Welcome to Gaia! ::

There is no need to fuss, M'ska. I am quite fine. I just need time.

At her rider's gentle urging, Descanth circled to the left, then to the right. Her gait was smooth as always, and to the eye of a casual observer there was no hesitation in her step. Still, M'ska could feel it as much as he could see it. The little green had only one wing, the other amputated, and the imbalance in weight was causing her to favor one side.

Dragons were not natural runners: they were meant to fly, not to gallop about on the ground like runnerbeasts. Descanth had adapted magnificently, as she always did. M'ska had made a few adjustments to her riding straps, to account for the fact that they would be on the ground with the whers rather than flying. Riding on her back was still faster than walking, after all. And over the past few months at Warden's, she had recovered magnificently, the muscles in her legs strengthening to compensate for her atrophied flight muscles. But she still wasn't right.

"Come on, love. It can't hurt to ask them," M'ska coaxed, and his dragon snorted good-naturedly. But she followed along without any fuss, as they strolled through the Warden's grounds towards the buildings where the healers worked. The green sat sphinxlike outside while M'ska ventured inside, hoping to find someone who didn't look urgently occupied. The human-healers were usually up to their eyeballs busy, managing detoxing Dusters and the results of scuffles between the more violent inmates. But he could usually find a dragonhealer willing to lend a few minutes of their time.

M'ska had quite thoroughly distracted himself reading the names on the doors to the healers' offices, trying to familiarize himself with as many as possible for future reference. Names were difficult. It was important to learn them, but there were so many...

He startled a little when Bereck approached him, and blinked at the man who looked like he'd only just gotten up. For a moment he wondered if he'd intruded - was the Infirmary not open yet? No, the Infirmary was always open, the healers just kept strange hours to make sure that someone was always on shift. That made sense. He offered a shy, slightly apologetic smile; M'ska recognized the knots on the man's shoulders, and felt rather silly troubling the man with such a small thing. "Good morning, Masterhealer - it is still morning for a little while yet. It's no emergency or anything of the sort... I was just wondering if someone could come look at my dragon. She had a wing amputated a few months back, and I'm a little concerned about how it's healing."

If M'ska even realized that Bereck remembered his dragon's name but not the rider's, he didn't seem to care much. That was all as it should be, anyway. Dragons were the important ones to remember. The shy smile turned into a rather more genuine one, crinkling the corners of his eyes, when Bereck agreed to come with him.

"M'ska," he offered in return, with a polite little bob of the head. It was nice to find a masterhealer who didn't stand so stubbornly on rank. The greenrider didn't generally shake hands if he could find a tactful way to evade it, and he was already headed back towards where Descanth was waiting. "I'm sorry to interrupt your day off, then, but hopefully we won't be very long - she's just outside."

“Who, Descanth?” M’ska chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “No, she’s a little ball of sunshine, she’ll be delighted by the company. We don’t really patrol with the other dragons, and for all the excellent qualities of whers, they aren’t the best of conversationalists.” The greenrider was in a bit of a strange spot; he was still definitively a dragonrider, but spent most of his time associating with the wherhandlers and unbonded guards. Sure, there was downtime, but it was tricky forming a strong bond with someone who spent most of their time somewhere you literally couldn’t reach.

As they stepped out of the outer doors and into the sunlight, Descanth warbled a greeting and rose to her feet, padding over to join them. M’ska absently rubbed a hand across her eyeridges, even as she peered inquisitively at Bereck, eyes whirling blue-green. “I’m mostly worried about her balance,” M’ska admitted. “The wing itself seems like it’s healing up cleanly, but there’s still something... off.”

Descanth was simply not the kind of girl who admitted defeat. Sure, the loss of a wing was a… setback. An obstacle. But not a life-ending one. As long as she could still make herself useful, there was little that could be done to spoil her good mood.

She would have bespoken Bereck directly, but some humans were a bit odd about that, especially ones who had dragons of their own. Best not to push it until she knew him better. Still, she clearly had no trouble with being addressed directly: her attention focused on the healer, she acknowledged his request with a little bob of the head and set off at a brisk walk.

Hello, Berath! The walk turned into a jog as she approached the much bigger green, delighted by the company. She touched her muzzle briefly to Berath’s in greeting before continuing on. Thank you for coming – oh, and thank your rider for me for taking the time to do this. M’ska and I have been cleared for guard duty, and personally I think that is enough. It is not as though I lost all my legs. But Mine worries, and it’s best to put such fears at rest.

M’ska, for his part, simply kept out of the way. He would rather not disturb the healer at his work, after all, and today Descanth was the patient, not him.

M’ska brightened visibly at Bereck’s comment. It might not have been good news – M’ska didn’t want to hear that Descanth could end up with gait problems down the line – but it meant that the masterhealer saw the same thing that he did. That he was being taken seriously. This happened rarely enough with M’ska that it was enough to put Bereck on his good side immediately.

“Well, we patrol with the whers at night. Descanth can’t see in the dark so we keep to the better-lit parts of the grounds. During the day we catnap, more or less, and sometimes I walk her down to the beach to bathe. So she gets plenty of exercise in.” And she showed it: Descanth was a little slim thing, but the muscles in her legs and haunches were strong as ever.

Descanth warbled, then continued pacing, keeping an eye on Berath as she moved. It’s nice to have something to do! The whers aren’t always the friendliest company, not like dragons, but some of them are nicer than others. And it’s exciting, going out on patrol at night. Like an adventure.

M’ska nodded along with Bereck’s first suggestion – exercises, that sounded good. He could handle that. Anything that would help Descanth, he was willing to find time in his schedule to fit it in. The little green was his world, even now – he wouldn’t have traded her for the largest, healthiest bronze on Pern.

He closed his eyes and a brief pained expression crossed his face at the mention of surgery. He’d known it would be a likely option, but – Descanth ceased her pacing, coming over to press close to him, and M’ska reached out to stroke her muzzle in an almost unconscious comforting motion. “We’ll start with the exercises, see how it goes. If it doesn’t... Well, we can talk about options then. I’d rather not put her through surgery a second time, if it can be avoided.”

Descanth crooned to her rider, but kept an eye on Berath. There was something else that had been bothering her rider, something he wasn’t sure how to bring up without sounding crazy – but gossip between greens could be more easily forgiven. Tell me, Berath – with your rider being the Masterhealer, you must see lots of patients come through every day. Do dragonriders ever come back from the jungle with strange injuries?