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It was a cool night, wet with an autumn sweeping of rain, and cold with the wind that had rushed the flurry away. The smell of pine sap, blown up from the patchy forests around the weyr, was invigorating to Zhac as he climbed up the stairs. Wind poured down the passage at him until he reached the highest outcropping of the weyr that could be reached without dragon. It was high enough to see out across the valley, and he didn’t need the moons’ light to see the thing line of a caravan approaching. No unusual sight in itself, but Zhac’s face split into a relieved smile even as he coughed at the cold biting his lungs. “Lukah,” he said, and the wind tore his friend’s name from his mouth and threw it into the night.

How many turns had it been since they had seen each other? Since being sent off to the mines and trade posts dependant on Igen to repopulate the watch-whers in the area some five turns ago, he hadn’t seen his friend. He had Zhask, of course, but the people he’d met and worked with were all a blur of faces. Thinking of her, he had the dim sense she was displeased with something in her kennel. Her skin probably wanted washing. After watching the caravan for a moment more, Zach lighted the stairs again, his steps coming lighter than they had in some time.

By the time he had Zhask washed and fed, the kitchens were preparing for the onslaught of newcomers and the lower caverns ran sweet with the smell of baked breads and meatrolls. It was a caravan, not a feast, and the serving would be humble, but the very faint corner of a smile hadn’t been present on Zhac’s face at his last Gather as it was now, as he prepared for his lost comrade.

Lukah was the last to see the sheer cliffs of Benden Wyer rising enigmatically out of the darkness. Golden lights shined out from the watch post lanterns strung across the bowl like pearls promising a hot meal and a warm bed for the night. Yet there was more, for the moment he discerned the rocky peaks of the bowl pushing over the horizon a million memories came rushing back from five turns ago, bringing with them the longing for a simpler time. As a cold wind buffeted Lukah’s blue-grey poncho, bronze Lukask shook his damp wings with a low rumbling sound from deep in his chest. Lukah sighed, “Me too.”

When the last wagon in the caravan crossed the threshold Lukah threw back his hood and smoothed his dusty brown hair as he glanced thankfully to the rocky ceiling that now protected them from the wet and nasty weather outside. As they crossed the inner gate to the unloading area the howling wind gave way to voices and clattering hoof beats echoing through the inner chamber. Ah, underground at last. Lukask sucked up the dry air and grunted impatiently. Lukah tensed immediately. Warm bread, fresh meat! He closed his eyes, lips pressed tightly together in response to the hunger that rang through his every cell. The kitchen was too far off for him to smell anything, but Lukask picked up the aroma all too easily and was obviously excited, particularly by the smell of fresh meat.

Unfortunately they had more work to do first. While Lukah helped unload the caravan, Lukask waited close by and stood guard. They weren’t expecting anybody.

It had been taken a bit of doing to make Zhask remember Lukah, or rather, the heavyset bronze wher that had watched her grow. The queen was sated and uninterested in most things after eating, but eventually Zhac was able to give her enough images of the bronze from memory and convince her that the male was here, and, rumbling slow interest, she pushed herself to her feet. It was a bit of a walk to the unloading cavern with her though. Zhask had no interest in running, and while she was an excellent jumper, her poor gliding wasn’t a safe enough way to get her off the short cliff closer to the caravan, especially with a full stomach. So, they walked, Zhask lumbering at a leisurely pace, Zhac at a long-legged stride that did little to assuage his anxiousness.

There was no way for a wher of Zhask’s size and hue to be stealthy in the lit cavern, but Zhac left her to wait in the shadowy recess between a wagon and the wall. And it was while Zhac began making his way through the disassembled caravan and weary travelers that Lukah went to unload one of the last wagons and found himself a scant arms length away from the golden wher. The gold had heard the approach and her wings only shuffled in surprise at the man’s sudden appearance. She gave a warbling sound of greeting and arched her neck so her downward tilted head brought her gold-flecked, green eyes level with the man’s head.

