How did it go? Makhmilith asked in his gravelly mindvoice. His voice sounded nothing like T'of's, which was as expressive as his face. It took both familiarity and effort to read much expressiveness into Makhmilith's voice, especially when he was being neutral.

The younger dragon arranged herself in a prim attitude with her tail wrapped tightly around her slim body. She arched her neck and tucked her chin close, her body language indicating her reluctance to speak as well as her actual silence did. Makh could be patient though, more so than she, and he waited her out.

Our first and last jumps we couldn't fix our destination properly at first, she finally admitted.

Makh knew the guilt in her manner came from implying Reya had failed, rather than being upset by the actual events. Their riders' acquaintance had given the dragons ample time to learn one another's mannerisms and personalities.

Was it a lapse of memory or a loss of focus? the blue asked. Knowing Raqi's rider as he did, it was hard to imagine her suffering either failure, but those were the two most common reasons for such difficulties.

Maybe both. She has not been sleeping much, and is frequently tired. She was especially tired today, from staying awake to study, I think, and I'm sure that's the cause.

If dragons could blush, Raqi would have done so. Instead her eyes swirled into unhappy, guilty shades. She truly dislike criticising Reya outside the silent speech of their bond. It was only for Makhmilith that she would do so, and even then it was clear she viewed such reporting as a betrayal.

Are you concerned about doing it again tomorrow? Makh asked, deliberately not indicating one way or another whether she ought to be.

Despite his care, Raqi shifted with discomfort before replying, Reya is studying. We will be better prepared tomorrow.

That wasn't exactly what Makh had asked, but he knew how hard some dragons, particularly young ones, found it to admit to having less than perfect confidence in their chosen human. Makh suffered no such distress when it came to pointing out fault in error, rather like T'of and Reya, but all three of them were adults with wide independent streaks and strong senses of self. Little Raqi had yet to develop those traits, and as much as Makh would have liked to push her to explore the bounds of her comfort zone, he backed off instead. She was young and painfully insecure, and she would not benefit from being encouraged to doubt her rider at this stage. Second-guessing while traveling between could be deadly.

His voice was about as gentle as he got when he next spoke, and his words were intended to reassure. Your Reya is a dedicated, determined human. I imagine she will improve quickly.

Raqisath's eyes shaded more intense guilt, yet she didn't actually speak the fear that colored them so. But then, she didn't really need to. To Makhmilith, and probably others, the green was a scroll writ bold. She may have mastered her ungainly limbs, but so far her lack of confidence remained obvious. He could not help but feel protective of her when her insecurity was so transparent.

She will improve, he repeated. Today was unsettling for you both, I'm sure, but tomorrow will be better because by making it through today you both demonstrated that you are capable. Now it's just a matter of practice and building confidence.

We aren't allowed to practice on our own, Raqisath pointed out. Makh had forgotten that. He could, of course, understand the reasoning behind the proscription, but restrictions like that chafed. He would have preferred a life unfettered by the Weyr's many, many rules.

There may be a way around that, he mused, although he wasn't sure what that way might be. Let me think on it.

He felt her assent and also that she felt a little better because of something he'd said, though he did not know what, exactly, had gotten through and let her relax her rigid muscles, albeit minutely. The pair sat in silence while he thought about the rules and how they might be circumvented. His scheming was interrupted by a sudden slump in Raqi's posture and droop to her wings. They were tiny movements, but nowadays Raqi rarely made any sort of motion unconsciously. She was extraordinarily self-conscious in numerous senses of the word.

People died today, she said softly, breaking their mental silence. Not fighting Thread. Just practicing.

Makh had heard that. The Weyr would mourn the lost weyrlings in its way, but the reality was that many of the dragonfolk Raqi met at the Weyr, if they were in fighting wings, faced death daily. Some would die during the actual battle, but others would die later, from their wounds. Others, for whom only half of a pair was fatally injured, might linger until it became impossible to endure any longer. Death would come in the form of pestilence, though, or human violence, or, as Raqi had seen today, stupid accidents.

You didn't though, he reminded her. They didn't deserve to die, and their deaths are a tremendous loss of potential, but you can't change what happened. You can only do your best to learn from their example.

That's not very comforting, Raqi said after a moment of consideration.

I'm not good at offering comfort. What I am good at, is coming up with solutions. And I think I might have one for your problem.

So saying, the blue launched himself from their shared ledge, powerful wingbeats propelling him upward and away from the younger green. For a time he wondered if she would follow him, but eventually she made up her mind and mounted her own assault on the skies.