With a bellow of anger, Talenth noted that there were only four—just four!—dragons following her. It was an insult. She was half-tempted to fly to Fort Weyr or High Reaches in search of greater honors but something held her back.

She craned her neck down again, examining her escort. There was Gaminth—a noble and wise dragon, able to lead a Weyr. And Ladirth: young, virile, able. There, leading the pack was—it was Ginirth!

Talenth let out a bellow and dove, down, down, down, scattering the group of bronzes before soaring back into the air, the strain on her wings pulling at her muscles and causing her chest to heave with the extra exertion of her climb and the thin air.

Another bellow below her. Zirenth.

There was an interesting choice.

Talenth remembered something odd about Zirenth and glanced back at the bronze once more. The dragon seemed colored differently, lighter—tired?

No, that wasn’t it. Talenth flipped a quick circle on her wingtip, reversing her course and allowed herself a squawk in pleasure when the bronzes only noticed moments later.

She dove again, this time directing herself toward Zirenth, curious.

Ginirth bellowed a challenge, climbed up toward her, and reached for her with his claws, but she folded her wings and slipped by him easily.

Nearby Gaminth roared in delight and turned sharply to give chase.

Ladirth was last, flagging.

Zirenth was ahead of her and, to her surprise and consternation, the bronze beat away from her, pulling farther away.

With a roar of outrage, Talenth put on a burst of speed and clawed her way up beside him.

Just as she looked toward him again, to issue a challenge and a triumph, the bronze flipped himself on his side, his claws reaching out for her and grasping her tightly.

Talenth screamed in surprise at the maneuver and then—

They were falling, rolling over and over, Zirenth on top, then on bottom, Talenth on top in his stead. As they plummeted, Zirenth would beat his wings when he was on top, his bugle challenging her to emulate him.

Intrigued, Talenth tried and discovered that their plummet became a dance in the air. She bellowed in delight and then—

Zirenth’s neck twined around hers, his tail about hers and—

They were one.

And more.

Fiona felt the explosion of pleasure, the primal lust sated, and found herself clinging tightly, passionately, lost in the moment that reflected the joining of the dragons thousands of lengths above. Just as Talenth was locked with Zirenth, she was locked with—

Who?

“It is time to bring them home,” a voice spoke low in her ear, respectful, soothing, loving. Lorana.

The man whose body was wrapped around hers was too short to be T’mar. Fiona recovered her senses enough to realize that T’mar was still in bed, eyes slitted open but otherwise motionless.

Who?