All of a sudden Lukask spun around with wings spread. Having caught whiff of Zhask before Lukah did, he bared his teeth and hissed at her as she poked her head out of the crevice. Startled, Lukah stepped back from the wher’s enormous head, but he could see by the color of the gold’s eyes she meant him no harm. Standing between Lukask and the gold Lukah cooed to calm his bronze. Lukask thrashed his tail and lowered his head with a rumble. He clearly didn’t appreciate the surprise. Placated by Lukah’s reassurance, the bronze reluctantly backed down.

Lukah approached the gold with caution, greeting her with soft coos and clicks. He knew better than to tease a watchwher, even one that seemed friendly. Now that Lukask was relatively calm he could get a better look at her. He furrowed his brow. Something about her seemed familiar. His eyes widened slowly.

No…

A dubious smile weaseled its way onto his face. “Zhask?”

Zhask raised her head skyward and shook it, giving an admonishing bellow to the bronze, though her watery, clear tone didn’t sound too disturbed by the insubordination. Her focus settled once more on Lukah as he approached again and she crooned some excitement. She was not a pretty beast even for watch-wher. Her skin, freshly washed and burnished gold in health, was her best feature, but her ridges were ragged, and her wings stunted and twisted oddly with her excitement. Old scars on her feet and sides showed the toll of past Runs and work, and the muscles in her legs and neck were developed to the point of giving her a blocky appearance. But she whistled to Lukah with certainty, arching her neck proudly and throwing her tail across the dusty floor as if making a display of her power. When he spoke her name, the gold screeched a deafening approval and raised a forefoot that was curling in pleasure.

Zhac, having heard the gold’s screeching cry, appeared a moment later, his jog halting behind Zhask. He barked a quiet laugh of surprise at the man on the other side of the wher and, hopping over the sliding tail, ducking under a twitching wing, and signaling the gold to move her head out of the way with a soft shove at her jaw, finally faced Lukah.

The years had changed him too, though not as drastically as his wher. He’d grown a last few inches, obliterating his ‘slightly short’ trait. He wasn’t tan, but the sun had turned his skin a neutral tone and darkened his hair to the color of rotting leaves. He wore leathers that were of good quality and passable style, but well-worn. His expression was stiff, not with harshness, but with the habit of a man who doesn’t smile or frown when because there’s no one to share the emotion with. A frail looking smile on his face matched the diluted look of hope in his murky blue eyes. “Shards, I thought you’d wait until next season to get here,” he jibed, trying not to sound as uncertain as he suddenly felt.

Laughing with delight Lukah vigorously scratched the ridges above her eyes. She might not be the prettiest gal in Benden but after five turns he could almost kiss her. Before he could even collect himself, Zhac popped out from under the gold’s tattered wing. Lukah gawked at him with a shocked smile and clapped his shoulder in amazement. Without a moment’s hesitation Lukah pulled him into a firm embrace, forgetting his rain soaked poncho, never minding the shy look on Zhac’s face.

“Shards! How did you know I was coming?” he exclaimed, having found his voice at last. He leaned back to get a better look at him, still grasping Zhac’s shoulder with his right hand. The years had changed Lukah as well. His hair was shorter and lighter than before, its color bleached out by the sun, and his eyes appeared a darker shade of grey. Stubble grew rampant across his thin cheeks, for there was little time to shave on the road. The turns spent traveling with the caravan trimmed him down and made him lean. He didn’t look any taller, but he had been twenty-five when they last saw each other. Lukah laughed. He simply couldn’t contain himself. “I don’t believe it, you’re almost as tall as I am! I suppose you can’t look up to me anymore. What on Pern are you doing here?”

Lukask watched the two men greet each other with smoldering orange eyes. Lukask had always been a little jealous of Zhac. As he crept toward the pair his eyes shifted to a more uncertain shade of yellow orange. He lifted his head and blasted Zhac’s face with a puff of hot air, buffeting Lukah’s hair in the process. But no amount of huffing and puffing could blow the smile off Lukah’s face. He pulled Lukask’s head down and scratched under his chin, and Lukask bumped his head against Lukah's chest in return. “He’ll warm up to you. He always does.”

