briefly into the other boy’s. And given Seytev’s highly recognizable I-Am-Concerned-About-Someone look and the masterhealer still not moving from the ground, it was pretty obvious what was up.

He spared himself only half a second for resignation. Well, he didn’t really need to touch any more eggs… “All right, Sey, how’re we doing this?” There weren’t very many ways to comfortably carry a man between two people. Not without a stretcher of some kind. They could each take an arm, he supposed, but that hinged on Bereck being able to tolerate standing, and that was iffy.

Deeply aware that he was now inconvenient at an important moment for these two lads on top of humiliating himself - which was mortifying enough, agonizing in a different way to the physical pain - Bereck cleared his throat, but he kept his eyes squeezed tight shut and didn't move. "If you.... Just...." He cleared his throat again. "Get me to the edge of the cavern? Please." He could feel claws from turns ago ripping down his side and chest, and teeth in his leg. He swore he could catch the stink of whers in the air, but he knew- he was pretty sure he was imagining it. Just imagination. Calm. "The edge of the cavern," he said again, "my dragon has... asked some of my colleagues to come over." They would take him to the infirmary where it was safe and then it would be okay.

Bereck swallowed hard - or tried to, his mouth was dry - and tried to breathe normally.


What the shaff is going on out there!

The Commander's barked question strikes Yevalee's mind like a half brick swung in a scarf; this egg wants answers and it wants them now! On determining was has gone on the egg quiets a little, seems to mutter to itself, and then comes to focus on Yevalee.... And, yes, it does not like what it finds. Keep walking, candidate, keep walking! The Commander doesn't have time for snobby layabouts such as you!

When Bakarn came over, Seytev gave him a brief, fragile smile. They were helping. It was good. They were doing good things. This was...this was helping, and that was important.

Very slowly and carefully, he maneuvered Bereck into a sitting position. "Sorry about this, Masterhealer," he said quietly, then huffed a sigh. "'Karn, I'll take his arms, you grab his legs. Sorry we don't have a stretcher, Masterhealer," he added, aware of the position they were in and hideously awkward about it. Getting his feet under him so he was crouched, rather than kneeling, he passed his own arms under Bereck's. "Tell me if this is hurting you, Sir."

And then he glanced up. "On three, 'Karn?"

This was… yeah, this was gonna suck for the Masterhealer. But there wasn’t any better way around it.

“Edge of the cavern – got it. Don’t you worry, sir.” And the smile that Bakarn gave Bereck was easy and warm and reassuring, even if it was still a little more subdued than his usual cocky grin. He could feel strain tugging at his limbs, the natural crash that always came after an adrenaline rush, but he wasn’t about to ditch Seytev with this. “We’ve got you – it’ll be over soon.”

At least he had the Masterhealer’s legs; this way he didn’t have to worry about contaminating injuries with hands that had just recently touched raw wherry. He set himself in position opposite Seytev and nodded – it wasn’t gonna be dignified, but at least it should be quick, between two strong young men. “One – two – three!”

He was choking. He was watching this little dragon die because he'd broke it's shell. He'd killed it. Then Bereck was there and he was doing something he was touching it! "No!" The old healer was bit but the dragon was alive still at least for a few more moments.



He gaped, struggling forward from his seat in the hot sands to claim the brown from Bereck's arms. His brown. His Peth. "Let Peth go!" He rasped, arms reaching forward. He didn't even hear Kidder's rant against him. If he had he might have agreed. He didn't deserve this but there was no denying how glad he was that he had it. Not only was Peth alive, Peth was his.

The hatchling slid from the healer's body and they were together, Zarike wrapping his own arms around his dragon unafraid of harming him further. He could feel the strength there that hadn't been evident at first. "No one is going to hit you again. They'll get a lot worse if they try!" He whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

Where Kidder's voice had gone ignored, that of the Weyrmaster and Candidatemaster Venk elicited a trained response in the teen and he lifted his head, arms still coiled protectively around the small brown body. Congratulations... He'd Impressed! The import of what exactly had happened only just began to dawn on Zarike. He had not only broken the shell of a hatchling before it's time, but he had then Impressed the very same dragon. "Yes sir."

Feed? I am hungry. I said I was hungry. Is there food? The rainbow whirl had faded back to the bright blue of before. Peth perked up immensely at the thought. Zarike looked around and found that someone had already anticipated the best outcome and supplied a bucket of meat. Peth's eyed darted between the bucket and Zarike's face, anticipation radiating from the little brown as he licked his lips.

One step at a time. Concentrate on moving in step with Seytev - no slower, no faster, no unnecessary shifting or jostling. Bakarn's grip on the Masterhealer's legs was steady and sure, and while he didn't think he could've made it all the way to the infirmary like this, lucky for them they didn't have to. Just the edge of the Sands.

"Course we're doing great," he shot back without missing a beat, "we are great. And so're you, sir, saving that little fellow. I'm sure Zarike'll be grateful too, once his head's back in the right place." Gotta be stressful, nearly killing a hatchling only to find out it was yours all along.

It was... there was a little twinge in his heart that it hadn't been Seytev's, but then again, maybe that was for the best. Premature creatures tended to be sickly, sometimes, and while Seytev would've loved a sick dragon as much as a healthy one... Well, it was about time for him to get a lucky break for once.