Benden was in an uproar following the murder of the Weyrwoman, and although Dinah wasn't a dragonrider, she was still a Benden native, and she was still furious. Initially, she'd been shocked, but that had quickly given way to a seething anger, one that she had no outlet for. If there'd been someone around from Malvren for her to deck, she'd've been fine, but obviously that wasn't going to happen. All she could do was push back the feelings and try instead to concentrate on her silly wher.

Now, Dinah loved her wher. She really did. It was just that the little green wasn't at all what she'd expected - that she was little and green was fine, but the sharding thing was friendly. Not that she'd wanted a totally savage beast, but some kind of happy medium would have been nice. The handler was honestly beginning to wonder what job they'd pick up once Dinahsk was old enough; guarding against human intruders was not looking likely at this point. Having such an agreeable bonded might be trouble for her tough reputation, too. In short, she had a lot of adjusting to do.

When evening fell, they ventured outside, where Dinahsk promptly bumbled over her own feet in her enthusiasm and tumbled over.