It took the over-enthusiastic greeting to scorch away the hesitation in Zhac’s eyes that would have moldered into suspicion given any time to linger. He managed not to duck his head at the mention of height, for though he’d never directly said anything about it, his small stature had always bothered him in his youth. Lukah’s incredulous questions emboldened him past that though. “I live here, you dimglow,” he said, having taken the embrace without too much awkwardness. His next answer was interrupted by the heavy breath of the bronze blowing over his face. Zhask gave a warning hiss behind him, but Zhac didn’t bother to reassure her since he knew her to be half-hearted about the measure anyway. Except when she was broody with eggs or due to Run, the gold never got particularly riled about anything.

Zhac gave the bronze a couple of inarticulate humming syllables, given not for words, but for the apologetic tone of voice. He decided to not risk his fingers and leave Lukah to the scratching. “Maybe,” he grinned. “Anyway, I’ve known you were coming for a few weeks now. They were talking about bringing in a few more handlers to strengthen the blood here, and when your name came up, I spoke for you.” He looked supremely pleased with that fact. It felt like reciprocity for all those turns back, when Lukah had spoken on his behalf for that queen egg at the mines all those turns ago. He wasn’t sure he would have gotten Zhask without that. “And you look like a dragon’s picked you over,” he cracked, not waiting for, or really wanting, a response about the small favor. “Those women in the lower caverns are going to tie you down and force feed you if you don’t watch out.”

Lukask thrummed submissively after Zhask’s reproach and regarded her handler with a brooding stare. When he first hatched he used to n** at Zhac’s ankles every time he came within a few feet of Lukah. After Zhask hatched his attitude toward Zhac became more mixed. He instinctively saw Zhask as a possible conquest and treated her with a distant kind of respect (he successfully mated with her once, before Zhac and Lukah parted ways), but her presence made it more difficult for him to keep Lukah to himself when Zhac was around. He did not want to re-learn how to share his handler.

Lukah chuckled. By the time he settled down for the night he expected his withered cheeks to ache from smiling. “I might kind of like that. Walking up and down all the roads of Pern burns off a good meal quick.”

Truthfully his appetite had suffered over the past week. He didn’t want to spoil Zhac’s gift to him, settling down in a familiar place with a good friend was exactly what he needed after all those turns of travel, and Lukah felt so glad to see his old friend, who was truly like a brother to him, that he hated to say anything that might ruin this happy moment. Although he tried to maintain a positive outlook his experiences on the road left him fighting back a tide of unfamiliar cynicism. Seeing Zhac again washed away his pessimism for now. “Since you’re here, would you mind helping me unload? I want to hear about what you’ve been doing since I started working with the caravans.”

Zhac nodded. “Sure thing. Let me move Zhask..” He turned a whirling sound rolling up his throat. It was a signal to follow, and the gold gave an agreeing rumble and did as made. Against the cavern wall (and in a bit more light so she wouldn’t be stumbled upon), he gave a few other commands, telling her to lie down and rest until he returned. There was no set language with whers, each handler making up infections and particular noises outside of the most rudimentary commands. Zhask didn’t much care for being told to lie down after all the hassle of coming down here, and when she rose up on her hind legs to paw the air and grunt her displeasure, Zhac repeated himself and made a beckoning motion. The beast was huge and even with his extra inches, he looked small and unremarkable and entirely too calm about the claws that rent the air just over his head. The rebellion had been a bluff, and as Zhask settled herself with great dignity, Zhac turned back, both of them unperturbed about the near-violent scene.

He leapt into wagon and picked up a crate to hand down to Lukah. “You have to tell me when you star- what are they trading, rocks?-“ he shifted his stance before reaching for the next crate, “when you started working caravans. After I’d been around Igen for a while and started looking to leave, I sent word back to Benden, but they said you’d left.”

Lukah patted Lukask on the shoulder and pushed his head away, sending him to sit beside Zhask. Hopefully being back with his old girlfriend would put him in a more compliant mood. When Lukah turned to go back to the caravan he caught Lukask starting to rise out of the corner of his eye, spun around and pointed to the ground with a sharp whistle. Lukask reluctantly dropped back on his haunches and chirped pathetically as Lukah walked away.

“Leathers, I think,” Lukah guessed as he took the crate. The boxes grew surprisingly heavy when packed to the brim with folded skins. He had to think back for a moment. “That was about six months after you left. A new bronze came to the mine and started up a rivalry with Lukask. His handler was a decent fella, neither of us wanted that tension between our whers, there just wasn’t anything we could do except try to keep them separate. Around that time a caravan was coming through Benden. A couple of their watchwhers left recently so they were asking around. With this new bronze aggravating Lukask I figured a change of pace might be good for us, so I volunteered. I liked the travel so much I decided to stay on for a couple turns. Lukask felt the same way. He was never right for the mines, you know.”

Zhac gave a dry scoff as Zhask squawked at the bronze, further admonishing him. The gold had a particular way of showing affection, but she only bothered to chastise the bronzed she deemed as ‘hers’. Apparently even after all the turns apart, she still considered Lukask hers, though they’d only paired off once. Thinking of that, he went back to unloading.

“He has a better temperament for guarding,” Zhac agreed. “I’ve had to do some work with caravans while moving place to place, but Zhask didn’t have any real instinct for it. The only thing she’s protective of is her eggs. I actually had to train her to snap at the air and roar and so on when I set her up to guard. Her eyes stay green as the sea the whole time, but she goes through the motions convincingly.” He shook his head and gave a laugh that turned into a grunt with the next box. Conversation was momentarily halted as they coordinated the unloading, and when the silence ended Zhac’s voice had become reflective and more serious. “Since I left the Benden mines and until I got here I’ve just shifted around. The mines near Igen found new veins to tap and needed a few clutches to help the new mines. Then between Lemos and Telgar, then there, then there, then there. I stuck to mine work between clutches. Everyone’s got the same face when it’s covered in coal smear, so it was easy to adjust every few turns when it came time to move. I’ve been here the last turn and a half now. The work’s lighter, but it’s alright, and the people don’t get in your way.” Which was all he had to say for them. Weyrfolk seemed a bustling, social sort, and he was rarely inclined to jump in the fray. Lukah would be better with them, he was sure. “I'll bet you’ve been further than me in those caravans though. Where all have you been whiling away the turns?” It was excitement at seeing his old friend that had made him say even that much about his traveling. He was tired of hearing his own voice and wanted Lukah’s stories now. He enjoyed listening more than speaking, and liked doing better than expansive thinking, so he was comfortable kicking crates around and keeping an ear cocked in Lukah’s direction.

“Far as Fort Weyr. I started out on a small caravan making round trips from Benden to Keroon and Lemos then joined a larger caravan to see more of the Northern Continent. After Lemos I passed through Igen. Shame you weren’t around to see me, but I looked. A couple weeks ago I was in Nerat. There’s a lot to tell.” Exhaustion crept into his voice then. Much as he enjoyed the travel seeing so much of Pern had all but obliterated his naivety and although he had to face up to the fact that he had been wrong about a lot of things, most of all himself, he wished he could take back his former ignorance. Temptation found him far away from home, away from the judgmental eyes of his family, and he couldn’t say he felt proud of what he’d done. He would have to choose his stories carefully, though he felt ashamed of keeping secrets from his best friend. He just didn’t know how Zhac would look at him if he found out how much had changed. His legs felt all the more tired from thinking about it.

Rousing himself, he shrugged and gestured toward the dining hall. “I’ll tell you more about it over dinner. Catching you up on everything is going to take weeks,” he joked lightly. For now he best put his regrets behind him. Once he had some food in his stomach he would feel better.

“True enough.” Zhac gave him a long look, but finally blinked and hopped down from the wagon and gave a look about the cavern. There were things he hadn’t said as well, but it wasn’t likely he’d even broach them in the next week or month. He’d seen an unfair share of death and sickness in some of those desperate, tapped-out mines, and he’d dipped so deeply into the bitter cup of loneliness that he couldn’t have described it even were he a man of words. Still, he had Zhask, health, and a home now, perhaps to settle in, and he felt he had no right to lament over memories. Better to work and listen to Lukah and not worry about it.

A glance showed there were a few wagons still being unloaded, but they were swarmed over with people and it looked like the headwoman was telling the staggering remainder where they could find dinner. Not wanting to fight that crowd, they went to find Lukah an empty room and a wherry for Lukask, taking a dimly lit back corridor. Their voices rumbled echoingly in the passage, followed closely by the hums of whers.